Just the Way You Are (A Pleasant Gap Romance Book 1)

by Pepper Basham

  Eisley stepped from the kitchen after dinner and walked into the sitting room. Daniel sat on the cozy red couch, a newspaper in hand, the golden glow of the fire flickering across his features. He looked up and a welcome smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Finished washing up?”

  Eisley nodded, sitting beside him, the tension from her inner drag race lifting. “Wes told me he’d dry the dishes so I came in here to have a”—she tried one of her new words— “chin wag with you.”

  “I fancy myself in the perfect mood for a chin wag.”

  Adorable man. Probably a picture of Wes in twenty-five years. A gentleman. A caring father. Faithful. Still holding on to a large dose of ‘swoony’. “I don’t suppose when you offered me a place in your home you thought I’d spend every dinner monologuing about underground passageways and five-hundred–year-old romances, did you?”

  “I don’t think I imagined with such detail as that, but I suspected you’d bring a great deal of joy.”

  Suddenly homesick, Eisley snuggled in beside him, like her own dad, and rested her head against his shoulder, hoping wisdom would seep through into her brain. “Joy?” She stared into the fire, red flames surrounded with golds and yellows, licking up through the mouth of the stone fireplace. “You’ve been so sweet to me. Like I was part of your family.”

  “Quite right.” Daniel patted her hand, his vague response shooting a question mark to her mind. “I am very glad to know you, Eisley Barrett. You have been an answer to an old man’s prayers.”

  Eisley lifted her head to view his profile, a smile itching for release. “You prayed for a chatty, clumsy American with a history of making poor personal choices?”

  He chuckled. “I prayed God would bring someone with a generous and genuine heart. He always gives more than we ask.”

  Emotion stole her voice, so she rested her head back on his shoulder and listened to the crackling fire. More than she asked? “I was afraid to come here at first. Leave my kids? Possibly come back empty-handed? But I’m so thankful I came. Your family and Lizzie have touched my life in so many ways, and we’ve fulfilled a wonderful man’s dying wish.”

  “I’ve learned over these many years of my life that letting go of our fears is difficult, but when we do, God brings more than we imagined possible. We can’t grasp what God has for us if our hands are holding to fear, can we? Besides, nothing worth having is without risk. It makes the treasure more precious.”

  She stared up at him, wondering if he’d jumped inside her head. Her focus drifted back to the fire. “You’re right.”

  “What was it you read yesterday? Trust in the Lord with all your heart and he shall direct thy path. You are precious to him, and he holds your heart in his hands as surely as the words you read in the letter. Yet much more secure.”

  A tingle burned her eyes. Knowing it and believing it fought a battle of wills. Her head and her heart played a dangerous race of ‘chicken’ with the Holy Spirit refereeing wisdom here and there. Wasn’t this entire romance impossible? “And He’ll keep me from falling?”

  Daniel tapped her chin. “He’ll give you exactly what you need, luv. What if you need to fall?”

  He continued without noticing her little intake of breath. “My dear girl, God knows the best goal for you. Who better to trust as your guide, even if you must dodge occasional holes along the way?”

  “Yeah...” Eisley sniffled, then replayed Daniel’s words. In a slow and steady climb, they congealed into a bing of certainty. Her head shot up. “Mr. H! That’s it.”

  “What?”

  “The hunting tower.” She smacked her palm over her open mouth and then waved both hands in the air. “It’s perfect.”

  She jumped to her feet and ran to the kitchen, grappling the possibility into words as she slid on the rug in front of the kitchen door. Wes turned at her entrance, towel tossed over his shoulder, plate in hand. How on earth could that look so sexy?

  Ahh! She shook the image from her head—okay, dislodged it—but it was sure to visit her later. “Wes, I’ve figured it out, I think. Heights of memory?”

  He twisted his brows in question.

  “The hunting tower, where I fell in the hole? It’s on the same side of the house as the collapsed tunnel.”

  He frowned and then he got it. “Of course, it’s brilliant.”

