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Already dreading an evening where Trey might show up, Kara grabbed a dust cloth and gave the checkout counter a swipe, then paused to gaze around the familiar expanse of the Warehouse. The paned windows. Plank floors. Well-stocked grocery items and other general merchandise. Displays of mountain country souvenirs and outdoor gear.
The knot in her stomach tightened. Why hadn’t her cousin Lindi alerted her to Trey’s return? Lindi. The reason she couldn’t tell Trey the truth. Beg his forgiveness. It was twelve years ago this very spring that her confused and scared, barely sixteen-year-old self had made the promise. Pledged that she wouldn’t tell a soul her best-friends-forever cousin had confessed to accidentally setting the forest on fire.
By the time she’d found out Trey had been accused…it was too late. She’d already made that impulsive vow that still reached out to haunt her. Just one more sign that while God may have set her world in motion, kept it spinning, he was most often off in another sector of the universe.
“Hey, Trey!” Meg grabbed his snow-covered, jacketed arm, hauling him and his nieces off the porch and into the house she and Joe would soon be calling home. “You’re just in time for pizza.”
He stepped onto the rug by the door, Missy in his arms and Mary clinging shyly to his leg. He gazed around a room full of people helping themselves to the savory, mouthwatering contents of cardboard delivery boxes. He glimpsed a few familiar faces—Meg’s fiancé and his dad and son. A dozen or two others he guessed to be church friends or teacher pals of Meg. Some of Joe’s buds.
Recognition flickered in the gazes of several guests. That was to be expected in a small town. Warm interest reflected in the smiles of a few of the younger women. That was usually to be expected as well—wherever.
But no Kara.
Thank you, Lord.
He almost hadn’t come, thinking she might be here, that it might be awkward, but he hated to back out on Meg. The perky newcomer to town had held a special place in his heart ever since they met last September. If it wasn’t for that hotshot Diaz guy, it might be him settling down with the pretty schoolteacher. Or at least that’s what he told himself on poor-pitiful-me days. But by the time he’d gotten her to go out with him, she was already falling for the ex-navy guy, one of Reyna’s cousins. Meg hadn’t realized it yet, but Trey had, and he backed off.
“Sorry I’m late, Meg. I’ve been babysitting the past few days and Jason and Reyna still aren’t home yet.”
A chorus of soft aahs echoed from female throats and inwardly he chuckled. It hadn’t taken long to figure out that if you wanted to score interest with the local ladies, babysitting by far outweighed the classic walking-the-pup routine.
“Yeah, yeah,” Joe’s father, Bill Diaz, taunted, his mustached mouth widening in a smile. “Timed it just right so all the heavy lifting’s done.”
“Guess you cowboys aren’t as dumb as you look.” The dark-eyed Joe cast him an appraising glance, a look he’d become accustomed to during the months Joe’d been courting Meg and keeping an eye open for rivals.
Relax, dude. She’s all yours now.
“Don’t listen to them, Trey,” Meg said as he toed off his boots at the door. “You can make yourself useful bringing in the sodas—which my loving fiancé forgot to do.”
A slice of pizza halfway to his mouth, Joe made sounds of protest.
“Consider it done.” Trey would rather do something constructive than stand around making small talk with people he didn’t know. People who may have formed judgments about him based on rumor. Coming back to Canyon Springs held more than its share of challenges. But God opened doors and he was gonna be man enough to walk through them no matter what it took.
Meg reached out for Missy, then he knelt to divest Mary of her coat. He peeled out of his own jacket and tossed their stuff on a folding table piled high with outdoor wear. Not trusting the guests to know a genuine Stetson when they saw one, he hesitated to top off the mound with his felt hat. But his ever-alert hostess snatched it from him and slid it onto a peg by the front door, then pointed in the direction of the kitchen.
With Mary gripping the welted side seam of his jeans, he made his way through the crowd, following the cardboard carpet past the staircase and into the kitchen. Looked like new floor tile. Fresh paint job on the cabinets, too. Curtains at the windows. Nice. Meg’s doing? Or Kara’s?
He’d have to figure out something homey like that when he bought a fixer-upper of his own. Having scrimped and saved every spare dime of his rodeo winnings for a hefty down payment, he had his heart set on a little house, some acreage. Had been looking forward for years to a day when he could settle down, start a family. A place like this, on the edge or outside of town, would be ideal. That is, if he cleared his name and made a go of the business. Old Reuben Falkner, city councilman, wasn’t making the latter an easy effort.
