Harlequin Special Edition July 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: Marooned with the MaverickHer McKnight in Shining ArmorCelebration's Bride

by Christine Rimmer

  Maybe he liked her too much. He needed to keep a rein on himself because he knew that nothing was going to come of his liking Willa Christensen more than he should. She was a nice girl. She had a college-graduate Mr. Good-Guy boyfriend off in Australia, a boyfriend who’d asked her to marry him.

  There was no way Collin fit into that picture.

  Someone coughed. A cot squeaked as someone else turned over. At the other end of the room near the stage, somebody was snoring. Collin should shuck off his boots, stretch out on the cot and try to get a little sleep. Morning would come way before he was ready for it.

  Too bad he didn’t feel all that much like sleeping. He moved silently back to the doors and slipped through again. Swiftly, he crossed the dark front hall and let himself out into the cool of the night.

  On the steps, he sat down, drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees. It was a clear night, a sliver of the waning moon hanging above the distant mountains way across the valley. He stared up at that moon and tried not to think about the woman sleeping in the dark hall behind him, tried not to think about that morning, when he’d woken up with her soft, pretty little hand on his fly. A bad, bad idea, to think about that. Thinking about that would only get him all worked up all over again.

  He heard a faint sound at his back, the squeak of heavy hinges as the door opened behind him. Buster nuzzled his shoulder. He threw an arm over the dog and scratched him behind the ear as the door squeaked shut. The latch clicked.

  Willa. He could feel her, hovering there behind him in front of the door. He was way too glad she’d come out to find him.

  “Go back to bed, Willa,” he said lazily, not turning to look at her, keeping his gaze front, on that sliver of moon. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not having sex with you.”

  Willa laughed, a low, slightly husky sound, one that seemed to skim the surface of his skin, raising goose bumps as it went. Raising more than goose bumps if he was going to be honest about it. He drew his knees up a little tighter so she wouldn’t see how she affected him.

  “You are impossible,” she said in a voice as low and husky and full of good humor as her laugh.

  He shrugged. “So I’ve been told.”

  And then she came and sat on his other side, so he was sandwiched between her and her dog. It wasn’t a bad place to be. Not bad at all.

  She said, “Buster’s happy to see you. He woke me up when you came in.”

  “Sorry.”

  She leaned toward him a little, nudging him with her shoulder in a way that felt downright companionable. “Don’t be.”

  He stroked the dog’s big white head. “He’s a great guy.” The dog turned, tongue lolling, and gazed at him adoringly. “And so good lookin’.”

  Willa chuckled again. “Oh, yes, he is.”

  He still hadn’t looked at her. Mostly because when he did, he knew he wouldn’t want to look away. “What about you, Willa? You happy to see me, too?”

  “I am,” she answered in a near whisper. “Yes.” She was quiet. He could feel the warmth of her along his side. She smelled of soap and toothpaste—and something else. Something that was simply Willa. Kind of green and fresh and a little bit lemony. Who knew the smell of soap and lemons could get a man worked up? She spoke again. “I was kind of worried you’d tried to go up the mountain to your place.”

  “Not in the dark.”

  “Good.”

  “I went to the Triple T. They got the wells disinfected and are hoping to be using the water by tomorrow or Sunday. Most of the stock survived. And they’re busy with cleanup. I stopped in at Clay’s house and borrowed a few things—clean jeans and boots, a couple of shirts.” Third-born of his five brothers, Clay had recently married. He lived down in Thunder Canyon now, but he still owned a house on the Triple T. “Then I went over to your family’s place, just to see if things were okay there.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Willa. I wanted to.”

  A silence from her, then, “Thank you.”

  “I used the guest-room shower again. And I left your dad’s clothes in the hamper. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind at all. How was it there?”

  “Better.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. The neighbors and the hands from the Triple T had been there. The pigs are back in their pen and the chickens are in the coop. Looked like they even made a start on the cleanup.”

  “That’s good,” she said. “Really good. I’m grateful.”

  He did look at her then. She was staring out toward the moon, the curve of her cheek so smooth in the dim light, her pretty lips slightly parted. She wore a different T-shirt from the one she’d had on earlier, pink sweatpants with white trim and a worn-down pair of flip-flops.

  She kept her gaze on the moon, and that was fine with him. Gave him more time to look at her. He took in everything about her. Her toenails were painted. In the dark, it was hard to be sure of the exact color. Maybe purple. Like plums. He stared at them for a time. When he looked up, she was watching him. “Did you get something to eat?”

  He nodded. “I had some stew at the Triple T.”

  Those cute dimples of hers tucked themselves in at the sides of her mouth as she smiled. “Jerry Dobbs says you’re a natural leader, that they might not have saved Bart Derby if not for you.”

  “Well. You know Jerry, heavy on the ‘go, team, go.’”

  “I think you’re being modest, Collin.” Her big brown eyes gleamed at him.

  He felt an odd little pinch, a heated tightness in his chest. Also, in his borrowed jeans. “Modest? Me? Not a chance.”

  Buster got up and wandered down the steps to lift his leg on a tree trunk. When he started sniffing the ground, moving toward the street, Willa called to him. “Buster. Come.” He came right back and plopped down where he’d been before.

