Chasing Trouble (In Ashwood Book 3)

by Kinney Scott

  She thanked her nurse and groaned, trying to move. “I’ll help you,” Amanda said holding up a bag tucked near her on the floor. “I brought sweats and a t-shirt from your place.”

  “Perfect.” Linnea eased her mechanical bed up, sat for a moment and stood slowly. She held the metal rail on the bed and used Amanda to steady her steps as she made her way to the bathroom. Her ankles hurt, and her head pounded with every change of direction.

  “Oh. My. God.” she gasped when she spotted her reflection in the mirror. “I look hideous. Amanda why didn’t you say anything!”

  “Linnea, you’re beautiful even with bruises all over your face. We’re all just thankful to have you here.”

  ***

  Rick paced near the elevators a few feet outside Linnea’s room. “Can I help you?” an older woman behind the desk asked.

  “Uh, I was looking for Linnea Michaels…”

  “You can go right on in, room 314 - she’s ready to see visitors,” she said pointing to a door down the hall.

  “I’ll be back,” Rick took the stairs two at a time. He didn’t want to show up empty-handed. Bursting through the gift shop doors, he chose a bouquet. It reminded him of the Christmas decorations Linnea chose for the taproom. Rick didn’t know the name of the flowers but he knew she would love the red and silver colors. Tucking his wallet in his back pocket, Rick turned to make his way back up the stairs, the swiftest route to Linnea’s side.

  Spotting Allen waiting at the elevator slowed Rick’s steps. Dillon’s presence next to Linnea’s father stopped Rick altogether. Allen laughed at something the tall guy said. The elevator door slid open, and the two men stepped inside.

  As the elevator door closed, Rick’s feet moved toward the exit. Passing through the sterile sliding glass doors into the parking lot, Rick opened his grasp and let the flowers slip from his fingers. The red and silver bouquet landed with a dull thud on the bottom of an empty garbage can.

  ***

  “You don’t need to call me coach. How long has it been?”

  Dillon did the math in his head, “Thirteen years.”

  “That long?” Allen shook his head. “I’m getting old, Dillon. And Linnea’s accident took ten years off my life. Thank you for saving my daughter.” Allen slapped Dillon’s back and fought the heat of grateful tears.

  “I wish I could take credit for expert tracking skills, but I was lost. The snow, the red glow from her tail lights - if anything had been different, I would have missed her.” Dillon knew she wouldn’t have lasted the night. He’d never forget how cold she felt beneath his touch or her disoriented words. I love you, Rick. I knew you would find me.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Linnea’s eyes gleamed with desperation, “Save me, get me out of here.”

  Sylvia laughed aloud and shook her head at her sister tucked under a blanket on Dad’s recliner. “Not a chance. Dad would kill me.”

  “Mom won’t let me help make the peanut brittle. That’s my favorite!” she whined like a child.

  “She let you frost gingerbread cookies,” Sylvia smiled. “They even gave you little shakers of sprinkles to keep you entertained.”

  “Shut-up.” Linnea chucked a paperback book at Sylvia. Her sister’s quick reflexes snatched the book mid-air before it sailed toward their Mother’s collection of sparkly snowmen.

  Linnea wanted her life back. After five days in Yakima, she’d run out of movies to watch. Reading romance novels on her tablet only filled her dreams with images of Rick.

  Hiding in her room with her laptop, she placed orders and finished year-end reports from her lavender-and-lace childhood bedroom. After desperate begging, Wade promised to come with Ravenna to Yakima a day early. Linnea counted down the minutes. Ravenna promised to steal her away for last minute Christmas shopping, an adventure Brooke and Sylvia were too afraid to tackle.

  Dillon called each afternoon and he texted several times a day. Her parents asked Wade’s long-time friend to dinner on Christmas Eve, and he eagerly accepted the invitation. Linnea looked forward to Dillon’s visit. But missing Rick overshadowed all other emotions, even her usual excitement for Christmas.

  His cozy cabin starred in her dreams. She longed to be there Christmas morning, making waffles for breakfast while watching Ricky play on the floor with his shiny new toys. Two warm coats would be among the packages her boys would open, but she would not be there to see it - or to explain the significance of the gifts.

