by Emily March
Better not tell his mother that, though. She hounded him enough as it was. If she thought he might actually be ready for something serious, she’d dial it up to “incessantly.”
He went for distraction. “So, Dad, let me tell you about the engine trouble I had last week on the Out-n-Back.”
That got them all the way to Eternity Springs. At home, he took a long hot shower then surrendered to jet lag and fell into bed. He slept until his mother sent Michael to drag him down for dinner. The lively conversation with his family revived him, but he over-indulged on the delicious Mexican food and returned to bed when supper ended.
When he finally rolled out of bed mid-morning the following day, he took another long hot shower, and almost felt human again. Except the enchiladas lay in his gut like adobe bricks, and he knew he’d better get some exercise. He tugged on running shorts, an ancient Rockies baseball T-shirt, and his sneakers. Downstairs, he filled a water bottle and waved off breakfast.
He took off running down Aspen Street and decided he’d make the loop around Hummingbird Lake. The brisk morning temperatures moderated as the summer sun climbed over the mountains on the eastern side of the valley. Soon, Devin was sweating. By the time he’d completed the first half of the four-mile path around the lake, he’d taken off his shirt and draped it around his shoulders to use as a rag to wipe the sweat off his face. Too much beer last night. Too many carbs. Too much altitude. He felt like an out-of-shape runner twice his age.
So he had slowed to a walk as he approached the pier where the movements of a pair of fishermen caught his notice. They were a woman and a boy who appeared to be a year or two older than Michael. They kid wore his hair in a bleach-blond mohawk with blue tips. She wore jeans, a blue plaid flannel shirt with the cuffs rolled up over a V-neck white shirt, and hiking boots. A thick black ponytail was pulled through the back of her baseball cap and danced back and forth as she moved. A legal-sized trout dangled from the end of the boy’s line, which unfortunately appeared to be tangled with that of his mother’s.
As a professional fishing guide, Devin had seen entangled equipment more often than he could count. While he watched, she grasped the fish—left hand, ringless—and the boy dropped his pole. She grabbed for the boy’s pole— right hand, pretty sterling silver ring—and in doing so, dropped the fish.
This did not look promising.
Devin turned onto the fishing pier and sauntered toward them. “Looks like you have a rat’s nest on your hands. Want some help?”
The woman stiffened and turned suspicious brown eyes in his direction. “No, thank you. We’re okay.”
Maybe so, but the fish wasn’t. They were going to kill that rainbow trout if they weren’t careful. “Are you guys planning to eat that ’bow?”
“No.” Now, those big brown eyes flashed with annoyance. She lifted her chin. “We catch and release when we fish.”
“In that case, you’d better let me help.”
“Mister, we don’t need—”
Devin cut her off. “The quicker we act to free him and get him back in the water, the more likely he is to survive.” He reached for the tangled fishing lines. “Do you have a knife in your tackle box?”
At the question, the boy finally spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “Are you going to kill him?”
“I’m going to save him,” Devin replied as he wrapped his fist around the fish. A glance at its mouth revealed it had two hooks in it. The one attached to the boy’s line and another rusting barbed hook. “Or try to, anyway. This isn’t this guy’s first rodeo.”
Moving quickly, he opened the tackle box and bypassed the knife for the needle-nose pliers he spied. At least Ms. Snippy had a well-stocked tackle box.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Devin said as he labored to free the trout. “I don’t have anything against fishing. The opposite, in fact. Among other things, I make my living as a professional fishing guide. But fish are a precious resource and we need to be responsible fishermen.”
“We weren’t trying to be otherwise,” the woman replied defensively.
“It’s my fault,” the boy mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. He’d moved so close to the mother that he stood almost on top of her. “I got excited and didn’t pay attention.”
The woman frowned at the boy. “You did nothing wrong, RJ.”
Having freed both hooks, Devin leaned off the pier and lowered the trout into the icy mountain lake. He gently opened his hand and was glad when the fish darted off.
