Lean on Me

by HelenKay Dimon

  The second after she thought it, the front door opened and Allan stepped out. Same zip-up black jacket and ruffled gray hair. A smile broke across his face, this one unusually wary and more than a little tired. They met halfway between the house and the gate.

  “Hey, kiddo.” He grabbed her in a strangling hug.

  She held on, letting the familiar scent of musk that always clung to him wrap around her. He felt like he always did, like a mix of safety and love. With some reluctance, she pulled back and looked into the face of the man who once told a bratty thirteen-year-old girl that she could be as annoying as she wanted because he would never leave her. He was a good man but the stress pulling at the corner of his eyes told her he had bigger things on his mind than welcoming her home.

  “You look good,” she said, but up close she saw the deep lines on his forehead and around his mouth.

  He shrugged. “I’m still standing, sunshine.”

  She smiled at the endearment. “Let’s go inside.”

  With her hand tucked in his arm, she tried to lead him back to the house. When he didn’t move, she snapped back against him.

  He shook his head, his soft gray eyes growing sadder by the minute. “We can’t.”

  More attempts to keep her out of the house. His reaction didn’t make any sense. “Why?”

  “We have a little problem.”

  Her gaze went to the flowered curtains in the front window, the same ones her mother had made by hand years before. A crazy thought sent her empty stomach crashing. “Do you have a woman in there?”

  “What?” His mouth twisted as if he’d just eaten something rancid. “Of course not.”

  “Then why can’t I—”

  “Extermination.” He tugged on her arm and guided her until they faced away from the house. “Had some termite trouble. The place is being sprayed. I don’t want anyone inside until it’s clear, including you.”

  She’d never known the house to have a problem, but she’d lived in so many hotel rooms and short-term studio rentals in her life that the intricacies of home ownership were unfamiliar. So, rather than argue, she accepted the newest excuse. “Where are you staying?”

  “What do you…?” His eyes narrowed briefly then opened again. “Oh, at the Inn.”

  She didn’t miss the hesitation that time. Or the lie. It would take two minutes for her to walk into the Crossley Inn in the middle of town and find out if his story was true, but she knew to her toes it wasn’t.

  For whatever reason, he was barring her from the house and willing to say anything to keep her from even stepping on the porch. Figuring out how to get to the truth was the goal.

  Before she could find the right question, tires crunched on the driveway gravel. She turned in time to see the small blue pickup truck rumble to a stop. Despite the aviator sunglasses, it didn’t take a genius to identify the driver. She’d know that scruff and sexy smile anywhere. “What is he doing here?”

  “Mitch is always on time,” Allan said.

  Their visitor jumped down wearing faded jeans and a navy track jacket. The look was long and lean and a little too appealing for her peace of mind. Seemed she was the only one not all bundled up against the fall winds. Having climbed thirty thousand feet into the air, she knew cold. This wasn’t it.

  As if he read her thoughts, Allan rubbed his bare hands together and blew on them. “Winter is coming early this year.”

  Exactly what she didn’t want to talk about. “And Mitch?”

  Allan waved her off. “Oh, he’s looking at some trees out back.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s his business.”

  She ignored Mitch’s determined stalk across the bright green lawn. Well, she snuck in a few peeks. She wasn’t dead after all.

  “According to the women eyeing him up at the nursery yesterday, he sits behind a desk and writes checks.” They went on to whisper about how fit he was and how good he looked in jeans, all while pretending she wasn’t there, and she’d bolted. Though she had to admit nothing about that flat stomach and the strong thighs said lazy to her.

  “Actually, I also go outside now and then.” Mitch stopped right in front of them and shot her a blinding smile before holding his hand out to her stepfather. “Allan, how are you doing?”

  “Better now that Cassidy is home for good.” They shared a handshake and engaged in the male bonding ritual of shoulder slapping.

  Cassidy was so busy trying not to roll her eyes that she almost missed Allan’s comment and the side glance from Mitch. Almost.

  “Is she now?” he asked.

  “That’s what the message said. Right?” Allan looked as if he’d aged ten years while they stood there waiting for her answer.

  Since she wasn’t sure which one he wanted, she skipped to a safer topic. She turned to Mitch and strained to see his eyes through the dark lenses. “You’re here to look at a tree?”

  “Yes.”

  Uh-huh. Skepticism blew over her like a blustering wind. “And you just happen to be here when I’m here.”

  “Amazing isn’t it?”

  “Or calculated.” The whole thing struck her as convenient, though why Mitch would take such a sudden interest in her after all these years was a mystery.

  He lifted off the shades then and hit her with the full force of those shockingly blue eyes. “Are you suggesting something?”

  “Just wondering when you set this appointment.” She hadn’t been a stellar student, but she knew a setup when she walked right into it.

  Allan stopped shifting his gaze between Mitch and Cassidy. “He was going to come next week but called this morning to reschedule to today.”

  Bingo. “He did? Interesting.”

  Mitch winked at her. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  But trying what was the question. If this was some messed up ego thing leftover from high school, she might just punch him.

  “Am I missing something here?” Allan asked as he folded his arms across his chest and settled into his famed father-on-date-night stance.