  A few days after the accident, Linnea ordered another set and had them rushed in time for Christmas to Rick’s home. Those coats saved her life. Rick may never understand, but it didn’t matter. Placing that order closed a frightening chapter in her life. And, she decided on a deadline. If Rick didn’t reach out with at least a call by Christmas, Linnea would be ready to move on.

  ***

  Guilt. Every time he ended his afternoon call to Linnea, Dillon felt guilt. Damn it all to hell, he couldn’t let it slide. Rick’s truck, parked outside Whitewater Homes, helped to make up Dillon’s mind.

  He marched from the taproom, passing by the gleaming tanks in the brewery and stepped out the rear metal door. This time of year, the tall adjacent buildings blocked all sunlight from the back of Whitewater and Mosquito Creek. A narrow path of crusted snow was beaten down by frequent trips in winter boots. He cut through Whitewater’s storage room past lengths of trim and specialty hardwoods propped against the wall in tidy sections.

  Dillon followed the sounds of construction to locate the man. Rick felt the floor shift as someone stepped into his work area. The thwack of his air gun stopped as Dillon stepped into a partially completed tiny home. He removed his ear protection and looked up to find Dillon. A moment of panic pierced his chest. Had Linnea taken a bad turn in her recovery?

  Dillon shifted his feet and the muscles in his neck tightened. “God, I’m an idiot,” he muttered. Rick didn’t know what to say, he’d like to agree, but Dillon saved Linnea’s life, and he owed him.

  Dillon continued, “I want you to know, I’m not doing this for you. I’m here because of Linnea.” Rick shook his head confused and steadied himself against a half-finished kitchen counter.

  Dillon explained, “I need to tell you the truth about the night of her accident. But you should also know - after she returns from Yakima, I’m doing everything I can to make Linnea mine.”

  Rick stood taller, drawing motivation from a deep well of jealousy, “The truth? What happened when you found her?”

  “When I got to her and pounded on the car, she knew who I was. Linnea was cold and bleeding, but she wasn’t delirious. I broke the window, pulled her from the car, and we waited for help to arrive. With her injuries, I couldn’t risk moving her up the embankment on my own.”

  Rick nodded, waiting tight-lipped, as Dillon kept talking, “God, she was so cold. I pulled her to me and wrapped my coat around her to trap my heat against her body.” Rick swallowed hard, fighting the mental image.

  Dillon paused and cleared his throat, shuffling his boots in sawdust on the wood subfloor, “I held her tight against me, but she only wanted you. She thought you were there, in the ditch. Linnea’s words still ring in my ears, she said she loved you, and knew you would find her”.

  Rick stared at Dillon and spoke, “She loves me? After everything that’s happened?”

  “Yes. Damn it, now you know.” Dillon muttered under his breath as he left.

  ***

  “That was easier than I thought,” Linnea said sneaking from her parents’ house.

  “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this,” Ravenna said with a smile. “Until now, your Mom has liked me. Helping you escape could change everything.”

  “I just need to pick up a few Christmas presents. If I have to sit through another Christmas cook-off special, I’ll go insane. Mom won’t let me do a thing.”

  “That accident scared her. It scared us all. Even Wade’s been different.”

  Linnea hadn’t thought too hard ab
out the impact her accident had on her family and friends, “How do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. His hugs are a little longer, and he makes sure I check in when we're apart. It shook him, Linnea.”

  Linnea decided to confide in her closest friend, “Dillon sends me text messages several times a day, and he’s called every afternoon since I left Ashwood.”

  Ravenna took the turn into the mall and began circling looking for a close parking spot. “Dillon? Wow. He and Wade have been friends forever. Wade trusts him. I’m surprised Rick hasn’t put a stop to that.”

  “Rick would have to talk to me to make that happen. And I haven’t heard from him in weeks.” Linnea sighed, “I think he’s decided to move on.”

