Hummingbird Lake

SEVEN





Sage was in a mood. When she returned to the studio she maintained above Vistas after leaving Angel’s Rest, her attempt to finish her work in progress failed miserably. Before the appointment with Celeste she’d been immersed in a fanciful piece of pixies and rainbows and having a wonderful time. Afterward, when she picked up her brush to complete the painting, she’d lost all enthusiasm for the subject.

It was all Colt Rafferty’s fault.

She’d wanted to melt through the floor when she’d looked up to see the man. Twice now he’d witnessed her attacks. He’d almost been arrested because of her! It was mortifying, humiliating, and discouraging. And what was his response?

“My work is nice,” she grumbled for probably the hundredth time since leaving the upstairs parlor at Angel’s Rest. Oh, she hadn’t missed that teasing glint in his eyes. Actually, it was better than the anger they’d reflected when he put her into the taxi in Fort Worth. But why did he have to latch on to her work as a way to annoy her? Why did she care? She didn’t have a thin creative skin. She could take criticism. So why hadn’t she stood up for herself? Why hadn’t she said that what was “nice” were the checks she received from her “nice” paintings? Why was it that she always thought of what she wanted to say to him after the moment for saying it had passed?

That man had been a thorn in her side even before she’d met him. As a hobbyist wood-carver, he did do lovely things with wood, but she still didn’t think it was right that he’d won first prize in the local-artists category at last year’s art show. Not that she cared about the contest, because she didn’t. Not too much, anyway. It was only a little, local thing, after all.

Okay, maybe she did care. Some. She possessed a competitive personality, but it wasn’t that she expected to win the contest every year because she didn’t. The nature photographer who’d moved to town last fall did some amazing work, and if he were to win this year’s blue ribbon, well, so be it. But Marcus Burnes lived here. He paid taxes here. That should be the rule for anyone whose work was entered in the local-artists category.

“And why am I thinking about that, anyway?”

Was it because she didn’t want to consider the real question—which was why, as she’d climbed into her car at the Angel’s Rest parking lot, a few tears had slipped down her cheek? What was it about Rafferty? Why could he make her cry when she couldn’t manage the feat herself?

At the end of an hour of wasted effort at the easel, she finally threw in the paintbrush and decided to call it a day. It was time to go home. She was tired and cranky and she wanted to curl up on her couch before the fireplace in her cozy little cottage and read. Maybe drift off to sleep. Sleep. Glorious sleep.

She couldn’t wait to get home. She loved her lakeside place. When she’d first moved to Eternity Springs, she had lived and worked in the loft apartment above the gallery. Last year when the cottage’s absentee owner listed it for sale, she’d jumped at the opportunity to buy it. Having a second studio was a luxury, but being able to set up her easel beside the lake to work on good weather days was worth every penny. Besides, she made enough income off her “nice” paintings to easily afford it. “So there, Mr. Wood-carver.”

Although, come to think of it, she probably shouldn’t indulge in a book tonight. At quilt group last week, she’d promised to complete her assigned task before this week’s meeting. If she showed up without her finished squares, Sarah and Nic were bound to give her grief.

Of course, if—when—the nightmares woke her up tonight, maybe she could quilt instead of paint. On second thought, considering what she did with a paintbrush after her dreams, the idea of what she might do with a needle was terrifying.

Okay, then, she’d build a fire, put an audiobook on her iPod, and work on her squares. “Excellent compromise, Dr. Anderson,” she murmured to herself.

Dr. Anderson? Whoa. Sage gave an internal shudder. Where had that come from?

“I so very much need one—just one—good night’s sleep.”

At the turnoff to her home, she noted tire tracks in the snow and recalled that Celeste had mentioned that her next-door neighbors, the Landrys, were having a visitor this week. The Texans regularly shared their vacation home with friends, so this wasn’t an unusual occurrence, although it happened less frequently during winter than during the rest of the year. While Sage treasured the isolation of the point, she didn’t mind having somebody within shouting distance in case of an emergency.

