Someone to Trust

by Kay Lyons

  “And now that’s changed?” Kate asked, her tone soft with understanding.

  Why did Alex find it easier to talk to a total stranger than the man making her feel this way? “My life, my family is in Tennessee.”

  “You can build a new life. Isn’t life whatever you make it? Wherever and with whomever you make it?”

  The door to the small house opened once again. Dylan stepped inside and the sight of him brought a welcoming smile to her lips.

  What if that whisper wasn’t her imagination? Could her wherever be in Alaska? With Dylan and his son?

  Feeling Kate’s gaze on her, Alex made eye contact and saw the other woman arch her eyebrow, as though Alex’s response to Dylan was her answer.

  * * *

  OVER THE NEXT HALF HOUR Alex and Kate talked while Kate prepared a dinner of soup and fresh-baked bread. Dylan listened to the women’s conversation, wondering what Alexandra thought of the Foxx’s humble abode. Did she think it too plain? Would she like a home like it? One a little fancier?

  Owen leaned his chair back on its hind legs, reaching behind him to the buffet and snagging something from the top. “Look at my latest,” he said to Dylan. “Think that’ll go over well in the shops?”

  Dylan picked up the elaborately carved bird, turning it over in his hands. “It’s a fine piece of work. Speaking of which, Alexandra wants to see your workshop. She admires Colt’s play set and would like to pick up some pieces for her nephews.” Dylan went on to explain how she was photographing Alaska.

  “I was hoping I could take some pictures, too,” Alexandra said to Owen and Kate. “If you don’t mind. I’d love to get some photos of you working on your creations. They’re absolutely beautiful.”

  “My ugly mug would break your camera,” Owen said with an embarrassment-filled but flattered glance at his wife.

  “Tell you what, you let me get you in action as you work, no posing involved, and I’ll take some photos of your kids for free and send them to you. Is it a deal?”

  Her ploy worked because Kate immediately turned to her husband with a pleading expression, and Dylan was transported back to that day he’d caught Alexandra photographing Colt.

  Seeing Kate’s face he understood exactly what Alexandra had tried to convey that day. What parent didn’t want pictures of their children? Didn’t want to capture their child’s young years because they grew and changed so fast?

  All photos of Colt had been lost in the fire and in the two years since, he hadn’t even thought of having Colt’s picture taken professionally, not only due to the flight to Anchorage it would entail but also due to Colt’s problems. The past two years had been sad years, not happy ones. But since Alexandra’s arrival, Colt was smiling more. Playing. Dylan wanted photos to document the strides his son was making. Colt was only this age once.

  He’d ask Alexandra to take some shots of Colt. Maybe even of him, Zeke and Colt together since they were three generations and they didn’t have any photos of that type. Colt’s smiles were infrequent but Alexandra could capture him playing with his wooden horses, tossing rocks into the lake. Being himself.

  “I suppose I could stand there and work.” Owen’s expression softened as the big lug gave in to Kate’s look and accepted Alexandra’s offer. “The wood shop is out back. I normally wear something like this but I could change.”

  “Absolutely not,” Alex said, taking in the man’s coveralls and working clothes with a sweep of her eyes. “You’re perfect just as you are.”

  A surge of something hit Dylan right between the eyes. Jealousy, envy. Sadness. He wanted to be perfect in Alexandra’s eyes. Imagine that. Damaged goods like him…perfect.

  * * *

  DURING HER TOUR OF OWEN’S workshop, Alex purchased toy sets for her nephews, as well as a very special horse to add to Colt’s collection. Once she was back in Anchorage, she’d ship the play sets home for Christmas. Alex hugged Kate before she climbed aboard the Cub and took her seat behind Dylan’s, sad that the day was over. Would she ever see Kate again? The thought brought another wave of indecision.

  She was not only getting totally attached to Dylan, but others here, too. Zeke and Colt, Ansel and Walter, now Kate and Owen. They had fast become her friends.

  Maybe even her family?

  Dylan was everything she wanted in a man. So was she simply going to walk away when her three weeks were over or was she going to talk to him about how she felt? If he asked her to stay, what would she say? Yes, because she’d like to see how things would develop, where their relationship would go?