Her tone as cool as the lake, the woman said, “Thank you for your assistance. We will handle it from here.”
It was just the sort of challenge that appealed to Devin. He rolled back on his heels and shot his very best sexy-but-boyish grin up at her. “I don’t mind helping. I love to help folks catch fish. I’m truly an excellent guide.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“I’m happy to give you a few pointers. No charge.”
“How kind of you,” she drawled, her smile one hundred percent fake. “However, my son hooked a fish within five minutes of getting his line wet. I don’t believe we need any guidance.”
“Five minutes, huh? Excellent work . . . RJ, was it?” Devin kept his gaze on the boy while continuing to take note of the mother’s stick-up-her-ass expression. “So, I see you’re fishing with salmon eggs. Ever try a fly?”
The boy stubbed the toe of his hiking boot and shrugged.
“It’s tricky to learn, I’ll give you that. I’m not nearly a pro, myself.”
“What kind of a guide are you?” Mom murmured sotto voce.
Devin wanted to laugh, but he continued to talk to the boy. “I’ve been fishing all my life, but I was seventeen before I tried fly-fishing. See, I’m not from Colorado. I’m not even American. I’m an Aussie—Australian. Saltwater is my specialty, and it’s a whole different kettle of fish.”
The hint of interest in the boy’s darting glance encouraged Devin to continue. “It wasn’t until I visited Eternity Springs for the first time that my dad brought me to this very lake to teach me to cast a fly. You should have seen me. We were right over there.” Devin pointed toward the shoreline about two hundred yards from where they stood. “I drew back my rod and let loose. Hooked a bird’s nest in an aspen tree behind me. Yanked it right out of the tree and it flew through the air and whacked my dad’s head.”
The boy laughed softly and Devin thought he’d won a prize. He glanced at the mother and found her staring at him in shock. He arched a challenging brow. “What? You think I’m kidding? My dad was not a happy man with a head full of straw, I’m telling you.”
“No. I . . .” Her voice trailed off and she stared at him, the look in her eyes unreadable. “You live in Australia?”
“Yes.”
Following a long moment, her lips twitched. Her eyes softened like a mountain vista at sunset. “I . . . believe. You. I believe you.”
Then her smile warmed and widened, and the act took her from attractive to downright stunning. Whoa. Talk about a difference. Icy Mom to Hot Mom in seconds.
Devin reacted like he always did in similar situations. He turned on the flirt, adding a twinkle to his eyes and flashing his famous grin. “I’ve learned a lot since the flying bird’s nest. To be a good fly-fisherman, one needs a soft touch and a great clinch.”
She scolded him with a look.
“A clinch knot.” He held up his hands palms out. “It’s a knot. You need a clinch knot and a surgeon’s knot.”
The boy piped up. “Mom knows those. Mom can tie any
knot.”
“Oh really?” Devin gave her a measuring look. “Girl
Scout?”
She nodded. “Among other things.”
“Interesting.” She was interesting. Wonder why she’d gone from frosty to friendly in a heartbeat? The bird’s nest story wasn’t that great.
Devin knew he probably should wish this mother and son well and go on about his business. He did have items o
n his docket. His mom would expect him to drop by the bakery. Odds were she had something special in the oven meant for him. He’d promised Michael that he’d play catch with him this morning, and Lori had guilted him into working a volunteer shift at the local pet shelter.
But he didn’t want to continue his walk. He wanted to stand here and flirt with Hot Mom. So he extended his hand and said, “My name is Devin, by the way. Devin Murphy.”
The boy made a strangled noise. His mother put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Call me Jenna,” she replied, accepting his handshake.
Devin waited a beat, but when she didn’t offer a surname or introduce her son, he inquired, “Are you visiting Eternity Springs, Jenna, or are you residents?”
“We’re visitors.”
“Well, welcome to Eternity Springs. I’d love to show you my skills. Fly-fishing skills, of course.”
