by CP Smith
I shouldn’t have been surprised. I knew how he felt. But a part of me had believed he’d gone to the trouble of teaching me how to raft because we had a connection. That he’d felt it as well the night before and was drawn to me as I was to him. But I realized in that instant he was acting out of obligation, maybe even pity for my situation, and it hurt worse than it should.
All the feelings I’d been holding on to that day came crashing through my system at once and I spit out, “Don’t do me any favors, Shane. I don’t want your pity any more than you want mine.”
He spun around at my outburst before he could check himself, and I saw his emotions mirrored my own.
Vulnerability.
Fear.
Desire.
They all swirled at the same time.
Without thinking, just acting on instinct, I stepped toward him and whispered, “Shane.” He didn’t move away, so I took another step forward. I could feel my mouth run dry as my heart began to race, so I licked my lips. Shane’s attention dropped to my mouth, and I could see the naked heat reflected in them. Feeling emboldened by his smoky depths, I opened my mouth to ask if he wanted to get a drink sometime, but he stepped back, cutting off my question.
“Get on home now and change,” he ordered.
The hope which burned bright an instant before, crashed at his dismissal. I nodded reluctantly and stepped back, hurt and disappointed. I knew when I decided to stay, my presence might be an issue, but I’d prayed I was wrong. The counselor in me knew not to push him, but the woman in me ached to try—especially after the laid-back fun we’d had on the river.
“Later,” he rumbled low, then turned and headed for his truck.
Feeling rejected, I headed to my Jeep and climbed in. I pulled out and watched from my rearview as he followed. When we reached the main road, he turned one way and I turned the other. It felt like a metaphor for our relationship or lack thereof. We were like magnets as our opposite forces pushed away from each other. He was the North Pole and I was the South, and Emma lay in between as we pushed and pulled at each other.
Still hurt by his rejection, I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear fell onto my lips.
I headed to Maxine’s to shower and change. When I arrived, there was another Jeep in the drive. As I entered the cabin, I could smell chocolate in the air, so I headed toward the kitchen. I found Mia stirring a large pot on the stove as Maxine was placing what looked like chocolate suckers onto wax paper. Maxine turned as I entered and smiled, picking up one of the suckers and thrusting out her hand.
“Cock-o-late?” she asked. My eyes grew wide as I stared back at a spotted white chocolate penis.
“I’m afraid to ask,” I answered as I took the cock shaped sucker.
“Cookies and cream flavor,” was her reply.
“Yes, I can see that. But why?”
“They’re party favors,” Mia said over her shoulder.
“Okaaay . . .”
“Maxine and Martha sell sex toys and have monthly parties. You came to town at the right time, she has one tonight.”
My mouth dropped open . . . “That explains the catalogs.”
“Mia helps me out, and since you’re here now, you can too. I’ve got a new line of lingerie I want you and Mia to model for me tonight at the party.”
“Model for whom,” I squeaked out.
“My party guests, who else?”
“Maxine, I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable—”
“Pish posh, sure you can. It’s just a bunch of women,” she explained then grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the kitchen toward the bedrooms. “I put the samples on your bed. I want you to try them on for me so I can see what they look like.”
“But I have to take a shower and go grocery shopping for Gregor.”
“Speaking of Gregor, how did it go with Shane this morning?”
“Fine. He taught me the right way to row and float.”
“That’s it?”
“Should there have been more?”
“A hell of a lot more if he would pull his head out,” she groused. “Is he takin’ you out again?”
“He didn’t say.”
“He didn’t say?”
“No.”
“That man,” she huffed. “Take a shower and I’ll call him.”
“Why are you gonna call him?”
“I’d rather kick his ass,” she mumbled, “but I’ll call him. You need more time with him, uh, more time on the water, I mean.”
“I can practice on my own, there’s no need to bother . . . Wait, why do you want to kick his ass?”
“Cause he’s worse than Max.” She sighed dramatically then turned and marched down the hall.
Worse than Max about what?
I swear every conversation I had with that woman, I felt like we were talking about two different things.
***
Pulling backward into a parking spot, Shane watched a car drive down Main Street and pull into the ever-growing yards of vehicles that had turned out for the carnival. He was parked across from Gregor’s office, debating his sanity. Being in Sage’s company had left him on edge and he wasn’t thinking straight. In the course of a few short hours, he was debating his decision to keep her at arm’s length. Their attraction to each other was strong. She tempted him at the most primitive level. Brought out his protective instincts at a frightening rate. However, in the long haul, he was sure the elephant in the room would eventually destroy whatever feelings developed.
Yet, here he sat, staring at Gregor’s door while contemplating what would amount to emotional suicide. He couldn’t tolerate the thought of Sage on the river with little to no training, felt a responsibility to keep her safe. But to keep her from harm meant spending three days with her—in close quarters, no less—and therein lies the problem.
A sharp rap on his window caused Shane to turn his head. He found Chester peering into his passenger window, motioning for him to unlock the door. He punched the lock and waited silently as Chester climbed in and shut the door.
“You look like a man with a problem,” Chester said as he turned his body to face Shane.
“You would be correct.”
