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She's Just Right
Someone's been sleeping in his bed...
Once upon a time, golden-haired realtor Honey Stevens fought with her fiancé before leaving for a three-week business trip to a small Northern California town. Following a map to the cabin in the woods where her important clients insist she stay, she goes inside and--as instructed--makes herself at home to await their arrival. What she doesn't know is that some local boys, intent on revenge, tampered with the house numbers and she’s at the wrong place! Divorced game warden Trevor Baron comes home after a long, hard day on the job in desperate need of peace, quiet, and a good hot meal. Instead he finds someone has been eating his dinner, breaking his chair, and sleeping in his bed. ...and she's still there! It doesn’t take long for Honey to realize the wrong man is capturing her heart. The question is, can Trevor let go of the past enough to let his own heart out of hibernation? When did Happily Ever After become so complicated? |
Chapter One
By the light of the moon Dylan Eley led, and his best friends Isaac and Seth followed as they crept through the trees toward the log cabin house.
It was cold, the trees were spooky, and when a noise sounded behind, a rustle in the foliage, Isaac sucked in a harsh breath. "It’s Him!" he whispered. "He’s found us!"
Dylan swallowed, his heart pounded, and his grip tightened on the hammer in his hand. He turned to scowl at his friend. "No, it’s not. We’re practically in the country, right? It’s a stray cat or a skunk or something. Besides, we rode our bikes past that building he was fixing in town, remember?" His voice wavered slightly and he knew he was trying to convince himself as well as his friends. "Let’s keep going."
Seth started to wheeze and Dylan stopped again, turned, and put a finger to his mouth. "Shh."
His expression serious, the moonlight glinting off round-framed glasses, Seth pulled out his inhaler, sucked medicine in, held his breath, and nodded.
Dylan sighed. His friends looked as spooked as he felt. "Come on. We can do this. We’re twelve now, right? School’s almost out for the summer so we’re practically seventh graders. We’re not afraid, right?"
After a moment Seth nodded.
"I won’t be twelve ‘til July," mumbled Isaac.
Dylan snorted. "Close enough. Now, come on."
A dog barked nearby, then stopped. Dylan listened for a moment, then started forward again. Thankfully, the dog was fenced, or it would’ve come after them by now. Goosebumps rose on his arms as he considered the disaster that could have been. Any dog belonging to the game warden would be extremely dangerous.
Moments later they rounded trees and bushes to peer down a gravel driveway. "He’s not here," whispered Dylan. "The truck’s gone and the house is dark."
Headlights flashed in the distance as a car drove toward them, and they dove back into the trees, held their breath, and waited.
The car went by, and Dylan’s sigh was heartfelt. Unreasonable as it was, he was convinced that if He were around, He would find them no matter where they hid.
Sneaking out to the front of the driveway they stood under the hanging sign and Dylan read the name. Baron. He shivered, which made him angry and, lips tightening, he hurried forward.
Lifting the hammer, he wedged the claw onto one of the house numbers attached to the wooden post. He pulled and it popped off easier than he’d thought it would. He made quick work of the other three numbers and Isaac and Seth gathered the fallen pieces of metal and threw them into the bushes.
"We did it," breathed Seth.
Isaac grinned. "Yeah! We finally showed him!"
Exhilarated, his heart pounding in his chest, Dylan smiled, nodded, and considered kicking over the large, carved, wooden-bear statue beside the mailbox.
Another car advanced down the long road and the light caught them.
"It’s Him!" Isaac choked. "It’s the game warden!"
Even though there was no way Isaac could be certain, Dylan completely believed him. Explosive fear charged through his gut. "Run!" he said to his friends. "If he catches us, we’re dead! Run!"
* * *
"Hi, Jess. You aren’t going to believe where I am." Honey Stevens adjusted her cell phone between ear and shoulder so she could place her keys in a luggage pocket.
"Redding, California?"
"Smart Aleck," said Honey as she straightened. "That’s not what I meant. And technically I’m outside of Redding, sort of in the country, or maybe in the woods would be more accurate. But anyway, this is so weird. The family who I’m trying to buy property from wants me to stay with them and they aren’t here yet. They wanted me to let myself in, so I’m in their huge, log cabin home alone, and it’s creepy."
"Creepy how?"
Honey let out a breath. Talking to her friend was already relaxing her. "Well, it was completely dark when I first got here. I couldn’t find any house numbers, so I wouldn’t have even been sure I was at the right place, except there’s a sign that says Baron, a carved bear by the mailbox, and the key was under the mat as instructed."
"And?"
Honey walked over to the mantle and reached for a family photo with ten or so people posing in a park. When she lifted it down she noticed a bottle of woodworking glue hidden behind it. "And I’m used to going through people’s homes, but this is different. It feels like I’m a burglar or something."
"Oh, so you’re the creepy one." Jessica chuckled. "Besides, you like it and you know it. You’re a natural born snoop. Do I need to remind you of my diary?"
Honey groaned. "Give it up already. It was twenty years ago! I was nine! It was unlocked and the temptation was unbearable." The people in the photo were a good-looking bunch. Mostly adults, and a couple of babies, the guys were dark-haired, dark-eyed, big and muscular. One had a full beard and was so big he looked like a lumberjack or something. They took after the dad who sat in the middle next to a pretty blonde wife. The girls, luckily, looked like mom. "Get over it, already."
"The old ‘I was only nine’ excuse, again, huh," said Jessica. "Tell me, what are you doing right now? Right this minute? Are you snooping?"
Honey set the picture back on the mantle and glanced at a few others. Fishing, hunting, camping. This family was very outdoorsy. "I’m hanging up on you."
Jessica laughed. "I knew it. I’m just saying, your overwhelming curiosity is going to get you into trouble one of these days."
