Chasing Trouble (In Ashwood Book 3)

by Kinney Scott

  “I bet there’s pie if you have any room left after Mom’s dinner,” she offered.

  “Always room for pie,” Dillon stood, enclosing her hand in his.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Early Christmas morning, Brooke’s surprise announcement came as no surprise to anyone. Still, sharing the news with the family, that a baby would arrive in June, layered happiness on an already perfect Christmas Day.

  Brooke crocheted scarves for everyone in the family. Sylvia’s gifts were all electronic gadgets spurred by her sudden interest in computers and a possible change of major at school. Wade and Ravenna encouraged everyone to travel with hiking guidebooks and trekking poles. Linnea opted for everything warm and cozy, from leather gloves for Dad to a collection of cocoas and mugs for Mom.

  The family ignored the piles of gift-wrap and discarded boxes to devour brunch. Linnea constantly checked her phone, hoping for a message or photo from Rick. By evening, she gave up, hiding her phone in her room to keep from obsessing over words that would never come.

  Her mother let her pitch in and help with Christmas dinner. Linnea lost herself in preparation and cleanup following the meal. “When are we leaving tomorrow?” Linnea asked, ready to return to Ashwood.

  “The taproom opens tomorrow at one. Hey, if you feel up to it, we can be back by then. Promise me you won’t think about lifting anything, and we have a deal.” Wade could feel the nervous energy radiating from his sister. She was anxious to be home to reestablish her routine.

  Ravenna worried about Linnea taking on too much, and joined the conversation, “Wade and I plan to be in Ashwood through New Year’s Day, but we can stay longer if you’d like.”

  Linnea shook her head, “After New Year’s Eve, I get the feeling the taproom will slow down. The snow will set in and most people will be content to stay home. The timing will be perfect.”

  “If you need us, we can be back right away,” Wade added.

  “Stop worrying! I’ll be fine. I have Dillon and Annie. Seth will be right next door.” Linnea protested. It felt strange leaving Rick off the list of people ready to jump to her aid if she needed help.

  Wade wanted his sister to drive a Mosquito Creek Truck until spring. The insurance money from her totaled car had come through, but her father insisted on leading the quest for the safest possible four-wheel drive.

  She stared at the bright blue morning horizon on the snowy ride back to Ashwood. Ravenna spun in her seat to include her in sporadic conversation. Yet, Linnea couldn’t relax. She’d released any hope of reconciliation with Rick but hadn’t decided what to do with her extra time. Perhaps she’d ask Dillon to teach her the brewing side of the Mosquito business. It would be a safe subject while they got to know each other better.

  As Wade crossed the east edge of town, Ravenna asked, “do you want to run home or go right to Mosquito?”

  “I’d like to change clothes if that’s okay.” Linnea hadn’t been home since the accident and scarcely remembered what home looked like.

  Wade turned onto the long gravel drive that skirted the river leading to his front door. “Where’s your house?” Wade asked.

  “What? My house is gone? That doesn’t make any sense!” Linnea gasped.

  “Maybe Seth decided to make some repairs while you were gone.” Ravenna offered the only logical explanation.

  “I can’t think of anything that needed updating, Rick and I took care of that before we moved it here.”

  Wade spun his truck around in the drive, “Let’s go over to Whitewater.”

  He pulled in, expecting to find her tiny home parked adjacent to the house Seth kept on site, “That’s strange. It’s not here. But nobody’s working at Whitewater homes today.”

  Linnea began to worry, “Maybe someone in the taproom knows what’s going on. If not, I’ll give Seth a call.” Tiny home theft happened, but wasn’t likely, her place was too far from the main road.

  The taproom was empty. Linnea dialed Seth just as Dillon waved from the back of the brewery. He was in the middle of transferring the wort to a fermentation tank.

  Linnea waved back and Seth answered her call. “Hi, it’s Linnea. We just got back from Yakima.”

  Seth asked how her Christmas had gone before she could get out another word. Finally, she continued, “the reason I called - I was wondering if you knew where my tiny house was?”

  “Yeah, didn’t Rick talk to you?”

