A Temporary Courtship

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“Friday. I’ll meet you at your place by eight-fifteen.” She sounded so professional, like they’d scheduled a business meeting. Not a date.

“Sounds good.” Ignoring the twist in his gut, Darren justified showing Bree around as an extension of his job.

A good word from Bree or her mom into the right ears might go a long way in upping his chances for the supervisor position. He’d take all the help he could to make sure he got the job this time.

He’d simply showcase the great up north outdoors and be done with it. When Bree left, he’d be done with her, too.

Chapter Four (#ulink_3b0e6c31-90c4-5da6-8aaa-b438cfece5a3)

By Friday night, the weather had turned chilly, so Bree dressed in warm layers. Who knew how long they’d be outside? Her parents thought she was crazy to venture out so late. Maybe they were right.

Following the map Darren had drawn was easy. She’d driven on the one main road heading north most of the way. Slowing down, she spotted the Honey for Sale sign right where he’d said it would be. Bree took the next right onto a dirt road. So far, so good.

Scanning the map again, she went another two miles until she saw the fish mailbox. This was Darren’s driveway. It was a dirt two-track path similar to the ones they’d taken to find mushrooms. She slowed to a stop and stared at that mailbox.

What was she doing coming here?

With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and pulled into the two-mile drive. No regrets. No missed opportunities.

Her cell phone buzzed with an incoming text. She slowed to a stop and grabbed it, hoping it wasn’t Darren changing their plans. Another text from Philip that she ignored.

Darren hadn’t been kidding when he said he lived in the woods. She’d watched the sun dip low in the sky as she drove here, but the surrounding trees with new leaves blocked the dwindling light.

When she finally pulled into a large clearing, the wood home surprised her. She’d expected something far less airy than the chalet-style structure in front of her. Darren’s home was small but pretty with a wraparound deck that was partly covered and sat atop a two-bay garage. Another metal garage stood nearby.

She smiled when she saw him outside with two small beagles. Both were brown and white with black backs, floppy ears and sweet faces. Darren hunched down to give them each a pat and scratch behind their ears. Tails wagging, they followed him around a fenced area begging for attention. He gave in and petted them some more.

Stella had assured her that Darren was a good guy, but the gentle way he treated his dogs proved it.

She parked her car, got out and looked around. Wood stacked neatly under an overhang between the garage and stairway caught her eye. An axe lay against a beam with more wood scattered on the ground. She’d been spot-on with her lumberjack comparison. He even wore a padded flannel shirt.

“Hey.” He gave her a cautious smile. “You’re early.”

Only fifteen minutes early. She walked toward the fenced dog run. “I gave myself extra time in case I got lost. Your dogs are adorable. What are their names?”

Darren stood facing her on the other side of the fence. “Mickey and Clara.”

“Hi, guys.” Bree stuck her fingers through the fence, and both dogs jostled to lick her hand in greeting. “Do they stay outside?”

“When I’m working. They have access to part of the garage so they can get out of the weather.”

She nodded. “You have a nice home.”

He looked surprised by her compliment. “Thanks. It’s a prefab, but I’ve added a few things. The deck is one of them. I need to gather some gear, and then we can go. What size shoe do you wear?

“Seven and a half. Why?”

“I have a pair of waders that might fit you. Come in and try them on.”

“Weighters?” Bree followed him through the open garage door into a spotless space without a single vehicle parked inside. The walls had shelves filled with all sorts of outdoor gear—fishing poles, snowshoes. She pointed to a big metal safe. “What’s that?”

“Waders? They’re pull-on overall boots to wade into the water.”

“No, that big green thing in the corner.”

“Gun cabinet.”

She felt her eyes widen at the size of the thing. “You have a lot of guns.”

He laughed. “I have firearms for both work and recreation. So, yeah. I have a few.”

Her stomach tightened. She didn’t know men with guns. Philip’s anger over her residency had unsettled her big-time. It was the reason she finally broke it off with him. What would a big guy like Darren turn into when he was mad? Stella’s assurance that he was safe shriveled to nothing in the presence of that green cabinet.

She spotted a deer head mounted on the opposite wall and wrinkled her nose. “So, you hunt, too.”

“Yup.” His eyes challenged her to make something of it. “I like to fill my freezer.”

“Oh.” Of course, he killed his own food. Who was she to raise an eyebrow? She ate meat with no thought to where it came from. Just like the morels.

“Have you ever tried venison?” His voice sounded softer now. More coaxing.

“No.” She heard the whine of the dogs. They were inside the other garage bay that had been fenced off and poked their noses through the wire.

“It’s good.”

“Hmm. Maybe.” She wrinkled her nose.

Darren laughed. “There are no maybes about it.”

Bree ambled over to the dogs and gave them each a pat over the low fence, noticing their inside space looked pretty comfy. They had their own couch, water bowls and a basket of chew toys. This man took good care of his pets.

“Here, try these on. You’ll stay warmer in these.” He held out a pair of tan overalls with boots. Waders.

“So, you go into the water to catch these things?”

“You can net from shore, but that’s not nearly as fun.”