“You know, if you’d let people in, we might be able to help,” Chester replied, crossing his arms.
“A man’s any man at all, he can figure his own shit out,” Shane answered back.
“Not if that man is hangin’ on to the past.”
Shane closed his eyes and leaned his head back. The past was like a noose around his neck, and if he weren’t careful, it would tighten until he suffocated.
“I’ll let that simmer for a while,” Chester muttered. “I was actually headed to update Sage on the investigation when I saw you sittin’ here. Heard you spent the morning teachin’ her how to raft. How’d she do?”
Rolling his head on his shoulders, Shane sighed before he answered. “Not bad for a beginner, but she’s in over her head if she falls in. Devil’s Run is no place to lose your rafting virginity.”
“Maybe someone should keep an eye on her then,” Chester suggested.
Shane shot his friend a blank look and wondered if he read minds.
“Maybe,” he finally mumbled.
Shane’s phone began to ring, so he held up a finger and picked it up from his dash, answering.
“You got Shane.”
“You got Maxine.”
He sighed deep and long.
“I’m busy. You’ve got ten seconds to bust my chops then I’m hangin’ up.”
“Only need five. I need to talk to you about Sage. Come by the house tonight.”
“Just tell me now.”
“I don’t have time, just be here at seven. You can join us for poker night,” she rattled off then hung up without waiting for an answer.
Shane stared at his phone. That woman was a pain in the ass.
“Problems?” Chester asked.
“No, but I feel Max’s pain.” Shane grinned. “Tell me wh
at you found out about Sage’s stalker.”
“FPD has more than one complaint. One from a circuit judge and one from an attorney. The MO is different from Sage’s, though. One had his tires slashed and the other is receiving phone calls.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not the same person,” Shane offered.
“No, it doesn’t. They said they’d keep me advised if they catch the perp. Until then, we stay vigilant,” Chester said then took a deep breath and continued. “I found out something else I thought you should know.”
“What’s that?”
“Sage filed a police report a little over four years ago against her stepfather . . .”
“What the hell for?”
“Seems the late Richard Heller, Sage’s stepfather, liked to use his fists on Sage, her mother, and her sister. He almost killed her mother in an attack. She spent a week in the hospital recovering.”
Shane sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and his fists clenched. Sloan was five foot three and a hundred pounds wet. Sage wasn’t much bigger; their mother was even smaller, and though Sage had a backbone, all three women were soft-spoken and kind, further fueling his anger at the thought any man had laid a hand on them.
A dozen images shot through his mind as he remembered Sloan’s reaction to his men fighting in the ranks. How she would cower when punches were thrown, even Sage’s own reaction to his shouting at her the first night they met. She’d jerked in fear, stepping back and raising her hands as if to ward off a blow. Then he remembered what she’d said immediately after. Just as words have greater power than any blow a man can throw, this guilt you’re carrying over Emma’s death only has power because you allow it to.
Rage pooled in his gut and worked its way up his chest until it took up permanent residence. He wanted to dig the bastard up and kill him again for laying a hand on Sage and her family.
“He raised his hand to Sage?” he hissed.
“He did.”
“He put her mother in the hospital?”
“Almost killed her and then broke his restraining order two years later and went to jail. He died before he could stand trial.”
Shane reached for the steering wheel and wrapped his hands around it tightly. His knuckles turned white as he tried to rein in his need to tear someone limb from limb.
“And now she dedicates her life to saving battered and broken children only to run scared because of it,” Shane bit out, his temper flaring higher with no outlet.
“Seems like. I’d say if any woman needed a man to look out for her, Sage fits the bill.”
Because Emma Jane said you’re the bravest man she’s ever met.
Replaying Sage’s words, it hit him suddenly. For the first time in a year, the knot in his chest was gone. Now it was replaced by an even stronger emotion. A need to protect at all costs.
The revelation hit him so hard that he ripped open his door without a word to Chester and stormed across the street, looking for Gregor. The words mine to protect sped up his heart and anchored permanently in his brain. He might not be able to offer her a relationship, but she was his responsibility to keep safe.
He shouted, “Gregor!” as he entered, looking left and right for the man.
“Shane?”
He turned at his name and barked out, “She isn’t ready for this trip. Find someone else.”
“Then work with her,” Gregor suggested.
“You’re leavin’ in three days; I need a few weeks. She was exhausted after an hour, Gregor, how is she gonna handle three days on the river?”
“I’ll put her on my boat and keep an eye out then.”
“What if she falls in the river and is too exhausted to keep her wits?” Shane argued.
“She’ll be fine, no need to worry.”
Not risking it, Shane thought.
“Not good enough. If you’re dead set on taking her, then put me in the rotation. If she’s going, I’m going.”
Gregor looked stunned by his request and narrowed his eyes. “What’s this about? Why are you so concerned?”
“It’s complicated,” Shane bit out.
“It always is,” Gregor mumbled in agreement.
“Just put me in the rotation and you can keep my pay.”
“Like you’ve ever taken my pay before today,” Gregor scoffed, leveling Shane with a knowing look. “She means somethin’ to you, doesn’t she?”
