Ken pulled off his hiking boots, swinging his stockinged feet onto the oak coffee table as she imagined the Colonel had done countless times. He leaned back like he had all the time in the world, watching her. There was no pity in his eyes. Only questions.
It occurred to Caroline that Ken Kincaid was rooted firmly in reality. When he spoke his voice was soft, but he did not bother with pleasantries. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
His directness caught Caroline off guard. Her eyes widened in surprise. But she said nothing.
He waited.
“Sorry,” she said at last, trying to retreat into some kind of formality that sounded silly, and she knew it.
He didn’t blink. “Look, I’m divorced, too. Whatever it is, I’ve probably heard it before.”
She didn’t know what to say.
He reached his arms high over his head so his sleeves rode up, revealing powerful forearms.
He was strong. He could protect her. But she knew as soon as the thought flitted through her mind that it wasn’t true.
He twined his fingers behind his head. His gaze did not waver.
She shook her head and closed her eyes. She could not afford to have this conversation. “I doubt that,” she said at last.
A log sputtered in the fireplace. She weighed telling him the truth, allowing him to comfort her, allowing herself to believe him when he told her he could help. Except she knew better.
“C’mon, Alice, nothing’s that bad.”
She looked away from the fire and finally met his gaze. Still, she said nothing.
He let his hands drop to his lap. “I think I have a pretty good idea of what the problem is, and I’m pretty sure I can help. You’re not in this alone. Unless you want to be.”
His words tore at her heart. Tears sprang to her eyes and she closed them again, burying her face in her hands.
He was beside her on the couch in an instant, gathering her in his arms and whispering the name he knew for her. “Alice, I can help you. Just talk to me, tell me about it. I can take care of you and little Pippin, too.”
He used the dog’s real name. He knew. Or thought he did.
Ken’s lips brushed her hair, her cheeks, her neck, and Caroline breathed in the scent of him, woodsy and clean and strong. She wanted more than anything to relax into his chest and let him gather her close until his arms were wrapped tight around her.
His voice turned husky and he whispered her name again.
She kept her eyes closed because it was easier that way and she felt his lips on her face, soft like a butterfly’s wings, whispering across her forehead and her cheeks until they found their way to her mouth.
He closed his mouth on hers, covering her lips with his, and they were hard now.
She gave herself up to him for one crazy moment, filling her mouth with the taste of his as she allowed herself to relax into him.
He ended the kiss as slowly as he had begun and said her name again, soft and deep. He planted a quick kiss in the middle of her forehead, and this was somehow even sweeter to her and choked her with tears.
He shushed her gently. “Listen to me, Alice. You’re too pretty and too special to be this scared. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Got that?”
She nodded, filled with self-loathing. If he knew the truth, he wouldn’t say such kind words. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head.
Releasing her, he looked down at his hands in his lap. “I’ve made mistakes, Alice, we all have. I’m just a guy who’s good at sports. And I like to catch fish.” He gave a small chuckle. “Those are the only two things I know much about.”
She couldn’t hold back a protest. “You’re just being humble. You’re as smart as any doctor and the kindest, handsomest man I’ve ever met. You’re a good person. I can tell.” She blurted the words out before she could stop herself.
He looked at her thoughtfully. “I’ve reached a point in my life where I know what I want, and I’ve learned a few things along the way. One of them is you can tell the most about a person when they’re under pressure. What I’ve seen of you, Alice, tells me you’re a good person, too. Maybe you made some mistakes, but whatever is going on right now with you, you don’t deserve this.”
“This” being the fact that she had turned up here with no suitcase and no car and no history, slightly less than two weeks ago.
His words were matter-of-fact, but they unleashed a torrent of emotion inside her. “Don’t,” she whispered, hunching forward in an effort to hide the sobs that were boiling up inside her.
He stroked her hair, not in a coming-on way but in an effort to soothe her. Her head felt warm where his hand touched it.