Bree was here to have fun, no matter how cold the thought of getting into a river at the end of April. She took the waders, found a chair to sit on and slipped off her sneakers. She’d never expected to do this sort of thing, so she hadn’t brought any kind of boots with her up north. They’d already been shipped out to Seattle. Not that she owned a pair of real hiking boots. Maybe she’d buy a pair. She had a feeling trekking off the beaten path with Darren might be rough in spots.

She shoved one foot in, then the other, and stood.

“Walk a little. How do they feel?”

She galumphed her way around. “Big.”

“I’ve got heavy socks upstairs. Come on.”

She slipped out of the waders and followed him in her stocking feet, leaving her sneakers on the floor. She wanted a peek at the inside of his house. That said a lot about a man, didn’t it? Too bad she hadn’t paid attention to Philip’s showy high-rise apartment.

Stepping onto the main floor, she was far from enlightened other than another deer head mounted over the fireplace and some fish on another wall. Darren’s house had an open floor plan with a living room, a dining area and a kitchen with stainless steel appliances. Pretty but plain in neutral shades. The opposite wall was floor-to-ceiling windows.

Stepping closer to the windows, she peered outside. Woods surrounded most of Darren’s property, but there was an open field to the left that went on for days. Rolling hills beyond completed the idyllic view.

“I’ll be right back.” Darren disappeared down a short hallway into what must have been his bedroom.

Bree barely heard him. She walked around, touching the stone fireplace and scoping out the upstairs loft with a wrought iron railing facing those windows. What a perfect spot to practice her cello with such an inspiring view. Too bad the music room at Bay Willows faced the little post office instead of the lake.

“Here, that should do it, and your feet will stay warm.”

She took the thick woolen socks from him. “Thank you. You have a beautiful view.”

He narrowed his gaze as if questioning her sincerity. “I think so.”

Maybe his ex-fiancée hadn’t thought so. Maybe the plain walls other than dead animals didn’t appeal. The waders Bree had tried on had to have been Raleigh’s. They were too small for Darren. Somehow Bree couldn’t picture Stella’s tall, model-like granddaughter trussed up in rubber waders. Bree couldn’t imagine her here, either, amid the multiple shades of tan and lack of artwork. The lack of flair.

He gave her an odd look as if considering her for something. “Follow me.”

Bree’s stomach flipped. “Where?”

But he was already in the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a pot.

“What’s that?”

He lifted the lid and plunged a fork inside. “Venison stew. Wanna try it?”

Bree wrinkled her nose. “Cold?”

He chuckled. “Not quite. I had it for dinner tonight.”

She hesitated, not sure she wanted to venture quite that far, but then squared her shoulders. This outing was about trying new things. She stepped forward, waders and socks in hand.

Darren held the fork for her, cupping his hand underneath. “Go ahead.”

She stalled, looking into his eyes. “You made this?”

He laughed. A low, soft rumble that sounded incredibly masculine. “Don’t worry. I can cook.”

Bree took in the forkful offered and chewed. The venison was still warm and surprisingly tasty. She glanced at Darren again.

He watched her closely. “Well?”

“Good.” Her voice came out sounding strangely hoarse.

It was then that Bree saw her attraction reflected back from Darren’s blue eyes. He had to feel it, too—this strange stirring of the senses. For a moment, the only thing she heard was the increased beat of her pulse pounding like crazy.

He stepped back and set the fork in the sink with a clatter. “Ready?”

Bree nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

Darren chuckled as he returned the pot to the fridge. “Let’s go.”

She blew out her breath and followed him back downstairs. Slipping into her sneakers and then clutching the heavy woolen socks and waders close, she climbed into Darren’s white pickup truck. What had just happened?

“I can put those in the back,” Darren offered as he clicked on the radio and country music whispered.

“I’m good.” Bree spied the slim backseat and clutched the socks and waders closer as if they’d protect her from the odd sensations flooding her.

Darren turned up the volume to an upbeat song that crooned about the mysteries between a man and a woman. Hearing some guy sing about kissing in the morning didn’t help. Not at all. Bree tapped her toe on the floor in time with the beat, hoping to dispel whatever it was that Darren had done to her with merely a smile.

She’d never met anyone like Darren before. Having grown up downstate, Bree hadn’t been exposed to things like venison, guns or smelt dipping. Was she ready for what lay ahead?

A shiver raced through her despite the warmth of the truck’s heater. Tonight promised something she craved. Not only a break from her usual routine but also adventurous freedom before she made one of the biggest time commitments of her life.

She’d wanted a change, and tonight definitely ranked as different. Only, she hoped this inconvenient attraction to Darren would pass. She’d worked with nice-looking musicians without any trouble. Maybe this was merely a temporary curiosity because Darren wasn’t like the urbane men she was used to. He was different. A passing fancy that would eventually vanish. Once her vacation was over.

* * *

Darren parked his truck next to his friend’s SUV and got out. The pungently sweet smell of burning wood hung in the air. There were several other vehicles parked in the small clearing off a two-track path. The place was crowded.

He looked up at the clear sky tinted pink with the memory of this evening’s sunset. A big crescent moon hung just above the tree line. It wouldn’t shed much light later—not quite the blue moonlight he’d promised—but then, he had flashlights.

“Something wrong?” Bree climbed out of his truck.

“Our moon is nothing but a weak sliver tonight.”