  Collin said, “I filled a bag with clothes from that box under the stairs at your folks’ house, in case you need them. I left it back in the hall, under my cot. I brought jeans and shirts and underwear, too.” There had been little lace panties and a bra and several pair of socks. “Not that I noticed the underwear or anything...”

  “As I recall, it was pretty frayed, that underwear. But I’m grateful to have it at this point.” She groaned, lowered her head and put her hand over her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here discussing my old underwear with you.”

  “Hey.” It was his turn to bump her shoulder with his. “What are friends for?”

  She looked up and into his eyes, all earnest and hopeful, suddenly. “We are, aren’t we? Friends, I mean.”

  He wanted to kiss her. But he knew that would be a very bad idea. “You want to be my friend, Willa?” His voice sounded a little rough, a little too hungry.

  But she didn’t look away. “I do, yes. Very much.”

  That pinch in his chest got even tighter. It was a good feeling, really. In a scary sort of way. “Well, all right then. Friends.” He offered his hand. It seemed the thing to do.

  Her lower lip quivered a little as she took it. Her palm was smooth and cool in his. He never wanted to let go. “You better watch it,” she warned. “I’ll start thinking that you’re a really nice guy.”

  “I’m not.” He kept catching himself staring at that mouth of hers. It looked so soft. Wide. Full. He said, “I’m wild and undisciplined. I have an attitude and I’ll never settle down. Ask anyone. Ask my own mother. She’ll give you an earful.”

  “Are you trying to scare me, Collin Traub? Because it’s not working.”

  He took his hand back. Safer that way. “Never say I didn’t warn you.”

  She gave him a look from the corner of her eye. “I’m onto you now. You’re a good guy.”

  “See? Now I’ve got you fooled.”

  “No, you don’t. And I’m glad that we’re friends. Just be straight with me and we’ll get along fine.”

  “I am being straight.” Well, mo
re or less. He didn’t really want to be her friend. Or at least, not only her friend. He wanted to be more than her friend. But sometimes a man never got what he wanted. He understood that, always had. Sweet Willa Christensen was not for the likes of him. But right now, he just needed to look out for her, take care of her a little. Make sure she got through this hard time all right. He added, “And I’ve been thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “The things that need doing.”

  She braced an elbow on her knee and dropped her chin in her hand. “Such as?”

  “I’m guessing we’ll finish up the search for survivors by around noon tomorrow. Meet me at the church when your team comes in. One way or another, we’re going to get to your house tomorrow.”

  Her smooth brow furrowed. “What if they won’t let us into the area?”

  “You worry too much. They’ll let us in. They pretty much have to.”

  “Not if they don’t think it’s safe.”

  “At some point, people are just going to go in anyway. The whole town has pitched in, put their own problems aside to search for survivors. It’s not right to expect them to wait forever to get to their homes. Nathan and the rest of them have to take that into account or they’ll have trouble on their hands.”

  “Collin...”

  “Your face is all scrunched up again. Relax.”

  “It’s only that I feel kind of bad, to keep on taking advantage of you like this.”

  “Don’t,” he commanded gruffly.

  She just couldn’t let it go. “But I know you need to get up to your place.”

  “My place is fine.”

  “But you can’t be sure.”

  “Willa. We’re going to your house and we’re going tomorrow.”

  “I’m only saying that you don’t have to—”

  He put up a hand. “I know I don’t have to. And you don’t have to worry. It’s pretty much impossible to take advantage of me. If I say I’ll do a thing, it’s because I want to do it.” And when it came to the woman beside him, well, what he wanted was to do whatever she needed. He added, just to make himself sound tough and uncompromising, “I don’t do anything because I think I have to. Life is too damn short for that.”

  Chapter Six

  It all went as Collin had predicted, which only made Willa more aware of how completely she had once underestimated him. He understood so much, really. About people. About the way things worked.

  The nine teams searched for four hours the next day, covering the rest of the valley and the flooded area south of the creek in town. They found a couple of stranded pets and more cattle that had to be pulled from muddy ponds, but no people in need of rescue.

  Willa’s team was out at the far western reaches of the valley. They finished up the search of their section by a little past noon and returned to town, where everyone had gathered at the church for the midday meal. Willa sat with Paige and the rest of their team.

  Collin sat at another table, his team around him. He glanced up and saw her and gave her a nod that she took to mean he still intended to take her to her house.

  Her heart kind of stuttered in her chest and then recommenced beating a little too fast. Partly because trading meaningful glances with Collin excited her more than it should. And partly because it was happening at last: she would see her house again. She sent a little prayer to heaven that it wouldn’t be too bad.

  While they ate, Nathan Crawford got up and gave a speech. He thanked everyone for the great job they were doing. He praised Rust Creek Garage for having plenty of gas to share with the searchers and the foresight to own a generator so that the pumps were still working. He said that state and county workers were on the job around-the-clock, trying to get services back online and roads and bridges repaired.