Once inside her cottage, she changed out of her slacks and a sweater and into jeans and a sweatshirt, but when she went to her closet for her slippers, her gaze lingered on her boots instead. Rather than curl up on the sofa, maybe she’d be better off taking advantage of the sunshine and the early end to her workday by strapping on her snowshoes and heading out for a hike. Strenuous exercise wouldn’t hurt her goal of achieving dreamless sleep tonight.

Happy with her plan, Sage donned her boots, then headed for her coat closet and reached for her parka. She startled at the sound of a knock on her door, then remembered the tracks in the snow. The new neighbor.

She shrugged into her coat as she approached the door and opened it with a smile, which immediately died. Colt Rafferty stood on her front porch wearing a devilish smile and holding a measuring cup in his hand.

Sage’s heart couldn’t help but flutter. The man looked like he belonged out at the Double R Ranch atop a horse instead of riding a bureaucrat’s desk in Washington, D.C. “Howdy, neighbor,” he drawled. “Can I borrow a cup of sugar?”

Sage reacted instinctively and with an uncharacteristic rudeness. “I don’t use refined sugar,” she lied before slamming the door in his face.

She heard the scoundrel laugh, then he returned her rudeness with some of his own by opening the door and stepping inside. “I had expected something more neighborly from a citizen of Eternity Springs.”

“Feel free to report me to the Chamber of Commerce.” She returned to her coat closet in search of a hat, gloves, and scarf.

“Ah, c’mon, Cinnamon. Why the attitude?”

Sage wrinkled her nose.

“I don’t think I deserve the cold shoulder,” he continued. “Look, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings earlier. I was teasing you.”

She whirled on him. “You didn’t hurt my feelings.”

“All right. If you say so. In that case, let’s talk about Fort Worth. I’d like to understand what happened. It’s bothered me ever since. Did I completely misread you? I thought you wanted that kiss.”

Sage sighed. “I owe you an apology, Rafferty. I’m sorry. What happened had nothing to do with you.”

“See, actually, it did. I was the one kissing you at the time.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Please, don’t take it personally.”

“Well, I have to take it personally. It was my mouth.”

He wasn’t going to let this go, was he? “You’re a terrier, aren’t you?”

“I’m safety engineer, an investigator. I spend my days searching for answers. If someone doesn’t give me answers, I have to figure them out on my own.”

“So you’re trying to get into my mind? I didn’t realize you have a psych degree in addition to all your numerous accolades, Dr. Rafferty.” Sage pulled on a glove. “I’ve apologized. I figure that’s all I really owe you.”

His slow smile flashed his dimples. “In my estimation, you owe me another kiss. Sans the scream. Unless, of course, things get really crazy. Usually things get far more intimate before my attentions cause a woman to scream. But I am open to exploring that option if you’re game.”

“You’re outrageous.”

“And you like to throw around the attitude, don’t you?”

“I’m an artist. Attitude is part of the package with artistic types. Look, today I had a bad day creatively, and when that happens, I’m better off not being around people—or safety engineers—until I’ve rid myself of the mood. So, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take a walk.”

“Exercise is a great stress reliever. Want some company?”

Outrageous and persistent. Sage wondered if he was really a used car salesman instead of a safety engineer. Fumbling with her other glove, she said, “No, thank you. I really need to be alone.”

“Okay, then. Here’s an idea.” He paused and scooped up the glove she’d dropped. Handing it to her, he continued, “You’ll feel better after your walk. Why don’t you have dinner with me? I put on a pot of chili a little while ago, and believe me, my chili is a treat you don’t want to miss.”

“Thank you, but no.” She yanked her stocking cap over her head, opened the door, and smiled. “Good-bye.”

His blue-lake eyes gleamed, and as his lips twitched with a grin, she had the sense that he’d been playing with her all along. When he strolled past her, he leaned down and brushed a kiss across her cheek before she could dodge it. “Enjoy your walk, Cinnamon. I’ll see you later.”

Then Colt Rafferty strolled casually away—a real feat, considering he had to tromp through snow up to his knees in some places.

As Sage watched him go, rather than the relief she expected, frustration swirled inside her. She felt the need to take one final shot. “Is that a threat, Rafferty?”

