Rocky Mountain Lawman

chapter 8



The morning dawned hazy and gray, not a good day for painting. All contrast had vanished from the world, and the colors looked dark and haunted.

Sky stared out the window, for once not minding that weather was going to keep her from painting. Instead she thought over the night before. After her eruption at Craig, things had settled down. He hadn’t treated her the way Hector had, giving her the cold shoulder. No, they’d simply moved on to other conversations and other activities.

They’d slept side-by-side in separate bedrolls again, and sleep had been elusive for her because her mind insisted on noticing how close he was, how easy it would be to reach out and touch him, draw him close, beg him to love her.

God, she wanted to feel desirable again. It had been so long now that she wondered if Hector hadn’t been right about her.

She didn’t even trust the heat she sometimes thought she saw in Craig’s gaze. She must be imagining it because she wanted it so much. After all, he’d kissed her once, just briefly, and then had pulled back. She’d turned him off, not on. Let that be a lesson.

Funny how life didn’t go the way a person wanted. Ever. Big plans, big dreams, and somehow they got gobbled up in reality. While she had never imagined herself as a Picasso or Pollack, she had still hoped she might be able to make a modest living with her painting. That hadn’t happened yet, and like a great many artists, she supported her art with a job.

It was an important job, no question. She was proud and pleased to be able to help her fellow vets however emotionally wrenching it got. She had always wanted to do something that mattered, and that was certainly a job that was important. She figured she had done important things in the army, too, although sometimes that wasn’t so easy to remember. But she had served and served well.

But after all she had been through, dreams of a husband and family seemed to be dissipating on the road behind her like dust devils after a car passed.

She knew Craig couldn’t be the one she had hoped for simply because their lives were too divergent and he seemed happy with the solitude of the woods and his job. But dang, surely a fling wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Just a fling to let her know there wasn’t something wrong with her.

But did she really want that question answered? What if the answer reinforced Hector’s declaration? She’d never recover from such a judgment from two men.

So it was best to ignore her growing ache for a man who showed little interest. She liked him a whole lot, he was fun to be with and that was the safest place to leave it. Better to indulge a private fantasy than take that risk again.

Other risks were far easier to take, like going on a night recon with Craig to find out if Buddy had something illegal attached to his trip wires. To find out how many people were in that compound—and yes, she was thinking of it as a compound now—and what they were up to.

It was possible that she was exaggerating the whole threat. Iraq had taught her to be sensitive to things she had never thought about before. Little signs. Little intuitions. Little niggles that something wasn’t right. In theory she existed in a different world these days, but those instincts were surging again because of Buddy’s odd behavior and the feeling she was being watched or stalked.

After yesterday, though, they should know that all she was armed with was an oil painter’s kit. They should think there was nothing to worry about with her.

She guessed it would all depend on how much paranoia plagued them. The more paranoid, the more likely they were total wackos of one kind or another. Either they needed some serious psychiatric help, or they needed to be arrested.

“Good morning.”

Craig’s deep, husky voice coming from right behind her almost startled her. She hadn’t heard him get up. Too lost in thought, she decided as she realized she could smell coffee brewing. He hadn’t let the fire go out overnight, a good thing given that she’d probably be stuck here most of the day from the looks of it.

“Good morning,” she replied without turning around.

“Dismal day.”

“I’m never going to complain about rain again, after Iraq.”

He chuckled quietly, then astonished her by gripping her shoulders and drawing her back a bit until she leaned against his chest. Such a hard, solid chest, and warm against her back. All of a sudden she wanted to melt into a puddle.

Then, almost tentatively, his arms wrapped around her, enclosing her waist, gently pinning her arms at her side.

She felt the warmth of his breath on her neck and tipped her head to the side, welcoming it. She held her breath in anticipation, surprised that he had made this move, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t end here. That he would find her neck with his lips. That his hands, now loosely around her, would begin to move against her, trespassing in the most exciting of places. Exploring her. Learning her.

A heat was blooming deep within her, accompanied by an aching hope. All her fears of her own inadequacy burned away as every single cell in her body responded to building need. A kiss, a touch, oh, please!

His warm lips brushed her neck lightly. A shiver rippled through her and her knees turned weak.

