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Her car crawled over the dirt road, the beam from the headlights bouncing off the thick forest of trees. She glanced at the clock. Almost eight. She still had over an hour before she was supposed to meet Barbie and her friends in Laramie.
“Then again, I’m sure everything we’re bringing is needed.” She glanced at the list resting in the cup holder. “Yes, this is a good idea, a great idea. I can do this. I’ll just drop the stuff off, make sure they’re okay and leave. How’s that sound?”
Jack leaned forward and licked her ear. Another yes.
She pulled up next to Justin’s battered pickup and cut the engine. She hadn’t been out here since last fall when Gage had shown the family around his newly purchased land. Her older brother had wanted this old camp ever since he’d bought the ten acres on the other side of the lake where he’d built the log home he and Racy now lived in.
With the help of the full moon and clear skies, she could make out a few of the eight cabins that dotted the shore on this side of the lake, one of the largest right in front of her.
Justin’s cabin.
She waited, but when no one stepped outside, she shoved the list into her pocket, grabbed the laundry basket from the backseat and headed for the front porch. Jack led the way.
The smell of freshly cut wood mixed with the pungent scent from the pine trees that surrounded the house. A light shone on newly built porch planks that stretched the length of the cabin.
Even as her breath puffed before her face in chilled air, she could easily picture a pillow-laden swing hanging from overhead chains at the far end of the porch, facing the water. A perfect spot to enjoy a cool glass of lemonade on a hot summer evening while listening to the lake and the woods.
“Oh, stop daydreaming,” she muttered and turned back, giving the screen door a quick knock while managing to hold on to the heavy basket.
Nothing.
She leaned closer and peered inside through the mesh. There, in the kitchen. Justin sat on a crate with his back to her while the little boy, barely visible beyond Justin’s wide shoulders, stood directly in front of him.
Should she interrupt? Maybe she should leave the basket—
No. She’d decided it was important enough to pull these things together and get them here. Tonight. Add the touch of guilt she’d felt because she’d actually thought Justin was going to let that sweet little boy go off with strangers.
Okay, deep breath.
She knocked harder and this time Jack added a deep woof.
Justin spun around, his dark piercing eyes fixed on her. A ripple moved across her lower stomach, momentarily taking her breath away. It was a familiar visceral response to this man she still hadn’t gotten used to. It’d happened the first time she’d ever laid eyes on him, that afternoon in Racy’s office back in January, and every time he’d looked at her since.
Because he didn’t just look at her. No, his gaze locked with hers, like a radar beam on a target. And she was always the one who looked away first.
Except for the night he’d been battered and hurt. That night it’d been Justin who couldn’t hold her gaze as he sat on the opposite side of the room while she crawled beneath his sheets—
She scrubbed the memory from her mind, but noted that same intuitive feeling had taken root low in her belly earlier today when he’d held her in his arms in the storeroom. She hadn’t fallen on purpose, no matter what he thought. And once she was in his arms, her femme fatale plan to get him to pay attention to her had gone up in smoke the moment his dark eyes latched on to her.
Why was it she could use her newly acquired flirting skills on Ric with no problems? Because he flirted back? Not Justin.
He didn’t flirt.
He smoldered.
Gina pasted a smile on her face, and decided to forgo the flirting and settled for friendly. “Hi, am I interrupting?”
That was stupid. Of course, she was interrupting.
The boy leaned around Justin. “Jack!”
The dog barked in response, and Gina angled one leg to keep the animal from jumping against the screen. “Hope you don’t mind us stopping by. When I heard about—When I found out you…”
Her voice trailed off as Justin gave a deep sigh, rose and headed for the door.
He didn’t want her here. And if a little boy hadn’t been standing in the middle of the room waiting to see Jack, he probably would’ve slammed the inside door in her face.
Instead he put his hand against the frame and paused, but then pushed open the screen door. Jack crossed the threshold and headed straight for the boy, but Gina waited to be invited.
“I’m not really in the mood for company.”
She turned her gaze up at him. Way up. She stood only five and a half feet tall, even in her favorite Tony Lama boots, and Justin easily towered over her. “I’ve got plans. I won’t be here long.”