He headed to an open door where Meg had indicated he’d find the laundry room. A light was on, but when he stepped to the doorway of the miniscule room, he halted. A familiar red-blonde ponytail dangled halfway down the back of a trim female dressed in figure-skimming jeans and a blue wool sweater.
Kara.
With her back to him, she wiped off soda cans arranged on the clothes dryer’s surface. He had a second to catch his breath. But no time to back out the door before, head down and lost in thought, she whirled in his direction. Ran smack into his chest.
“Oh!” Her long-lashed gray eyes met his as she took a startled step back, pulling away from his hand that had instinctively reached out to steady her. For a long moment their gazes held. Every bit as close and as beautiful as she’d been that long-ago night. The night she’d sashayed up to him. Slipped her arms around his neck…
But tonight her eyes were that of a filly fixin’ to bolt.
“I didn’t hear you.” Face flushing, she took another step back and glared at his socked feet as if he’d deliberately shed his boots to sneak up on her.
“Sorry. I was put on soda duty.”
Kara frowned, apparently irritated Meg hadn’t thought her capable to handle the task on her own. Then she spied Mary clutching his leg and her expression softened. She motioned to the cans.
“You can haul some of these to the living room if you’d like. Or break up that bag of ice in the chest there.”
“Ice or sodas, doesn’t matter to me.” He chuckled, hoping to catch her eye and put her at ease, but she kept her focus on anything but him.
“Ice then.”
He nodded and they did an uneasy tango as he and Mary maneuvered around her, the air charged with an unmistakable, mutual awareness. Had twelve years really gone by?
She took a sidestep toward the now-vacated doorway, but without thinking he shot out his arm to block her. Wary eyes met his. His breath caught at the light scent of her woodsy perfume.
“We need to talk, Kara.”
Where’d that come from? He’d been hangin’ out with his sister-in-law too long. Starting to sound like a girl. But all he needed was a lousy five minutes. He’d ditch Mary and make Kara understand he didn’t hold anything against her. That she could stop looking at him like he was going to haul her into court.
Her brows lowered. “I—”
“Trey, did you bring Rowdy with you?” the familiar voice of five-year-old Davy Diaz called from across the kitchen.
Trey stared at Kara a long moment, his heartbeat counting off the seconds. Then he lowered his arm and turned to the youngster who trotted across the floor toward him and Mary. Bad timing, kid. But he’d sensed Kara’s relief.
He gazed down at the black-haired, brown-eyed boy and smiled at the youngster’s reference to his canine sidekick. Kids loved Rowdy. “We can’t stay long, so he’s out in the truck. That woolly coat of his keeps him toasty warm.”
“Daddy wouldn’t let me bring my puppy.” Davy’s shoulders slumped as he crammed his hands in his jeans pockets in an adultlike gesture. A miniature little man. His dark eyes brightened as he studied his cousin, Mary, who’d loosened a grip on Trey’s pant leg and taken a hesitant step forward.
“Kara’s already seed it,” the boy continued, “but do you guys wanna see my new room? I’m gonna live here when we marry Miss Meg.”
Mary looked up at Trey, hope in her eyes.
How could he turn down such cool kids? He glanced at Kara, but she again avoided his gaze. “I’d like to, Davy, but after I finish up here, okay? You two go on without me.”
“No, go right ahead,” the woman next to him insisted, all but shoving him out the door. “I can handle things here.”
All I need, Lord, is five stinkin’ minutes.
Granted, the other thing he needed to explain would likely take more than five minutes—if she’d hear him out at all. Her father had told him the two of them still weren’t on speaking terms. Hadn’t been for fifteen years. But he’d need to get her old man’s permission to discuss it with her anyway.
He hauled Mary into his arms and Davy stepped forward to grab his free hand. Glancing back as the little boy pulled him along, he caught Kara’s skittish gaze. Gave her a nod.
“We still need to talk, darlin’.”
Chapter Four
We need to talk.
Ugh. Kara rummaged in a laundry room drawer until she found a small, metal mallet, then she knelt by the insulated chest to break up the bag of solidifying crushed ice. No wonder men hated that phrase when women accosted them with it.