“You’re so tempting,” he whispered. “So tempting.”

Another rush of pleasure filled her, even as some little voice in her brain warned: tempting isn’t the same as satisfying.

That thought once again acted like a cold-water bath. What was she doing? Had she lost her mind? Could she possibly handle another rejection? There might be lots of times she could be tough, but this was one area where she had become a raw nerve ending. This was one risk she didn’t know if she could take.

He kissed her neck again, lightly, then lowered his arms. “I’m sorry, but if I don’t get that coffee, I’ll ruin it.”

As quickly as that, the bubble burst completely. She remained frozen at the window, torn between relief and disappointment. Then she simultaneously realized two things, and they swept through her like a calming breeze.

She hadn’t responded to his advance. Not in any way that he could tell. So she hadn’t encouraged him to go further. He might have taken that wrong.

Or perhaps he was long past the stage of acting like a randy teen in the backseat of a car. Given the calm and serenity she had initially sensed in him, it was entirely possible that he wouldn’t rush into anything, but would take his time to see how matters went. What they used to call courtship, in the days before people started falling into bed together on the first date. Old-fashioned, but she discovered she liked the idea. Time to test the waters. Moving slowly. Finding out if things were right. Avoiding a heart-wrenching crash.

Relieved, she was able to turn and look at him with a smile. This time when heat flickered in his gaze, she almost believed it was real.

“Looks like it’s going to be a lazy day,” he remarked as he fed them scrambled eggs and some slightly browned toast.

“Do you have to go out?”

“I’m overdue for a day off. I don’t usually mind riding around in the gloom and rain, but today I may just stay tucked in. You can’t paint in here, can you?”

“Not well. I really need the light.”

“Oil lamps aren’t going to cut it.” He pushed his clean plate to one side. “I think we have a jigsaw puzzle or two tucked somewhere. But first I need to go look after Dusty.”

“Does he mind the rain?”

“Not a bit.” Craig grinned. “He’s waterproof. But his dry feed isn’t. I need to make sure it didn’t get rained on overnight. I’ll be right back.”

Sky decided to take the opportunity to step outside with her camera. Rarely at home did she see clouds sailing as low as they seemed to at this altitude. They almost appeared close enough to touch.

The day had grown markedly cooler, not that it ever felt hot to her here, but the damp combined with the dropping temperature made her feel like a cozy day inside that tiny cabin beside the fire would be perfect.

She snapped the clouds as they raced past, appearing to graze the treetops. It created the sense that if she just climbed a little higher she might look down on them as if she were in an airplane.

Walking around the corner, she also took pictures of Craig and Dusty. He didn’t wear his uniform today, but instead jeans and a thick flannel shirt. Only his felt Stetson remained.

She had no idea what she might do with these pictures, but she loved watching Craig with Dusty, the way they’d put their heads together as if communing, the way Dusty would nudge Craig and make him laugh. True companions, she thought, painted against a forest gone almost black in this light, with the deep gray of the clouds overhead.

Craig put some more feed in the bin beneath an overhang and added some water to the trough. Dusty nudged him again as if telling him to hurry, and the instant Craig stepped back, Dusty started to eat.

“I guess he was hungry,” she said as Craig came out of the corral. He looked tranquil again, as if he’d shed every possible worry and felt content with life just as it was. She envied that, especially since she found contentment only when lost in her art.

“That’s what he’d like me to believe, anyway,” Craig answered.

“You really think he can reason that much?”

He lifted a brow. “I can tell you haven’t spent much time with horses. Believe me, they think, they reason and I’ve even seen them lie.”

“How in the world can a horse lie?”

“You’d be surprised. Take the time he got a stone bruise. A couple of hours later he was limping on the wrong foot. I checked it three times. No new injury, but he wasn’t going to let up his demands for sympathy.”

She laughed, but the sound seemed deadened by the woods around. Pivoting, she snapped some more photos at random, just for something to do. Her hands wanted to be doing something entirely different.

All of a sudden a push on her back caused her to stumble forward a step.

“Dusty,” Craig said disapprovingly. “Leave the lady alone.”

She swung around and saw Dusty at the rail, only inches away. He hadn’t shown interest in her before. “Why’d he do that?”

