Wild Man Creek

Six




Jillian knew she’d see Colin again before too long. She had been thinking about him, knew he was more than a little curious about her, just as she was intrigued by him, but she didn’t expect him to walk right in her back door at six-thirty in the morning. She was standing at the kitchen sink in her pajamas, filling egg cartons with dirt from a big bag of potting soil. She wasn’t wearing sexy pajamas but they were a bit revealing. She was braless and the curve of her breasts was clearly visible. And she was a tiny bit glad.

“Good morning,” she said. “Don’t you knock?”

He lifted his arms—one brown paper grocery sack in each. “No free hands.”

“You could have knocked. You could have used the toe of your boot.”

“I’ll try like hell to remember that. Have you had breakfast?”

“I was just about to eat some Froot Loops.”

“Ugh,” he groaned. “Poison. I’ll make breakfast. What are you doing?”

“Making seed cups. Preacher’s been saving me his egg cartons—they’re perfect.” She brushed the dirt off her hands into the bag. “I’ll move this bag of dirt and get dressed.”

“Not on my account—you look good.” He put his grocery bags on the work island. “I’ll move the dirt to the back porch for you. How do you like your eggs?”

“Benedict?”

“Second choice?”

“Steamed. Medium. Firm whites, plenty of yellow yolk.”

He smiled at her. “You’re trying to trick me. You think I can’t deliver. I’m a pretty good cook. Breakfast is my specialty.” His eyes dropped to her breasts and he seemed to sway slightly; he almost moaned. “Go ahead, get dressed. I’ll get busy in the kitchen.”

She was smiling as she went into the little bedroom off the kitchen and closed the door. Well, they were even now. She’d been caught glancing at his crotch and he’d taken a survey of her chest. She couldn’t miss the reaction—he had paled, and if she was not mistaken, he had subdued a shiver. Since her breasts were completely adequate and still quite perky she assumed he liked them just fine. She never thought of them as anything special but, in the grand scheme of things, they were nicely shaped and large enough for a man’s hands.

Jillian had been thinking about Colin a lot lately because she was undeniably attracted to him. This wouldn’t have happened in her old life. She’d been too busy while employed at BSS, putting in her sixty-to-eighty-hour weeks. It had been hard to get her attention at all under all the excitement and anxiety of her high-pressure job. Probably one of the only reasons Kurt had burrowed into her romantic life was because they spent so much time working together.

But here, mostly alone, in this completely alien environment, not only did Colin appeal to her in a very basic and earthy way, the idea that they were both transients and wouldn’t be in the same town longer than a few more months was a definite upside as far as she was concerned. She was a long, long way from trusting a man again, but she had discovered, since meeting Colin, that she wasn’t all that far from wanting one.

By the time she pulled on some jeans, a bra and a T-shirt, and had combed her hair and applied a little lip gloss, she could already make out the good smells coming from the kitchen. She followed her nose and sat on one of the two stools at the kitchen island. He was busy at the stove and when he glanced over his shoulder at her, she smiled and said, “Do you suppose we could try something very old-fashioned? Like planning ahead?”

“We could try,” he said. “But if that was a rule, I wouldn’t be here now. And you’d hate that. Plates?” he asked.

She pointed to the cupboard above the stove. And then she just watched in fascination while he moved around her kitchen. She liked the way his butt filled out his jeans—his legs were awful long. So were his arms, she noticed. His hands were big, but he was surprisingly graceful. He fried bacon and sausage together, steamed the eggs, warmed the croissants, pulled a package of smoked salmon from his grocery bag along with a jar of capers and a container of cream cheese and put those in the center of the work island. He opened drawers until he found utensils; he folded paper towels for napkins. And right before sliding the eggs and meat onto plates he quickly, and thinly, sliced a red onion onto a small plate. And voilà! He was sitting down across from her.

“Not bad,” she said.

“Not bad? You are cruel! Considering what I had to work with, this is a feast! Picnic-style, but a feast!”

She laughed. “You’re right. Plus it beats the hell out of Froot Loops.”

“Do you really eat those things?”

“I love them,” she said with childlike passion, her mouth full of smoked salmon rolled around some cream cheese and capers. “You forgot the tomatoes.”