So he thought they needed to talk? Until he walked into the room and she literally ran into him, she’d have agreed. She’d intended, at some point, to apologize as best she could. But not here. Not now. And certainly not after seeing the mutual memory of her immature teenage behavior spark in his expressive eyes. Heard his breath catch when their gazes held for a too-long moment. No, not the shared memory of his being abandoned to the law. Rather, an even more vivid memory of her boldly stepping up to him. Thoroughly kissing him. Making a suggestion she had no business making.
He’d rejected it on the spot.
She gave the ice another series of whacks that sent shattered fragments flying, then stood. She’d been young and stupid back then. Probably every bit as stupid even now because every fiber of her being cried out to dash into the cold, dark night as far from Trey as she could get.
She shouldn’t have come this evening. She’d anticipated a few awkward, public moments if he showed up for Meg’s party. Steeled herself for superficial greetings. Self-conscious small talk. But she hadn’t anticipated him hunting her down, corralling her in the laundry room for one-on-one time. Wanting to settle old scores. Here. Tonight.
With shaky hands she dumped the contents of the plastic bag into the cooler with a resounding clatter.
“What’s taking so long?” Meg appeared in the doorway of the laundry room, Trey’s niece, the infamous screamer, in her arms. Thank goodness the contrary little thing seemed content enough tonight. Maybe her uncle had gotten her down for a nap.
“Where’s Trey? I sent him to help you.”
So much for warning her old friend not to matchmake.
“Davy dragged him upstairs to look at his room.”
“Men.” Meg made a silly face, then frowned. “You okay? You look kinda funny.”
Hope sparked. Now was an ideal opportunity to make her getaway. “A little tired, I guess. Everything from the past weeks is catching up with me. Think I’ll cut out early. Get to bed at a decent hour for a change.”
“You sure?”
She nodded, anxious to retrieve her coat and boots and get out of there. But she’d no more thought it than light footsteps followed by heavier ones clambered down the staircase. Glancing past Meg, she saw Davy and Mary head to the living room and a frowning Trey step into the kitchen, a finger poked in one ear and his cell phone pressed to the other.
He moved to the French doors leading to the patio, flipped on the exterior light and peered into the night. “You’re kidding. Yeah, it’s snowing harder up here, but—”
He turned as Meg and Kara entered the kitchen as well, then covered the mouthpiece. “Jason. DPS won’t let anyone come up the mountain tonight.”
“Oh, no,” Meg whispered, giving Missy a hug.
But Missy paid her little attention, her wide dark eyes fixed on Kara, a dainty hand reaching toward her. Kara managed a weak smile in the child’s direction, hoping Mighty Mouth wasn’t fixing to treat them to a replay of last night’s deafening rendition. She tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and cautiously eased away.
Trey continued to listen to his brother, his expression broadcasting dismay with the Arizona Department of Public Safety. He cleared his throat. “Sure, I can cover the care facility stuff. But come on, I don’t know how to preach.”
Kara and Meg exchanged a glance. Jason wanted Trey to preach tomorrow?
“No, no. Don’t lose any sleep over it. I’ll figure something out.” He switched the phone to his other ear. “What? Naw. I don’t think it’s gonna get that bad.”
He again glanced out the glass panes. Snow whipped out of the darkness, piling up at the base of the door. “Well, if it comes to that, maybe we can get a motel room. Don’t want to impose on anybody. But I don’t think—”
Meg and Kara exchanged puzzled glances.
“No, don’t worry. I’ll handle it. Yeah. Yeah. You, too.”
He shut off the phone and let out a gusty sigh. Then he looked over at them, his smile tight. “He says if we get what DPS says we’re going to get, there’s no way I can dig out from his place in the morning in time to cover at the church.”
Meg’s face crinkled in sympathy. “They had to stay overnight with her folks a few weeks ago when we got that foot and a half of snow. I’ve been out there—that forest service road is super-primitive. So you’re covering for Jason tomorrow?”
“Looks like it. He says it’s too late to call a member of the congregation to fill in. Unfortunately,” Trey continued with a glance in her direction, “Reyna’s folks are out of town and I don’t know her siblings well enough to show up on their doorsteps. So I guess we’d better get moving if I’m going to get the girls settled in at a motel.”
