“Why would you do that?”
“Because despite what you think, I can be a nice guy.” He opened a closet by the door and pulled out a sleeping bag. “You need stuff from your car?”
She nodded but stood still.
“Go and get it.”
She looked at the door and then at him. “I’m afraid to go outside now.”
He took her purse from her hand and set it down before he pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry, Goldie. I shouldn’t have done that to you.”
She stood in the circle of his arms. “I’m sorry to impose on your kindness.” She shuddered in his embrace. “I really had nowhere to go.”
“Let’s get your stuff, and we’ll figure it out tomorrow. If you really want a job, I can use a hand delivering some firewood. It’s not pretty work, but it’s honest work.”
She stepped back and looked at him. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn my keep.” She lifted on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
They made a single trip to her SUV and grabbed what she’d need for the night and tomorrow. Back inside, they readied themselves for bed. Side by side they brushed their teeth in the kitchen sink using a glass of water to rinse.
When he turned out the lights and climbed into the sleeping bag, he wondered how this woman had crawled into his life and his bed, and he ended up on the sofa?
A single bare leg was outside the covers. Long and slim and smooth. The shorts and T-shirt Goldie wore to bed wouldn’t be considered sexy by any stretch of the imagination, but the way the comforter flowed over her body, releasing just a peek of what was hiding beneath the crazy patchwork pattern made Tilden’s blood race hot through his veins.
He never needed an alarm clock. Somehow, he seemed to wake before the sun. It made for productive days. Earlier wood deliveries gave him time to work on freelance projects in the afternoon and research his own projects in the evening.
He’d already been outside and filled the still with water and set the kindling ablaze. He figured he’d get cleaned up and set another round for Goldie.
The crisp morning air was always good for a quick wake up. The first heated gush of water he released with the pull of a chord got his blood pumping. Screened off on three sides, the shower opened up to the back of the house. He would have piped it into the actual bathroom if he wasn’t afraid of burning down the cabin with the fire under the still.
He sudsed himself up and stood under the heated stream as the water sluiced over his body.
A gasp sounded from the back door.
He whipped around and saw Goldie wrapped in her jacket, those beautiful bare legs peeking from beneath the hem.
Tilden wasn’t shy. He stood there naked as the day he was born and watched her eyes eat him up.
“You’re next.”
She shook her head. “What?”
He pulled the towel off the hook and wrapped it around his waist. “I’ll fill the tank for you. Since the fire is hot, it shouldn’t take too long to warm the water.”
He walked toward her and when he got there, he put his fingers under her chin to raise her jaw. “I’ll make the coffee.”
She snapped out of it. “Right. I’ll …” She looked toward the outhouse. “Go fend off bears.”
“That’s my girl.” He didn’t know why he said it, but he did. She wasn’t his girl and never would be. They had nothing in common. They were night and day. Black and white. She was a flower and he was a weed.
He’d half expected to wake up and find her gone. Then again, she had no place to go. He prepped the coffee pot and got it brewing, then pulled clean clothes out of a drawer under his bed. He had to give Ray some credit. Short of running water, the cabin had everything a single man could need.
The tap tap tap at the door drew his attention.
“You can come in, Goldie.”
She slowly opened the door and stuck her head inside. “I didn’t want to catch you dressing.”
He laughed. “Why not? You stared at me naked for a full five minutes.”
Her cheeks blushed red.
“I did not.” She rushed in and shut the door. “It was more like two minutes.”
“You got it all memorized.” He shrugged on a flannel over his T-shirt.
“Nothing noteworthy to remember.”
“Right. Fair enough.” He leaned over and pulled a towel from another drawer. “Daylight’s wasting. We leave in thirty minutes.”
He gave her a quick tutorial on how to use the shower and then came back inside to whip up a few bacon and egg sandwiches.
When she walked inside dripping wet and wrapped in a towel, he almost died. She was gorgeous. Not just in her physical beauty but more so in her vulnerability.
The thing he found most attractive was her trust. He was a stranger and yet, somehow, she’d chosen him.
He laughed when she climbed into the hallway closet to change. He heard her grunting and groaning to move around the boxes and gear stored there.
When she emerged, she appeared more ready for a lunch at the country club than a romp in the woods.
He handed her a sandwich and a coffee and shuffled her outside to his truck.
“What are we doing today?”
“We’re delivering wood.”
“Oh.” She looked at her manicured nails. “No problem.”
He had several pairs of gloves in his truck. He plucked a pair out from under the seat and handed them to her. “These should help.”
Twenty minutes later they pulled up to Zachariah’s house, which resembled a landfill more than a front yard.
He was finishing his breakfast, with more toast trapped in his long gray beard than he got in his mouth.
“I’ve got three deliveries for ya.” Goldie cautiously stepped from the truck. “Who’s the bird? You get her from Buttercups?”
Tilden howled. Goldie sold herself, but not for dollars tucked into a G-string. She wouldn’t be begging for a place to stay if she had. No doubt she’d pull in some big bucks if her talents lay elsewhere.