“Of course,” she repeated, her tone dry, but her smile still in place. “I’m sure that my son would love to learn to fly-fish, wouldn’t you?”
At his mother’s question, the boy’s mouth gaped. He stared up at her in shock.
Gently, she said, “It’s true, isn’t it?”
Hesitantly, he said, “Yes.”
Jenna smiled regretfully at Devin and gestured toward the gear lying on the pier. “Unfortunately we don’t have the right equipment.”
Devin bit back a suggestive remark about carrying a rod around with him and rose to his feet. “See, we’re in luck there. My dad owns the local outfitters shop and he’ll let me borrow what we need. What does your day look like? I have time this afternoon for a lesson. Say, around two?”
“Two would be just fine. Do we meet back here?”
“Here will be good. Once your boy gets the hang of things, we can give creek casting a try. Now, I’d better finish my run and get home before my little brother calls the sheriff on me. I promised him a game of catch.” Devin gave the boy a wink, tipped an imaginary hat to the pretty lady, and then took off running up the fishing pier. As he turned onto the lakeside trail, he turned back toward Jenna and called, “See you at two!”
She smiled and waved.
The boy looked up at his mother as though she’d lost her mind. Huh. Wonder what that’s about?
It’s him! I can’t believe it’s him!
And Santa Claus had an excellent ass.
Jenna stifled a semi-hysteric giggle as she watched Devin Murphy jog away in gym shorts, which were appropriately red. What were the odds? The first extended conversation she had in two months with a man who was younger than forty, and he turned out to be Reilly’s Santa.
When she’d decided to bring her traumatized son back to Eternity Springs this summer, she’d known that they took a chance of crossing paths with someone they’d met during their Christmas visit. But she’d thought the potential benefit of basking in what Celeste called Eternity Springs healing magic would outweigh that risk. It had worked last Christmas, hadn’t it?
She had hoped that by arriving at the height of tourist season when visitors crowded the streets and at a time when she knew that the Murphys were scheduled to be in Australia, she and Reilly could avoid being recognized. With their hairstyles significantly different and Jenna’s colored contacts hiding the unique blue of her eyes, the plan had worked too. They’d made two trips into town in complete anonymity since their arrival yesterday.
She never expected to run into Santa Claus himself. And to meet him on their very first full day in town, no less. To have him approach them in a place where retreat literally was impossible and for him to be so darned friendly that her well practiced cold shoulder didn’t frighten him away before he provided enough clues to identify him . . . it was all simply incredible. Unbelievable.
Believe. Devin Murphy aka Santa Claus is the King of Believing. Wonder if—
“Mom!” Reilly interrupted her thoughts.
“Hmm?” Her gaze remained locked on Murphy’s retreating form. His shoulders were broad and thickly muscled, fitting for a man who often battled big fish. He ran with a long-legged fluid stride. Bet he—
“Mom! You’re not listening to me!”
“I’m sorry.” She gave her son a distracted smile. “What is it?”
“What are you doing? That is Michael’s brother! We can’t go fishing with him. What if he recognizes us? That would be terrible.”
Bless your heart, Reilly. You see danger everywhere you go now. “How would he recognize us?” Jenna asked in an effort to reassure her son. “We never met him.”
“Maybe Michael told him about us.”
“He probably did.” When Reilly’s eyes went round with worry, she put her hand on her son’s shoulder and added, “And why would he connect a woman with black hair and brown eyes and a boy with a blue-tipped mohawk to the Stockton family who spent a few days here last Christmas?”
“You told him your name was Jenna. Not Jane or even J.C.!”
“I did?”
“Yes!”
“Oh dear.” Jenna tried not to wince. For the past two months she’d gone by the name Jane Tarver, having used her most excellent Photoshop skills and a 3D printer to create a fake ID good enough to fool anyone but law enforcement. Since she studiously observed every rule of the road, she planned to never need to use her real ID.