"Is your hubby there? Can he hear you? Because if you’ve told him that story about the diary, or anything else for that matter, you’re dead. Don’t forget, I have all the dirt on you, too. Does college dorm ring a bell? Victor Wilson? One in the morning? You’re not the only one with stories to tell."
Jessica laughed again. "Okay, okay, truce."
Honey grinned. "How’s Baby Bop doing?"
"She’s good. A handful. She misses you. She’s been asking for her Bunny. You need to come out and see her."
A wistful feeling enveloped Honey as she thought of the chubby blonde baby. She’d like one of her own, and at twenty-nine, was anxious to start a family. "The class I’m taking lasts three weeks. I’ll come see you as soon as I’m back in Napa."
"So now for the big question," said Jessica. "How does Christian feel about being separated from you for that long?"
Honey blew out a breath and sank down on the leather sofa. She ran a hand across the smooth seat and thought about her fiancé. "How does he feel?" Honey couldn’t help but grimace as she thought about the fight they’d had before she left.
"I’ve actually been trying not to think about it. The short answer is, he didn’t want me to leave, but in the end it wasn’t like I had a choice. Nick was determined to send me, even though Michelle was begging for the opportunity. With the brokerage class thrown in, it seemed like too good an opportunity for me to pass up."
"You needed this break from Christian, anyway. It’ll give you a chance to think things through, right?"
Think things through. Nice. Weren’t engaged couples supposed to be excited? Joyful? Eager? But not them. They needed to think things through. It was depressing.
"Sure," said Honey. "But not right now. Right now it’s late, I’m starving, and apparently the clients want me to make myself at home, so I’m going to take them at their word. I’ll talk to you later, okay?"
"Okay. Take care. Call me if things get weirder. Or if you find any diaries or anything."
"I’m hanging up."
With the sound of Jessica’s laughter still ringing in her ears, Honey headed down the hall, past a half-bath, an office with what looked like a trophy fish mounted on the wall, and into the kitchen.
It was stunning. Big and spacious, it featured a gorgeous, custom-made, log dining-room table, with cushioned ladder-back log chairs. Taller ladder-back bar stools swept up under a long, black granite counter. The kitchen sported tall, light-wood cupboards and plenty of them. French doors led outside.
She really liked the layout of the house. She’d never had a taste for log cabins before, and was surprised she loved the place so much. Despite a surprising lack of frills, it felt like a home.
But to business. What was there to eat in this joint? She opened a few cupboards, hoping to find a box of cereal or the makings for toast. She wasn’t picky.
One cupboard revealed plates, another blue-tinted glasses, and finally she found the pantry. It was big, but half empty and not nearly as well-stocked as she would have suspected for people with grandchildren.
A huge bag of dog food dominated one corner of the floor. She scanned the shelves, but didn’t find any of her favorite cereals, so she lifted a box of Shredded Wheat off the shelf. It would have to do. She was hungry enough that it would probably taste like ambrosia.
Going to the counter, she found a note and lifted it to read. ‘I’ve left a plate of dinner for you in the fridge. Love, M.’
M, huh? Honey didn’t think the note was from James Bond’s superior, but you never knew. And while the love thing was kind of odd, the plate of food sounded fantastic, so she blessed M and shrugged. Some people signed everything ‘love.’ And this family did want her to stay, so they were obviously a friendly bunch.
Suddenly feeling as if she were being watched, the hair lifted on the back of her neck and she swung and quickly glanced around.
No one was there.
Shaking her head and trying to throw off the sudden uneasiness, she looked in the fridge and found the plate of food, retrieved it and peeled the foil wrap off. Yummy. It was a homemade turkey dinner, with stuffing, mashed potatoes and green beans. These people knew how to live.
After popping it in the microwave, she wandered around while she waited, finally stopping to sort through a stack of magazines on the counter. She quickly realized they were all Fish and Game and Outdoors magazines, which, along with the log house in the woods, made her think they were outdoor enthusiasts.
She really wished she knew more about the family and the whole situation. Nick had been pretty closed-mouthed. He wouldn’t say why he wanted the property so badly, but she guessed she’d find out soon enough.
She briefly wondered if she ought to call Christian, but decided against it. He didn’t answer when he was miffed at her, and that only made her miffed at him. She hoped the time away would make him realize how much she meant to him.
But she wasn’t going to dwell on that tonight. Especially not while she was hungry and tired. She loved Christian. He loved her and she just needed to keep that in the forefront of her mind.
To distract herself, she retrieved a glass and filled it with ice and water from the door of the fridge, then set it on one of the blue linen table mats. Next she grabbed a paper napkin from the counter and folded it neatly, then tried several drawers before she found one with a fork and knife. She set them out too, neat and tidy.
When the microwave dinged, she hurried over, retrieved the plate and, holding the edges with her palms, sped to the table. "Hot, hot, hot!" She set it down and took a seat.
It smelled divine.
Seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, she froze, then, heart pounding, slowly turned her head.
A big dog, so black she wouldn’t have seen him if his face hadn’t been pressed right up to the window, looked at her through the glass in the French doors.
She let out a breath and laughed shakily. "You scared me, boy." At least she assumed it was a boy because of its massive size. It looked like a black lab, only bigger than average. She turned back to her food, lifted a steaming forkful of turkey to her mouth, then turned her head again.
The dog continued to watch her.
Remembering the dog food in the pantry, she put her fork down, wondering if he’d been fed. But even if he hadn’t, she realized she didn’t dare. He looked calm now, but she had no idea what he’d do if she opened the door.
She lifted her fork again, blew on the food, and when the dog scratched on the glass, she lowered the utensil once more.
She couldn’t take the poor beast staring at her. Especially since she didn’t know if he was hungry or not.
