by Cora Seton
Avery turned on him. “What does that mean? You’re engaged?” Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’re married, Walker Norton, or I swear to God—”
“I’m not married.” His voice could have sliced through steel. He kept his gaze on Nora. She resisted the urge to take a step back. “Yet.”
“Yet?” Avery’s voice slid up in an ungainly warble. “Damn it!” She knocked her plate to the ground and strode off toward the cluster of women’s tents.
Nora set her plate down and followed her. “Avery.”
“Go away.” Avery picked up her pace, and when she reached her tent she climbed in and zipped up the fly. “Go away,” she shouted again when Nora got there.
“I didn’t know how to tell you—”
“Now I know. Are you happy?”
“Of course not! Avery—”
“I love him! Don’t you know that? I love him!”
“I know.” Nora sat down beside the tent flap. Everyone in camp knew now, if they hadn’t before. “I’m so sorry.” She listened helplessly to Avery’s sobs. Avery was such a kind, caring, open person, without subterfuge. You knew where you stood with her. You didn’t worry about what she might be doing behind your back. Exactly the kind of person Fate seemed to single out for its worst betrayals.
There wasn’t anything she could do but sit like a guard outside Avery’s tent as the sensitive woman inside weathered another blow. The idea of Avery toughening her hide so that the world could carry on in its cynical, cruel way made Nora furious. It was the world that should have to change; not Avery.
“Nora.” Avery’s hand pressed against the side of the tent some minutes later, long after her sobs had quieted down and a long silence had made Nora wonder if Avery had fallen asleep.
Nora pressed her hand against the dark outline. “I’m here.”
“Am I always going to be alone?” Avery whispered.
“No. Of course not,” Nora assured her. “Not you. You were made for happiness, Avery.” She hoped that was true. “Whatever’s going on, Walker cares about you, I know it. I’m not sure what Sue meant when she told me Walker was taken, but he’ll figure it out.”
“If I can’t have him, I don’t want anyone,” Avery said quietly.
“It’s going to be okay,” Nora assured her.
But if that was true, why hadn’t Walker come to tell Avery himself?
Chapter Nineteen
‡
“What the hell is this about you being engaged?” Boone asked Walker when Riley, Savannah and Win moved away to the women’s side of the camp, huddling together near Savannah’s tent, leaving Nora to sit sentry near Avery’s.
Clay had never seen Walker look so uncomfortable. “Crow business.”
“I don’t care if it is. Spill it.”
Walker hesitated a long while. “A promise was made. A long time ago.”
“Is it a promise you’re going to keep?”
After a long moment, Walker shrugged.
“Is she willing to live at Base Camp?”
Walker shrugged again.
“That’s not good enough.” Boone ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. “Whatever this is about, fix it.”
“It’ll take time.”
“You don’t have time! Get it done. Jericho?”
“Yeah?” Jericho sat up when Boone called him out.
“What’s the deal with you and Savannah?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Work faster!”
“But—”
Boone fixed him with a hard look. “I’ve had enough of everyone fucking around. I’ve done my part, but you all are dragging your feet. Pair up and get ready to get hitched. And pass on the message to your crew.” Boone stood up and stalked to the bunkhouse. One of the cameramen followed him. The other stayed put, still filming.
“What got into him?” Jericho asked, rising slowly.
“It’s got to be Fulsom,” Clay said.
“That man better stay out of things,” Jericho said. “He’s fucked everything up enough.”
When Avery asked her to get Riley, Nora got the message and left the two of them alone. She drifted back toward her own tent, anticipating a little quiet time to pull together her thoughts. Her heart ached for Avery. She wasn’t sure where Clay had gotten to, but she was grateful not to have to talk to him at the moment. It stung that he didn’t fully believe that someone had been in the manor with her earlier. Maybe the scenario stretched credulity, but if he wanted to be her husband, he needed to trust her as much as she’d begun to trust him.
She was so buried in her thoughts she didn’t notice Win was coming to intercept her until Win put a hand on her arm.
“Clay loves you,” Win said without preamble. “Whatever’s going on—whatever the show’s doing to you two, don’t let it override how you really feel about him.”
“It’s not the show.” Nora tried to get around her. She wasn’t in the mood for this conversation.
Win blocked her again. “Love is special. It’s priceless. It doesn’t always happen between a man and a woman, no matter how much they wish it would. If what’s between you two is real, don’t throw it away because of your pride.”
“This has nothing to do with pride. I’m being practical.”
“Are you?”
Win stepped aside this time. Nora pushed past her and stalked to her tent. Crouching down, she reached to unzip the fly and found it already open. Had she left it that way this morning? If so, her tent would be full of mosquitos. Just what she needed tonight.
Nora crawled through the opening, thoroughly frustrated with the way the day had gone, but her gown caught on the zipper as she turned around to do it up again. She yanked it free, heard the fabric tear and sat down with a thump, ready to scream. The one she’d worn when she’d made love to Clay needed a wash. Now this one was torn. The tent was far too small and stuffy to offer her a comfortable place to nurse her grievances, but where else could she go?
