by Jennie Jones
“What for?”
“I’ve got an idea.”
“What idea?”
“Has that lovely hunk of a man arranged to go and get his building gear?”
“Yes—okay if we keep the pickup for the next week or two?”
“You can have the pickup, baby. I’ve got Davie.”
The valley bouncer and the valley momma. They’d survived thick and thin over the years, the Mackillops and their family friends. They’d survive this time, too.
Molly opened her laptop and gave Momma shared access to the folder with all the photos. “I’ve just emailed you an invitation to share my photographs folder. Do you know how to get that?”
“Of course I do.”
“Sorry. Just checking.”
Momma could choose which ones she wanted, whenever she wanted them. Molly didn’t have time to sift through them, there were hundreds and she was always adding more. Although she’d printed off four albums worth and kept those to thumb through every now and again when despair threatened.
“I’m feeling really good, Momma,” she said. Her voice sounded soft in her ears and her heart was getting bigger in her chest. “I’m making that stand, and I think it’s working.”
“That’s the way,” Momma said. “There’s no way you have an overly greedy nature. What you have is normal.”
Molly laughed. What she had was nothing.
Molly woke just before the sun. She stretched, yawned the sleep out of her system, and took a few stolen minutes to consider how she felt. She hadn’t woken. Not once. Alice hadn’t come to her. She smiled, and contemplated how marvelously simple and uncomplicated life and all its problems were when she made a stand and gave the crap the finger.
Chapter Ten
Saul threw the metal tape measure onto the steps of the hacienda and asked himself the same question he’d been asking since Saturday—two mornings ago—and more especially since last night when he’d shared an almost silent evening with a preoccupied Molly—was he going to run with his decision or not?
He wasn’t the sort of guy to push a woman, but neither was he the shy, retiring type who wouldn’t give a woman who had sparked his interest a little nudge or hint about his interest in order to find out if it was reciprocal.
He’d already decided to stay and build the roof. Regardless of his earlier thoughts about finding another builder to complete the job, his conscience wouldn’t let him walk away. Not after seeing her skim so lightly across the rooftop, fright thinning the blood in his veins. She wasn’t silly, she was careful—just a little too daredevil for Saul’s contentment. He liked contentment, and he liked hanging on to it.
If he did make a play for her, she might not catch on because she was distracted about so much. Not just the roof. There was something going on in town—and he didn’t want to know what. This sudden awareness of other people’s troubles was a little too much for his liking, but he had to admit he’d been catching clues, and listening for and questioning those clues. Three green-eyed women, Mackillops all, manless and in some sort of trouble.
“You should have run,” he murmured as he swirled his hands in a bucket of water, rinsing the dust off them. He dried them by swiping them across his backside, then pulled the hem of his T-shirt out of his jeans and used it to wipe his face. Manless was the worrying aspect in this scenario but he could hear his grandpa’s voice in his head, as though the man was standing next to him. Don’t dither around a decision, Saul. Look at it from all angles. Make it. Then get it done.
What he wanted to do was Molly.
“Shit,” he mumbled, and let go of his T-shirt.
How could a smart-ass spark like Molly have fired up his imagination to this extent? One sweet little kiss. Hardly a kiss at all, but her mouth had been tender beneath his and pretty much his undoing. His tool had certainly taken a hit.
He smiled widely, his good humor back. If Molly knew what he’d been laughing about when she’d struck up the conversation about his “tool” he doubted she’d find it anywhere near as amusing as he did. Although maybe she’d flush that soft shade of embarrassed, and get his heart beating too hard in his chest again. Pretty Molly with the long eyelashes and the fern-green eyes, and the chestnut hair he wanted to run his fingers through.
He made his way to the lodge house and found another smile at his reference to the place he was calling camp. She’d gotten him to use the term “lodge house” when he’d been determined to use washhouse just to see her green eyes turn flinty with annoyance. He liked that fieriness. It showed she had determination, and whatever it was she was attempting to sort out, he had a feeling she’d need a lot of willpower. He liked it when he made her forget whatever it was that was distracting her, too, although he hadn’t known that until this moment.
Talk about getting sidetracked. One soft-lipped smart-ass spark of a woman was taking his mind away from his own issues. Sally-Opal and a possible upcoming call from his sister. He needed to sort things out with Sally. It was time to get a few things straight. It was only fair to her, and to him.
Molly was so breathless she could hardly handle the Pro in her hands. She paused a second and closed her eyes. Focus. She opened her eyes and dealt with the lens cap on the Pro—as she’d nicknamed her DSLR professional camera.
She used her free hand to hitch the low-slung jeans on her hips and pull the capped-sleeved top she wore back up onto her shoulder where it had gotten skewed in her hurry to rush to her bedroom, grab the Pro and run back to one of the unrenovated back rooms of the lodge house that overlooked the back area of the hacienda.
The day was turning out to be a hot one with a lot to focus on.
She looked up and out the window.
Holy smoldering hunk. Would you look at him?
Her breath hitched all over again, and her mouth was watering as though she’d been starved of fruit and was now being handed a fat, juicy slice of melon.