Moving her drink and utensils to the counter so her back would be to the dog, she went back for the hot plate.
Sitting on one of the taller chairs, lifting her fork again, she took the first bite. "Ahhhh!" She shot out of the chair. "Hot! Too hot!" Mouth burning, eyes watering, she spit the food into her napkin, grabbed ice water and filled her mouth, but it was too cold after the hot food.
Choking, she dribbled water on the front of her shirt. Setting the glass down, she gulped for air. "Cold!"
Blowing air in and out of her mouth for a moment, she looked down at the food, then at the splotch of water on the front of her shirt. Retrieving another napkin, she wiped her mouth and dabbed at her damp shirt, glad the clients weren’t there. She glanced at the French doors. It was bad enough the dog had witnessed her lunging about like a lunatic.
After a quick search for a garbage can which turned out to be under the sink, she threw away both napkins, then looked wistfully at the food. She had no desire to burn her mouth again. Taking a small sip of water, she let it soothe her tongue and mouth, then snagged a nearby magazine off the stack on the counter and flipped through the pages.
Luckily she found a funny article in the back, and when she’d finished reading it, she tentatively tried the food again.
It was just right.
When dinner and clean up were over, Honey tried to decide what to do. She checked her watch and realized it was almost ten o’clock. She was tired, had been up since five a.m., and wouldn’t mind having an early night. But until her hosts returned home, she saw no choice but to wait. So TV sounded like a good option. How late could they be?
Wandering back into the living room, she peeked out the front blinds, but hers was still the only car parked in the driveway. She wondered if anything could have happened to the Barons. She, more than most people, was well aware that accidents happened. Sometimes tragic ones to innocent people.
She let go of the blind. She was getting morbid and it was time to think about something else.
She turned on the TV, grabbed the remote and tried the favorites settings. They were all set to sports channels. She flipped through true crime, action, weather, commercials, a couple of reality shows, nothing good until she found a romantic comedy.
With a smile, she sat in the biggest of the three log-and-cushion chairs to watch the show. But the chair was big and firm and she couldn’t get comfortable. Her feet dangled and she didn’t want to take off her shoes when the Barons could show up at any moment, so she switched to a different chair.
Better, but the big cushion was a little soft and she sank down into the seat.
"Third time’s a charm." She moved to the last and smallest chair and settled in.
It was just right.
She pulled the comforter off the back of the chair, it stuck a little, so she gave a tug to free it, then spread it over her knees, and settled back to relax.
A creaking sound accompanied a wrenching, jarring movement, and the chair broke apart, throwing Honey to the floor where she banged her hip. Horror and disbelief rushed through her as, flat on her back, she stared up at the log beam running across the ceiling.
Panting a little, she struggled out of the mess and stood. Both hands flew to her mouth and her face burned as she frantically eyed the mess. "This is unbelievable. How could this happen?"
The log and cushion chair lay broken in pieces, a couple of clamps gripping the wood in strategic places, and a few more clamps scattered on the floor amid the mess.
Someone had been fixing the chair.
The throw-quilt over the back had hidden the clamps and she must have pulled one loose when she’d tugged on the blanket and her weight had done the rest.
"This is so awful," she whispered.
Reaching down, she pulled at one piece of wood and it came completely free of the others. She closed her eyes for a moment, then glanced around. "What do I do?"
She felt like grabbing her stuff, running out, and leaving forever. She actually stared at the door for a long moment before remembering the glue on the mantle.
Maybe she could fix the chair? Re-glue and re-clamp it? Maybe the Baron family wouldn’t be home for a while longer?
She thought about calling Nick for advice, but quickly threw out the notion. Her boss had sent her to charm them, not to destroy their property.
Her dad? He didn’t know a lot about fix-it stuff, but probably more than she did. Or Christian might be able to help, but again, she knew he wouldn’t answer the phone. She blew out a breath and looked at the mess. This didn’t look like something that could be explained over the phone, anyway.
So what should she do? Leave it and try and explain the cringe-worthy mess to her hosts?
She shook her head once more. She had glue, she had clamps, she had to at least try.
* * *
Forty minutes later, she was done. The chair was upside down, but back together, and she didn’t dare try to turn it over again. She wasn’t out to hide what she’d done, anyway. She’d glued and clamped the three pieces, and it looked okay. She was going to bed. Explanations could wait until morning.
She stood, and from the higher perspective, the chair looked kind of...off.
Tears filled her eyes. She’d just pay for the darn thing. She’d buy them a new one. Even if it was custom-made and ended up costing her a months wages.
Feeling tired, cranky, and frustrated, Honey grabbed her suitcase and went upstairs to look for a bed. There were four doors, and the first opened into a bedroom overlooking the front yard. She flipped on the light and peeked inside.
A queen-sized bed, a nightstand with a picture of a group of kids, an alarm clock, and a book. A rocking chair sat in the corner. There were no personal effects, but the gorgeous cream-colored quilt on the bed was obviously handmade and sported ducks, coyotes and pine trees. It definitely looked like a guest room.
She walked in, dropped her purse and suitcase, sat on the bed and bounced on the mattress. There wasn’t much give. In fact, it was hard.
She sighed. This night just kept getting better and better. She turned her head to the open closet door, and shot back off the bed. Clothes hung in the closet, and boots and shoes neatly lined the floor. She quickly gathered her things and left the room.
The second door led to a big bathroom with a tile floor, a vanity with matching basins and silver-framed mirrors, and both a shower and a jetted tub. Nice. Very nice. She could picture herself taking a bubble bath, but not tonight. Not when her hosts could arrive home at any moment.