  Or no, because people didn’t do those types of things after such a short amount of time. It would mean giving up everything she held dear, sacrificing so much. Too much?

  She and Dylan were both quiet on the flight home, the engine droning and giving them a good excuse to not shout into the headsets at each other to be heard over the noise.

  When they flew over Deadwood Mountain Lodge and she looked out the window to see the structure surrounded by nothing but water and trees and mountains, Alex was reminded of the solitary existence Owen and Kate led on the frozen tundra. Kate Foxx had been so happy for company she’d nearly been beside herself, and Alex had felt guilty leaving the lonely young mother because she could feel the other woman’s need for more companionship.

  She spent a lot of time away working for Traveling Single but she returned home to Tennessee every couple weeks to visit. She was a gypsy, true, but she couldn’t imagine not being able to see her friends and family whenever she wanted. David was so good about letting her schedule reviews around birthdays and celebrations, holidays.

  Staying, living, in Alaska would mean not seeing them for very long periods of time. Months, possibly. Would she be able to agree to that?

  “Look,” Dylan said.

  Her gaze fastened on the landscape outside the plane’s window and she saw Colt running out into the open to stare up at them. Camera in hand, she watched.

  “He’s smiling,” Dylan shouted. “Take the picture!”

  She didn’t hesitate. It was quite a concession to have Dylan’s permission and she knew it represented the trust he’d placed in her. He was healing.

  Alexandra captured their homecoming from the sky. Colt was wearing a big, happy, welcoming smile. What a glorious sight, a smile the likes of which only children can give. Her heart felt full, her chest tight.

  Maybe she could do this. Maybe she and Kate could travel together and see the world. Maybe Dylan would ask her to stay and her family would understand why she’d say yes. Life was about compromise, right?

  Dylan landed and when she exited the plane, Colt was waiting for them on the dock, hesitation etched on his little face.

  On impulse she dropped to her knees and opened her arms. Colt charged forward, filling the empty space she hadn’t even known was there. She held him close, kissed his cheek and sighed.

  Maybe….

  * * *

  DYLAN STOPPED CHOPPING WOOD long enough to watch Colt tug Alexandra by the hand to the rear of the lodge. There was nothing back there but Colt’s tree house. Approximately ten feet off the ground, it had a slide and tire swing hanging from a thick limb. Was that where they were headed? It was Colt’s place, one he didn’t typically share.

  Dylan anchored the ax into the chopping block with a sharp whack and followed at a distance. Sure enough Colt had led her to the tree house and was already waiting for her to climb up but Alexandra’s foot kept slipping on the narrow boards nailed into the tree in ladder-form.

  “Sorry, sweetie, my boots are too big or something. I don’t think I’ll be able to— Oh!”

  Dylan surprised Alexandra by gripping her slim waist and lifting her off her feet. Once she latched on to the wood, he filled his hands with her fine behind and pushed her the rest of the way, squeezing and copping a feel in the process. Laughing, the sound breathless, she rolled over onto her butt and regarded him from her perch.

  “I’ll remember that,” she pro
mised with a twinkle in her eyes. “Colt, your daddy is ornery, you know that?” She turned to regard Colt, saw the boy’s smile and pretended outrage. “What? You think that’s funny?” she asked, leaning sideways to tickle Colt.

  His smile grew bigger, wider, and a short sound escaped him.

  Dylan froze where he stood. A laugh. Was that a laugh?

  The sound was gone in an instant. If Alexandra heard it, she didn’t let on but when the boy snuggled into her arms and buried his head against her thick coat, Alexandra’s gaze met Dylan’s and held with meaningful intent. She’d heard it, too. She winked at Dylan, blowing him a kiss over top of Colt’s head.

  Dylan reached out and caught her booted leg, held it close to his chest because he needed contact with them.

  This moment, this peace, this was what he’d waited all his life to feel. Whether she knew it or not, Alexandra held his very heart in her hands.

  Chapter 18

  HER LAST DAYS AT DEADWOOD Mountain passed much too quickly as she and Dylan traveled to the last of her chosen destinations.