“I think he’s decided he wants your attention.”

This close, she realized how large that head was. And what big teeth he had. The refrain from Little Red Riding Hood came back to her. “Um, what do I do?”

“Step a little to one side. They don’t have the best frontal vision, so you don’t want to startle him. Then reach out and pat his neck. Don’t touch his head. Not until you’re friends.”

She followed directions, then reached out slowly. Dusty regarded her from one very large brown eye, but didn’t sidle away. She patted his neck tentatively and he nickered.

“He won’t break,” Craig said. “Pat more firmly.”

Dusty tossed his head as she patted him, but didn’t move away. She definitely got the sense that he liked it. A smile blossomed on her face and she patted him a few more times before he nudged Craig on the shoulder. From Craig he accepted a scratch right between his eyes, then he trotted back over to the feed bin and water.

“You’ve made a friend,” Craig said. “Although I wouldn’t try to touch his face until he’s come to you a few more times. It’s not like he’s used to hanging out with loads of people.”

She watched the horse for a few more minutes, although the chill was beginning to penetrate her clothing. Even the new jacket wasn’t quite enough this morning. “How did it get so cold?”

“It happens at this altitude in the mountains. Come on, let’s get inside where it’s warm.”

The cabin seemed especially toasty after the chill outside. Sky dumped her jacket over one of the two benches and stood near the stove, warming her hands. Gloves. She had never once thought of needing gloves. At home she might wish for them only a handful of times each winter, if that. Up here, she’d already wished for them repeatedly because as the afternoons cooled down, her fingers started to get awkward. Even if the diminishing twilight hadn’t put an end to her work, the chill would have.

She sat on one of the benches with a cup of coffee. Craig stood at the front window for a few minutes.

“Pining to be out there?” she asked him. She hoped she sounded casual.

“Oddly, no.”

“Oddly?”

He glanced over his shoulder with a half smile. “I usually love every minute of being outdoors in the summers here. I don’t even mind being out in the winter, but when it comes to summer I hate to waste a minute of it. But I’m not feeling that way today. So yes, it’s odd. I’m rather happy to be taking a day off, tucked inside with a lovely woman.”

Lovely woman? Easy to say, she thought, looking away. She knew she was ordinarily attractive. It just hadn’t worked out so well.

But one thing she certainly agreed with: it was nice to be facing a day here with him, without anything else that needed doing. “It’s like a real vacation.”

He abandoned the window and came to sit across from her at the table. “Being out here painting hasn’t been one?”

“Certainly not since Buddy turned up. I guess I’ve been tense and on guard. That’s not exactly relaxing.”

“No, it isn’t.” He shook his head a little. “Part of me is impatient to get over there and find out what’s going on. The rest of me is quite content to let it all go hang today.”

A small laugh escaped her. “I can identify. You know, it’s so different here from where I live in Florida. I honestly never thought about how early the sun would go down in the mountains like this. Or how fast it would get cold when it did.”

“Three o’clock and the day’s already dimming even though official sunset won’t be until after eight. It’s a long twilight.”

“It has a fascinating effect on the light. It’s not dark, but everything gets so flat even though the sky is still so bright. Then, almost as soon as the sun goes behind the peaks, the breeze picks up and the temperature starts to fall. It’s very different from what I’m used to.”

“What do you think of it?”

“I like it.”

“Despite the light?”

“There’s still usually enough time to paint. And I suppose if I wanted more morning light, I wouldn’t have to go very far east to get it. Just out of the mountains.”

“Not far at all,” he agreed. He took another look toward the window. “I don’t mind days like this. We’re usually sunny and dry here, so it’s great when it clouds up and moisture starts dripping from the pines. Even better when it rains.”

Then he cocked his head at her. “What’s the thing about painters and morning light? I’ve heard it before.”

“The air is usually clearer in the morning so the light is purer. As the day goes on the light shifts to more golds and reds. It’s not actually a necessity, but a preference, depending on what you want to accomplish. I know artists who paint by artificial light in their studios. It works. And honestly,” she said with a wry smile, “not many people are ever going to see the painting in fresh morning light.”

He laughed at that.