Going to the third door, she went inside, flipped on the light and looked around. A huge, foam cushion chair dominated the floor. A big screen television was situated against one wall, an X-Box and DVD player on the beside it. Games and DVDs were on a nearby shelves. It was conceivable that it could be a guest room. Children would certainly enjoy sleeping on the giant, oversized cushion.
Going inside the room, she set her things down and gingerly sank down on the foam-filled suede. It was very soft. She lay back and wiggled. Probably too soft. She really couldn’t see herself sleeping there the entire night. She felt like she might sink right inside and suffocate. Getting up, she hoped for better luck with the last door.
Pushing it open, she went inside and breathed a sigh of relief. A king-sized bed dominated the room and a few hunting trophies graced the top of the dresser, but no family pictures or anything like that. A gray quilt spread over the bed. Nice, but spartan. Out of the three, this had to be the guest room.
Dropping her purse and bag, she sat on the bed. The mattress was much nicer. Kicking off her shoes, she sank full length on the bed, pressed her face into one of the pillows and sighed. It was better than nice. Not too hard, not too soft, it was just right.
Rolling off the bed, she retrieved pajamas and toiletries and headed for the bathroom. At this point, she didn’t even have a desire to meet up with the owners until morning. If she’d blown the deal when she’d broken the furniture, tomorrow would be soon enough to find out about it.
She brushed her teeth, pulled her thick hair back into a ponytail, washed off her makeup, and accidentally drenched the front of her hair in the process. She dried her face with a towel, and quickly patted her hair but it was too late. It started to curl. The tiniest hint of moisture and she frizzed out. It had taken her forever to straighten it that morning. Tears pricked her eyes again. Frizzy hair was the final straw.
Wasn’t it enough that she’d worked a full day, had a fight with Christian, driven three hours, and then all the problems she’d encountered here at the client’s house? Not to mention she was starting her brokerage class in the morning, and was completely stressed out about that? And now curls?
She needed to get hold of herself. She knew that. She dried her eyes, blew her nose, gathered up her things, went back to the guest room and shut the door. She put her stuff down and climbed into bed.
She’d unpack in the morning after she had an inkling about how long she’d be staying before moving to a hotel. Right now all she wanted to do was to escape into dreamland.
* * *
Trevor Baron turned onto his driveway. It was almost midnight and all he wanted to do was eat the turkey dinner his mom had promised to leave, and then fall into bed.
Another day or two and he’d be finished with the backbreaking schedule he was on.
There was a car parked on one side of the driveway in his spot. It took him a moment to realize the vehicle must be his sister’s new car. He’d heard her jerk-off husband had bought one as a bribery gift. Since Elizabeth was at Trevor’s house, he’d guess it hadn’t worked. No surprise there. His sister wasn’t the kind of woman to forgive infidelity, or to forget.
He went for the mail and on the way back to the house, reached into the bed of his truck, grabbed three fishing poles-–minus hooks--and propped them by the side of the cabin.
He knew the three boys he’d taken them from would eventually work up the courage to steal them back, and knew the lack of hooks, and the fact that the boys had been caught fishing illegally, wouldn’t stop them from doing it again. It hadn’t stopped him at that age, either.
Smiling, he continued to the back gate, opened it, and let himself in. "Hey, Charlie boy. Come here."
A dark form moved toward Trevor and a big head bumped against his hand.
"You eat all that food I left out?"
Trevor checked the dog dishes, one empty and one still half-full of water. "Good boy."
Trevor went down on one knee and rubbed the dog’s thick fur coat while Charlie, ecstatic, wiggled like a puppy. With one last pat, Trevor opened the back door–-no need to lock it with Charlie in the back yard-–and they both went inside.
Charlie immediately bounded up the stairs, probably looking for Elizabeth, and Trevor headed for his office.
He was tired. He’d worked the entire day, putting in a full eight hours, most of it rounding up a deer wandering the city and returning it to the forest. He’d then talked to reporters about the incident.
After some routine paperwork, he’d taken time to catch the kids doing their spot of illegal fishing, then back to work for the rest of the evening repairing some commercial property for the family company.
All the painting he’d done had made his back sore. But only a few more nights and the building would be ready to lease again and he could relax.
Opening his safe, he locked his gun away, set his belt on the desk and went back to the kitchen to get his dinner.
He opened the fridge.
No dinner.
Had his mom forgotten him? A note on the countertop caught his eye and he kicked the fridge shut and snagged it. I’ve left a plate of food for you in the fridge. Love, M.
He checked again. The milk, ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise weren’t hiding a plate of food. He checked the freezer. Nothing.
Thinking about Elizabeth’s car in the driveway, he opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out the garbage. Sure enough. A used sheath of tin foil lay on top and had very likely covered his plate of food.
Well, that was nice.
He rubbed a hand over his full beard, blew out a breath, then got out fixings for peanut butter and honey sandwiches. He slathered four slices of bread, and poured himself a large glass of milk.
He took his plate and glass out to the living room, set them on an end table, grabbed the remote control, sat and turned on ESPN.
It was on the wrong channel and--
His chair! Jumping up, he quickly scanned the poorly repaired chair, then glared at the stairs and considered waking Elizabeth to have a talk. But she had at least tried to fix it and that surprised him, so, disgusted, he changed the channel to ESPN, quickly ate and, with Charlie now back and watching his every move, spent the next thirty minutes re-glueing the chair correctly, and placing the clamps where they’d actually do their job.
He finally turned the chair around carefully set it in the corner so Elizabeth wouldn’t forget and sit in it again.
It was time for bed. In the morning, he was going to have a talk with his sister because this was getting out of hand. She needed to work out her marriage problems on her own time. Or at least in her own house. Or at their parents’ place if she had to go somewhere.
With Charlie following, Trevor climbed the stairs, walked down the hall, opened the door, and absolutely couldn’t believe it.