“I’m waiting for the Russian Rose,” he replied, and then he winked. “Seriously, a moment of truth, this is all I can cook well—breakfast. I make a mean omelet, too. I can turn a steak or hamburgers on the grill, but the rest? It’s a complete mystery to me.”

“If you’re going to cook one thing then why breakfast?” she asked.

“I love breakfast.”

She put down her fork. “Have you been married?”

“No. Why?”

She picked up her fork and dug into her eggs. “I just had this picture in my head of some sweet wife getting up at 4:00 a.m. to make perfect eggs before sending you off to your helicopter. And I kind of hated that vision.”

“I’ve never found a single woman in all my years of looking who would do that for me, so I did it for myself. And why would you hate that?”

She shrugged. “I always put in long hours. I really wanted a wife.”

He leaned toward her. “Jillian, honey, the whole world wants a wife. But we’re gonna have to make do. Now, what’s on your agenda today?”

“Moving all the seed cups from the porch into the greenhouses! Dan Brady—our friend from the bar—is going to come out later and show us how to install some lights. I won’t use chemical fertilizer on the seedlings, but I’m not above artificial lighting if it helps. I have a little golf cart kind of thing on order with a flatbed in the back—the kind landscapers and gardeners use—and it should be here today or tomorrow. That’ll get me between the gardens and greenhouses and this house. And, if you look closely at the front garden, you’ll see the veggies are coming up! Shoots from the carrots, leeks and scallions—little blossoms from the lettuce. There’s a lot to do.” She scooped up some sausage, egg and croissant and said, “You know, this may be your only talent, but you’re very good at it.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. Then the other corner. Then he showed her his beautiful, straight, sexy teeth and said, “It’s not my only talent, Jilly.”

Oh, yes, she wanted him. She didn’t necessarily want to keep him, but she wanted him. Her cheeks grew so pink, she could feel them burn.

“Oh, right,” she said. “There’s also flying and painting.”

He grew instantly somber. And quiet.

“Uh-oh,” she said. “I think I hit a raw nerve there.”

He chewed and swallowed before he said, “I wasn’t ready to be done flying yet. The accident pretty much forced me out of the Army.”

“What about civilian flying?”

“I wouldn’t pass a physical now,” he said. “But while I’m in Africa, I plan to look around at some of the flying over there. Might be a place to give it a go.” He shrugged. “Maybe they don’t look so closely at things like titanium rods and elbow screws.” He didn’t mention that it might be a bit more than the rods and screws that could keep him from passing a physical in the U.S. There could be a little issue about drugs and depression…

“It’s not just big game that has you running off to Africa,” she thoughtfully observed. “You crave ad venture.”

He shrugged and ate. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “A little action, maybe. Something that demands a little more of me than cleaning the paint off the brushes.”

“Are you bored?”

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“Is that why you’re hanging around my back porch?”

That brought a grin out of him. “I get a kick out of you, that’s all.”

“You sure it’s not because I’m the only single woman within pitching distance?” she asked, lifting a shapely brow.

“That’s not it,” he said. “In fact, you’re not the only single woman around here. There are tons of single women in this area. Maybe not right on this mountain, but I have a car. And I like to eat out.”

“Bet you don’t realize how much we have in common.”

“Enlighten me,” Colin said.

“Well,” Jill began, putting down her fork and blotting her lips with her napkin, “I was also forced out of my job, more or less. It was a major coup for one of my subordinates. I’m sure you’ve seen similar things in the military. Getting rank must be competitive.”

He was speechless for a moment. “You were fired?”

“No, I was replaced. I took a leave. It was down to him or me and I wanted to stand and fight, but my boss, mentor and very good friend recommended I take a little time off rather than resign or face the threat of termination. I hired a lawyer to negotiate my exit.” She tilted her head. “Such is the executive experience.”

“Sounds mystifying to me.”

“Yeah, it probably does. Harry, my mentor and boss, had many philosophies he shared with me over the years. Always have your eye on where you’re going next, train your replacement, know when you’ve reached the peak of your performance level and, probably the one he used when he counseled me, sometimes the needs of the company supersede the needs of the individual employee even if the employee is getting screwed.”

“You call that good advice? Go away quietly when you’re getting screwed?”