“If you want realism in a painting, those things can become really important. I’m more impressionistic, and don’t worry about it as much. But there comes a point when I feel like I don’t have enough contrast and perspective, and that’s when I stop. Like right now outside. I could paint it, even though it’s flat and gray out there. I’m sure I’d come up with a good enough impression of what I can see, but it wouldn’t speak to me.”

“Speak to you?”

“That’s hard. Um...” She thought about it. “Different strokes for different folks, I guess. Flat light doesn’t give me the sense of energy I want. For others it might work fine.”

“So it’s something you feel as well as what you see?”

“Definitely.”

He nodded slowly, clearly thinking it over. “I guess that’s what makes an artist.”

She had no idea how to answer that. If she came right down to it, she found it difficult to express what drove her, what satisfied her, what had always driven her to paint in a certain way.

“I’ll bet you didn’t have many light problems where you come from.”

“That depends. For a lot of the summer the light is harsh and glaring. It softens in the fall, though. The Tampa area, where I live, feels really tropical. Looks tropical. The Gulf Coast is mostly a serene sort of place in terms of weather, water, beaches, palm trees. Then you go over to the east coast and the Atlantic, and it’s very different, especially in the northern part of the state. A whole lot more energetic, in terms of the water and weather.”

“I guess it’s like the difference between the mountains and the prairie out here.”

“Maybe. I haven’t been around enough to know.”

“So,” he said, resting his elbows on the table and fixing her with his incredible gray eyes, eyes that now looked dark and mysterious in the dim light, “what brought you this way for your vacation? We’re out of the way for most people.”

“I was looking for out of the way. And I wanted mountains. Really big, huge mountains. Someone suggested western Montana, but then I found this forest online and it looked perfect.”

“I need to show you around some,” he said decisively. “There’s a whole lot to see in these mountains. Great places to paint or take photos that I think you’d like.”

Neither of them mentioned Buddy or that problem. She realized they were chatting as if this really were a vacation for both of them. But at the back of her mind hovered the awareness that he intended to do a recon over at Buddy’s, probably tonight. That would be no vacation.

She definitely wasn’t going to let him go alone, although if he rode out of here on Dusty, she had no idea how she could catch up. Didn’t matter, she’d find a way. He absolutely shouldn’t go alone.

Rain came sweeping through, a deafening drumbeat on the roof, heavy enough that the world beyond the window nearly disappeared. Craig made another pot of coffee for them and brought out a small stack of boxes that contained puzzles.

“You have your choice. There’s one of those 3-D puzzles that I can guarantee we won’t finish today. In fact,” he added, looking at the boxes, “I can virtually guarantee we won’t finish any of them in a day. Will that bother you?”

“Why should it?”

“Because some people don’t like to do things they know they can’t finish.”

“I’m not one of them. But why so many puzzles?”

He set the boxes on the table and started spreading them out so she could see the collection. “Some researchers can stay here for weeks at a time. It gives them something to do on long evenings or when the weather’s too bad. These have accumulated over a few years, from the look of it.”

She selected the three-dimensional puzzle that looked like a castle on the Rhine. “I always wanted to do one of these but I never have.”

The rain let up while they spread the pieces out. There was just barely enough room on the table for all of them and still have a little space to get started on the assembly.

Conversation turned desultory as rain swept through in bands and they worked to put the first pieces of the puzzle together. Sky enjoyed it. She seemed to have a knack for matching the colors, equaled by Craig’s knack for matching the shapes. Surprise struck her when she realized the entire morning had passed so swiftly and that she was growing hungry.

“I need to eat,” she announced. “Let’s see what we have.”

Cold cuts in one of the coolers and a loaf of bread provided the answer. She’d need to go into town tomorrow, though, Sky decided. They were getting low and the remaining ice would probably only make it one more day.

Of course, with only the one table they had to clear some of the puzzle pieces. It wasn’t as if this place ran to conveniences like a counter. Well, why would it? It had a chemical outhouse and a gravity shower, and a woodstove. Not exactly the height of conveniences.

The rain became a steady downpour while they washed up afterward. Despite the oil lamps, the cabin seemed to grow even darker, almost nightlike. Craig slipped out to check on Dusty again, but this time Sky remained inside.