  Ravenna parked, shut off the car, and turned to Linnea, “That’s strange. He was at the hospital when you were brought in, and he spent the entire night in the waiting room. I went home around midnight to get some sleep. When I came back with coffee for your family, Rick was still there. We talked for a little while. I just assumed he’d gone up to visit you.”

  “I was pretty out of it. Family was with me the entire time. They would have told me if Rick stopped in. Dillon came up with Dad the next morning and they talked about basketball. Dad seemed happy, it was nice.”

  “Dillon’s a good man, Linnea. But, I’m still not sure if Rick will let you go that easily.”

  “I think he already has.” Linnea gathered her purse and pasted a smile on her face. “Come on, I’m bringing us down. I need shopping therapy.”

  Linnea’s bruises around her eyes had nearly disappeared, and she only had a slight limp from the ankle sprain, but walking the mall was more exhausting than she anticipated. After finding a last minute gift for Dillon, Ravenna drove her home. With this last gift purchased and wrapped, her list was complete. Even in a small cabin in Ashwood, her packages waited for Christmas morning under a tree, wrapped in red and silver paper.

  ***

  Pacing the gravel lot in front of Whitewater Homes, Rick wrestled with his options. He’d seriously fucked up. Untangling the damage caused by every wrong turn seemed impossible. Still, he had to try.

  His first thought was to load Ricky and appear at her parents place Christmas Eve. But, if Linnea needed time to forgive him, he wanted to give her space. Only one option guaranteed Linnea’s presence for Ricky’s first Christmas. He needed Seth’s help and had to convince his boss that he wasn’t out of his mind.

  Seth looked up when he heard boots stop at the threshold of his office door. “Why are you still here?” he asked surprised to see anyone after closing the place early for an extended Christmas holiday.

  Rick hesitated, “I’ve got a plan to get Linnea back, but I can’t make it happen alone.”

  Seth grinned - everyone wondered how long Rick would hold out, “What do you have in mind?”

  ***

  After a couple hours of work, Seth set the last jack, and Linnea’s tiny house was level.

  Rick apologized, more than once for the last minute move, but he didn’t regret the decision. “Thank you, Seth. I know you’ve got better things to do right before Christmas.”

  Seth slapped his friend on the back, “No problem. Nothing’s more important than getting it right with the woman you love. Merry Christmas Rick, enjoy that baby of yours.”

  Seth loaded the last of his tools and drove away. Rick took a few steps back to admire Linnea’s tiny home parked next to his cabin. The two places, sitting side by side looked right. The old and the new, Ashwood’s past and future, just a few yards apart.

  ***

  After talking honestly to Rick, Dillon expected a call or a message from Linnea, saying her Christmas plans had changed. He was surprised when it didn’t come. Linnea’s friendly smile told him everything he needed to know. Rick had decided to leave Linnea alone. Thank God. The man was a damned fool.

  “Dillon! Hi come in,” she welcomed him from the porch as he pulled up to her family’s farmhouse. He admired her from afar in her dark jeans and green sweater. Her long auburn hair cascaded in waves around her shoulders. In the bright winter light, her crystal blue eyes glowed. Last time he saw her on this farm and on this porch, he’d been a senior in high school, and Linnea only a slender kid, all knees and elbows. The woman she’d become gave him reason to hope.

  Climbing the steps two at a time, Dillon made his way quickly toward her. Linnea pulled him into a friendly hug. He wanted so much more.

  “Come inside, where it’s warm,” she turned and led the way. Wade and Ravenna sat in the living room watching football.

  “Dillon, take a seat,” Wade encouraged. While he appreciated the friendly welcome, Dillon wanted to get Linnea alone, but he could be patient. Karleen brought in a bowl of Chex mix.

  “What can we get you to drink?” she asked the man who made this happy Christmas possible. If it weren’t for Dillon, Linnea might not be here. They owed him…everything.

  He settled in, relaxing. Linnea’s family seemed comfortable with his company. “A beer?” he said seeing the Mosquito Creek bottle in Wade’s hand.

  Wade stood and laughed, “you’re going to need to be more specific.”