“No, Colin—go away successfully. And if I’d been better prepared and taken Harry’s advice, I would have known exactly where I was going next. I didn’t take that advice seriously—I had always toyed with the idea of my own marketing consulting business, but hadn’t devoted any real brainpower to it. I thought I’d take a few weeks to consider my options, but then I got sidetracked.” She smiled.

“How’d you get forced out by a subordinate?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Part of my settlement included a confidentiality agreement.”

“I won’t tell.”

“And neither will I. My old boss, Harry, started several successful companies, taking them all public. He was once forced out as a president and CEO—he never took those things personally. He said you know you’re important when an entire board of directors gives you the boot. His response to that was to get a good exit package and start a new company that was stronger and bigger. If you’re going to swim with the sharks and get the big bucks, your position is always touch-and-go.”

“Well, there’s something we don’t have in common—big bucks.”

“You said you were independently wealthy.”

“Not as independently as you apparently are—I’m a retired Army Warrant Officer. My income was never large and doesn’t seem to have the potential to be, but there’s a check each month and it gets me by.”

“You should rethink that potential thing. I looked up wildlife art… I researched it on the web. Some paintings and prints draw impressive sale prices. So—you can get mad at the crash, come out swinging a paintbrush and do better than you could with the military.”

“The best revenge is to live well?”

“Yeah. And I am—thing is, I didn’t plan this. Even if I can’t make it go, I’m having a lot of fun.” She looked briefly upward. “I didn’t start all this with the idea of fun in mind. I just wanted to garden. And, right now, this feels really good.”

Colin removed the plates from the table and took them to the sink. “That’s what I’m not having as much of out of the cockpit. That felt really good and just painting full-time is a poor substitute,” he tossed off. “You need furniture, Jillian,” he said, while thinking about how nice it would be to sit with her on a sofa for a couple of hours.

She joined him at the kitchen sink. Sometimes their hands briefly touched as they passed plates to each other. “I need a golf cart, some lights and, before too long, I’m going to need a good indoor irrigation system for the greenhouses.”

“Where will you go when you leave here?” he asked.

“Totally up in the air,” she said. “But if I can grow stuff I’ll be in the market for some rural property priced right with the best climate and soil conditions. Anything can be moved, Colin. Plants can even be relocated. Jack promised me six months, but he might be inclined to give me a little more time if things are going well. We’ll see what happens over the summer.”

He turned to her while drying his hands on the dish towel. “I have my plane ticket to Africa already,” he said. “I booked early to get a good price on first class—I’m too damn tall to make that long flight in coach. September 1.”

She smiled at him. “Then we also have that in common—we’ll be making the most of the summer. And, um, Colin? I haven’t told anyone else that I was forced out of my last job. Not that it matters, but a lot of people wouldn’t understand. They’d think I’m just a loser.”

“We’re even again—Luke doesn’t know I have a plane ticket.”



Colin really didn’t get it. Jillian wasn’t his type at all. He had always been drawn to women who looked like they wanted sex, and soon. Women who dressed to draw attention to their breasts, legs, hips or butts. Not slutty-looking women, though he didn’t discriminate—he liked them, too. More like the soccer mom who was wearing her “out to be seen” dress-up clothes that fit nice and snug. Not to mention plenty of accessories and makeup. Colin developed his style with women early in his flying days; he was smooth—flirty and sexy and ultimately successful. He had never had a shortage of female company, that’s for sure. One of his favorite things was to wash lipstick off his favorite organ in the morning-after shower, something that hadn’t happened often enough in the recent past.

But this woman was different. Jillian was a whole new being. Right above some very delicious-looking breasts was a fresh, wholesome, beautiful face with large dark eyes that burned in his memory for hours and a smile that knocked him out. And in that head? Some very sexy, unbelievable intelligence. Man, she was way too smart for him. When she talked about corporate strategy, she turned him on. When she talked about growing her fancy seeds, she turned him on. When she ate her eggs and croissant, she made him want to tackle her and lower her to the ground and start peeling off her clothes.

He thought about her all morning. After breakfast he took his painting of the buck to a meadow that got a lot of sun and set up the easel. All the while he asked himself if he’d been off the antidepressants just long enough to get good and horny, or if this woman was just about the finest, rarest woman he’d come across in a very long time.