She was in his bed!
Talk about selfish!
He wouldn’t lose his temper. They could discuss this like the two grown adults they were. How much could a man be expected to take from his big sister? She could stay in his house, she could even eat his food and break his furniture. But danged if she was sleeping in his bed! She could take the spare room. There was a reason that mattress was uncomfortable. He didn’t like guests!
He flipped on the light and his sister sat up, looked to where he stood in the doorway, and sucked in a loud breath.
The only problem was, it wasn’t his sister.
It was cold, the trees were spooky, and when a noise sounded behind, a rustle in the foliage, Isaac sucked in a harsh breath. "It’s Him!" he whispered. "He’s found us!"
Dylan swallowed, his heart pounded, and his grip tightened on the hammer in his hand. He turned to scowl at his friend. "No, it’s not. We’re practically in the country, right? It’s a stray cat or a skunk or something. Besides, we rode our bikes past that building he was fixing in town, remember?" His voice wavered slightly and he knew he was trying to convince himself as well as his friends. "Let’s keep going."
Seth started to wheeze and Dylan stopped again, turned, and put a finger to his mouth. "Shh."
His expression serious, the moonlight glinting off round-framed glasses, Seth pulled out his inhaler, sucked medicine in, held his breath, and nodded.
Dylan sighed. His friends looked as spooked as he felt. "Come on. We can do this. We’re twelve now, right? School’s almost out for the summer so we’re practically seventh graders. We’re not afraid, right?"
After a moment Seth nodded.
"I won’t be twelve ‘til July," mumbled Isaac.
Dylan snorted. "Close enough. Now, come on."
A dog barked nearby, then stopped. Dylan listened for a moment, then started forward again. Thankfully, the dog was fenced, or it would’ve come after them by now. Goosebumps rose on his arms as he considered the disaster that could have been. Any dog belonging to the game warden would be extremely dangerous.
Moments later they rounded trees and bushes to peer down a gravel driveway. "He’s not here," whispered Dylan. "The truck’s gone and the house is dark."
Headlights flashed in the distance as a car drove toward them, and they dove back into the trees, held their breath, and waited.
The car went by, and Dylan’s sigh was heartfelt. Unreasonable as it was, he was convinced that if He were around, He would find them no matter where they hid.
Sneaking out to the front of the driveway they stood under the hanging sign and Dylan read the name. Baron. He shivered, which made him angry and, lips tightening, he hurried forward.
Lifting the hammer, he wedged the claw onto one of the house numbers attached to the wooden post. He pulled and it popped off easier than he’d thought it would. He made quick work of the other three numbers and Isaac and Seth gathered the fallen pieces of metal and threw them into the bushes.
"We did it," breathed Seth.
Isaac grinned. "Yeah! We finally showed him!"
Exhilarated, his heart pounding in his chest, Dylan smiled, nodded, and considered kicking over the large, carved, wooden-bear statue beside the mailbox.
Another car advanced down the long road and the light caught them.
"It’s Him!" Isaac choked. "It’s the game warden!"
Even though there was no way Isaac could be certain, Dylan completely believed him. Explosive fear charged through his gut. "Run!" he said to his friends. "If he catches us, we’re dead! Run!"
* * *
"Hi, Jess. You aren’t going to believe where I am." Honey Stevens adjusted her cell phone between ear and shoulder so she could place her keys in a luggage pocket.
"Redding, California?"
"Smart Aleck," said Honey as she straightened. "That’s not what I meant. And technically I’m outside of Redding, sort of in the country, or maybe in the woods would be more accurate. But anyway, this is so weird. The family who I’m trying to buy property from wants me to stay with them and they aren’t here yet. They wanted me to let myself in, so I’m in their huge, log cabin home alone, and it’s creepy."
"Creepy how?"
Honey let out a breath. Talking to her friend was already relaxing her. "Well, it was completely dark when I first got here. I couldn’t find any house numbers, so I wouldn’t have even been sure I was at the right place, except there’s a sign that says Baron, a carved bear by the mailbox, and the key was under the mat as instructed."
"And?"
Honey walked over to the mantle and reached for a family photo with ten or so people posing in a park. When she lifted it down she noticed a bottle of woodworking glue hidden behind it. "And I’m used to going through people’s homes, but this is different. It feels like I’m a burglar or something."
"Oh, so you’re the creepy one." Jessica chuckled. "Besides, you like it and you know it. You’re a natural born snoop. Do I need to remind you of my diary?"
Honey groaned. "Give it up already. It was twenty years ago! I was nine! It was unlocked and the temptation was unbearable." The people in the photo were a good-looking bunch. Mostly adults, and a couple of babies, the guys were dark-haired, dark-eyed, big and muscular. One had a full beard and was so big he looked like a lumberjack or something. They took after the dad who sat in the middle next to a pretty blonde wife. The girls, luckily, looked like mom. "Get over it, already."
"The old ‘I was only nine’ excuse, again, huh," said Jessica. "Tell me, what are you doing right now? Right this minute? Are you snooping?"
Honey set the picture back on the mantle and glanced at a few others. Fishing, hunting, camping. This family was very outdoorsy. "I’m hanging up on you."
Jessica laughed. "I knew it. I’m just saying, your overwhelming curiosity is going to get you into trouble one of these days."
"Is your hubby there? Can he hear you? Because if you’ve told him that story about the diary, or anything else for that matter, you’re dead. Don’t forget, I have all the dirt on you, too. Does college dorm ring a bell? Victor Wilson? One in the morning? You’re not the only one with stories to tell."
Jessica laughed again. "Okay, okay, truce."
Honey grinned. "How’s Baby Bop doing?"
"She’s good. A handful. She misses you. She’s been asking for her Bunny. You need to come out and see her."