  “Why would Rick know anything about my house?”

  “Because we moved it.”

  “Moved it! Where?”

  “Next to Rick’s cabin.”

  “What! Seth, why would you let him do that? Without asking me. This is ridiculous.”

  He laughed on the other end of the line, “Desperate measures, Linnea. Go talk to him.”

  “You bet I’m going to talk to him,” she huffed. As Linnea ended the call, she heard her cousin laugh aloud again.

  “I can’t believe this,” she growled.

  Ravenna ducked her head in the office, “did you find your house?”

  Linnea dug through her desk for the keys to a Mosquito Creek truck, “Rick has it.”

  “Good for him,” Ravenna nodded. “Didn’t see that coming.”

  “We’re talking about my home, Ravenna. Rick can’t just take over my life!”

  “Yes, he can. Wade took over mine. Now it’s your turn.” her friend smiled, happy Rick had finally made a move.

  Linnea remembered all her brother had done to lose Ravenna’s trust, and the measures he took to restore it. “This isn’t the same. Rick moved on, he didn’t want me.”

  Her petite friend laughed, settling in behind the bar, “Apparently, he changed his mind.”

  Dillon watched as Linnea stormed from the taproom, and knew only one thing could make a girl move that fast.

  “I’m a damn fool,” he mumbled as her truck left a trail of dust in the lot.

  When she climbed into the Mosquito Creek pickup, her quick unchecked movements shot a ricochet of hot pain through her ribs. She struggled for air. Short puffed breaths minimized the discomfort. Muttering all the way to Rick’s cabin, she stormed down his drive and slammed on her brakes in the gravel next to her tiny home.

  Rick had spent most of his day pacing a path across the floor, wondering when Linnea would show up. She had to at some point. He’d kidnapped all her belongings. The roar of an engine and spray of gravel announced her reckless arrival. Fortunately, with Ricky down for a nap, he was able to meet her outside. The hot fire in her eyes was sexy as hell, but not the reaction he’d hoped for.

  Linnea stormed his way, “How dare you! First, you kick me out of your life. Then you tempt me with one of your mind-blowing kisses and leave me hanging. And last - you don’t bother to call. Damn it, Rick - What am I supposed to believe?”

  Rick closed the distance and wrapped her carefully in his arms. “Believe that I love you,” he said against her lips.

  The kiss left her breathless, but, she couldn’t allow herself to believe.

  Rick's lips sensed it first. As she became limp in his arms, he pulled away.

  He knew it wouldn’t be that easy, “I’m sorry. I’ve been a fool. Please give me a chance to fix this.”

  “Fix what? You pushed me away. There was nothing broken about us until you broke it.” She didn’t believe him. You couldn’t hurt someone you loved as bad as she hurt right now. Linnea pushed his chest until his hands slid away. The breath she inhaled hurt, but at least it was a different kind of pain.

  ***

  Linnea hid in her home, beginning to regret the moment she said yes to that first dance last winter. Rick looked so earnest then. When they met she couldn’t understand how a man that commanding could tremble when he asked her to dance.

  She closed her eyes, recalling exactly how he looked. Tall, with a perfectly toned physique, his dark jeans stretched across his muscular thighs. He was so large her hand nearly disappeared in his grasp. Even with all that power, she
recalled how tentatively he danced, taking small measured steps as they talked.

  Recalling the next time she spotted him brought an instant smile. Rick hadn’t expected to see her that cold Monday morning last March, crossing the construction floor of Whitewater Homes. His nail gun had stopped as he clandestinely watched her move. She’d put a little extra sway in her hips, knowing his eyes were on her lush curves.

  Linnea got up. She wouldn’t allow herself to wallow and decided to return to her shift at the taproom. The sun set early in the evening, and the trees rose like black sentinels against the deep purple sky. From now until New Years the place would be hopping with tourists, locals, and relatives eager to extend their holiday.

  As she drove to the taproom memories continued to fill her mind. She appreciated the way he worked late with her last summer. Opening the taproom had extended her hours, his presence on site made her feel safe. In all things, his consideration was consistent. He introduced her to his love of the outdoors with short hikes and progressed slowly to build her confidence and stamina. Rick also slowed the pace of their relationship to an almost-painful crawl; just to be certain she was ready.