A small herd of deer—doe and fawns and one buck—wandered along the bottom of the foothills and he snapped a few shots with his zoom. Beautiful extended family out there, does nudging the fawns along, buck tall and standing guard. He wondered if he could paint something as detailed and expansive as a herd.

But then his thoughts returned again to Jillian—so pretty, so fresh, so sexy, so smart. He tried to think about other women—he’d run into a couple when visiting art galleries over in the coastal towns, good-looking women who had been happy to give him business cards. There were a couple of women back in Georgia who had kept in touch after his accident. There were even a couple of old girlfriends he could resurrect without much effort. He was far from rich but could easily afford a plane ticket so he could do some visiting if it was a simple matter of getting with a woman. Anything to somehow scratch this itch and put the confusion to rest.

But his brain and his body were completely tuned in to Jillian. She was a kooky little dish, that one, with her recliner and no furniture, her seed cups, getting excited over her golf cart. Then there was something about the way she could read him. I was forced out of my job, too. And now they shared confidences—his plane ticket and her job loss. He couldn’t remember ever doing that before. It was strangely alluring.

Colin wasn’t a religious man at all, but he had a powerful core faith that had strengthened since being pulled out of a Black Hawk wreck he shouldn’t have survived by fellow pilots who risked their own lives by landing and coming to his rescue. So he lectured God that it was a bad idea to put this quality female in his path because he was a little vulnerable and she seemed like a first-class woman who shouldn’t be hurt by an irresponsible wild man like him.

Wild man? That persona was now mostly in the past. He might still have the soul of a wild man, but at the moment he was just a man in need of a woman.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard the sound of horse hooves and turned to see a man riding toward him. His Jeep was still on the road outside the fence, the hatch up in back, so he rested the palette and brush on the ground and waited.

As he got closer, Colin could see the man was Native American with a feather in his cowboy hat and a long braid down his back. Colin didn’t know much about horses but he knew a pretty one when he saw it. This one was incredible; chestnut in color, young and muscular. The man rode right up to him and stopped, not dismounting but stretching out his hand from his position in the saddle. “How you doing?” he said. “I’m Clay Tahoma.”

“Colin Riordan,” he said, shaking the hand. “Am I trespassing? I didn’t see any signs.”

“There should be signs posted on the fence, but it’s no problem for you to paint here—it’s things like target practice, off-season hunting and poaching we dislike. This is a back pasture—it belongs to Dr. Nate Jensen, the vet who owns Jensen Large Animal Clinic. It’s private property, but you’re welcome here as long as it’s unoccupied. It isn’t likely we’d ever leave a difficult horse this far away from the clinic. Just be careful, that’s all. Look around first. Mind the fence. A broken-down fence can be catastrophic for us.” Clay leaned down from his horse to peer at the painting—it was the four-point buck. “Awesome,” he said. “That’s probably not paint by number.”

Colin laughed. “I got a great shot of them with the zoom,” he said, pointing at the small herd of deer in the distance.

“They’re headed for the river,” Clay said, “taking the youngsters out for a stroll. I’m a friend of Luke’s and Shelby’s—they mentioned you’d be here for a while.”

“Seems like everyone’s a friend of Luke’s and Shelby’s….”

“I think everyone is a friend of everyone else around here. I’ve only been here since last August myself.” He nodded toward the painting. “That’s beautiful work. I have a cousin who paints—Native American art. He’s now some high mucky-muck artist in Sedona, but he grew up next door to me on the reservation, Navajo Nation. Where are you showing your work?”

“I haven’t had a showing or a sale. Right now I’m just painting.”

“Lots of Native and wildlife work around Albuquerque, Sedona, Phoenix… Might be time for a road trip.”

Colin laughed. “Maybe. When I’m ready.”

“Looks like you’re ready, but what do I know.” Clay tipped his hat. “I want to check the back pastures and roads. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around again. Nice meeting you.”

“And you,” Colin said.

Colin watched as Clay rode away from him. Lots of people seemed interested in the idea that he start selling his work. They didn’t know that putting a price tag on his art wouldn’t change anything. He still wanted to get up in the air.

And he still wanted to get with Jillian Matlock.