He cleared his throat. “Look, I’ll tell you something else and then I’ll shut up. Whatever this thing is you’re struggling with, you need to put it behind you. If you tell somebody about it, you can put it to rest. And if you want that somebody to be me, I’m here for you. Deal?”
Caroline nodded, hating herself for everything she had done and what she was about to do. But she couldn’t trust Ken, couldn’t bear to see the change in his eyes if he knew the truth. And besides, she didn’t dare.
Porter was close, ready to pounce. She knew that now for a fact.
Without waiting for an answer, Ken stood. “It’s late. We should both get some sleep. I’ll be right here if you need me.”
She nodded and stood, hoping he would remember what she was about to say. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Ken. You’re a really special person.” Her voice trailed off and she looked up, hoping he understood she meant every word.
Another man might have seized the compliment as an invitation, but Ken only nodded.
She climbed the stairs with Pippin at her heels, donned her nightgown in the dark room, and walked to the window, parting the curtains for one last time to look out on the place she had grown to love.
The night was moonless. It took her eyes a while to adjust to the gloom. Gradually, familiar shapes took form as Caroline tried to etch the scene forever in her mind.
Something flickered in the line of trees. A branch snapped into place, releasing a small cloud of snow into the air like smoke.
As though something had fled. She stared hard at the tree line, watching for another sudden movement.
But she saw only darkness.
A cold fear took root low and deep inside her, claiming Caroline’s insides like cancer. She climbed into bed, curled into a ball, and screwed her eyes shut tight.
But she could block out neither her memories nor the danger.
CHAPTER 29
Ken woke early and let himself out. The air had a wintry tang and he breathed deep. He loved winter in Colorado as much as he loved spring, summer, and fall. Ken Kincaid was a mountain man.
He checked Nan’s yard, front and back, in the first light of the new day. His breath formed small puffs of steam. Old injuries cried out in a dozen places on his body after the night spent on Nan’s couch. He would have slept better in a bed. Alice’s bed. With his arms wrapped tight around Alice. Her face filled his mind, her intelligent eyes, the delicate line of her cheeks, the way she smiled.
Ken smiled. He was smitten.
He walked the length of the long drive, surveying the freshly fallen snow that was crisscrossed with the tracks of small animals. He found no sign of an intruder.
But someone had been here. Ken frowned, his mind on full alert. He’d learned as a small child to trust his gut, following its lead even before his brain had time to catch up. As his body matured, he acquired a strength and speed that surprised him, but he never questioned his gift. He discovered his instincts could guide him where his intellect could not.
Someone had been out here last night. When Ken tracked Pippin’s cries, he smelled fear hanging in the air like a fog. Fear had a scent all its own, and once you identified it you never forgot. Cops could smell it. So could prison guards and animals. Playing ball,
Ken got so he could pick up the scent on the pads and uniforms of men on the line. He learned to tell who was on their game and who wasn’t. Guys with hangovers. Guys who had argued with their wives, guys who hadn’t slept. Guys on the opposing team who got an eyeful of Ken Kincaid and had second thoughts about playing that day.
All Ken would have needed was a few seconds in the woods to close his eyes and breathe, and his feet would have led him where he needed to go. But Pippin howled and Alice panicked. She was scared enough to lie about it later. That fact bolstered Ken’s resolve to put an end to this entire situation.
Alice Stevens was in love with him and Ken knew it. As sure as he knew he had fallen for her. It was not just his ego talking. Girls had started throwing themselves at Ken in junior high. He’d had more than his share. But that lifestyle played itself out, leaving him cold. He’d hoped his marriage would end all that. Then he’d torn the ligaments in his thigh, and discovered during his long rehab that his wife had fallen in love with the man on the line, not the man.
He spent some time thinking, and figured out that the flash, glamour, and glitz of his old life had served as bait for women who required a steady diet of the stuff. Heck, it had left Ken feeling like the catch of the day.