  Still, he wasn’t an easy man to love. He would pull away, hiding inside a colder version of himself, a place he retreated to hide from the pain of his past.

  Linnea shook her head. She couldn’t decide. Would he retreat from her again, and rip open a wound that had only barely started to heal? Linnea arrived at Mosquito Creek finding a perfect distraction. Trucks pulling trailers of snowmobiles and SUV’s holding ski racks filled the lot. The place was packed.

  “Annie, could you pour two more Double Deet?” The bar was slammed, exactly the pace she needed. Perfect conditions on Mount Adams brought in a steady stream of snow enthusiasts. Far removed from the crowds on Mount Hood, cross-country skiers came for the hushed woods and varied terrain of the second highest volcano in Washington State.

  Conversation in the taproom buzzed. Wade joined his sister behind the bar, carrying an armload of dirty pint glasses. “Kind of surprised to see you here.” He’d heard through the Michaels’ grape-vine what Rick had done, and he admired the man’s ingenuity.

  “Not now, Wade,” Linnea said past gritted teeth.

  He put his hands up in surrender, “No problem.” Wade made sure he’d turned before chuckling aloud. His sister’s stalemate wouldn’t last long.

  A group of snowmobilers, two women, and four men debated the features of their Arctic Cat and Ski-Doo machines. One of those men lingered longer than necessary at the bar. Annie’s flirtation got her nowhere; his blue eyes had focused on Linnea all evening.

  “When do you get off?” he asked as Linnea poured. His question caught her off-guard for a moment. Before she could respond, Dillon appeared almost out of nowhere.

  “Not your concern,” Dillon said handing the guy his foam crowned beer. He shrugged, adjusted his baseball cap communicating a polite goodbye in Linnea’s direction. He joined his group, melding seamlessly into their stream of conversation. It had moved to the new features available in the latest avalanche beacons. “Simple is better,” he muttered as he slid back onto the bench next to his friends.

  Linnea looked up into Dillon’s expectant gaze, “You didn’t need to do that. I could have handled him just fine.”

  “A natural reaction,” he shrugged, not apologizing. “Can we talk before you go home tonight?”

  Apparently, news must have traveled. “Not yet, Dillon. I haven’t had time to process everything. I’m still in my own place,” she added, he deserved to know at least that much.

  Spanning his fingers, Dillon’s hand grazed across her lower back. The possessive touch bewildered her. Before she came to Ashwood, she’d nearly been invisible to men. Now their competitive presence felt suffocating.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Illuminated by the front porch light, his cabin looked inviting. Linnea winced as her foot pushed the emergency brake. Her ankle hadn’t completely healed. Opening the truck door, Ricky’s cries turned her head, just as a light came on inside the baby’s room.

  Unable to abandon Rick to the midnight feeding, Linnea found herself in his entry peeling off her winter coat. She hung her jacket on the peg beside the door as Rick turned on the light in the hall, illuminating the living room in faint light.

  Rick froze startled in place by the woman standing unexpectedly in his living room. “I came to help with Ricky,” she said stunned by the vision before her. A Christmas tree encircled by unopened packages, lit with colorful lights, still waited for Christmas morning.

  “Thank you,” he said not wanting to add any words that might send her out that door.

  Her face filled with unanswered questions as she moved silently to the kitchen, mixed formula and heated water on the stove. Ricky fussed while his diaper was changed on the sofa. The baby squirmed trying to escape Rick’s quick, now expert hands.

  Linnea stayed in the kitchen, using the butcher-block island to isolate her from the man she ached to embrace. Ricky, now free, dashed across the floor in a swift crawl, bridging the gap between them. She scooped the baby while he babbled word-like sounds. One word was distinct. He turned to Rick with a toothy smile, “Dada, Dada, Dada!” his cherub voice called.

  “He’s calling you Daddy,” she sighed.

  “He has for a few days now,” Rick nodded as he stood.

  “You didn’t have Christmas,” she said glancing at the tree.