She aimed the Pro through the opened window. The shutter would be smooth and quiet, with little vibration in her hand, apart from maybe excitement.
The face detection locked on and the shutter tripped. Five frames per second of Saul Solomon. The detail in these photographs was going to be amazing. There’d be little noise in the photos and even though the day was bright, her Pro would handle it.
He was pulling his T-shirt out of the waistband of his jeans.
“Oh, praise be,” she said as he lifted the hem and wiped his face with it. She pulled in to a close-up of his torso and shot off rounds of what she felt sure would be exceptionally fine photos of a strong, tall, muscled, good-looking guy on a worksite showing his excellent abs as he took a breather from strenuous activity.
If he let her, she could use some of these photos in the Through the Lens brochure. It’d be great to showcase her skills and also create a little dramatic and interesting history of the hacienda and how she—and Saul, she wouldn’t not name him or give him a credit—had rebuilt the roof on the monster house to bring prospective clients a peaceful, beautiful arena for their family portraits.
He let go of his T-shirt and stood a while, and Molly paused, the camera still to her eye, her focus on Saul’s features. It looked like he was giving consideration to something. Her first thought was their sweet and tender brief kiss, and the swiftness of the memory jolted her hand. But it was more likely he was figuring out how to get out of the valley. She firmed her hold on the camera as her stomach muscles pulled in a hurtful way at the thought of him leaving.
She’d miss him if he left. When he left. She oughtn’t to—she shouldn’t even be considering her feelings about him—but he was an attractive man. It wasn’t only his good looks either. There was something honorable about Saul Solomon. She was sure that beneath the glib, bossy, masculine attitude there was a decent, honest, and goodhearted man. A caring man. Someone who watched out for and watched over those he loved—and he was damned hot to boot.
He moved in her frame and Molly followed with the lens.
He rinsed his hands in a bucket of water and she wished with all her might he’d take his T-shirt off, throw it on the ground at his feet, then lift the bucket and drench his head and bare chest with the water. What a picture that would be. Saul Solomon near naked, shaking his head, spraying droplets of water into the warm, bright sunshine.
“Please,” she pleaded to her nonexistent channeling powers. “If I’ve got them—let this be the moment they hear me.”
No luck. But he smiled suddenly, and laughed as though whatever his thoughts had been had reached some conclusion or decision.
Molly took another few close-up shots of the broad smile that calmed his pensive, handsome face, laughter lines relaxed, eyes dusky-blue and sparkling. Anticipation—that was what he had in abundance. An ability to make a woman imagine a picture-book scenario of what life would be like living with him. Or even spending a couple of hours with him, his sole intention making the woman in his arms happy.
She lowered the camera and pulled a frown, reminded of the moment in the kitchen earlier when she’d cut her thumb. The kiss had been sweet torture since it hadn’t lasted long. Something about the man made her want to flutter her eyelashes and blush deeper.
She switched the Pro off and replaced the lens cap. She swung her hair over her shoulder and considered this new awareness going on inside her. What would it feel like to be so close to Saul that the heat from his body seeped into hers?
A quick moment with any man wasn’t Molly’s thing. She’d had a couple of one-night stands when she’d been much younger and they had left a soured sensation, which had hovered for weeks, no matter how pleasant the sexual activity had been. Or how much she’d relished the anonymity she’d been looking for in such daring pursuits. Daring for Molly anyway. There hadn’t been any other reason for having those two one-night stands other than she’d only recently left the valley to carve her life and her career, and for a year or two she’d found it difficult to adjust.
It had taken her months to figure out she’d been accepted in the valley, and didn’t have to try hard to appear normal when she arrived elsewhere. In her youth she’d had to protect herself from gossip and nickname calling because she came from soothsayers. Fortune-tellers, they said. The wacky Mackillops and crazy Molly, they said. It had stung, but she’d learned to cover her pain. She’d always watched out for herself. She didn’t need care and protection from any man so she had no idea why she was suddenly aware of those virtues in Saul. If Saul knew how un-normal a life the Mackillop cousins had lived day-to-day as they’d grown up, he’d probably find her crazy and unlovable, too. No wonder she’d omitted to tell Jason about the spookiness in her family. She didn’t want to tell Saul, either.
Not that she had any notion he might find her in any way loveable. After all, she wasn’t right for him. They didn’t fit.
Perhaps the curse from the great-grandfathers was real. She left her fiancé under devastatingly embarrassing circumstances. Saul would leave and she’d be without a builder, let alone without a new friend, which was how she was beginning to think of him. But what was there to keep him here? Come to that—what had brought him here?
She made her way to her bedroom. He hadn’t needed her for any more work today. He’d said he was measuring his hip and valley joints, or whatever the terms were, and making plans, and that they couldn’t do much more until he picked up his building gear tomorrow.
But she’d make sure dinner was prepared and waiting for him. After all, she was using him. She was being sweet-as-honeysuckle on purpose.
She uploaded the new photos to her online folder, then replaced the Pro in its padded bag. If he wasn’t as gallant and chivalrous as she was beginning to think he was, he’d have picked up his backpack and left. So what was keeping him here? Was it something to do with what had brought him here?