  “Something that will be resolved at dinner.” Mitch’s stare bore into her as he spoke.

  “Keep dreaming,” she mumbled.

  Mitch clapped, breaking the strange haze winding around them. He looked to Allan. “The trees?”

  The older man pointed toward the side of the house. “We’re talking about the ones around back.”

  And then the men were off. They started walking, acting like she would either disappear or go away. She chose neither.

  She had to jog a few steps, but she ended up right beside Mitch. “I want to see this.”

  He smiled but didn’t look at her. “You don’t think a guy with a business degree knows anything about trees?”

  “I’m betting there are at least three people at the nursery with more expertise on this issue than you.”

  “Probably closer to five.”

  They stopped just as they reached the edge of the house. Towering black maple trees shaded this part of the yard. Some of the yellow leaves littered the ground but the tops remained full. As a kid she’d thought they were a hundred feet tall. With the eyes of an adult she figured she’d doubled the actual number.

  Allan tapped his palm on the trunk. “Austin checked them.”

  Another name from her past. He was the carefree Thomas brother. The one who did some climbing and shared her love of conquering heights that terrified others. They’re e-mailed over the years but since losing her computer she’d lost touch with everyone.

  “He’s still in town? I always liked him.”

  Mitch scowled. “Settle down.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “He married my sister, Carrie, last month.”

  Not a surprise. Cassidy had always view them as a meant-to-be couple. But Mitch’s reaction to the mere mention of his former, and probably still, best friend’s name struck her as overkill. People in this town tended to engage in that sort of thing quite often. “I didn’t say I
wanted to date the man.”

  “That’s good since I believe that job is already occupied by me.”

  Allan’s hand slid down the tree until it hung lose at his side. “Do you two have something going on?”

  Mitch nodded. “Yes.”

  She rushed to answer. “God, no.”

  He raised an eyebrow over that. “That denial was a bit overly dramatic, don’t you think?”

  Allan cleared his throat. “About the trees? We’ve been talking about an accelerated timetable.”

  “For what?” she asked, wondering about the urgency as well as the whole situation with the trees.

  “I read Austin’s report. They’re healthy and we want them,” Mitch said to Allan. “I’ll have to do some paperwork for the state to deal with the environmental concerns, but I think we can come to a deal. I’ll call you with a number and, if we can agree, and I’m sure we can, I can have my people out here on Friday with a check and the equipment.”

  That was a lot of words. Cassidy couldn’t figure out a way to make much sense of them when he ran them together like that. “What are you two talking about?”

  “The nursery is buying the trees,” Mitch said.

  “People do that?” She stared up into the heavy branches

  “All the time. So long as they’re healthy and we can save the root systems, we use them for landscaping, for shade on the property, for bulk sales.”

  Whatever any of that meant. “How do you even lift it?”

  “With a crane and a team of people none of whom are me. That’s Spence’s specialty.”

  “Great news, but I have to get going.” Allan was already moving. He shouted his comments over his shoulder as he broke into a near run. “You stay out of the house. It’s locked up tight and you don’t have the key. We’ll meet tomorrow morning for breakfast at Schmidt’s.”

  She’s never seen her stepfather move that fast and she’d seen him rush in and break up the one and only teen drinking party she’d attended as if he were tied to a tornado. “Where are you going?”

  He gave her a backhanded wave right before he disappeared around the side of the building. “See you at six.”

  Wait… “Six?”

  “Even I think that was weird. He’s acting out of character, and who eats that early?” Mitch asked.

  She could think of a lot words to describe Allan’s reaction. Weird struck her as tame. “I’m getting kind of tired of the men around here telling me when to meet them to eat. But I’m worried about him.”

  “He’s scattered, but—”

  “That is the understatement of the decade.” She pointed as she talked. “Look around. The grass is too high. The house needs a scraping and some paint. I see piles of old wood and dead flowers. This is not the Allan Huntsman I know. Not the same guy who didn’t let me wear shoes in the house because I’d ‘dirty up’ the place.”

  Mitch dug his hands deep into this jacket pockets. “He’s had a hard time since losing your mom.”

  “We both have, Mitch.” She spun around. The small patch of land set off by a waist-high fence sat off to their right. No chipped paint there. A bouquet of fresh, out-of-season purple lilacs filled the vase next to the plaque. “That’s the one thing he has kept up.”

  They walked in silence to the informal gravesite. Mitch opened the gate and followed her into the small space. She wiped her hands on her jeans then folded her arms. A second later she unfolded them again. She couldn’t stop moving or catch her breath. Every part of her trembled as if on the verge of blowing apart.

  Then Mitch crouched down. With a gentle hand, he skimmed his fingers over the raised writing on the grave marker. The move was so caring, so reverent, that her world centered again.

  “I don’t think I realized she was buried here,” he said in a whisper, the type usually reserved for church or a solemn occasion.

  “We had to get an exception to allow it.”

  “We?”

  She squatted next to him, balancing on the balls of her feet. “I stood at the back of the church.”

  He finally looked at her. “Excuse me?”