“Just put me down for the same trips as Sage,” he answered, avoiding Gregor’s question. It didn’t matter if she meant something to him or not. He’d failed her sister, but he wouldn’t fail her.
Gregor walked to his scheduling book and opened it. “Joel will not be happy about this,” he replied absentmindedly as he marked out his name and jotted down Shane’s.
“He’ll survive.”
Shane stuck out his hand for Gregor to shake.
“Och aye, he’ll survive all right, but when he gets a good look at the lass and realizes he missed out on rafting with her, he may feel like he’s been cheated,” he answered, shaking Shane’s hand.
Shane gritted his teeth and turned, mumbling under his breath, “Swear to God, everyone’s trying my last nerve today,” as he headed for the door.
Gregor watched with satisfaction as Shane made his way across the street and climbed into his truck, a sly grin pulling at his mouth as he picked up his cell phone and dialed Maxine.
“I know I’m supposed to call Martha in case Sage overhears, but I wanted ya to know that Shane just left. I’ve no bloody idea how it went this morning, but he just stormed in here and insisted he go on the rafting trip.”
“That worked better than I thought it would. If being stuck on a raft with her for three days doesn’t wear him down, I’ll hang up my meddling shoes. He’s proving to be difficult, Gregor. He’s got a will of steel that’s unlike any I’ve seen. Hell, Max is strong-willed and he folded after one kiss.”
“He’s carryin’ a burden, Maxie. He isn’t thinkin’ straight.”
“Do you think he’ll forgo what he wants as a penance for the past?”
“Could be. Lots of folks withhold what they actually want in the name of what they think is honorable,” he answered.
Maxine’s breath hitched then she whispered, “Gregor,” understanding his meaning.
“Don’t go worryin’ your pretty little head about it, lass. I’ve been alone a long time now, I’ll survive.”
“It’s just that Max—”
“Once a mother, always a mother. I get it,” he cut in. “Gotta run now, Maxie. You take care,” Gregor stated and then swiped ‘end call’ before he said too much. Curling the phone in his hand, he closed his eyes and remembered the one and only kiss he’d shared with Maxine. The memory was bittersweet, but it would have to carry him for the rest of his days.
***
Gregor was sitting at the bar when Shane entered that evening. The old man didn’t frequent Last Call on a regular basis, which was surprising for a Scotsman. He looked like Shane felt on the inside. Beat up and broken. Shane started to move in the opposite direction but hesitated. Sighing, he walked toward the old man.
“Beer for me, whiskey for Gregor,” Shane shouted at Ralph as he sat down beside the old man. “Why you drinkin’ alone, old man?”
Gregor turned his head and looked at Shane then he looked down at his empty glass. “Just thinkin’.”
“That’ll get you in trouble,” Shane pointed out.
“Aye, it will.”
“Anything particular on your mind?”
Ralph laid their drinks down before Gregor could answer, so Shane raised his beer and toasted. “To a life with nothin’ to think about.”
Gregor grinned and raised his glass. “To a life where the thinkin’ is about fast women and faster rapids.”
They clinked their drinks together, both men grinning, and took a drink.
“You sure you’re thinkin’ about fast women or just one particular pain in the ass?”
“You
know?”
“Not hard to miss if you got eyes that see.”
Gregor’s head dropped back on his shoulders and he sighed. After a moment, he turned and looked Shane dead in the eyes. “Spent my whole life chasing the rapids. Didn’t wanna settle down. Wanted to live life hard and fast. Now I’m at the end of it and my pecker still works, thank God.” Shane raised his beer to that and Gregor imitated. “But I got no lass waitin’ at the end of the day. I was foolish, Shane. I met her two years before Tom and did nothin’ about it.”
The sip Shane had been taking didn’t quite make it down and he choked. “Are you sayin’,” Shane coughed out, “that you and Maxine have a history?”
“Not in the sense you think. She was high-strung and glorious to watch. But I knew she was lookin’ for a man who would give her a family, so I kept her at arm’s length. I wanted her, make no mistake about that, but my need to be free, to live my life the way I always wanted, overshadowed what I felt for her.”
“So you showin’ up in Trails End wasn’t a coincidence?”
“No. I hadn’t seen Maxie since I left for the next rapid, but I never forgot her. I found my way back to Gunnison last year and inquired about her. Found out where she lived and that she was a widow.”
Shane stared at Gregor and saw the laugh lines around his eyes. He’d lived a life of adventure, doin’ what he wanted. But at the end of the day, it was about havin’ someone in your life who belonged to you, and he looked away. He saw his future if he didn’t get a handle on his past.
“I wouldn’t let Max know you’ve been carryin’ a torch for his mother all these years.”
“Aye. The Prince of Trails End loved his father very much.”
“I also wouldn’t let Max hear you call him a prince either,” Shane grinned.
“Why?”
“He prefers god of thunder.”
Gregor smiled. “Got himself tied to a high-strung and glorious woman just like his father. He saw what he wanted and grabbed hold with both hands. You and I should follow by example.”
“You grab hold of Maxine with both hands and she’s liable to crack you over the head with her ax.”
“Would be worth it to get my hands on her,” Gregor grinned.
“Hands on whom?” Max asked from behind both men.