  When the visibility was too poor to fly and the temperature too cold to travel by boat, she’d pitted her skills against all the men skeet shooting—and won, thanks to a lifetime of target practice with her family. After a lot of ribbing and jokes, she proved that nobody should mess with a Tennessee girl with a gun in her hands.

  Yesterday Dylan had taken her and Colt both to tour an old abandoned mining town and showed them how to pan for gold. With every dip of the pan in the water and every smile Dylan gave her, she fell more deeply in love. Despite the cold and the snow, it was a great day, one she didn’t want to end. Which is why she’d broken her rule and joined Dylan at bedtime when he went to tuck in his son and listen to the night’s story.

  As of last night when she’d downloaded and backed up her pictures for safekeeping, she’d noted that during her three weeks in Alaska, she’d taken nearly six thousand photos. Her favorites? Those of Dylan, Colt.

  She had been surprised when Dylan had asked her to take photos of Colt but she supposed she shouldn’t have been. All it had taken was time for Dylan to trust her. Considering Colt’s solemn demeanor, she’d given herself creative license and tried hard to make the photos unique since it was nearly impossible to catch Colt smiling. She strove to capture moments when Colt’s expressions revealed his thoughts and concentration. She’d also taken one of Dylan and Colt from behind, where the focus was on Dylan’s large, scarred hand holding the small unspoiled hand of his son.

  Now it was time for her to return to Anchorage to tour the city. Would Dylan make her go alone? He didn’t have the excuse of ill health like Owen Foxx. She’d waited and hoped and prayed for Dylan to say he wanted to come with her. Or even to say that she needed to stay because he felt the same way she did and he couldn’t imagine life without her. But so far he hadn’t.

  Now Alex stood in the doorway of Colt’s room and watched Dylan’s son color a horse in one of his coloring books. Her bags were packed and waiting for her in the hall, and she’d said goodbyes to Ansel and Walter before they’d left for another day of fishing, and Zeke who was in the kitchen cooking lunch.

  God, give me strength. I don’t know if I can leave without making a fool of myself.

  So why leave? Since when had she become a woman who waited for things to happen rather than made them happen? Why not tell Dylan she’d changed her mind, be honest about her freaked-out feelings and see what he said?

  What happened to no pressure?

  She wouldn’t apply pressure. If Dylan didn’t feel the same way, so be it. She’d go to Anchorage alone.

  And the review?

  She’d explain. She couldn’t help it if she’d come here to do a job. He’d be upset, but surely he would forgive her?

  Outside, she heard the sound of a plane circling the lake to land. Sam had arrived with more guests. The noise of the plane landing caught Colt’s attention and he glanced up, spotting her in the doorway. His beautiful brown eyes were sad with awareness. He knew what today was.

  Forcing a smile in case she did wind up in Anchorage alone, she moved closer to Colt and knelt on the floor. Not having a sack or bag to wrap the horse she’d purchased for Colt, she’d used a pillowcase. “Hey, it’s almost time for your dad to take me to Anchorage. I want you to know how great it was to meet you and play with you, Colt. You are a very special, very smart little boy and I will never forget you.”

  Colt dropped the crayon in his hand and rolled onto his bottom, looping his arms around his drawn up knees as he stared at her.

  Oh, that look, that sweet little face. She’d miss him so much. “I got you a present to say thank you for showing me around and sharing your tree house and being such a good friend. I hope you like it.” She set the pillowcase on the floor beside him. “Go on, look inside.”

  The boy gave her another sad, heartbreaking glance before he unlocked his arms and reached for the package. He pulled out the horse Owen had rapidly painted to match Bandit’s markings.

  “Maybe if you’re ever in Tennessee, your dad will bring you to my parents’ house to meet Bandit in person. Until then… I hope you have fun playing with this one. I had Mr. Foxx make him special, just for you.”

  Colt scrambled to his feet and threw himself into her arms, nearly knocking her over. Alex closed her eyes and hugged Colt tight, trying to memorize the smell and feel of little boy sturdiness, baby soft hair and the waxy scent of crayons.