Colin worked away for the rest of the day and managed to last until 8:00 p.m. before he headed back over to her place. He drove up alongside the house and parked. Before he even got out of the Jeep he saw her sitting on the back porch step in the dark, leaning against the post, a throw wrapped around her. She had lit a large candle and had a glass of wine in a real wineglass; Jillian was living so sparsely he was surprised she wasn’t drinking her wine out of a coffee cup. He got out and just leaned against the Jeep, looking at her.

The second their eyes connected, before either of them said anything, he sensed it. There was mutual attraction.

“I knew you’d be back, but I didn’t know it would be this soon,” she said.

“What made you think so?”

“I saw it in your eyes,” she said with a shrug. “Lust.”

“Listen, there are a couple of things on my mind,” he said, walking over to her. He sat on the same step but leaned against the opposite post, facing her. “That last boyfriend of yours—what did he do to you?”

“Not telling,” she said, shaking her head. “Maybe someday, but not now. Besides, it shouldn’t concern you.”

“It does. Is there any chance that if I’m just an idiot, I could do the same thing to you? Really mess you up bad?”

She laughed at him. “Colin, I’m surprised! You didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who really worried about that kind of thing!”

“You’re probably right about that. In my world… In the world I come from, I’d see a pretty girl and talk to her for a few minutes, get her phone number, take her someplace, get a read on her expectations and usually end up in bed. It sometimes lasted a few times or maybe a few weeks or maybe a few months. That Army post was like a small town and a guy had to be careful not to get things all stirred up. But I had no idea what a small town was until I came here.”

“Ah,” she acknowledged. “You’re worried about your reputation?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I could give a shit about what people think of me. But if you’ve got some baggage from that last boyfriend—”

“No baggage,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, that’s not entirely honest—I must have some because if he walked up the drive right now, and if I had a gun, it would be so hard not to shoot at him.”

“Now, see, getting shot is not on my list of things I’d like to do. That’s why I’m asking what he’s wanted for.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re completely safe. His behavior and insult cannot be duplicated and besides, I don’t want another boyfriend. Period.”

He leaned toward her. “But do you ever want to settle down or something? Get serious, get married, all that? Someday? Because I have other plans and I don’t want everyone in this town pissed at me, and feeling sorry for you and upset with Luke and Shelby for letting me come here.”

“I know, Colin,” she said. Jill took a sip of her wine. “The Serengeti. For the big game, for a possible extension of your flying career, for a life that’s not so tame.”

“Is it possible you really do understand?” he asked her.

“I believe I do. Besides, I’m not looking for a relationship. Don’t want one,” she said, shaking her head. “And I don’t think you do, either.”

He just shook his head.

“It would be a shame if you gave up painting, however. I don’t know much about art, but I suspect you’re exceptional.”

He scooted a little closer to her; he could feel his eyes growing hot as he looked at her. Hot and bright. “Well, that’s just it, Jilly—you know how your mentor told you to always know what you were going to do next? Painting is what I want to do next. I can’t fly forever—but I can paint for as long as I can stand up and hold a brush. But ‘next’ isn’t here yet. I can fly another twenty years. And while I fly, I should also paint and get better so that when I’m done flying, there’s more painting to do. See what I mean?”

She gave her head a nod. “Sounds perfectly reasonable, Colin. Why are you being so high-strung about it?”

“I don’t want a girlfriend,” he said flatly.

“Understandable,” she said. “I can see how that would really complicate your plans. But I get the distinct impression you want something.”

He reached out one of those long arms and toyed with her hair. “I’ve thought about you all day long. I started thinking about you before today. You and your strange little vegetables, your corporate strategy and your freckles. And other things.”

“Yes, I caught you treating yourself to a stare. Tit for tat, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

He laughed. He hadn’t realized until this very moment how sexy humor was. “Thing is, Jilly, not only am I attracted to you, I actually like you.”

“Be very careful, Colin. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” Then she smiled at him.

He grabbed both sides of her throw and pulled. “Come closer,” he said, edging her toward him. He slipped a hand around to the back of her neck under her hair and leaned toward her, and gave her the briefest of kisses. A test.

“I’ve never kissed a man with a beard,” she said.