She zipped up the flap brusquely, turned around and settled herself on the bedding she’d left neatly arranged on the floor. The only way to salvage the remainder of the day was to write something. Anything. She reached for her notebook, which she’d stored with her laptop in a canvas bag before going to dinner.
Her laptop was there. So was the little case of pens and pencils she kept with it. The two books Sue had loaned her were there, too.
But her notebook was gone.
She searched the bag again and confirmed her findings. She quickly sorted through the rest of her things, seizing her purse and spilling its contents over her bedclothes. Change, receipts, makeup and her wallet tumbled out. She sighed in relief when she found her cash, credit cards and IDs intact. She hadn’t been robbed.
Nora sat back, confused and unnerved all at once. Where was her notebook? Had she left it somewhere?
Up at the manor, she decided. She’d been upset by the time they’d given up on the search. She thought she’d grabbed it when she’d picked up Sue’s books, but maybe she hadn’t after all.
What about the cell phone?
She patted down her dress and was relieved to find it still in her pocket. Her notebook was probably sitting on the kitchen table.
Unless her stalker had been in her tent, too.
No.
No way he could have been. If she’d brought the notebook down here, it would have been after everyone had searched the manor, which meant ten men, five women and a host of crew members had been scattered through the camp. There was no way anyone could have gotten to her tent without being seen.
Even if everyone had been at dinner, and her tent was one of the farthest from the campfire ring.
Fear prickled down her spine. Nora made herself think hard. She honestly couldn’t remember now if she’d had the notebook or not when she’d left the manor, and there was no way she’d go back up there to check—or sound the alarm and make everyone search again. She’d have to wait for daylight and ask her
friends to go with her to look for it.
She wouldn’t ask Clay.
Nora sat on her pallet and drew up her knees, listening to her surroundings. She could hear the murmur of Avery’s and Riley’s voices as they talked quietly in Avery’s tent. Win’s voice came from farther away, with Angus’s accented tone answering. She wondered where Savannah had gone. She heard a low murmur of masculine voices probably grouped around the campfire.
She was far from alone, but her tent was on the outskirts of the encampment. Was her stalker watching her even now? Or was she simply losing her mind?
“Nora? Are you in there?”
Clay’s voice startled her so badly Nora spun to a crouching position before she realized who it was. Her heart pounding, she unzipped the tent flap and climbed out.
Clay looked tired, and she wondered if he was as frustrated as she was. “I wanted to come by and make sure you’re okay. I know you probably want to work,” he said.
“I’m all right. Just a little jumpy.” She couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with her hands. Or what to say to him, either. She was still angry he hadn’t seemed to believe her earlier, but she was grateful for his presence now.
“That must have been unnerving up at the manor.” He touched her arm.
“And embarrassing,” she said frankly, “when no one found anyone.”
“Anyone under the stress you’ve been dealing with could make a mistake.” He took her hand.
Nora froze. Surely she couldn’t have heard that right.
“If someone was stalking me, I’d see danger everywhere.” He chuckled. “I do that anyway. After so many years with the SEALs, you get a habit of watching everything.”
But she hadn’t made a mistake, Nora thought. She tried to tug her hand away, furious that he didn’t believe her. Her stalker’s tricks were working; everyone thought she was insane.
Maybe she was.
Clay kissed her cheek softly. “How about I stay with you tonight?” he whispered in her ear.
Nora took note of the cameras capturing all this, and reached the limit of her patience. “I don’t think so.”
“Come on. You’ll sleep better with someone else around. Besides, nothing gets past me.” Clay brushed his lips over her forehead. Nora blinked at the irony of what he’d just said. How could he think of sex when someone was messing with her sanity? When Walker had as good as admitted he’d been leading Avery on? Could Clay really have such a one-track mind? As if in answer, he added, “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
“What did Boone want to talk to you about?” she asked aloud to give herself time to settle down. If there had been a paperweight handy, she would have used it, but this wasn’t the time or place. There were cameras filming them. The entire camp bustled around them, settling in for the night. Besides, beneath her renewed fury she understood Clay didn’t mean to offend her. He was just… being a stupid man.
Clay chuckled again. “He said it’s time for us to get a move on and find wives. Nothing new. Anyway, I agree with him. I want to be with you, Nora.”
He wanted to be with her, but he thought she was nuts. Just a dumb, delusional woman who saw things because she was stressed out. If she was that fragile, why bother with her? Because he had a deadline to find a wife?
As he bent to press another kiss under her ear, Nora squirmed away from him. “I’m tired, Clay.”
He followed her, trying again to pull her into an embrace.
“I said I’m tired!” She shoved him away. The camp went silent, and all eyes turned to look at them. Nora could only growl in frustration, dive back into her tent and close the flap.
“Nora—”
She sat on her pallet and buried her face in her hands. “Go away!” Now she sounded like Avery. She could understand her friend’s frustration. If only this day would just end.
After a moment she heard his footsteps move away. Conversations started again all around her, a reassuring murmur that told her she wasn’t alone.
But she was alone, wasn’t she? Clay didn’t believe her.