A long, lazy day, she thought. Enjoyable in its own right, but her awareness of Craig was growing steadily. Awareness of his masculinity, his wide shoulders, narrow hips. She had even grown fascinated by the strength of his large hands as he handled the puzzle pieces and wished they were handling her instead.

She sank onto the armchair and tried to reason herself back to reality and sanity. He had said she was tempting, then had turned to working a puzzle with her. Slow and gentlemanly were fine, but what if it wasn’t that at all? That was a nice excuse she had manufactured for him, but it didn’t help her one whit. Not really.

And it might not even be true. But then why had he kissed her, especially that kiss on her neck this morning? That had promised something he now seemed to have turned away from. It had been deliberate and deliberately sexual.

So what was wrong with her? But again she shied away from the question because she didn’t want to know. The possible answer terrified her.

Chicken. Yes, all right, she was chicken. Hector had left huge scars. Only a fool would ask for another wounding.

Resting her elbow on the arm of the chair, she put her forehead in her hand, and picked absently at nonexistent lint on her new jeans. No oil paint there. Yet.

She needed to stop this. In a few weeks she was going home, back to her life and her job. This was a momentary escape, and she shouldn’t be complicating it with needs and wants that could only bring pain. Sooner or later they would, too. Because even if Craig didn’t decide she was a lousy lover, she would be leaving anyway. Then what?

She should focus on her reasons for coming here, to heal from Hector and refresh herself for her clients at the center. Taking her life back, not giving it away in some mad fling.

She was far too old now to be thinking like a sixteen-year-old girl with a crush. Much as she had been trying to ignore these feelings since she had met Craig, they seemed to be growing increasingly insistent. Maybe, for her own sake, she ought to just pack and go find some other place to paint.

Maybe for Craig’s sake, too. When she thought it over, she decided he wasn’t feeling much more comfortable with any of this than she was. In fact, if it weren’t pouring today, he’d probably mount Dusty and take off to his solitary woods, woods that seemed to give him so much peace.

He’d said he didn’t usually mind being out in this weather. She stiffened a little as she wondered if he thought she needed a babysitter after yesterday. Well, it would hardly be surprising. He struck her as taking the “protection” part of his job very seriously.

How humiliating! She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She didn’t need him to hang around. Unlike a lot of people, she was well-trained in self-defense, and it would take more than a couple of men to get the best of her.

She heard the door open and looked up as he stepped in. As soon as he closed the door and started doffing his wet jacket and hat, she said, “I don’t need a babysitter, you know. You can go do whatever it is you ordinarily would be doing.”

He froze, his eyes widening a hair. Then he dropped his hat on the cabin’s one shelf and faced her straight on. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You said yourself you don’t mind being out in this weather. You must have things to do. You don’t have to hang around here to keep me safe. I can do that myself.”

His lips parted a little, then closed. He glanced down a moment, then returned his gaze to her.

“I know you can take care of yourself.” He said it flatly. There was even an edge in the words, just a small one. “Are you trying to tell me to get lost?”

The question startled her, causing her to scramble around in her own thoughts. Was that what she was trying to do? Really? Or was it everything else she’d been mulling over?

“Sky?”

She didn’t answer as she began to feel embarrassed by her own illogical thinking. She was trying to read tea leaves, ping-ponging from one idea to another feeling, ascribing motivations to him when she didn’t know what they were, all the while dealing with the mess Hector had left in her heart and mind. Fear and yearning had mixed her up and now she was accusing him of things based on her own unsettling mental conversations—conversations that mostly made no real sense.

“Sky?” he repeated.

Her voiced was muffled when she answered. “Sorry. I don’t usually make accusations based on one side of a private mental conversation. Certainly not one as mixed-up as I’ve been having.”

She stared at her knees, hoping he didn’t probe.

She heard him move, heard his boots on the wood floor, but she was still surprised when he knelt before her and seized her hands. He held them snugly until finally she lifted her gaze to look at him.

“I think,” he said quietly, “that we need to talk.”

“Go ahead.” She certainly didn’t want to do any talking herself. Everything she might say would only make her sound juvenile or crazy.