He halted and slowly turned around. The cold air fogged his breath as he called, “Nope, it’s a promise. And while we’re on the subject, there are a couple things about me that you should know, darlin’, because they’re written in stone.”

“Oh, yeah?” she called back, even as she silently asked herself, Why am I acting like a nine-year-old?

“Yeah. And here they are. First, I always keep my promises, and second, Dr. Anderson, I always collect my debts.”

With that, he gave a wave and continued his trek toward his cabin.

Sage blew out a long breath. This could be trouble. He could be trouble.

No, he was trouble. A mountain of trouble. How had he managed to snag the house next door as his rental? That was all she needed!

She watched him through the window as he plowed his way through the snow with relative ease. Those shoulders. That walk. That confidence.

Those blasted dimples.

All within a stone’s throw. Or a mad dash. She blew out a breath that fogged the window glass. Despite the winter chill in the air, she felt flushed.

Lighten up on yourself, Anderson. She wasn’t blind. Or dead. A woman would have to be dead not to be affected by Colt Rafferty.

And the audacity of the man! She owed him a kiss? Why, he could kiss her … Oh, dear.

Now Sage needed exercise more than ever, so she quickly donned her snowshoes and headed out. She walked hard, moving fast, pumping her arms and trying not to think about Colt Rafferty or kisses or how exhausted she was. She refused to think about nightmares. Or Africa. Or Peter. Eventually she worked off her snit and found the peace she was seeking. Some might call it the Zen effect at work. For Sage, it was the magic of Eternity Springs.

She turned and retraced her steps. Now she was able to enjoy and appreciate the beauty of a lakeside hike in a mountain valley on a sunny winter afternoon. She returned home shortly before dusk, weary but relaxed—until she spied the insulated cooler on her porch at the base of her front door.

Tensing, Sage glanced around suspiciously. She expected to see Colt dart out from behind a bush or a tree or pop up from beneath the snow. Energy hummed in her blood, and she was dismayed to realize the sensation wasn’t anger or frustration but rather anticipation.

Only Colt didn’t show. A full minute passed, and she was still alone.

Studying the ground, she counted the tracks between her house and his rental. Two sets, coming and going. “Okay,” she murmured. “Unless he flew over here, he has come and gone. Good. That’s good.”

She insisted to herself that she actually meant it.

She climbed her porch steps, then bent over the cooler and unzipped the lid. Inside, she found a covered stoneware pot wrapped in kitchen towels. The spicy aroma teased her senses and, in spite of her misgivings, brought a smile to her face.

Colt Rafferty had brought her a bowl of chili.


Midmorning the following day, Colt opened the door of the Eternity Springs Veterinary Clinic and stepped inside. “Hello, Mountain Girl.”

Nic Callahan looked up from her paperwork. “Summer Boy!” She rose to welcome him with a hug. “This is a lovely surprise. I didn’t think you visited Eternity Springs in the off-season.”

“Ordinarily I don’t,” he replied, returning her embrace. “I got sent to detention at work, and this seemed like a good place to serve my sentence.”

He took a step back and studied her. She looked a little tired, but more lovely than ever, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt over a knit tee. “You look great, Nicole.”

“Thank you. I feel great. The girls have both slept through the night every night for two weeks. That’s a record.”

“Congratulations.” He glanced around the clinic and asked, “So, where are the little princesses? I’m anxious to see them. Do you have them in a kennel or something?”

She laughed. “Oh, I won’t kennel my girls until they start crawling. They’re with their daddy this morning—he bought a building on Fourth Street that he’s remodeling—but they should be home in twenty minutes or so. You’ll wait, won’t you? We need to catch up. It’s been too long since we had a chance to talk.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Tell you what. My paperwork can wait, and I don’t have an appointment for another hour. Let’s go up to the house and have a cup of coffee. I have some of Sarah’s oatmeal cookies in my cookie jar.”

“Best offer I’ve had all week.”