Silence stretched between them. He filled the doorway with his broad shoulders, his hands braced on the frame and the mussed tufts of his dark hair skimming the top of the doorway.
He pushed the door open wide. “Well?”
She didn’t move forward, but she didn’t back away either. It was a small victory. “Well what?”
He cocked his head to one side, his gaze burning a path from her face to her boots as he took his leisurely time studying her. “Are you going to stand out there like Little Red Riding Hood with her basket,” he asked, “or are you coming in?”
She swallowed hard and glanced down. Beneath her jean jacket, her long-sleeve jersey top was a deep wine color and the lace-edged tank top that peeked from beneath the scooped neckline was black, but she guessed it was close enough.
“Coming in.”
She hefted the basket and took a step, bumping it into Justin’s midsection when he didn’t move back fast enough.
“I’ll take that.”
He let go of the door and reached for the basket’s handles. The heat of his calloused hands scorched her skin, taking her back again to when he’d caught her midtumble from the ladder. It was the closest they’d been in each other’s personal space in months.
Even when they happened to be working the same shifts at the bar, they’d managed to keep a respectable distance from each other, especially after he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in being friends, or anything else.
Not after that cold January night when he’d laughed at her attempts at playing pool and then demonstrated, his strong arms wrapped around her, how to hold a pool cue. He’d taught her to aim, shoot and celebrated with her when she’d finally managed to get the ball into the pocket. A celebration that she was sure was going to include his mouth on hers until—
With a mental shake, she dispelled the memory, pulled her hands from the basket and scooted into the cabin. An oversize toolbox and a variety of power tools littered the floor. The only furniture was a couple of camping chairs. Rolled sleeping bags sat atop a group of rumpled blankets.
Cardboard boxes, some open, others still taped up, lined one wall of the large room. Nothing covered the many windows, allowing the dark night to creep in. The only bright spot was a cheery fire blazing in a beautiful stone fireplace.
“Hey, Jacoby.”
He sat on the floor, teddy bear on his lap and a water bottle in one hand. Jack laid next to him, flat on his back, never one to pass up a belly rub. “Watch out, that mangy mutt will expect you to rub him for hours.”
Jacoby offered a small grin, but his gaze shifted past her. He then ducked his head and concentrated on the dog.
“What are you doing here?” Justin crossed the room and placed the laundry basket on the countertop that separated the kitchen from the living room. “Does my sister know Jack’s with you?”
She followed, her gaze drawn to the darkened kitchen. The antique stove and refrigerator, complete with chrome accents, reminded her of her late grandmother’s house.
A throat clearing told her he was waiting for an answer.
“Of course Racy knows.” She joined him at the counter. “She’s the one who suggested I bring him after seeing Jacoby with him earlier.”
“So your brother knows you’re here, too?”
“Not that it matters, but my brother is at work. I went back to the bar because I forgot my paycheck.” she paused, then lowered her voice “.with all the craziness earlier. Racy told me about you bringing Jacoby home instead of—well, you know—”
“Passing the kid off to yet another stranger?” Justin half turned, resting his arms on the basket. His tone matched hers. “Throwing another curveball at him? I mean, it’s not like he’s had enough to deal with today.”
Okay, she deserved that. She tucked a strand of curls behind one ear that included the pink one and forced herself to look him in the eye. “That was so unfair of me. I apologize.”
The uncertainty in his gaze was achingly familiar; she’d seen the same wariness in another set of dark brown eyes.
Jacoby’s.
“I figured you might not have stuff a little boy needs.” She pulled a paper bag from the basket and set it on the counter. “I grabbed a half-gallon of milk, some apples and bananas, a box of cereal that my brother Garrett refused to touch. Too healthy, he says—”
“I’ve been living here for the last few weeks,” Justin interrupted her. “I do have the means to keep from starving.”
“Oh, well…I didn’t think you’d have real food.”
He waved a hand toward the refrigerator. “What do you think that is? An oversize beer cooler?”
“I meant food for a child.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “And what kind of food do they eat exactly?”