  She squealed and clapped her hands like a caffeinated cheerleader after a touchdown. “I just know there’s something else just waiting for us to find; something special in that tower. I won’t sleep a wink.”

  “Might I join the expedition?”

  Warmth spilled through her, with a little bit of hope sprinkled in for good measure. “Sure. Who wouldn’t want to get involved in a treasure hunt?” And perhaps it was time to find her courage for a second chance.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lizzie met them at the door, golden eyes brighter than the day before. “Good morning, d—”

  “Lizzie, I think I know where the tunnel leads,” Eisley interjected, unable to contain her excitement.

  Lizzie shifted a startled gaze between Eisley and Wes. “Yes?”

  “The hunting tower. It’s on the same side of the house as the tunnel. I mean, it would make sense, right? Two mornings ago, I fell into a hole in the ground up near the tower, and in Julia’s letter she wrote, “I’ll take my wine at half past ten and go to the heights of memory.” That’s the tallest place on the property.”

  “Clever, dear.” Her expression clouded a moment. “The building is so overgrown with rubbish, I’ve never thought of it. In fact, I haven’t a clue where the door is.” She drummed her fingers against her chin, eyebrows almost touching. “I’ll collect the older keys and you can see if there’s a winner.”

  “How’s your dad?”

  Lizzie offered a soft smile. “Well enough, and I plan to join the two of you once Father’s caregiver arrives.”

  She disappeared into the house and Eisley rolled back on her heels. She smiled at Wes as they waited in awkward silence, and his reassuring grin speared her in all the soft spots his tenderness had awakened. Trust him, Eisley.

  This was the day she’d find her courage. Maybe. If she didn’t die from hyperventilation first.

  Lizzie returned, an iron ring of keys in hand. “If you can find the door, perhaps one of these keys will fit. I’ll join you when I can.” Her brows jiggled an obvious love dance. “Have fun.”

  She was surrounded by traitors. She shook her head. No, she was surrounded by God’s little encouragers, right?

  “I can’t imagine anything else, dear Lizzie.” Wes stepped back so Eisley could pass in front of him toward the tower.

  He drew close to her side as they walked. She liked it, and ached for a deeper closeness in a barren place she’d closed off after Marshall ripped her heart out and danced on it with another partner. Maybe the yearning burned deeper because of the hurt.

  The very presence of the tower—its atmosphere—breathed with enough mystery to distract her inner paranoia. From the faint fog twisting through the trees, revealing and concealing hillsides, to the cool wisp of morning dew, it told its own story of time and age. Broken stone walls camouflaged by green ivy and shrouded in fog juxtaposed a physical world of hand-hewn rock and some other mysterious place built in daydreams.

  “What if you search one side of the tower, and I take the other,” Wes offered, nodding to the tower’s right side.

  “Good idea.” Just dandy. More time to work on her plan. She bit her lip and rounded the other side of the tower, fastening her gaze ahead.

  She pushed her hands into the tousled mass of vines and began spreading her fingers through it, feeling for the indention of a door or a window. The overgrowth braided into a knotted layer, as protective as the wall underneath and surprisingly symbolic of the tangled net her emotions spun in a fight-or-flight battle. Her palms pierced through the damp vines and slid across the cold stone, wetness soaking into her skin and adding extra chill to the moss-scente
d air.

  Minutes, possibly an hour, passed as she worked in silence, occasionally passing Wes or catching the faint aroma of spice and leather nearby. She’d nearly talked herself into an absurd plan to ask him on a date. Utterly ridiculous, but hey, she had a fabulous track record at ridiculous already, so why not keep up appearances.

  Her searching fingers slicked across stone for the hundredth time and then bumped over an edge in the wall. She fell forward, snagged by the twisted branches. What in the world? She righted herself and thrust her hand back through the overgrowth again, fingers dancing across the wall until she found the depressed area again and traced its rectangular edge. A doorway?

  An adrenaline rush pushed volume into her words. “Wes, I think I found something.”

  Eisley tried to pry the vines from their possessive hold on the wall, and though they clung like weight gain, her efforts weren’t in vain. They loosened.