He took Missy from Meg’s arms, but the little girl’s brown eyes remained fixed on Kara. “I’m totally unprepared except for a truckload of diapers, but that snow’s accumulating fast.”
“Oh, forget the motel, Trey. I’m sure Joe and his dad would put you up for the night.” Meg motioned to the interior of her house. “The girls can stay with me. Plenty of room here for Rowdy, too.”
“Thanks, but I couldn’t—”
Meg cut him off with a snap of her fingers, her eyes brightening. “No, no, wait. I have a better idea. Kara and I have the perfect solution to your predicament.”
“You do?” His voice held a note of wariness.
Kara didn’t like the sound of her friend’s proposal either. “We do?”
“Sure we do.” Meg stepped across the kitchen, then pulled her purse from a lower cabinet shelf. A moment later she swung around, dangling a key from a fluorescent pink pom-pom key ring.
“Ta da! Remember the apartment I just vacated? Dix’s Woodland Warehouse Bed-and-Breakfast to the rescue.”
From the look on Kara’s face an hour ago when Meg ex tended the unexpected invitation, he was in the doghouse for sure. Their mutual friend’s enthusiastic offer had caught both of them off guard. He’d done his best to protest, to give Kara an out, but an oblivious Meg insisted it was the ideal solution. Caught in the middle, Kara had done the only thing she could do—echoed her old friend’s generous suggestion. Assured him she was more than happy to put him and his nieces up at the Warehouse.
But he knew better.
Nevertheless, here he was in the second-floor apartment, ready to get the girls settled in. Meg kept Rowdy for the night, and Kara indicated she’d be by shortly to make sure they had everything they needed for the unplanned sleepover.
He watched his giggling nieces explore the unfamiliar space, looking none too sleepy if he was any judge. It was a church night, though, so he had to get them tucked in soon. Then he had to figure out a plan for tomorrow’s worship service. And the visit to Pine Country Care.
But first things first.
When Kara showed up, they’d have that little talk he’d promised, even if he had to lasso the little lady to do it.
She’d throttle Meg later.
Lodging a complaint, insisting her friend withdraw the offer, would have made her seem petty. Tightening her grip on the overflowing fabric shopping bag, she exited by the Warehouse’s front door and locked up. Then, scurrying through the deepening snow, she made her way toward a recessed door between the stone-fronted Warehouse and the adjacent bakery.
She didn’t appreciate Meg’s interference—especially after she’d asked her not to set her up with the cowboy. Even if they didn’t have a canyon-size gulf from their past yawning between them, she and Trey didn’t know each other anymore. Had never known each other. Not really. He’d moved to town in November of his senior year. The fire had been in late March, after a series of drought-ridden years. So five months max. Yet she’d spent over a decade bound to him. Chained by guilt.
Gathering her courage, she pulled open the glass-paned door and started up the steep, dimly lit stairs like a condemned prisoner heading for the guillotine. She’d do her best to drop off the bag and make a hasty exit. But what if he tried to corner her as he’d done at Meg’s? Demand an explanation of her cowardice and a long overdue apology?
He had every right. She owed him that.
But not tonight.
At the sound of little girl giggles, running feet and Trey’s cowboyish whoops coming from a door left ajar at the top of the stairs, she paused. The Trey she’d known in those few short months hadn’t been criminally rebellious like some of their peers. No, he just went quietly about his business doing whatever he wanted to do, whether it was not completing homework, skipping school so he could spend more time with the horses at Duffy’s or sneaking an occasional cigarette. In all honesty, it was her own cowardice that sealed his troublemaker image in the mind of the community. Now here he was a dozen years later, a guy with a toddler in his arms and another curtain climber hanging on his leg. A regular family man. No, they didn’t know each other. At all.
At the top of the stairs it was tempting to leave the shopping bag looped over the doorknob and make her escape. But curiosity won over and she gave the door a push. Peeked inside as a giggling Missy, her chubby little legs pumping as fast as they could go, dodged Trey’s outstretched hands.
The apartment’s unobstructed, hardwood expanse made it much too appealing for an active toddler. In fact, except for the bathroom and kitchen, the nonstorage portion of the second floor consisted of a single room divided by a wide, bolted-down bookcase that separated the sleeping quarters from the front area. Perfect for an energetic little kid, as Kara remembered from her own childhood.