A wistful feeling enveloped Honey as she thought of the chubby blonde baby. She’d like one of her own, and at twenty-nine, was anxious to start a family. "The class I’m taking lasts three weeks. I’ll come see you as soon as I’m back in Napa."
"So now for the big question," said Jessica. "How does Christian feel about being separated from you for that long?"
Honey blew out a breath and sank down on the leather sofa. She ran a hand across the smooth seat and thought about her fiancé. "How does he feel?" Honey couldn’t help but grimace as she thought about the fight they’d had before she left.
"I’ve actually been trying not to think about it. The short answer is, he didn’t want me to leave, but in the end it wasn’t like I had a choice. Nick was determined to send me, even though Michelle was begging for the opportunity. With the brokerage class thrown in, it seemed like too good an opportunity for me to pass up."
"You needed this break from Christian, anyway. It’ll give you a chance to think things through, right?"
Think things through. Nice. Weren’t engaged couples supposed to be excited? Joyful? Eager? But not them. They needed to think things through. It was depressing.
"Sure," said Honey. "But not right now. Right now it’s late, I’m starving, and apparently the clients want me to make myself at home, so I’m going to take them at their word. I’ll talk to you later, okay?"
"Okay. Take care. Call me if things get weirder. Or if you find any diaries or anything."
"I’m hanging up."
With the sound of Jessica’s laughter still ringing in her ears, Honey headed down the hall, past a half-bath, an office with what looked like a trophy fish mounted on the wall, and into the kitchen.
It was stunning. Big and spacious, it featured a gorgeous, custom-made, log dining-room table, with cushioned ladder-back log chairs. Taller ladder-back bar stools swept up under a long, black granite counter. The kitchen sported tall, light-wood cupboards and plenty of them. French doors led outside.
She really liked the layout of the house. She’d never had a taste for log cabins before, and was surprised she loved the place so much. Despite a surprising lack of frills, it felt like a home.
But to business. What was there to eat in this joint? She opened a few cupboards, hoping to find a box of cereal or the makings for toast. She wasn’t picky.
One cupboard revealed plates, another blue-tinted glasses, and finally she found the pantry. It was big, but half empty and not nearly as well-stocked as she would have suspected for people with grandchildren.
A huge bag of dog food dominated one corner of the floor. She scanned the shelves, but didn’t find any of her favorite cereals, so she lifted a box of Shredded Wheat off the shelf. It would have to do. She was hungry enough that it would probably taste like ambrosia.
Going to the counter, she found a note and lifted it to read. ‘I’ve left a plate of dinner for you in the fridge. Love, M.’
M, huh? Honey didn’t think the note was from James Bond’s superior, but you never knew. And while the love thing was kind of odd, the plate of food sounded fantastic, so she blessed M and shrugged. Some people signed everything ‘love.’ And this family did want her to stay, so they were obviously a friendly bunch.
Suddenly feeling as if she were being watched, the hair lifted on the back of her neck and she swung and quickly glanced around.
No one was there.
Shaking her head and trying to throw off the sudden uneasiness, she looked in the fridge and found the plate of food, retrieved it and peeled the foil wrap off. Yummy. It was a homemade turkey dinner, with stuffing, mashed potatoes and green beans. These people knew how to live.
After popping it in the microwave, she wandered around while she waited, finally stopping to sort through a stack of magazines on the counter. She quickly realized they were all Fish and Game and Outdoors magazines, which, along with the log house in the woods, made her think they were outdoor enthusiasts.
She really wished she knew more about the family and the whole situation. Nick had been pretty closed-mouthed. He wouldn’t say why he wanted the property so badly, but she guessed she’d find out soon enough.
She briefly wondered if she ought to call Christian, but decided against it. He didn’t answer when he was miffed at her, and that only made her miffed at him. She hoped the time away would make him realize how much she meant to him.
But she wasn’t going to dwell on that tonight. Especially not while she was hungry and tired. She loved Christian. He loved her and she just needed to keep that in the forefront of her mind.
To distract herself, she retrieved a glass and filled it with ice and water from the door of the fridge, then set it on one of the blue linen table mats. Next she grabbed a paper napkin from the counter and folded it neatly, then tried several drawers before she found one with a fork and knife. She set them out too, neat and tidy.
When the microwave dinged, she hurried over, retrieved the plate and, holding the edges with her palms, sped to the table. "Hot, hot, hot!" She set it down and took a seat.
It smelled divine.
Seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, she froze, then, heart pounding, slowly turned her head.
A big dog, so black she wouldn’t have seen him if his face hadn’t been pressed right up to the window, looked at her through the glass in the French doors.
She let out a breath and laughed shakily. "You scared me, boy." At least she assumed it was a boy because of its massive size. It looked like a black lab, only bigger than average. She turned back to her food, lifted a steaming forkful of turkey to her mouth, then turned her head again.
The dog continued to watch her.
Remembering the dog food in the pantry, she put her fork down, wondering if he’d been fed. But even if he hadn’t, she realized she didn’t dare. He looked calm now, but she had no idea what he’d do if she opened the door.
She lifted her fork again, blew on the food, and when the dog scratched on the glass, she lowered the utensil once more.
She couldn’t take the poor beast staring at her. Especially since she didn’t know if he was hungry or not.
Moving her drink and utensils to the counter so her back would be to the dog, she went back for the hot plate.
Sitting on one of the taller chairs, lifting her fork again, she took the first bite. "Ahhhh!" She shot out of the chair. "Hot! Too hot!" Mouth burning, eyes watering, she spit the food into her napkin, grabbed ice water and filled her mouth, but it was too cold after the hot food.
Choking, she dribbled water on the front of her shirt. Setting the glass down, she gulped for air. "Cold!"