But she’d forgotten all about Jane once she’d realized just who was tickling the trout. Her gaze shifted back to the running figure now on the verge of disappearing from view. “I guess I had a brain freeze.”
Or a hormone flare.
“That’s not good, Mom. And something else. If Michael’s brother isn’t in Australia today, then I bet Michael isn’t there, either. He’s probably in Eternity Springs too. Oh, Mom. What if Michael sees us? What if Devin brings Michael fishing with us? That would be a disaster. We have to go back to the camper right now and pack things up and leave right away! Something bad could happen to Michael!”
Oh, Reilly, you break my heart.
Plus, he did have a point. As much as she hated the thought of moving on from Eternity Springs, knowing that Cam and Sarah and Michael were around town changed things. She and Reilly had spent too much time with the Murphy family at Christmas.
“Why did you talk to him, anyway?” Reilly continued. “Devin Murphy was a stranger. Mom, that’s so dangerous! You’re not serious about meeting him later, right? You were just trying to get rid of him?”
Jenna used the act of picking up their fishing poles to buy time as she formulated a response. She walked a narrow line between seeing to her son’s safety and feeding his fears. If not for Reilly, she’d go home to Nashville and challenge the stalker to come after her, goading him in every manner she could imagine. She’d buy ads on radio. Talk her way onto TV. She’d post on every Internet message board and social media site in existence, and she’d have an entire army of investigators ready to track his digital footprints back to his physical feet.
Then she’d show him what it was like to be baking cookies one minute and battling a SWAT team the next.
Except she did have her son to consider, and the boy’s fears were justified. While she didn’t worry that being recognized by the Murphy family or Celeste Blessing or even her New Year’s Eve midnight smoocher, Boone McBride, would lead the stalker to their fifth wheel door, Reilly did. And who knew? He might be right.
Jenna had believed they were safe in Tallahassee and look how that turned out.
At the memory of that horrible afternoon, a shiver skittered up her spine. Better safe than sorry. As much as she would have liked spending time with Santa, it wasn’t meant to be.
“Okay. Okay, honey. We will leave Eternity Springs.” Visible relief rolled over the boy, and Jenna knew she’d made the right decision. Thinking aloud, she added, “I’m a little concerned about where we’ll go, though. It’s tough to find a campsite vacancy this time of year.”
That was a legitimate concern too. They’d lucked into the slot at Stardance Ranch. Jenna
had called seeking a reservation minutes after the RV resort received a cancellation. “Let’s head back to camp. I’ll get online and see what I can find.”
“You’ll find something, Mom. I know you will.”
They carried their equipment back toward the truck which Jenna had left parked in a lot conveniently positioned between the fishing pier and the Hummingbird Lake Hike and Bike Trail. As they approached the trailhead, a group of five young Scouts scrambled out of a Jeep and into backpacks, laughing and poking fun at one another. Jenna didn’t miss the yearning that flashed across her son’s face. For what must be the three hundred millionth time since she’d put the clues together and realized she had a stalker, she silently cursed the bastard.
Reilly should be a member of a Scout troop, she thought as she stowed the fishing gear in the bed of the truck and climbed behind the wheel. He should have friends his own age with whom he roughhoused and made fart jokes and played Little League baseball.
All he has is me.
Jenna sighed as she waited for her son to buckle up, then turned the key, put the truck in gear, and pulled out onto the two-lane road that circled Hummingbird Lake. The situation wasn’t ideal, but she was doing her best. Frankly, her best was pretty darn excellent. If life on the road was a little light on friends . . . well . . . that wasn’t the end of the world. First things first. Safety and security first. Eventually, the rest would come. One day they’d no longer jump at loud noises. Strangers wouldn’t make them nervous. Someday this permanent crick she had in her neck from constantly looking over her shoulder would completely disappear.
In the meantime, she’d make her living without using her medical license, and she’d pay for everything with cash. They would continue to conceal their real names and place of origin. Every day put more time and distance between them and the stalker.