“Nope. This is Goldie, and she’s helping me out this week.”
“I ain’t paying extra unless she strips.”
Goldie squared her shoulders. “Grandpa, you don’t have enough money to see me naked.”
Tilden shook his head. “You want to fight or work? One pays better than the other.” He didn’t have the funds to pay her, but she was in worse shape than him. Tossing some cash her way was the right thing to do.
Given that it was winter, and the ground was frozen solid, it wasn’t likely he’d be getting the samples he needed for testing anyway. With the new information he had about mining, the jars on his table would no doubt come back with nothing more than trace metals.
Goldie took out her phone and snapped a selfie with old man Tucker in the background. “No one will believe this.”
Tilden hooked up the trailer and waited for her to stop snapping pictures of the various stills.
“Can I post some of these on my website?” She turned to Zachariah.
“Will it bring me business or get you naked?”
“Get in the truck, Goldie.” He shook his head at Zachariah. “You'll end up in jail, old man.”
“Nah. One of those deliveries is for the sheriff.”
When she climbed into the truck, Tilden turned to her. “You still trying to make the social media thing work, huh?”
She shrugged. “Old habits die hard. Besides, this proves I wasn’t lying about our marriage.” She gave him a wink and took a picture of his profile. “Can I post your picture?”
“Why would anyone want to see me?”
She lowered her head. “Because you’re cute.”
“But not noteworthy.”
He put the car in gear and drove down the dirt road until they hit the highway into town.
Four hours later and they were done. He had to give Goldie credit. She was more than hair dye and acrylic nails. He knew every muscle in her body ached because his did an
d he hauled wood all the time.
Two of her nails had broken, and the blisters forming on her hands looked red and angry, but she never once complained. Little Ms. Sutherland was more than she appeared to be.
“I just made ten dollars in affiliate income on that damn ugly lipstick.” She pointed to the buy link to her signature color. “I posted that it was the perfect color for any event from walks on the red carpet to bootlegging.”
He chuckled to himself. Maybe she wasn’t more. Wasn’t it his mother who told him a leopard never lost its spots?
“Have you ever tried to be honest?”
She leaned against the truck door. “I’m just trying to be a new me.”
He’d spoken more to this woman in the last day than he had to the whole town since he’d lived there. What was it about her that made him find his voice? “You mean by being authentic? Why not give them the real you?”
She laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far. Nobody wants to see or hear the truth.”
Was that the truth, or was it that the truth was too painful?
Chapter Eleven
People were downright mean. Why did everyone have an opinion or think they were entitled to one? Goldie remembered when her mother would read the reviews for her movies. If they were good, a trip to Rodeo Drive was in the works. They’d dress up and prance around like they were on parade.
If the movie rated poorly, her mother would lock herself in the house and wouldn’t come out until a new script arrived and she could try on a new persona.
Liza Sutherland was a method actor. She dove deep into her performances. Goldie never knew who she was coming home to, but she was happy her mother never played a murderess or a child abuser. Life was tough enough being the disappointing daughter of a movie star.
She scrolled through the comments of the video she’d posted last week. It was the one with Zachariah Thomas and his stills. She’d blurred out his face a tad, which made him look better, and posted the picture.
There were only a handful of comments.
No one cares anymore, get a real life and a real job.
You want to impress me? Wrestle with a bear and post that.
Get real Goldie, who wears three-hundred-dollar jeans to chop wood?
She looked at her dwindling numbers and groaned.
“More bad news?” Tilden sat at the table going over maps he’d borrowed from the county assessor’s office in Copper Creek. “I guess that means you’re staying longer?”
She knew she was a burden to him. There wasn’t much she brought to the table with her presence. Hell, she ate his food, took his bed, and sucked up his time.
“I need a job. A real job.” He was kind enough to take her on wood runs, but her poor hands were looking like she’d never had a manicure. Her nails had broken so badly she’d had to cut them down to the quick. There wasn’t a time in her life where she could remember having nubs for nails.
If her mother could see her now, she’d roll over in her grave. An inch of dirty blonde had grown out from her roots. It had been months since she’d had Botox and the fine lines in the corners of her eyes were appearing. The worry creases that sat like a parenthesis between her brows deepened each day.
“I can put you in touch with Sage. She could use a cocktail waitress at the bar a few hours a week.”
She rose from where she’d been lying on the bed and came to sit down across from him. “I don’t know how to waitress.”
He looked up at her. “What do you know how to do?”
She pulled her lower lip in and chewed. It was the one habit her mother never minded because she said it looked coquettish and gave her lips a boost of sex appeal when they swelled up.
“Nothing. I don’t know how to do anything.” She laid her head on the table.
“Not true. You’ve made a living out of manipulating people’s perceptions for a long time. Let’s get real, Goldie. You’re a beautiful woman, but that’s not something you can bank on forever. Be real with yourself, if not your audience.”
“You’re a chatty one, aren’t you?”
He laughed so hard he almost fell off his chair.
She had a hard time connecting the Darth Vader voice to the gentle man in front of her.