Blowing air in and out of her mouth for a moment, she looked down at the food, then at the splotch of water on the front of her shirt. Retrieving another napkin, she wiped her mouth and dabbed at her damp shirt, glad the clients weren’t there. She glanced at the French doors. It was bad enough the dog had witnessed her lunging about like a lunatic.
After a quick search for a garbage can which turned out to be under the sink, she threw away both napkins, then looked wistfully at the food. She had no desire to burn her mouth again. Taking a small sip of water, she let it soothe her tongue and mouth, then snagged a nearby magazine off the stack on the counter and flipped through the pages.
Luckily she found a funny article in the back, and when she’d finished reading it, she tentatively tried the food again.
It was just right.
When dinner and clean up were over, Honey tried to decide what to do. She checked her watch and realized it was almost ten o’clock. She was tired, had been up since five a.m., and wouldn’t mind having an early night. But until her hosts returned home, she saw no choice but to wait. So TV sounded like a good option. How late could they be?
Wandering back into the living room, she peeked out the front blinds, but hers was still the only car parked in the driveway. She wondered if anything could have happened to the Barons. She, more than most people, was well aware that accidents happened. Sometimes tragic ones to innocent people.
She let go of the blind. She was getting morbid and it was time to think about something else.
She turned on the TV, grabbed the remote and tried the favorites settings. They were all set to sports channels. She flipped through true crime, action, weather, commercials, a couple of reality shows, nothing good until she found a romantic comedy.
With a smile, she sat in the biggest of the three log-and-cushion chairs to watch the show. But the chair was big and firm and she couldn’t get comfortable. Her feet dangled and she didn’t want to take off her shoes when the Barons could show up at any moment, so she switched to a different chair.
Better, but the big cushion was a little soft and she sank down into the seat.
"Third time’s a charm." She moved to the last and smallest chair and settled in.
It was just right.
She pulled the comforter off the back of the chair, it stuck a little, so she gave a tug to free it, then spread it over her knees, and settled back to relax.
A creaking sound accompanied a wrenching, jarring movement, and the chair broke apart, throwing Honey to the floor where she banged her hip. Horror and disbelief rushed through her as, flat on her back, she stared up at the log beam running across the ceiling.
Panting a little, she struggled out of the mess and stood. Both hands flew to her mouth and her face burned as she frantically eyed the mess. "This is unbelievable. How could this happen?"
The log and cushion chair lay broken in pieces, a couple of clamps gripping the wood in strategic places, and a few more clamps scattered on the floor amid the mess.
Someone had been fixing the chair.
The throw-quilt over the back had hidden the clamps and she must have pulled one loose when she’d tugged on the blanket and her weight had done the rest.
"This is so awful," she whispered.
Reaching down, she pulled at one piece of wood and it came completely free of the others. She closed her eyes for a moment, then glanced around. "What do I do?"
She felt like grabbing her stuff, running out, and leaving forever. She actually stared at the door for a long moment before remembering the glue on the mantle.
Maybe she could fix the chair? Re-glue and re-clamp it? Maybe the Baron family wouldn’t be home for a while longer?
She thought about calling Nick for advice, but quickly threw out the notion. Her boss had sent her to charm them, not to destroy their property.
Her dad? He didn’t know a lot about fix-it stuff, but probably more than she did. Or Christian might be able to help, but again, she knew he wouldn’t answer the phone. She blew out a breath and looked at the mess. This didn’t look like something that could be explained over the phone, anyway.
So what should she do? Leave it and try and explain the cringe-worthy mess to her hosts?
She shook her head once more. She had glue, she had clamps, she had to at least try.
* * *
Forty minutes later, she was done. The chair was upside down, but back together, and she didn’t dare try to turn it over again. She wasn’t out to hide what she’d done, anyway. She’d glued and clamped the three pieces, and it looked okay. She was going to bed. Explanations could wait until morning.
She stood, and from the higher perspective, the chair looked kind of...off.
Tears filled her eyes. She’d just pay for the darn thing. She’d buy them a new one. Even if it was custom-made and ended up costing her a months wages.
Feeling tired, cranky, and frustrated, Honey grabbed her suitcase and went upstairs to look for a bed. There were four doors, and the first opened into a bedroom overlooking the front yard. She flipped on the light and peeked inside.
A queen-sized bed, a nightstand with a picture of a group of kids, an alarm clock, and a book. A rocking chair sat in the corner. There were no personal effects, but the gorgeous cream-colored quilt on the bed was obviously handmade and sported ducks, coyotes and pine trees. It definitely looked like a guest room.
She walked in, dropped her purse and suitcase, sat on the bed and bounced on the mattress. There wasn’t much give. In fact, it was hard.
She sighed. This night just kept getting better and better. She turned her head to the open closet door, and shot back off the bed. Clothes hung in the closet, and boots and shoes neatly lined the floor. She quickly gathered her things and left the room.
The second door led to a big bathroom with a tile floor, a vanity with matching basins and silver-framed mirrors, and both a shower and a jetted tub. Nice. Very nice. She could picture herself taking a bubble bath, but not tonight. Not when her hosts could arrive home at any moment.
Going to the third door, she went inside, flipped on the light and looked around. A huge, foam cushion chair dominated the floor. A big screen television was situated against one wall, an X-Box and DVD player on the beside it. Games and DVDs were on a nearby shelves. It was conceivable that it could be a guest room. Children would certainly enjoy sleeping on the giant, oversized cushion.
Going inside the room, she set her things down and gingerly sank down on the foam-filled suede. It was very soft. She lay back and wiggled. Probably too soft. She really couldn’t see herself sleeping there the entire night. She felt like she might sink right inside and suffocate. Getting up, she hoped for better luck with the last door.