  “What is it?” Wes ran to her side.

  Just the thought of him running to her had her grinning like a dope. Stop it, Eisley. She needed to convince herself she was content with friendship, just in case he laughed at her crazy date offer.

  “I think I found a door.” She grabbed his hand and guided it through the vines, leaning with him and his solid body. Good gravy, she was practically spooning the guy! She ignored the immediate fireworks erupting at lightning speed inside her chest. He didn’t so much as flinch, despite the fact he could probably feel her heartbeat drumming into his spine. Content with friendship? Liar, liar! Skin on fire!

  She was crazy. To prove it she rested her cheek against his shoulder for a millisecond. Oh my, how intoxicating. His solid strength pressed against her, encouraging her plot of lunacy.

  He shifted and looked down at her, his lovely dimple close enough to taste. She released his hand, stepped back before she reacted to her maddening impulse, and trained her attention on the tunnel they’d made through the overgrowth. “Oh look, there’s a keyhole.”

  Wes fumbled for the keys while Eisley held back the vines. The first two keys were too small. The third fit but wouldn't turn. The fourth slid into the hole, and with effort, eventually clicked under Wes’s determination.

  They exchanged a wide-eyed stare and then looked into the darkness of the doorway.

  “Mind your head.” Wes felt it too, the need to whisper.

  How long had it been since human feet violated the space within these walls? Decades? Centuries? A shiver moved her closer to him. He slipped his hand around hers, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and tugged her behind him through the doorway into a dark corridor. Yeah, there was pretty much nothing natural about her circumstances at present. She was walking through a five-hundred-year-old passageway, holding Christopher Wesley Harrison’s hand.

  “Did you pack a torch in your rucksack, pet?”

  Rucksack? Torch? The close quarters were one thing, the darkness was another, but his scent chasing her around the passage and the croon of his bass voice had her stomach crunched in a continual Pilates hold. Maybe she should just give up and let that cowboy cologne catch her. “Oh flashlight. Right.”

  She reluctantly released his hand and swung her backpack around to find her light. With the flip of a switch, a faint golden glow cast a haze into the circular room, giving hints of a fireplace, a simple wooden table with two chairs, and a large chest near another door across the room. They’d entered Sleeping Beauty’s tower—everything powdered with a layer of dust and waiting for a spell-breaker. This was single-handedly the coolest moment of her life.

  The drifting beam of light landed on the round-topped chest, so they followed the glow.

  Wes leaned down and ran his hand across the top of the chest. “It looks to be iron.”

  “And pretty stinkin’ old.”

  His grin curled crooked. “Quite.” He finagled the hook of the chest with those magical hands of his and, after a snap, lifted the lid.

  “Books?” Wes pulled out a red-covered one and blew the dust off, a thin wisp floating through the flashlight’s glow. “Robinson Crusoe. A first edition, I believe.” His gaze met hers over the book binding. “Certainly, something one doesn’t see every day.”

  “That tells us someone’s been in here within the past few hundred years then, huh?” Eisley peeked into the chest, her arm brushing his.

  He nudged her shoulder and offered a boyish wink. “Care to see what else awaits?”

  She smiled her reply and without hesitation, he grasped her hand again and opened the other door. Its grating creak announced its age. A stone stairway twisted around the curve of the tower leading to…the heights of memory? Only one way to find out.

  As they moved up the stairs, her innards did the shuffle right along with her pulse. She experimented with a little boldness, braiding her fingers through his instead of palm to palm. He didn’t jerk his hand away, which was a good sign, and the touch gripped with more security. Certain. He even squeezed her hand to add a note of confidence.

  She held her breath. Lord, I know this seems small in the grand scheme of things, but would you give me a clear sign of what to do?

  A narrow metal door with a latch from the dawn of time topped the stairs. Wes released her hand and worked to turn the door handle, his voice tense from strain. “This is remarkable. I imagine you know a bit of information about the history of Lornegrave, then?”