Gina opened her mouth, but clamped it shut again when she realized she didn’t have an answer.
“The appliances might be ancient, but despite their outward appearance, they’re clean and in working order.” He took a step back. “Go ahead, take a look.”
He should be angry that she’d assumed he lived in a place equivalent to a fraternity house with nothing but beer and junk food, but he wasn’t. He sounded almost amused.
Gina’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment that probably matched the pink in her hair. She grabbed the bag and made a wide circle around him into the kitchen. She pulled on the refrigerator’s tarnished handle and the door popped open. Light spilled out, highlighting the aged but spotlessly clean interior and its contents. Milk, orange juice, bottled water, eggs and sandwich meats lined the three shelves. Two drawers at the bottom were filled with fruits and vegetables. A half-dozen beer bottles stood in line on the narrow door shelf. It took only a moment to put most of her meager offerings inside.
“I brought a pack of baloney, but the meat drawer is full.” She didn’t look at him, only tapped a fingernail against the metal door to the inside freezer. “Can I put it in here?”
“Sure.”
She opened the door and shoved it inside, noting the frozen chicken and steaks, a few ready-to-eat pizzas and the open end of a bright yellow box. She looked over her shoulder. “You even have popsicles…”
Her voice faded as he moved into the darkened kitchen, stopping to lean against the counter. The only light in the room came from the open refrigerator, but considering Justin’s height, it only shined on his lower half, emphasizing long legs encased in well-worn jeans.
“I like the taste of something sweet every now and then,” he said.
Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask.
It took pushing her tongue against the roof of her mouth to stop from wondering aloud what his favorite flavor was. It worked, just barely, and she closed the door. She offered a silent prayer the dimness of the room was enough to hide the blush heating her face.
A snap sounded and the room flooded with light from twin pendent fixtures that hung from the ceiling directly over a center butcher-block island.
She couldn’t resist looking around, noting that despite the chipped countertops, cabinets sporting faded white paint, some missing their doors entirely, the room was clean and well stocked. A toaster sat on the counter near a dish drainer and a trio of new windows, filled the wall over the sink.
“What were you expecting? A heap of fast-food containers and empty beer bottles?”
It was as if he could read her mind.
Shame filled her. Three steps and she invaded his personal space, laying her hand on his folded arms. “Justin, I’m sorry I misjudged you. I should’ve known the first room you’d have fixed up and in working order would’ve been the kitchen. You’re a chef, after all.”
He straightened and stepped away from her touch. “I’m not a chef. I’m a cook. Plain and simple.”
He was hardly that. The staff had raved over the dishes he’d invented and Racy was smart enough to add many of them to The Blue Creek’s menu. It still amazed Gina he’d learned that skill in prison.
“I hafta go the bathroom.”
Both of them swung around when the small voice came from the living room.
“Okay,” Justin said. “Go.”
Jacoby just stood there, his bear in one hand and the other resting on Jack’s neck as the dog sat next to him.
A pained expression came over Justin’s features, but when he caught her looking at him, he quickly erased it. “You don’t have to ask for permission. You can just go. It’s right through that doorway. The light is on the outside.”
Jacoby headed across the room, the dog on his heels.
“Jack, stay. He doesn’t need your help—” Gina said.
Both stopped, but only Jack looked at them, the corners of his mouth curving upward into the humanlike grin that always seemed to be on the dog’s face.
“I don’t care if he comes with me.”
Gina looked at Justin, who only shrugged.
“Then I guess it’s okay,” she said to the boy, “but be careful, he’s known to drink out of the toilet.”
Jacoby turned, his face screwed up with disgust. “Eww, gross.”
Gina grinned. “Totally gross.”
The boy and dog disappeared through the doorway and the sound of a door closing echoed through the cabin.
Justin moved back to the counter. “Remind me never to let that dog kiss me again. So, what else do you have in here?”
“Ah, sheets and a blanket, which I can now see you don’t need.” She waved at the bedding on the floor near the fireplace as Justin dug into the basket. “A few books, a night-light—”
“What is this?”
Gina gasped.