  He advised, “If you have family members who were out of town for the holiday and you’re wondering why they haven’t returned—please don’t be overly concerned. The governor has declared a state of emergency and asked that people try and stay off the roads, many of which are badly damaged. Bridges are out all over the western half of the state. It’s just going to take a while to get all our services back up and running and for people to get back home.”

  Nathan also reminded them that the next phase was cleanup. “I hope many of you will pitch in with the community effort, that you’ll donate your time if you can spare some. But we’re suspending our teams for the rest of the day and all day Sunday so that everyone can handle personal business. Those who live south of the creek will have a chance to visit their homes.” The floodwaters had sufficiently receded, he added, and gas and water mains to the damaged areas had been shut off for the time being. The town council realized that people had to be allowed back in to begin to assess the condition of their property. “Please use the Sawmill Street Bridge only. Follow the newly posted signs for the safest route to your property.”

  Next, he got to the hazards, which were many. “Please, please, be extra careful about entering buildings. Proceed with caution. If you see a downed wire or pole, keep clear and remember to report it.” He reminded them all to wear boots and gloves and watch out for dangerous animals displaced by the flood. “Also, take note. Any buildings roped off with yellow tape have already been determined to be unsafe for entry. We’ve done our best to personally warn all of you whose houses are in that condition, but the priority until now has been rescuing the stranded. There are assuredly buildings that should have been roped off but haven’t yet. Please. Don’t approach any houses that are taped off. Search-and-Rescue Team One reports that our elementary school is badly damaged and possibly structurally unsound. So, also, we ask that you stay away from the school and the school grounds.”

  Willa’s heart sank at that news. Beside her, Paige made a low sound of distress. Were they going to lose the school?

  That would hit hard. If they had to rebuild, how long would it take? They only had two months until the start of the next school year.

  Nathan ended by saying that dinner would be served at six and thanking the charitable organizations that had come through with donations of food and supplies. Then Pastor Alderson got up and invited them all to a brief Sunday service after breakfast the next morning, a service that would include a final farewell to Mayor McGee.

  A funeral. Willa sighed. Lately, life was just packed with sad and difficult events. But then again, it was important to give people a chance to pay their respects and to grieve.

  She glanced toward Collin again. But he’d already left his table. She thought of last night, of sitting out on the front steps of the town hall with him. That had been so nice. Just the two of them and Buster, alone under the sliver of moon.

  She almost wished she could go back there now, just run away from reality and all the everyday grimness of surviving the worst flood in the history of Rust Creek Falls. Run away and sit out under the moon with Collin, forever.

  Even if they were just friends.

  “You ready, Willa?” His voice, behind her. A little thrill pulsed through her.

  Beside her, Paige frowned. “Ready for what?”

  She pushed back her folding chair and gathered up the remains of her meal to carry to the trash and recycle stations. “Collin’s taking me to see my house.”

  Paige looked at Collin. He gazed coolly back at her. “How are you, Collin?”

  “Just fine, Paige. You?”

  “Wonderful,” Paige said in a tone that could have meant anything. She turned her gaze to Willa. “Shall I come with you?”

  Willa shook her head.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes. But thank you. I’ll be fine.”

  “You be careful.”

  “I will. Don’t worry.”

  * * *

  They got into Collin’s truck and he paused before he started the engine. “Where’s Buster?”

  “Thelma’s keeping an eye on him.”

  “Good. Safer for him if stays at Thelma’s until this is done.�
�

  She nodded her agreement and he pulled the truck out into the flow of traffic, most of which was going where they were going. Her neighbors were as eager as she was to see firsthand how their homes had fared.

  They followed the signs across the Sawmill Street Bridge, down Falls Street and then west on Commercial. They had to move at a crawl, even though road crews had already been hard at work. Fallen trees, utility poles and flooded vehicles had been cleared from the roadway. But the streets themselves were badly damaged, the pavement erupted and broken apart in places, pools of standing water and puddles of mud everywhere, some as big as ponds. The buildings that lined the street had not fared well. Some were partially collapsed and roped off with yellow tape. Yards were still cluttered with household items and who knew what all.

  Fires had taken out a whole row of houses on South Pine. A few of them were burned all the way to the ground.

  At Main, they passed the elementary school. It was still standing, at least, though sections of the roof had fallen in. There was no way to tell from the street how bad the damage might be.

  For Willa personally, the moment of truth came much too soon. They turned onto South Broomtail and pulled to a stop at what was left of the curb in front of her one-story bungalow.

  She had to stifle a gasp of dismay at what she saw. Like all the other yards on the street, hers was a mess, strewn with a bunch of mud-caked stuff she couldn’t even identify. The roof on one side of her front porch sagged alarmingly. The porch itself was empty. Her white wicker chairs and cute little spray-painted metal folding tables topped with potted geraniums were nowhere to be seen. And the cosmos and columbines, the boxwood hedge and the rows of mums and Shasta daisies she’d so lovingly planted along her front walk? If they were still there, she couldn’t recognize them under the layer of mud and trash.

  Collin reached over and took her hand. She wove her fingers good and tight with his. It helped—his warm, strong grip, the calloused flesh of his palm pressed to hers. The contact centered her down, reminded her again that she could get through this, that she wasn’t alone.