  “Lizzie said this house fell into disrepair until the end of the eighteenth century, when Michael Richard Worthing inherited it from his grandmother Moriah Ramsden.” She pressed her back against the door and watched him. A dark lock loosed from the others and dripped forward as he worked on his knees, shadowed chin tight with focus. Could a guy like him care about a girl like her? “I can’t believe we’re the ones who get to discover all this.”

  He looked up at her through hooded lids, long lashes framing those piercing eyes. “There’s no one I’d rather share it with, pet.”

  Her palms pressed to her chest. “Words straight to a girl’s heart, handsome.”

  His brow angled a half-inch, and he stared long enough to thicken the air around her with a heat wave in December. “As I recall, the way to your heart is chocolate and Sinatra.”

  Evidently a British accent and spicy cologne work too. She dove deep for a scrap of courage. “Wes, um…you like the country, don’t you?”

  He went back to work on the door. “Of course.”

  “And its simplicity and sometimes quirky charm?”

  He gripped the latch tighter, his voice pinched with concentrated strength. “Yes.”

  “And country people can be pleasant and…um…attractive, can’t they?”

  He tilted a brow along with his head, eyes dark and piercing. “Without a doubt.”

  Her throat went dry.

  “Well, what would you think of—” Something clicked, followed by a pop, and the door gave way. Eisley fell back, flashlight flying, and landed on her backside in the middle of a window-lit room.

  Wes was at her side, kneeling and sliding his palms down her arms. “Are you alright?”

  She ignored the flash of embarrassment as he helped her to a stand. “Yeah, I landed on my softest spot.”

  His gaze did a shimmy over her body, leaving a few more flashes in its wake. “You are certain—”

  A sudden boom cut off his words and the door from the stairway slammed closed.

  “The door!” She ran to it, taking the ring handle into her hands and pulling. “Uh-oh. I think it’s locked.”

  “Let me have a go.”

  She stepped aside, her stomach knotting, a sudden fear crippling her thirst for adventure. Alone? With Wes?

  After a few attempts, Wesley confirmed Eisley’s fears. “It appears you’re right. We are locked in.”

  “Do you have your phone? I left mine charging back at your house.”

  Her hope went the way of his shaking head. “Mine is home as well.”

  “What do we do now?”

/>   “We wait.” His dimple emerged like a challenge.

  Trapped? She didn’t have an escape in case her crush-confession turned one-sided. Which seemed most likely. In fact, she literally fell on her bum during the first attempt to open up to him.

  She turned toward her prison room. “Well, I guess while we’re here, we should look around, right?” While I work up a new dose of courage.

  Three windows allowed more visibility than the windowless room below, but there wasn’t much to see. Dust cast a hazy glow into the gray-gold rays of morning light filtering in through the vine-draped windows. A few sconces lined the walls—one cross-shaped and three ovals—along with a bookshelf and the remains of an old bed.

  Wes checked the door across the room, bringing in a blast of chilly wind. “It’s the balcony, and overgrown with vines like everything else.” He stepped out and looked up at the tower wall, pushing back the snatching ivy. “It doesn’t seem right. The tower’s taller than this, but there isn’t another doorway to lead higher?”

  He closed the door, retrieved her errant flashlight from the floor, and handed it back to her.

  “Thanks.” She swept the room another glance. “Do you think there’s a secret door or something?”

  “Where would it be?” Both hands rested on his hips, his steeling gaze taking inventory of the room. His stance drew attention to the lean sweep of his legs, tapered waist, and the firm chest she’d so deliciously leaned against last night. Out. Of. Her. League. But she’d never been good at baseball.

  He caught her staring and raised a brow along with a corner of his mouth. Nope, she didn’t have answers yet, but she was working on it. She jerked her attention to the walls, staring at the sconces as if her life depended on them. The cross-shaped one caught her attention, different from the other three in the room. “Well, sometimes if you turn a lever, it will open a secret door.”

  “Did you get that notion from Indiana Jones?”

  She didn’t have to turn around to hear the smile in his question. “Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of Scooby Doo, but Indiana Jones works too.” She lobbed a grin over her shrug.