  “It wouldn’t have been right, not without you.” he risked saying, but held his feet in place, fighting the urge to cross the room and seize Linnea in his arms.

  She’d given him until Christmas to reclaim her heart. Here, in his cabin, Christmas hadn’t come.

  Linnea moved toward him with Ricky on her hip, and a bottle in her hand. She sank into the worn comfort of the leather and looked up at Rick where he stood over her. Her eyes begged him to sit.

  They sat together while Ricky finished his bottle. His gentle slurps were now as comforting as the breeze in the trees or the ticking of a clock. Fading, Ricky slept content in Linnea’s arms.

  “Should I put him down?” she asked.

  “I’ll take him,” Rick said as they transferred the warm bundle from her arms to his.

  Relief washed over him as Rick returned to his living room to find Linnea still seated in his home. Retracing his path, he sat next to her on the couch. She toyed with his hand for a moment then lifted his arm to snake around her shoulders and leaned into the heat of his side. Her head rested on the rise of his chest and she listened to him breathe.

  “You were there. When they pulled me out of the ditch,” she stated and asked.

  “Yes, I was there.”

  “And at the hospital that night?”

  “And in the morning too,” he admitted.

  “Can I count on you to be there, tomorrow?”

  His breath hitched, as he choked back a sob. “Forever, Linnea. You can count on me to love you forever.”

  Her head nodded, as she curled into him and splayed her hand across the muscles of his abdomen.

  Forever, she needed forever to show him all the ways she wanted to love him.

  Linnea rose, grasping his hand and led Rick to bed. She confessed before he lay beside her, that during the hospital visit, she’d let her pill regiment slide. Rick moved above her and nodded. He kissed her carefully, his forearms holding his weight above her still healing body. His hands stroked her face, and his lips tasted her mouth.

  Linnea gasped as he entered, fierce intensity coupled with measured tenderness. The slow undulations of his hips increased the escalating pleasure that began to coil low. With each pass she took in a bit of the air he exhaled, absorbing his cautious worship of her body, Linnea relaxed into the consuming sensation of his possession.

  Increasing the pace as tension climbed he struggled for control. Linnea’s fingers scraped desperate patterns of need across his back. Her heels dug into his legs, urging him with passion
ate greed. Her body tightened around his length, as Linnea’s release crested in waves. Following her within seconds, Rick buried himself deep, bathing her channel in liquid heat.

  Still encased in his embrace, Linnea tasted his lips again, encouraging his soft nibbles to trail from her lips to her neck. He nestled into her, taking comfort in the velvet softness of her breasts.

  Rick eased to one side and took her peaked nipple into his mouth. Sucking lighter when she gasped, still too sensitive for his more deliberate intentions. Every caress produced a sigh of responsive pleasure. Linnea rewarded his touch with uninhibited reactions, guiding his hands to the spots she desired him most.

  “I need you,” he said, overwhelmed by the power Linnea held over him.

  He lifted her to straddle his hips, pleading for more with his gaze. She met the hungered challenge, taking control of their pleasure with the slow rise and fall of her body. Now free to explore her pale skin Rick kneaded her breasts, hips, and thighs, bringing her to a second climax with the pad of his thumb.

  The bucking sensation stripped his control. He grasped her hips, his fingers digging for purchase and lifted her with the upward thrust of his groin. She rode pliant and free taking his release, then collapsed over him still connected intimately to the man she desperately loved.

  ***

  A clatter of pans woke Rick. He stretched enjoying the deep satisfaction that came from a night passed sleeping in Linnea’s arms.

  “No, no, Daddy’s sleeping,” he heard Linnea croon, loving that phrase on her lips.

  He glanced at his clock. 9:30, and late to work - he’d give Seth a call after a cup of coffee.

  Walking into the living room, the image before him was the stuff of dreams. Linnea wore a red skirt and a simple creamy sweater. Over the festive outfit, she wore an apron. The bow tied against the curve of her spine did him in. Ricky played on the floor near her bare feet dragging plastic ware from the cupboard.

  “I made waffles, but I’m not sure I have your touch,” she smiled up as he took a kiss.