She slipped on her jacket and stepped outside, pausing to flip a sign beside a buzzer to read Ring the house, then she led him along a path recently cleared of snow to her back door. They hung their coats in the mudroom, and Nic introduced him to a brindle boxer with a crooked tail who came to greet them. “That’s Clarence. He’s Gabe’s dog.”

“Hey, boy. Aren’t you a goofy-looking dog?”

Nic grinned. “He’s so ugly he’s adorable. Now, have a seat at my kitchen table and talk to me, Mountain Boy. Tell me about the trouble you’re in at work.”

While Nic made coffee, he opened up about the frustrations of his job. Talking about it to Nic helped solidify his thoughts, and he ended with, “I don’t know, Nic. Sometimes I wonder if I’m just spinning my wheels at the CSB. I thought when I took that job that my work would help prevent accidents. So far, not a lot is changing.”

“Then you’ll figure out a way to make it happen.” She set a mug of hot coffee in front of him. “That’s what you do.”

Colt wrapped his cold hands around the warm mug. He’d like to think Nic was right, but he definitely had his doubts.

“I do have an observation, though,” she continued. “Would your frustration level be lower if you spent part of your summers in Eternity Springs? Maybe when you go back, you should negotiate for mental health trips to Colorado.”

“You have a point.” He sipped the coffee and mulled over his answer. “That’s partially my own fault. I let the job take precedence over everything.”

Nic placed a plate of cookies on the table, then took a seat across from him. “All work and no play makes Colt a grumpy boy.”

He snorted and reached for a cookie. Nic said, “Seriously, though, we miss you, Colt.”

“I miss you, too,” he replied, meaning it. He took a bite of the sweet and added, “I miss Sarah’s baking. I should have married her when Mrs. Roosevelt demanded it.”

Colt referred to events that occurred after Sarah had publicly claimed that a summer guy had gotten her pregnant, but she’d refused to give his name and the guy had never stepped up. Pauline Roosevelt concluded that Colt was the evildoer, and nothing could convince her otherwise. She’d called Colt on the carpet one night in front of his whole family at Mountain Miniature Golf.

Nic smirked. “Sarah is still mortified by that. I don’t think she’s played miniature golf since.”

Colt grinned and shook his head at the memory. “There is nothing quite like the righteousness of the innocent. Now, that’s enough about me. Tell me all the news that is the news in Eternity Springs.”

Nic snared a cookie for herself, then gave him the rundown on recent town events, ending with, “Things are so much better here economically than they were two years ago. The latest saying in town is ‘Celeste certainly is.’ ”

“A Blessing,” he said, making the connection. “I’m glad to hear such positive news. I will say I was surprised by the number of people on the streets.”

“It’s a beautiful, warm winter day.”

“Warm? Nicole, it’s twenty-nine degrees.”

“And your point is?”

Colt laughed, and his gaze returned to a small painting Nic had hanging beside her phone. “That’s an interesting picture you have on your wall.”

“It’s a rainbow. Sage painted it for us as a wedding gift.”

He had wondered if it might be Sage’s work, except that it seemed more genuine than the commercial stuff he’d seen from her. For one thing, the painting wasn’t identifiable as a rainbow. It had the colors but not the shape. What she’d done with color and shadow and light made her rainbow moody, romantic, and, well, triumphant. “That doesn’t look like her stuff. I don’t see a single fairy or butterfly.”

“Hey, Rafferty, don’t be snotty. Those butterflies and fairies have made her quite the success.”

“Whatever. They’re just not my thing, I guess. This painting shows emotion. An emotion besides cheerful, anyway.”

“I think what we have here is a case of one artist being jealous of another artist’s talent,” Nic offered with a knowing smile.

Colt snorted derisively. “Don’t be ridiculous. So, what’s the story with her?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s a doctor who gave up medicine. Why?”

Nic sighed. “I would tell you that I can’t betray a confidence, but the truth is she’s never told me the whole story.” Interest gleamed in Nic’s eyes. “Why do you ask? Are you interested? She is single.”

“Considering her lack of enthusiasm toward me, I don’t imagine it matters if I’m interested or not. Besides, I’m only in town for two weeks.”

“A lot can happen in two weeks.”