“Trust me when I say I’m rarely chatty, but someone needs to talk some sense into you. You can’t stay here forever, and you need a job that will pay you enough money to rent a place and feed yourself.”
Guilt swirled in her gut like a cyclone. “I’m sorry. I really put you in a bind. How about I take the couch tonight?”
He laid his hands on the table and lifted. “Get your coat, we’re going into town.”
“I can’t go into town with my hair in a ponytail and my makeup willy nilly. What would people say?”
“Probably hello because you look natural and approachable.” He stood in front of her and pulled her to her feet. “And beautiful.” When he turned her around, he swatted her bottom. “Let’s find you a job so you’re not moping around the house.”
“You think they’d hire me?”
“You won’t know until you try.”
He shuffled her out the door and into the truck before she could second-guess his actions.
“You want me gone that much?”
“I’d feed you to the bears if I thought I’d get away with it.”
In the dying light of the early evening, she could see his eyes sparkle. Somehow, everything she did made his eyes dance with delight—or maybe it was distaste, but either way that little glint never got boring to look at. He never got boring to look at.
“I'm pretty sure the bears wouldn’t like me either. Too much filler, not enough fat.”
“Now that’s getting real. I’m proud of you.”
She’d heard that wording a lot today. Get real was obviously the keyword for her life as it stood. “Getting real with Goldie,” she whispered.
“What’s that?”
She smiled to herself. “Nothing, just thinking out loud.” Wanting to change the subject, she turned it back on him. “What is it you’re looking for on those maps?”
“Not sure, but I’ll know it when I find it.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” She knew he was keeping something tucked tightly to his vest. Something that meant a lot to him, but he wasn’t willing to share it. “But if you’re going to preach about honesty, you should practice it.”
“Says the girl who pimps out lipstick and eye cream she wouldn’t slather on a pig.”
“Says the man with a dozen vials of soil on his desk and pretends it’s because he likes dirt.”
“Observant for the girl who’d rather watch the movie than read the book.”
“Arrogant for the man who probably hasn’t seen a movie in ten years.”
They volleyed back and forth until they reached town. The bar was crowded, and Main Street parking was full, so he pulled behind the building and entered through the back door.
Karaoke night was just beginning.
A man behind the bar saw them come in and looked around. “Not sure there’s a seat in the place.”
“Indigo coming in tonight?” Tilden asked.
“I hope so or there might be a riot. Dalton says they’ll be in later with the band. Everyone is here to finish up the newest album.” He pulled the taps and looked at her. “Who’s your date?” he asked Tilden.
He placed his hand at the small of her back and moved her forward. “This is Goldie. She’s looking for a job.” He pointed at the handsome man behind the bar. “That’s Cannon.” He glanced around the tavern and pointed to a tiny redhead. “That’s his wife Sage, who also runs the bed and breakfast and is the nurse in town.”
“Wow, she has three jobs. I’m only looking for one until I can get on my feet.”
Sage raced to the bar and pulled out three frosted mugs. “Two lagers and a stout.” She turned to her. “Goldie Sutherland. I heard you were in town.”
Goldie’s eyes got wide. “You know
me?”
She shook her head. “No, but I plan to.” She stared at Tilden. “You’re the only one with dirt on Mr. Silent.”
She turned to look at Tilden who lifted his brows in an I-told-you-so manner. “You mean Mr. Chatterbox?”
Sage laughed. “No way.”
Goldie nodded. “Seriously, he never shuts up.” She reached up and pinched Tilden’s cheek.
Cannon filled the mugs and set them on a tray. “I’ll get these, you train our new employee on how to pull the taps.” He glanced at Goldie. “We can pay you minimum wage plus tips.”
She had no idea what minimum wage was, but it was more than the pennies funneling into her account now. She’d been in Aspen Cove for over two weeks and had brought in a whopping forty-seven dollars.
“I’m hired?” She cocked her head to the side. “I don’t have to fill out an application?”
“No time for that.” He tossed her an apron. “Get back here or you’ll be fired before you start.”
Goldie let out a whoop that drew the attention of the crowd. She tied the apron around her waist and rushed behind the bar.
She glanced back at Tilden, who gave her a warm smile and a thumbs up before he walked toward the pool table.
“You’re a godsend.” Sage spun in a circle like she didn’t know where to start. “What do you know?”
A smile took over her face. “I know I have a job and that color of hair fits you perfectly. You’re a spitfire, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been called many things. I’ll let you decide.”
They washed beer mugs and put them in the freezer below the bar. Then pulled beer from the tap and talked about the perfect amount of head to leave in the glass.
“I know,” Sage said, “you’d think men would like all head, but when it comes to beer, less is better.”
Goldie laughed. “What about food?”
“I’m the last one to talk to about that.” She pointed to the large man who looked like he’d just escaped from jail. “That’s Dalton. He brings pizza on Karaoke night. We don’t have a kitchen, and it’s a good thing because I’m no Julia Child.”
One Hundred Secrets (An Aspen Cove Romance Book 10) Page 8