  Before she could get too sentimental or emotional, Colt shoved himself out of her embrace. He tucked the wooden Bandit under his arm, grabbed the pillowcase and held up his other little hand as though telling her to wait.

  Alex didn’t know what to make of his behavior, especially when Colt backed away slowly, as though afraid she’d ignore his request, then spun around and ran from the room toward Zeke’s.

  What on earth?

  Then Colt was back. Her gaze fell to the sack and she realized by the weightiness of it he’d placed something inside. Colt approached her with a shy smile on his face, and her heart melted on the spot.

  Head down, Colt peeked out from beneath his long thick eyelashes, stopping a few inches away from her where she’d remained kneeling on the floor. He held out the sack for her to take.

  “For me?” Dylan’s familiar footsteps sounded in the hall outside the door and she knew it was time to go but she wasn’t ready yet. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dylan take position by the door, his broad shoulders filling the opening. “Thank you, Colt.”

  Colt glanced over at his father but immediately turned back to watch her open his gift.

  “I love surprises,” she told him as she stuck her hand inside. “What is it? Huh? Oh, a book! Did you bring me a book for my flight?”

  In the doorway Dylan swore softly, straightening to his full height. “Alexandra…”

  She flipped the hardcover over to the front, surprised to see the title was by one of her father’s favorites. Books were expensive, hardcovers especially, and she felt guilty taking one of Zeke’s. “Oh, honey, I like it, but are you sure your grandpa won’t mind? This is one of my father’s favorite authors.”

  Colt immediately shoved the thick sheath of bound paper over to point at the author’s photo on the back cover flap.

  Alex glanced down, doing a double take at the man in the photo.

  She blinked, laughed softly, but the image didn’t change and her smile faded. Dylan?

  The slant of his head could only be described as cocky. He was clean-shaven and amazingly handsome, smiling into the camera with masculine assurance. But it was definitely him.

  Dylan—her Dylan—was Dylan MacGregor? The novelist?

  How many books had been bestsellers? How many movies had been made from his work? He wasn’t an A-list actor or sports figure but all the same in certain circles he was…famous.

  For murdering his wife and her lover.

  For a moment the room spun and her grip on the book
turned slick with the moisture on her hands. She wasn’t one of his readers, having heard from her father how gritty Dylan’s books read, but she knew who he was, she remembered. According to her father Dylan wrote with the emotion of Nicholas Sparks, the suspense of John Grisham, the thrill of Stephen King. Which is why at a fairly young age Dylan had gained the popularity of Louis L’Amour for his fresh-voiced Western set novels, rising to fame—then crashing.

  Dear God, who could forget the author who’d supposedly set fire to his wife and her lover?

  She lifted her gaze off the jacket photo and stared at the boots on his feet, unable to believe the irony. She’d recognized those boots—a brand her father had requested after reading Dylan MacGregor preferred them—but not the man. And when her gaze lifted to meet Dylan’s, she saw the truth. All this time… All this time and he hadn’t told her?

  “Colt, go see Grandpa,” Dylan ordered, his voice low. “He’s making cookies for you.”

  Alex was barely aware of Colt’s head swiveling back and forth between her and Dylan, a frown pulling his eyebrows low because he knew something was wrong.

  Pieces of information continued to fill her mind. Pictures, captions. She remembered newsfeeds and tabloid covers of the author in handcuffs, dark glasses covering his eyes. Photos of a toddler and the fervor generated over Dylan’s release because so many were outraged he was going to “get away with it” because his movies and books were popular. But evidence had proven Dylan’s innocence until—weren’t there rumors of an affair with the nanny?

  Dylan said he hadn’t cheated.

  And she believed him. But why not tell her the truth?

  Like you told him the truth?

  Alex hugged Colt to her again and kissed his soft cheek. Swallowing the dryness in her throat, she said, “Thank you for the present. Now go eat a cookie while they’re warm.” She forced herself to meet Colt’s gaze and smile even though it took everything inside her to muster the effort to appear okay when nothing was and never would be again. “That’s when cookies are the best.”