He had come back to Storm Pass to heal. It was a quiet life, but he’d been happy. Until Alice showed up with her soulful eyes, and Ken’s gut told him life could get much bigger.
The fresh layer of powder yielded no clues but he was satisfied, at least, that whomever or whatever had been out here last night was gone. He started up the Jeep and headed down Nan’s drive, aware of a lightening in his heart like an old lost friend. He was falling in love with Alice and she loved him back. Something in her past needed settling, no doubt about that. Some asshole of an ex with a jealous streak. That was common. She’d tell Ken eventually, and together they would resolve the situation.
The guy would come to his senses and move on after he realized Ken was on the scene to stay.
Problem solved.
Ken and Alice would ride off into the sunset. Happily ever after.
Ken Kincaid, despite some setbacks in his life, retained the confidence of a winner.
He’d go up to his cabin today, close it up for winter, then head back out to Nan’s place after lunch and take Alice out to dinner.
He whistled snatches of a happy tune on the drive into town. He passed Gus’s place. The Porsche was parked out back. No lights on. His father was still asleep. Too early to wake him up and demand a cup of coffee. Which was too bad, because Ken could have used the company. He wanted to talk to somebody, work Alice’s name into a conversation, just to hear himself say it out loud. There’d be time for that later.
He drove to his place to prepare for the ride up to the cabin. They’d have good times up there next spring. She had liked it. In fact, she looked pretty darned cute in hip waders.
The memory of it made Ken happy as he tuned the radio to the all-news AM station in Durango. He needed a weather report.
CHAPTER 30
Maebeth Burkle looked out her kitchen window and frowned. What she saw there made her lose count of her coffee scoops. The white Yukon was parked out back, wheels caked in mud with bits of fallen leaves stuck to the sides. As though her odd guest had gone four-wheeling last night after dinner. During the first snow of the season. After his long drive from Denver. Odd.
Not that it was any of her business. She went back to measuring coffee, and had to start over again. “Darn,” she muttered. She put the pot on and glanced at the clock. Almost seven.
The timer went off. She slipped on a pair of well-used mitts and opened the oven to check on her muffins. Carrot raisin, her husband’s favorite. Except they didn’t look quite baked enough in the center. She pulled off a mitt and leaned in to check.
It was then that she felt something brush the back of her legs. She turned.
A man stood there. Jim Bell, their lone guest. Too close for comfort.
With a cry of surprise, Maebeth jumped. The muffin tray slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor.
Jim Bell did not move.
Maebeth took a step back, straight into the oven door. She reached out a hand to steady herself. Her fingers landed on the hot steel. She snatched her hand away with a shriek of pain but it was too late. Searing pain shot up her arm. She raced to the sink for cold water.
Jim Bell did not move. He stayed where he was, a strange glittering look in his eyes as he watched Maebeth flex her fingers under the running water.
“Honey, you okay?” Ted barreled through the swinging door, his face lathered in shaving cream. The dogs ran in after him and made a beeline for the muffins that were scattered on the linoleum.
All three did a double take at the sight of Jim Bell, standing stock-still, dressed head to toe in camouflage browns with a wool cap pulled down low over his face. The cap couldn’t hide the ravaged look of him. His skin was ten shades paler than yesterday, if that was possible, with purplish bumps on his cheeks. They were oozing in places. Most disturbing of all was his expression. Or rather, lack thereof. His eyes were hollow, glittering cold and hard behind his steel-rimmed glasses like pale blue chips painted on a robot’s face.
Ted looked from his wife to Jim Bell and back, drawing himself up to his full height. “What the hell happened?”
Closing her eyes against the searing pain that pulsed the length of her arm, Maebeth took a deep breath. “I dropped the muffins and burned my hand on the oven door.” She looked at Jim Bell.
Their guest said nothing.
It made Maebeth’s hand throb even worse.