“Okay,” he said after a few beats. “Me first. I am not babysitting you. I actually enjoy being with you. I like your company. I like your spirit. I was honestly glad to wake up this morning and realize I had a good excuse to stay here today. And there’s nothing I’m supposed to be doing, because I’m seriously overdue for a day off. If anyone needs me for something important, I have a radio. Has anyone bugged me?”

“No,” she said quietly, even as her heart lifted a bit. So he had really wanted to spend the day with her? That felt so good.

“However,” he continued, “I’m aware that you’re coming off a bad relationship. You told me just a little. So I’m tiptoeing because I understand that you’re on the rebound, you’re sore and hurt and I suspect you’re seeing a lot through the lens of what happened with your ex. That’s normal. We all do it. But I am not your ex.”

“I didn’t think you were!”

“Really? I get the feeling that sometimes you do. You may not realize it, but you’ve got yourself staked out with off-limits signs. Not every single moment, but they pop up. So I’m trying not to cross boundaries you don’t want crossed. Besides, you’re planning to return home. So why the hell would I want to get either of us into a mess that might hurt one or both of us?”

God, his thoughts had paralleled at least part of hers. But at least he didn’t say anything about her dissociation a few days ago. That would have wounded her.

“So you’re fragile because someone just hurt you. I know that and respect that. Unfortunately, I can’t help noticing how sexy and tempting you are. So I crossed the line a couple of times. I felt it.”

He felt it? Oh, God!

“I wish we could have a lot more days right here doing exactly what we’ve been doing today. I’m relaxing with you and enjoying it, and I’d like to do it again tomorrow, but I don’t think the weather will cooperate. So the sun will come out, my sense of duty will rear up and I’ll get back to work.”

She managed a nod as it began to penetrate that he’d said she was sexy and tempting. A warm glow started in her heart and between her legs, and it frightened her even as it gladdened her.

He tightened his grip on her hands. “Believe me, Sky, I’m not doing anything out of a sense of duty. Not today. I’m here because I want to be.”

His hands holding hers felt so good. His skin was warm and dry, and slightly roughened from work. Not like Hector’s soft hands. It gave her something to cling to. “Thank you,” she offered tentatively.

“I don’t know what that guy did to you, but it must have been some number. I see this wonderfully independent, outspoken, determined woman, and then I see something crumple inside you. Just every now and then. I don’t even know who he is, but it makes me want to shake him.”

“Hector,” she managed. “His name is Hector. And you’re right, he did a number.”

“That’s plain to see. I don’t want to add to what he did, but I can honestly tell you that I want nothing more than to carry you to those sleeping bags and make love to you. I’d even,” he added a little wryly, “like to think I could make you forget he ever existed.”

What a beautiful thought that was. She ached for him to do exactly that. But she was frightened, too, and suddenly she loathed that fear. With all she had been through, how was it that a man had succeeded in making her afraid of life? Nothing else had.

“You’re crumpling again,” Craig remarked. He released her hands, brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek, then rose. “I’ll get us some coffee. We’re not done talking.”

They weren’t? But he had pegged her exactly, she realized. He had read her like an open book. She wouldn’t have believed that anyone could see through her like that. She didn’t know whether she felt uncomfortable or relieved that she didn’t have to explain every little thing.

He handed her a mug and she cradled it in her hands, welcoming the heat. The stove was keeping the cabin warm, but for some reason, despite the actual temperature inside, whenever it got chilly outside her hands grew cold. Almost as if her body were adapting even though it didn’t need to.

Craig pulled a bench over and sat close to her. “You said Hector cheated on you?”

“Yes.” Then she blurted, “Worse than that. He said I was a lousy lay.” She almost wanted to crawl under the floorboards as the words escaped her.

Craig swore quietly. “So basically he gutted you. By cheating, by claiming you didn’t pay enough attention to him and by attacking you as a lover. That pretty much cover it?”

She nodded, but she didn’t dare look at him. Not at this instant. She’d just revealed one of her deepest scars and she felt more vulnerable than she’d ever felt on a too-quiet street in Iraq when they knew there were snipers around.

An odd thought, but one that told her she might be taking what Hector said way too hard.

“So he wanted you to pay more attention to him.”