“You’ll have to let me know how you like it.” And he went after her mouth more seriously, moving over her lips until they opened and then sweeping the soft inside of her mouth with his tongue. She moaned and her arms came around his neck. He moved from her lips to her neck and whispered, “God, Jilly, you smell good.”

“Soap,” she whispered. “And you showered, too.”

“Were we planning this?” he asked her.

“I was planning to keep you from doing anything like this,” she said. But she’d been thinking about him all day, too. “The problem is, I thought about you, too. And if I’m honest, I wasn’t opposed to the idea,” she said, wiggling still closer. Because this isn’t a relationship, she thought. This is a kind of fling. This is different from anything I’ve ever experienced. And it was strangely unscary.

He pulled her even closer, onto his lap, kissing her hungrily, pulling her chest against his, eating her mouth, feeding her kisses that were deep, hot and consuming. Groaning. Sighing. When he slipped his hand beneath her T-shirt and fondled a naked breast, she let her head fall back in a lovely moan. He repositioned her legs so that she straddled his lap. Her instincts took over; she pressed against him. She might think having a man in her life was impractical, especially this man, but he felt good way down where feeling good really mattered.

He lunged against her suddenly, his big hands on her waist, pulling her down against his erection. “Aw, God,” he said, pushing against her. “Damn, that’s good…”

Jillian loved the taste of his mouth; she plunged her fingers into his long hair, freeing it from the ponytail. God, all that thick, curly hair—what she’d give to have hair like that. What she’d give to feel it brushing against her belly. She couldn’t remember ever wanting like this, so hard, so fast. She had absolutely no intention of thinking it over. She was spiraling, falling, diving into him. And all she really wanted at the moment was him diving into her.

He lifted her shirt to look at her breasts and she directed his mouth to her nipple. With a groan, he went there, licking, pulling it into his mouth where it immediately turned to a hard pebble, exactly the right size, and he sucked on her greedily, making little noises.

Colin felt the heat racing through him, and then she was grinding against him, moving her pelvis against him. He was really close to going completely out of his mind. He held both her breasts in his hands and whispered against her open mouth, “Oh man, do I want you bad…”

“Hmm…”

“We can’t.”

“Can’t what?” she whispered back, gyrating deliciously.

“I don’t have anything. Protection.”

“Why not!” she pleaded in a desperate whisper.

“Because the last time I had sex was shortly before I was pulled out of a burning helicopter…. I’ll take care of it, though…. I wanted this to happen, but I didn’t know it would.”

She put her hands against his cheeks, looked into his eyes and said, “Take care of it now!”

“Easy, Jilly. Another day won’t kill us.”

“It might!”

He chuckled. “I didn’t know I’d make this kind of progress with you or I would have been better prepared. I’m sorry.”

“Let’s just… You know…” She sighed deeply. “Let’s just do something that doesn’t require protection.”

“Can’t,” he said. He pressed his lips against her throat. “If I get any closer to your skin, if I taste you, I’m going to lose my mind and get up inside you and blow my brains out. Whether I want to or not. I’m too hot. No control on this end.”

“Colin, you can’t really be doing this to me! You started this!”

“I know. I know. I wasn’t thinking, which happens a lot when I’m close to you. But I’ll be back, Jilly, and it’ll be worth the wait.”

“But I should be pushing you away!” she said.

He chuckled against her lips. “I love you this way. You’re just like you should be. But we have to stop…. In just a second…”

“Don’t you dare leave me like this.” Then she stroked his bearded face. “We’ll be all right. It’s a good time of the month to take a chance and there’s morning-after help….”

“Too scary,” he said, shaking his head. Too many issues, too much risk. “We should get it right the first time.” He gently moved her off his lap. “I have to go while I can still walk.”

She was almost panting, her breath was coming so hard.

He leaned down and touched her lips. “I’ll see you soon. And next time I won’t leave you. Go take a nice, warm, bubbly bath and… Well, you’ll be fine.” Then he smiled.

“If you leave me like this, don’t bother to come back!” she said meanly.

He lifted her chin, stared deeply into her eyes and said, “Oh, I’ll be back. And you’re going to be glad, I promise. This will never happen to us again.” He stood to his full height. “I didn’t mean for it to go like this, Jilly. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You’d better,” she said, but she said it more softly.