One of the dogs let out a low growl from the back of his throat. The retriever braced, facing Jim Bell, and lowered his head. Hackles rose on the back of the dog’s neck, and he growled louder.
Ted Burkle walked to the oven, closed the door, turned it off, and faced Bell. He had three inches on their guest.
Ted looked comical with his face covered in shaving cream, and Maebeth would have laughed if her hand wasn’t throbbing enough to take her breath away.
Her husband frowned. “You okay?”
She nodded weakly.
Ted turned to Jim Bell. When he spoke, his voice was low, carrying an edge she didn’t recognize. “Sorry, no breakfast today.”
Jim Bell blinked. Maebeth had seen a look like that on someone’s face just once before. She’d come upon the scene of an accident before paramedics had arrived. It was obvious the ambulance would be of no use to the driver, who was already dead. The man’s teenage daughter knelt beside him, holding his hand. She never took her eyes off him and never spoke a word, as though she was bracing herself for the tidal wave of grief that was about to descend upon her. Maebeth had never seen anyone in shock before, but she recognized it that day and knew she was seeing it again now.
She wanted to help, at least settle their guest down with hot coffee, but didn’t dare remove her hand from the running water.
Her husband took a step closer to Bell, invading the man’s personal space.
Licking lips that were caked with white spittle, Jim Bell made an effort to focus. “That’s okay,” he said in a low, dull voice. “I left my room key on the counter.” He gave a quick glance at Maebeth’s hand. “You should see a doctor.”
“Why don’t you take a seat in the dining room? We’ll bring you coffee and cereal before you go,” Maebeth began.
But Bell was already going.
Maebeth gave her husband a questioning look to see if he would go after Bell, maybe try to help him.
But Ted only shook his head.
The response was out of character for the man who had been awarded the Mid-State Innkeeper Golden Key for Hospitality three years running.
“Let it go, Mae,” he said now, stepping to the sink for a closer look. The skin hung in flaps from her hand. “He’s right about one thing. Let’s get that looked at right away.”
The Yukon rumbled to life and pulled past the window
s.
Maebeth remembered Jim Bell said he had booked a fishing trip today. “I need to reach Ken Kincaid.” She turned off the faucet and winced in pain. She turned it back on again. “On second thought, bring me the portable phone.”
His face set with worry, her husband brought her the phone, careful to step around the dogs who were wolfing down muffin crumbs.
Maebeth dialed Ken’s number. No answer. She left a message, then hung up and dialed again for good measure. Still no answer. She hung up, disappointed. She wanted more than anything to hear Ken’s voice.
“Ken’s not answering his phone,” she said while Ted prepared an ice pack. “I think we should stop by his place on the way to the hospital.”
“It’s out of the way,” her husband replied. “We’ll swing by on the way home.”
That would be too late, a fact Maebeth would have pointed out if the pain in her hand weren’t so intense. She vomited. Her hand had taken on the color and consistency of raw hamburger meat. She spent the ride holding her head between her legs, telling herself over and over that Ken could take care of himself.
Gus Kincaid slept later than usual, till almost eight. He rose carefully from his bed, grateful he could stand despite the stiffness in his joints. He reviewed the events of last night as he dressed. Nan and Alice were all right, so no problem there. Ken had stayed the night with them. But Gus was anxious to tell his son what he had seen on the way home.
A white SUV parked in the bushes, at the head of an old logging trail that ran alongside the Birmingham ranch.
Gus glanced at the clock. Not quite half past. Plenty late enough, if you thought about it, to call Nan’s place. She was probably up and about. Most folks in the country were early risers. But he didn’t want to alarm her.
Nope, he’d discuss it with Ken first. Probably nothing. Gus reached into a cabinet to pull out the coffee can when a snippet of conversation from last night came back to him. Alice told them she’d almost collided with a white Yukon out on the county road yesterday. Most likely, some darned tourist from out of town. Which got Gus to thinking.
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