She nodded.

“Selfish. And you know what else that tells me?”

“No.”

“The only lousy lovers I’ve ever run into were the selfish ones. I’d stake a year’s pay that Hector was the lousy lover. Selfish. If you can stand it, think back over what it was like with him. I’d willingly bet that it was all about him. All of it.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. That revealed a whole lot, too.

“Was he your first?”

“My only.”

“Then don’t take his word for a damn thing. This whole picture says that Hector was the center of the universe and that anyone who didn’t appreciate that fact wasn’t good enough for him. How much time did he really spend trying to please you?”

She couldn’t answer that, but the question made her start thinking. Other than the earliest days with him, she did seem to remember always trying to please him, and often failing miserably. Was that because of him or her? She didn’t know.

Craig reached out for her hand and squeezed it. “I’m no lothario, although there may have been a time when I was younger that I strove for the title.”

Out of the miasma of despair that had been filling her, she felt an irrepressible little bubble of humor. At last she was able to look at him. His expression was gentle. Kind.

“I’ve had more experience than you,” he said frankly. “I’ve grown up a lot since then and I’m much more selective now. I can still say with absolute certainty that the only lousy lover is a selfish one. Inexperience can be surmounted but not selfishness. So quit beating yourself up over what one selfish guy said. I mean, for the love of Pete, he was cheating, demanding all your attention, and you’d believe him when he blamed you for not playing the planet to his sun?”

That was some way to put it, she thought. Her heart was lifting, thanks to him, and she turned her hand so she could squeeze his back.

He half smiled. “Anyway, you think about it, but one thing I can promise you. I’m spending this day with you because I want to. Not because I think you need protection, or anything else. Just because I want to enjoy a day with you.”

“Even just doing puzzles?”

A truncated laugh escaped him. “Even just doing puzzles. If you decide to take down the no-trespassing signs, don’t be surprised if I pounce. You’ve got my motor humming, woman.”

Then he leaned over, brushed a kiss on her cheek, before rising to grab his jacket and hat. “I’m going outside for a minute,” he said. “You need a little space after that heart-to-heart.”

Did she? Part of her wanted him to stay right beside her, but as his words sank in, she also felt an internal earthquake taking place. It was like some sci-fi movie, where heavy walls started to move, only they weren’t closing in and threatening her. They were opening, providing new space.

She could almost feel her heart and soul expanding.

She was also almost afraid to believe him. Could it really have all been Hector? That seemed unlikely. No one person was ever entirely at fault for a broken relationship....

That thought drew her up short, as if someone had jerked her. No one person was at fault? Then why had she been so convinced that she and she alone was at fault for what happened with Hector? Because she had certainly swallowed the idea completely.

But in reality...in reality maybe not. Probably not. Memories began to sift up through the sands of time, reminding her that Hector hadn’t been the most devoted of partners in anything.

In fact, as she reflected, she realized she had ceded an awful lot to him, more than she had ever ceded before or since. Maybe she had been uncertain during her transition back to civilian life. Maybe she had been trying to relearn “normal” life, as distinct from her military life, and had lost her footing. But certainly by the time she got involved with Hector, she had been putty in his hands. Well, not entirely. But maybe too much.

She had refused to give up her job, or cut back on the hours. She had refused to give up her painting, too. Which had given him plenty of wedge to use against her about everything else. Maybe she had even been set up for that as a child, when she had been taught over and over that her wishes about anything didn’t matter. That she wasn’t even entitled to have any wishes.

Regardless, she’d left that situation to go into the military, which had given her tons of confidence in some ways, but had also taught her that her wishes and desires didn’t matter. It had been easy for her to follow orders. Hell, that was how she had been raised.

So she had come back from a war, eventually gotten out of the service, gone through some therapy of her own to deal with the trauma, then moved out into the civilian world.

As a woman who still didn’t feel she was entitled to any wishes or wants of her own.

Damn! Oh, she could get all tough and insistent about things she had learned to deal with in the military, like those guys across the valley, about not leaving a buddy alone, about not doing a solo recon, but when it came to anything else she couldn’t even decide whether to have her eggs scrambled or fried, at least not when anyone else was involved.