Pushing it open, she went inside and breathed a sigh of relief. A king-sized bed dominated the room and a few hunting trophies graced the top of the dresser, but no family pictures or anything like that. A gray quilt spread over the bed. Nice, but spartan. Out of the three, this had to be the guest room.
Dropping her purse and bag, she sat on the bed. The mattress was much nicer. Kicking off her shoes, she sank full length on the bed, pressed her face into one of the pillows and sighed. It was better than nice. Not too hard, not too soft, it was just right.
Rolling off the bed, she retrieved pajamas and toiletries and headed for the bathroom. At this point, she didn’t even have a desire to meet up with the owners until morning. If she’d blown the deal when she’d broken the furniture, tomorrow would be soon enough to find out about it.
She brushed her teeth, pulled her thick hair back into a ponytail, washed off her makeup, and accidentally drenched the front of her hair in the process. She dried her face with a towel, and quickly patted her hair but it was too late. It started to curl. The tiniest hint of moisture and she frizzed out. It had taken her forever to straighten it that morning. Tears pricked her eyes again. Frizzy hair was the final straw.
Wasn’t it enough that she’d worked a full day, had a fight with Christian, driven three hours, and then all the problems she’d encountered here at the client’s house? Not to mention she was starting her brokerage class in the morning, and was completely stressed out about that? And now curls?
She needed to get hold of herself. She knew that. She dried her eyes, blew her nose, gathered up her things, went back to the guest room and shut the door. She put her stuff down and climbed into bed.
She’d unpack in the morning after she had an inkling about how long she’d be staying before moving to a hotel. Right now all she wanted to do was to escape into dreamland.
* * *
Trevor Baron turned onto his driveway. It was almost midnight and all he wanted to do was eat the turkey dinner his mom had promised to leave, and then fall into bed.
Another day or two and he’d be finished with the backbreaking schedule he was on.
There was a car parked on one side of the driveway in his spot. It took him a moment to realize the vehicle must be his sister’s new car. He’d heard her jerk-off husband had bought one as a bribery gift. Since Elizabeth was at Trevor’s house, he’d guess it hadn’t worked. No surprise there. His sister wasn’t the kind of woman to forgive infidelity, or to forget.
He went for the mail and on the way back to the house, reached into the bed of his truck, grabbed three fishing poles-–minus hooks--and propped them by the side of the cabin.
He knew the three boys he’d taken them from would eventually work up the courage to steal them back, and knew the lack of hooks, and the fact that the boys had been caught fishing illegally, wouldn’t stop them from doing it again. It hadn’t stopped him at that age, either.
Smiling, he continued to the back gate, opened it, and let himself in. "Hey, Charlie boy. Come here."
A dark form moved toward Trevor and a big head bumped against his hand.
"You eat all that food I left out?"
Trevor checked the dog dishes, one empty and one still half-full of water. "Good boy."
Trevor went down on one knee and rubbed the dog’s thick fur coat while Charlie, ecstatic, wiggled like a puppy. With one last pat, Trevor opened the back door–-no need to lock it with Charlie in the back yard-–and they both went inside.
Charlie immediately bounded up the stairs, probably looking for Elizabeth, and Trevor headed for his office.
He was tired. He’d worked the entire day, putting in a full eight hours, most of it rounding up a deer wandering the city and returning it to the forest. He’d then talked to reporters about the incident.
After some routine paperwork, he’d taken time to catch the kids doing their spot of illegal fishing, then back to work for the rest of the evening repairing some commercial property for the family company.
All the painting he’d done had made his back sore. But only a few more nights and the building would be ready to lease again and he could relax.
Opening his safe, he locked his gun away, set his belt on the desk and went back to the kitchen to get his dinner.
He opened the fridge.
No dinner.
Had his mom forgotten him? A note on the countertop caught his eye and he kicked the fridge shut and snagged it. I’ve left a plate of food for you in the fridge. Love, M.
He checked again. The milk, ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise weren’t hiding a plate of food. He checked the freezer. Nothing.
Thinking about Elizabeth’s car in the driveway, he opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out the garbage. Sure enough. A used sheath of tin foil lay on top and had very likely covered his plate of food.
Well, that was nice.
He rubbed a hand over his full beard, blew out a breath, then got out fixings for peanut butter and honey sandwiches. He slathered four slices of bread, and poured himself a large glass of milk.
He took his plate and glass out to the living room, set them on an end table, grabbed the remote control, sat and turned on ESPN.
It was on the wrong channel and--
His chair! Jumping up, he quickly scanned the poorly repaired chair, then glared at the stairs and considered waking Elizabeth to have a talk. But she had at least tried to fix it and that surprised him, so, disgusted, he changed the channel to ESPN, quickly ate and, with Charlie now back and watching his every move, spent the next thirty minutes re-glueing the chair correctly, and placing the clamps where they’d actually do their job.
He finally turned the chair around carefully set it in the corner so Elizabeth wouldn’t forget and sit in it again.
It was time for bed. In the morning, he was going to have a talk with his sister because this was getting out of hand. She needed to work out her marriage problems on her own time. Or at least in her own house. Or at their parents’ place if she had to go somewhere.
With Charlie following, Trevor climbed the stairs, walked down the hall, opened the door, and absolutely couldn’t believe it.
She was in his bed!
Talk about selfish!
He wouldn’t lose his temper. They could discuss this like the two grown adults they were. How much could a man be expected to take from his big sister? She could stay in his house, she could even eat his food and break his furniture. But danged if she was sleeping in his bed! She could take the spare room. There was a reason that mattress was uncomfortable. He didn’t like guests!
He flipped on the light and his sister sat up, looked to where he stood in the doorway, and sucked in a loud breath.
The only problem was, it wasn’t his sister.