  “I was there, at the funeral and burial. I didn’t want her last day to be about me, because both my mom and Allan deserved better than that, but I came. Of course I did.” The nicknames and catchy phrases about her life were bad enough. The idea people would think she’d abandoned her family at the end was a hole that continuously burned in her gut. “Allan kept insisting it didn’t matter what anyone said, but deep down I think he knew it was the right decision and felt relief at not having to answer a lot of questions about me on such a horrible day.”

  “I had no idea.”

  Cassidy brushed a few leaves away from the marker. “Not how you expected The Chosen One to act?”

  “I’ve never called you that.” The clench of his jaw mirrored the anger in his voice.

  “She was my mother and I loved her. I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life, some selfish, but the rumors about this are wrong.”

  She felt his gaze on her cheek. The skin heated under his attention. She didn’t look at him because she doubted her ability to say anything coherent or maintain her control.

  His fingers tickled her chin as he turned her head to him. “You are a constant surprise, Cassidy Clarke.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “It’s not a bad one.”

  The tug, the pull. The intensity of the moment grabbed her hard. Shook her with enough force to rattle her bones. Whatever whirled around them blocked out everything but the bright fall sunshine streaming in through the mass of leaves above them.

  She stood up, breaking the connection before her common sense became a casualty of her pulsing attraction to this man. A second later he was right there next to her. So close she could feel his breath on her cheek and smell a hint of his mint shampoo. His shoulders blocked her view of the yard and his intense gaze never left her face.

  “So now what?” She whispered the question because talking in a normal voice seemed out of place.

  “I fight back the urge to kiss you.”

  His hands didn’t move. He didn’t even shift. Which was good because she doubted she would have been able to walk away if he touched her.

  “That would be wise.”

  Like that, the spell broke. The zap between them blinked out, taking the huge surge of energy with it. The bubbling promise left in its wake was not one ounce more comfortable or controllable.

  He must have sensed it too because he fell back on his flirty tone. “And I go plan some smart conversation for our date tonight.”

  “I don’t remember saying I would come.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Oh, you’ll come.”

  She laughed before she could stop it. “Are still talking about dinner?”

  “Not really.”

  Chapter Four

  Mitch brought the tractor to a stop next to a thick wooded patch on the property. This area had long ago been marked off for new growth. Spence and Austin’s father had started the nursery and continued to baby this spot despite his informal retirement. With the older man in Washington, D.C. for a few weeks doing some side work for the U.S. Forest Service with Austin, the area was empty most of the time. That’s why the call from Travis about an emergency had brought Mitch racing to get there.

  He jumped off the seat and walked over to join Travis in staring at the ground. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think we have a problem.”

  Mitch saw dirt, fallen leaves and broken branches. None of that amounted to a surprise thinking they worked on acres of land filled with trees. There were leaf blowers and wood chippers running all the time. “Spencer? Customers? Narrow it down to a topic for me.”

  “Trespassing.”

  Mitch glanced around and saw no one but the two of them for what looked like miles. “You’ll probably need to give me a few more clues.”

  “I found a rolled-up tent, some cooking supplies and a small ba
g.” Travis stepped over a fallen tree trunk with his sturdy work boots crunching on the ground beneath him and lifted an olive-green tarp. “Someone hid all of this here.”

  Mitch sat on the trunk and opened the top of the heavy canvass. Women’s clothes and fleece mittens. When he shook the bag, he heard a metal clanking. After digging deeper, he took out four pear-shaped rings that fit in the palm of his hand. He didn’t know much about sports that required ropes, preferring to keep his feet on the ground and his body at sea level whenever possible, but he recognized a carabineer. Had seen Austin use them in his work as an arborist when climbing trees. Knew serious mountain climbers used them. And there just happened to be an expert climber hanging around.

  Looked like it was time to have a serious chat with Cassidy.

  Mitch balanced the links in his hand. “Yeah, someone is hiding something.”

  Travis bent down, checking out the pot and metal burner. “The same someone who’s hunkered down and made herself at home on the property for some reason.”

  “I’m wondering why.”

  Travis looked up at Mitch. “You have a theory?”

  Yeah, one he didn’t like. It involved a very sexy trespasser who had a house just down the road. Her staying here didn’t make much sense, not with all the money she’d made during her career. Not with the alternative choices of a nearby Inn and miles of open land. She chose his turf and he wanted to know why.

  First he had to be sure. “How long do you think she—whoever she is—has been here?”

  “Days at most. Ever since the problem a year ago with those kids using the back forty as a smoking and drinking site, we do a sweep every few days.”

  “That sounds like an order from Spence.”

  “And his dad. Austin, however, seemed impressed with the kids’ ingenuity.” Travis pushed off his knees and stood up. “Said something about the two of you knowing the best drinking sites as teens. I’m betting Carrie loves hearing stuff like that.”

  “Don’t let the innocent face fool you. My baby sister tried to tag along on those adventures. There was a time when she could outdrink me. She had a scary tolerance for alcohol.” But ever since a nasty accident involving a tractor and a very drunk Austin, none of them drank much anymore and Austin had stopped completely. The nursery and the Thomas farmhouse had become alcohol-limited zones.