Maybe she’d have to pump Alice for a bit more information after all. Alice often didn’t say anything more until the time was right. Well, the time was now right, because watching Saul through the lens of her camera had awakened too many mixed-up emotions. Looking through the lens was her insight into people, and her own type of gift, where she channeled any number of attributes about the subject, which then gave her the chance to heighten those qualities in her photographs. She’d seen a lot in Saul. She just didn’t understand all of her reactions to him yet.
Saul wandered across the empty living area and into his bedroom. He looked across at Molly’s opened bedroom door before closing his door and going to the opened French window where his sat phone waited for him on top of the chest of drawers. He switched it on and waited for the screen to complete its startup rounds. Good cell coverage according to the reception bars. He checked the messages he’d ignored on Saturday, expecting all seven to be from Sally-Opal. But it was six from Sally, and one from a number he didn’t recognize. He didn’t know who would have his new sat number. Except for his sister, if Sally had called her and handed it over.
He deliberated over which message to play first, then pressed Play on the first of Sally’s messages.
You’re nothing but scum, Saul Solomon.
He winced, hit delete, then pressed play on the second message.
You can’t even return my calls? I hope you’re scared. You should be...
He hit delete and moved to the third.
Any other woman would be up all night crying at your heartlessness, but not me. I’ve been on the phone to my father—
Oh, shit. The other cell number he didn’t recognize?
And he’s not happy. He’s mad that some guy I’m in love with—who I thought loved me—would be so dirty as to leave me worrying about being pregnant and alone. He’s worrying his socks off about me—which is what you should be doing! A sob, and a sniffle. I can’t imagine how I’m going to cope. Not without money to feed our child—
Saul gritted his teeth and gripped the sat tighter to control the urge to throw it through the opened window. How did a man deal with a woman like Sally?
But my daddy’s got that covered. He put me right while you’re nowhere to be found. I can claim paternity from you. I don’t want to do this, Saul, I really, really don’t—
Yeah, right.
But Daddy said I must. A pause, and another sob. Unless you were to come back to us. Then we could sort this all out and I wouldn’t have to pressure you for—
He hit delete and pressed play on the unrecognized number.
You sonofabitch. Don’t mess with me or mine, Solomon. Think you can leave a helpless woman and her unborn child behind? Think again. I’ve got your number and you know how I’m going to find you. Given that you’re a ranger, if you don’t know how I’m gonna get that done, you’re not even quarter of the man my daughter thinks you are.
Daddy would trace the sat signal. He might be an ex-detective but most had contacts still in the circle. Sometimes not always on the right side of the circle of crime.
Fifty big ones, I reckon, Daddy continued.
Fifty grand? Saul almost choked.
We’ve got a lawyer. So I’m hereby giving you notice that my daughter is slapping a fifty-grand paternity suit on you.
Saul hit delete. He had fifty grand but it was staying where it was.
Molly flicked through the photographs she’d taken, snaps of Saul flashing across the screen of her laptop, gazing at Saul’s great body while appreciating her own skills as a photographer.
“Molly.”
She jumped and turned to her bedroom door at the sound of Saul’s voice, then quickly closed the photographs folder and shut the laptop lid.
He stood in her bedroom doorway, his hand on the doorknob. “Just found the guy who’s storing my gear. I can go get it tomorrow. Okay if I use the pickup? I’ve got a trailer stored, too. I’ll use it to bring my gear back.”
“Sure. Since we’re asking for favors can I ask you for one?” She pointed at her camera case. “Would you object to me taking a few photos of you at work? It would be for my brochure.”
“Thanks. I’ll give you full credit.”
“No need. I’d rather be nameless.”
“We’re getting organized now, aren’t we?” Things were looking up and hope filled her.
“I appreciate how hard you’re working, Molly, and how much this business means to you. I understand that. More than you know.”
Oh? Why would that be? “Will you pop into town tomorrow, or just drive through?” she asked.
“Do you need something from town?”
“No.” But she was supposed to be keeping him sweet and out of sight in case the developers discovered he was building her roof for next to nothing and the greed rumor got bigger. Also, she didn’t want him popping in to see Momma in case she roped him into whatever harebrained scheme she was cooking up.
“It’s been a funny few days, hasn’t it?” she said, halting him as he turned to leave. She didn’t know why she had to say this but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “So much going on, so fast.” Emotions tumbling one over the other. Emotions she hadn’t thought she’d feel let alone have to deal with.
“You okay?” he asked, concern in his eyes.
“Fine.”
“No getting on that roof while I’m not here tomorrow. I mean it, Molly,” he added when she was about to tell him not to worry. “Not when I’m not here.”
She gave him the finger. “I am actually the boss.”
He rolled his eyes, then left her bedroom doorway.
Molly reopened up the online folder with all the photos she would use for the brochure, and wondered which ones Momma had chosen—and why she wanted them. Maybe she’d hitch a lift into town tomorrow with Saul, and cycle back—and check what ideas Momma had come up with for getting Molly cleared of the greed rumor.
Saul pushed his bedroom door to behind him and walked to the window, thoughts of Sally-Opal foremost in his mind.