  “I’ll follow you,” Dillon unfolded his long legs from the chair, walking through the familiar space. Not much had changed in the past decade. Sure, there were a few updates, but the atmosphere was the same. Dillon always felt welcome at the Michaels’ farm.

  After the game and an outstanding Christmas Eve dinner, Dillon asked Linnea if she felt up to a walk on their property. She agreed, welcoming any escape from the confines of her home.

  The air was cold and dry, but they both knew how to dress for the elements. Passing an older wood barn that no longer held any animals larger than a dog, Linnea led the way along graded dirt roads. They walked by the remnants of her mother’s large kitchen garden, a few dry corn stalks rustled in the low breeze.

  Farther away from the home, huge poles stood like soldiers in neat rows. When the wind kicked up, the cables, designed to support hops, hummed with a barely audible moan. Linnea enjoyed nature’s haunting music. Finally, she turned and broke the silence, “What’s Christmas morning going to be like at your house?”

  Before answering, Dillon took her hand in his, their gloves masking the intimacy of the contact. “Mom and Dad still insist on having the whole family spend the night. We live for the chaos. My sister’s kids wake everyone up around six and bolt downstairs to tear into presents. It’s perfect. I love it.”

  Linnea agreed, “My parents will do the same thing someday. Brooke will be first. Don’t say anything, but I think she may be pregnant and hasn’t broken the good news. She’s been drinking juice instead of wine, and seemed a little green when Dean asked if she wanted gravy on her potatoes.”

  “That’s great. You’ll love being an aunt,” he said with a squeeze of her hand.

  The talk of kids and holiday traditions brought Rick to her mind. Linnea hoped Ricky had a wonderful first Christmas. At a crossroads, Linnea turned toward a series of outbuildings. Hops were seasonal, and much of their equipment was active only a few months each year. He turned her into an alcove of a large metal pole building; using the industrial structure as shelter from the direct wind.

  “I should get you back,” he whispered quietly, easing her close.

  She tilted her head and looked up at the tall dependable man, “It’s been nice to be outside. Mom’s been worried. I’m ready to move past the accident and get on with my life.”

  Dillon dared to hope, “Linnea, you know I care about you.”

  Stepping close, he placed his gloved hands carefully on her face and tilted her head to meet his. The chill on their lips melted away as friction and heat passed between them. Linnea slid her arms around his waist, giving the kiss every opportunity to reach into her soul, but the flame never ignited. Dillon’s kiss was warm, comfortable and safe. Maybe in time that could be enough.

  Linnea stepped away, took his hand again, and
led him back to the house. “I want to give you a gift before you leave. You can open it tonight or in the morning.”

  He hadn’t planned on going home quite so early but didn’t want to push Linnea for more. “I’ve got something for you in my truck,” he added pulling her to his side as they walked back.

  He stopped by his rig and grabbed a gift bag from the front passenger seat. They sat inside, alone together in the oddly quiet living room. Linnea knew her family was intentionally giving them space. With all other lamps turned off, the multi-color lights on the Christmas tree cast the room in a cheerful glow.

  Linnea dove into her bag first, pulling the tissue away from a small orange hammer. She looked at him in confusion.

  He explained, “It’s a hammer, you keep in your glove box, to break out your car window if you’re trapped inside. An emergency first aid kit and hand warmers are in there too. I’m sorry if this gift is too soon, but after finding you…”

  Linnea shook her head, “It’s perfect.” She thanked him with a kiss. A kiss he deepened, parting her lips with the heat of his tongue. Dillon slid the expanse of his hand around her to pull her close, but she stiffened and pulled away. Her eyes apologized.

  “It’s okay, Linnea. We can take it slow. Just so long as you give me the chance to show you how good we could be together.” She nodded, but couldn’t respond, Linnea still remembered Ricks kisses and warm touch. She looked away and asked Dillon to lift the heavy box from the floor.

  “Looks like we had the same idea,” she laughed as he opened the box. The outdoor survival kit she’d chosen for Dillon included everything from a multi-tool to a compass.

  “I could lead a search and rescue mission with this,” Dillon said inspecting the contents.

  “You’ve got experience,” she added. The murmur of voices from the kitchen drew their attention.