No one did.
Nora pulled her knees to her chest and rested her forehead on them. Something fundamental had shifted in her life in the month and a half she’d been at Westfield. It had started when she’d lived at the manor with her friends. The ache of loneliness that had resided inside her for so long she hadn’t even realized it was there finally let go—replaced by the glow of friendship and togetherness.
These past few days she and Clay had been a couple had dissolved those past hurts even more, until she’d begun to feel like there was hope for a normal life.
Now all that was gone.
Her stalker was ruining her life all over again.
Chapter Twenty
‡
The walk back to his tent seemed to stretch for miles. All eyes rested on him as Clay made his way over to it and climbed in.
“Clay? I have a few questions for you.” Renata’s voice penetrated the thin fabric almost as soon as he’d zipped up the flap.
He just bet she did. “Fuck off, Renata.”
“Why don’t you believe Nora? Do you think she’s unstable? If so, do you worry about any offspring the two of you might have?”
He wanted to burst from the tent, get her in a choke hold and shake her until she gained some sense of dignity and respect, but Clay knew that was exactly the kind of drama Renata was hoping for.
So instead, he dug in his bag, found his cell phone and earbuds and turned his country music up high until she finally went away.
He’d blown it again. Big time.
Renata was right—why had he doubted Nora? Just because something wasn’t likely didn’t mean it didn’t happen.
Another voice finally penetrated the music. Clay turned down the volume on his phone. “What?”
“Let me in.” It was Dell.
Clay nearly stuck his earbuds back in, but instead unzipped the fly. “What’s wrong?”
Dell pushed his way inside the small tent before Clay could object, and closed it up after him. Clay edged back so Dell could sit, too. As they faced each other, cross-legged, Clay didn’t think he’d been this close to his father since he was a boy. A sudden surge of nostalgia for his childhood left him unsettled. All those dinners around the table with his parents and siblings. The times his dad had set them all laughing with an imitation of his boss. The way he’d crowed about their achievements and brought home pizzas to celebrate even though his mom had said a home-cooked meal would be better. Clay realized he’d never told his father how he felt about all of that and the way he appreciated that he’d sacrificed so much to make a good life for his family.
“Dad—”
“Here’s the thing,” Dell interrupted. “You’re going about all this in a completely back-assed way—”
Something within Clay snapped. “For God’s sake!” He lunged for the fly, unzipped it and shoved Dell toward the opening.
“What the hell?” Dell struggled to keep his seat.
“Out. Get out, Dad. I don’t need any more of your shit. Stop telling me what to do. Stop telling me how I fucked up. Just… get the hell out of here!”
Dell clamped his mouth shut, surged to his feet, stepped out of the tent and stalked away. Clay thought he’d head for his truck, but instead he struck out toward Pittance Creek.
Whatever, Clay thought. He’d had enough. If Dell wasn’t gone by morning, he’d throw his dad out.
Many hours later, Clay was woken from an uneasy sleep by the sound of shouting. At first he thought it was the glow of the rising sun that traced the shadows on his tent, but when sleep dissipated and he focused on the shouts, a word penetrated the fog still slowing down his mind.
“Fire!”
He was wide awake and out of his tent a second later. He spotted the flames and ran toward them, other members of the community flocking around him.
“Bucket brigade!” someone shouted.
“Get the hose.” A
nother voice pierced the darkness.
Clay dashed to help. He was relieved to see it wasn’t Boone and Riley’s house in flames, but the second one they’d started to frame in was engulfed in fire.
The house that should have been his and Nora’s.
He stumbled with the realization, but caught himself and kept going. Walker already manned a hose—an extension from the bunkhouse. Others were dashing back and forth from the bunkhouse with buckets filled from an outside tap. Even members of the camera crew were helping out. Clay grabbed a shovel and moved close to start throwing dirt on the nearest flames. A short time later he looked up to find Nora doing the same beside him. She bent to the task with a will, never pausing or complaining. She was still dressed, and Clay wondered if she’d slept at all. Regret bit deep for the way he’d left her earlier. He wanted to say something—to apologize—but the fire had to be their first priority. He was still working flat out when trucks from the volunteer fire district came roaring up the lane.
They extinguished the remainder of the flames quickly, while the cameramen raced to film the action for the show. Clay leaned on the handle of his shovel, catching his breath.
“How on earth did it start?” Nora asked, coming to stand next to him.
“I don’t know.” He scraped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He realized he was barefoot, dressed only in his boxer briefs. He didn’t care; everyone else had been roused from bed, too.
“All right, people. Go clean up. Kai, you want to get some coffee going?” Boone called out. “Clay, Jericho, Walker—come with me.”
“Nora—”
“You’d better go talk to Boone. Find out how this happened.” Her brows were furrowed. “How could the house catch fire all on its own?”
He shrugged. “I’ll find you later. In the morning. We have to talk.”
Nora nodded and turned away. She moved slowly, probably worn out by the unaccustomed exercise. Even in the dim light he could see her dress was ruined.
“Nora,” he called after her. “Thanks.”
“For what?” She turned around.