She almost cringed to remember how many times she had said, “I don’t care,” or “Whatever you like,” to Hector and her friends. Oh, man!

But before she cringed, she remembered that she hadn’t ceded ground on her job or her art. Somewhere in there she still had a backbone.

So she must have seemed almost perfect to Hector, who wanted everything his way. A calm certainty settled over her. Hector had been selfish. Craig was right about that. But she had refused to give in on her work or her painting. No wonder he had gone looking for someone else, someone far more adoring. Someone much more malleable than she had turned out to be.

Understanding rushed through her, and it felt so damn good. She had strength, and if she had that strength she could grow more.

The kernel of determination that she had never entirely lost swelled and grew its first shoot. She could come back from this and get over it. She became sure of it.

The cabin door opened and Craig poked his head in. “We’ve got company coming. You want me to keep them out here?”

“Who? And no, I’m fine.” She said the last firmly, and with a real smile. “Thanks.”

“I don’t know who yet. I hear the engine.” He came inside and reached for the gunbelt he’d left on the shelf. She watched him strap it around his narrow hips.

“Want me to get the shotgun?”

He didn’t argue with whether she should, and she was grateful that he didn’t treat her like some incapable ditz.

“Not yet. I want to see who it is first. I’ll signal if I want backup. By the way, it’s loaded.” Then he vanished outside.

Backup. The word warmed her, and strength filled her. In some areas she had no doubts about herself, and apparently he didn’t either. It felt like balm.

Rising, she picked a position where she could see out the window without being obvious to anyone outside, a position near the shotgun, a Mossberg autoloader. An excellent weapon.

Now she could hear the engine, too, even through the thick log walls. Moments later she recognized the official SUV of the Conard County sheriff’s department. She saw Craig relax and relaxed herself.

Amazing, she thought. When first she had met him, Craig had seemed as relaxed as any person she had ever met. Apparently the Buddy thing was getting to him more than he let on. She bet he didn’t usually respond this way to the sound of an engine.

Craig was a big man, but the deputy who climbed out from behind the wheel was even bigger. His Native American heritage was stamped plain on his face, and from beneath his tan Stetson flowed long black hair streaked with some gray. Not exactly a regulation cut, but she suspected that didn’t matter to him, and probably not to anyone else he worked with. From the other side appeared a tall, young deputy, maybe about Craig’s age. She went outside to greet them because it seemed friendlier.

Craig tossed her a smile. “Sky, meet Micah Parish.” The huge deputy, a man who appeared to be in his late fifties, reached out to shake her hand. “Howdy,” he said.

“And this is Doug Madsen.”

The younger man stepped forward and shook her hand, as well. He had icy blue eyes but a warm smile.

“Come in,” Sky said. “I’ll make some fresh coffee.”

The three men filled the cabin. It was good that Craig had rolled up the sleeping bags that morning, because there wouldn’t have been room to stand. Once the coffee was done, they settled in, insisting Sky take the armchair. Craig perched on one bench, Micah on the other. Doug stood leaning against a wall.

Conversation had been casual, kind of bouncing around, but once they were all settled with coffee, things got serious.

“You know Gage was out at the Jackson place a few days ago?” Micah asked.

“Yeah, he said he was going.”

“Well, our sheriff hasn’t lost all his DEA skills. He came away with some photos.”

Craig straightened. “Buddy let him?”

“Hell, Buddy didn’t know. There are some really small cameras these days. Not that it matters. Buddy welcomed him and showed him around a bit. Plain view doctrine. No permission necessary. Gage got some interesting stuff here.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thick manila envelope. “He can email you any of these you want. Quality off the printer isn’t as good. But we got one absolutely fascinating thing.”

He pulled out a piece of paper, unfolded it and pushed it across the table. “Face recognition told us who this Cap guy is.”

Craig leaned forward to read, and gave a low whistle. “Well, hot damn. I wonder if Buddy has any idea what followed him home.”

Sky rose immediately. “What?” she asked.

When Micah hesitated, Craig said, “She’s army, too.”

“Too?” Sky repeated.

Craig answered. “Micah’s retired Special Forces. Doug was a ranger. I think we’re all pretty much on the same team here.”

Then he handed her the paper to read.