“Or very little. Little is probably best for me right now.” Although if Sage Anderson came to his place looking for some sugar, he wouldn’t turn her away.

Colt changed the subject by commenting on the baby photographs that covered almost every inch of the refrigerator. The twins were getting to the age where they were starting to seem like real people. Sitting up and smiling. Cute kids.

Nic’s entire being lit up when she talked about her babies, Meg and Cari. He listened to her wax on about parenthood and marriage, and he felt a little wrench of envy that surprised him. He’d always enjoyed his role of favorite uncle in the Rafferty family; he’d never yearned to play father. Funny that he’d find the idea interesting now.

“I’m glad you’re happy, Nic. Motherhood suits you.”

“Thank you. It does.”

He took another cookie from the plate as a knock sounded at the back door. Nic opened it to admit her husband, burdened with babies.

“I think this might have been the last time I try to take them both by myself, honey,” he said, handing over one infant carrier. “At least until the weather warms up. The logistics of getting them in and out of places in a timely manner all but defeats me.”

He noticed Colt and smiled. “Well, look what the blizzard blew in. Hello, Rafferty. This is a surprise. Welcome.”

“Callahan,” Colt said with a nod. “Thanks. Your wife has been plying me with cookies and gossip while we waited for you to come home. Now, let’s see those little charmers of yours.”

Colt admired the babies for a few minutes and earned a sweet smile from Nic by asking to hold one of them. After little Meg started rooting at his breast and fussing, he handed her back and Nic took both girls upstairs to nurse and nap. Gabe then settled a considering look on Colt and asked, “You’re an engineer, right?”

“I am.”

“I’m remodeling a building, turning an 1880s store into professional offices. I’ve run into something unusual. Could I talk you into tagging along with me to take a look at it?”

“I’ll be glad to, although I’m a chemical engineer, not structural.”

“You’re a guy. That’s what matters.”

Nic called down from upstairs. “Sexist.”

Gabe grinned and said, “I’m pretty sure I know what needs to happen. I just want a second opinion.”

Ten minutes later, he was showing Colt an unusual support structure on an inside wall that left them both shaking their heads. “I know the building has been standing for over a century and a quarter, but I look at that and think, ‘But for the grace of God.’ ”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. And I’m not a pro.”

Gabe explained how he intended to rectify the situation, and Colt agreed with the idea, making one minor suggestion in the process.

“Thanks. Like most construction projects, this has turned out to be more than I’d anticipated. I was looking for a wintertime project. Should have stuck with my other idea.”

“What was that?”

Gabe rubbed the back of his neck and gave an embarrassed grin. “Writing a spy novel.”

“Oh, yeah?” As a resident of the nation’s capital, Colt found his interest piqued. “You have contacts at the Agency?”

“Yeah.” Gabe offered a faint, wry smile, then he changed the subject. “Since you’re here, you need to take a look upstairs and see the real reason I bought this place. The view is spectacular.”

Colt followed Gabe up to a second-floor office where a window was positioned perfectly to frame a breathtaking scene of Murphy Mountain and the craggy, snowcapped mountains beyond. “Bet the sunsets are gorgeous.”

“They are.”

“Whoever rents this office will have a hard time getting any work done. It’s definitely a million-dollar view.”

But when he turned around and caught a glimpse of the scenery from the office across the hall, he decided the view of Murphy Mountain, pretty as it was, couldn’t compare. Across the hall, a window was positioned directly opposite a window in the building next door. The space between the two was small enough that a man of average height could climb out one window and in through the other without risking life or limb, and neither window had a curtain or shade to obstruct the view.

That’s why Colt Rafferty could stand in Gabe Callahan’s office and watch Sage Anderson apply paint to a canvas in her studio. She wore a tight green turtleneck sweater and formfitting jeans. Her long, auburn hair had been gathered and piled atop her head in glorious disarray. She had headphones over her ears and she gyrated her hips and shook her shoulders.

Listening to rock, Colt guessed. Hard, pulsing rock and roll.

He sucked air over his teeth and revised his earlier estimate. “Callahan, I take it back. What you have here is a two-million-dollar view.”