Marooned with the Maverick Read online

He shouldered the bag and headed for his truck in the parking lot in the back, feeling more down than he should have, wishing things could be different and calling himself ten kinds of fool to want a thing he was never going to have—and wouldn’t know what to do with anyway.

  He almost tripped over his own boots when he caught sight of Willa. She was leaning against his rear wheel well, Buster on one side, her bag of stuff and backpack on the other.

  Chapter Eight

  She had her arms folded across her middle and her head tipped to the side. The early-afternoon sun brought out bronze highlights in her coffee-colored hair. She gave him a slow once-over. “I knew it.”

  He glared at her, trying his best to look pissed off. “You knew what?”

  “You were just going to sneak away without even telling me. That’s not very nice, Collin.”

  “I did tell you. I told you last night.”

  She tightened her arms around herself and pressed her lips together. “And I told you that I was going with you.” She pushed off the wheel well and stood up straight. “So here I am.”

  His bag of clothes rustled as he let it slide to the pavement. He was actively ignoring the rapid beating of his heart, the ridiculous surge of happiness that was blasting all through him.

  She really did want to go with him. She wasn’t letting him get away without a fight.

  But so what? He needed to focus on the goal: to get her to give up this insanity and go back to the park. “No. It’s a bad idea. And aren’t you supposed to be over at the park teaching summer school?”

  “Shelby Jenkins is helping out. She took over for me.”

  “But you—”

  “I’m going, Collin. Don’t mess with me on this.”

  How in hell could he do the right thing if she kept pushing him to screw up? A voice in the back of his mind kept chanting, She wants to come, she wants to come. And the bad-acting idiot inside him kept whispering, Man, if it’s what she wants, why not?

  He ground his teeth together. “I wasn’t planning to come back until tomorrow.”

  “That’s okay. I’ve got my stuff. And you’ve got a guest room. It’s all good.”

  “I thought you had summer school.”

  “I told you, Shelby’s helping out. I explained to her that I was going up the mountain with you and we might not make it back until later tomorrow. She’ll take my kids for me. I’m covered.”

  “Get real, Willa. You go up the mountain with me and spend the night, the whole town will be talking when you come back down. The Traub bad boy and the kindergarten teacher. I can hear them all now.”

  She laughed. Like it was funny. He watched the dimples flash in her pink cheeks and he thought about licking them. “I’m sure they’re already talking. We’ve practically been joined at the hip since the flood. And in case you’ve forgotten, we spent a whole night together in my dad’s barn and the world didn’t come to an end.”

  In case he’d forgotten? He would never forget. Especially not what had happened in the morning. His fly. Her hand. Sitting there on the edge of that hay bale, willing the humiliating bulge in his pants to go down. He strove for calmness and reasonableness. “We had no choice then. It was the barn or drowning. This—you and me, up the mountain together? That’s a clear choice.”

  Her mouth had pinched up tight. “What is going on with you? Suddenly you’re acting like it’s 1955 or something. Like you’re worried about my reputation, which is excellent and unimpeachable, thank you very much.”

  Unimpeachable? She really did talk like a schoolteacher sometimes. Which got him hot. Real hot. But he wasn’t going to think about that. “It’s a very small town, Willa. People here are conservative. You know that as well as I do.”

  She just wouldn’t back down. “You’re making way too much of this. Everyone in town knows me and respects me. No one has—or will—judge me for being your friend.” In her excitement, she unfolded her arms and waved them around. “In fact, Crawfords aside, this town happens to think the world of you, in case you haven’t been paying attention.”

  “That doesn’t mean they won’t gossip.”

  “Oh, please. You never cared about people talking before.”

  “I care now.”

  “I don’t believe you. Here’s the way I see it. If you really don’t want me along, if you’re sick of having me around and you want to get rid of me, that’s one thing. If you just have to have a little time to yourself, well, okay. I can accept that. But all this other stuff you’ve been handing me about my reputation and how it’s ‘a bad idea,’ how I should be over at the park instead of with you, well, you can just stop that, Collin Traub. You can just...get a little bit straight with me. Please.” And with that, she blew out a hard breath and flopped back against the wheel well again, folding her arms across her chest once more.

  “Crap, Willa.” He folded his own arms. He told himself that this argument was over and he’d won it. Because she’d just given him the out that he needed. He only had to say he didn’t want her with him, that he preferred to be alone. He only had to lie to her.

  Which he had no problem doing, under the circumstances. After all, it was for her own good.

  Buster whined and stared up at him hopefully. And Willa simply waited.

  He opened his mouth and said, “Fine. Get in the truck.”

  * * *

  Willa had always loved the drive up Falls Mountain. It was paved only a part of the way up, but when the pavement ran out, the dirt surface was well tended and the ride reasonably smooth—or at least, it always had been until the flood.

  The narrow road proceeded in a series of switchbacks under the tall evergreens. Now and then a switchback would lead out onto a rocky point before doubling back. You could park your vehicle and stroll to the edge and gaze out over the whole of the Rust Creek Falls Valley below, a beautiful sight that never failed to steal her breath away.

  And then, two-thirds of the way to the summit, you would round a sharp turn—and see the falls up ahead, hear their splendid, endless roar. The air would turn misty and the sun would slip through the spaces between the trees and light up the falling water with a million pinpricks of shining light.

  This trip, however, wasn’t so much about the scenery. This was about getting safely to Collin’s place and dealing with whatever obstacles the big storm might have left in its wake.

  As they set out, you could cut the tension between them with a knife. He was pretty steamed at her. He seethed where he sat, strong hands viselike on the wheel, staring out the windshield with fierce concentration, never once glancing in her direction.

  And frankly, well, she was annoyed with him, too. She only wanted to help. And he could have gotten rid of her just by honestly saying he didn’t want her around.

  But no. It had to be all about protecting her good name. Please. She wasn’t buying that silliness and he should give her more credit than to imagine she would.

  So she spent the first part of the ride until the pavement ran out keeping very quiet, not pushing her luck with him. Buster was in the back and they’d taken their bags of stuff up front with them. She had them both on her side, his on the floor, hers tucked in next to her with her pack against the console. She leaned on the door armrest and stared intently out at the trees and the occasional glimpses of blue Montana sky and told herself that when they got to his place, they would talk it out.

  She was so busy staring out her side window she didn’t see the first downed tree until he stopped the truck.

  “This’ll take a while,” he said sourly. “Hope you brought a book or maybe a little knitting.” He leaned on his door and got out.

  Oh, for crying out loud. As if she hadn’t helped her father and brother clear any number of fallen trees off the ranch in her lifetime. She’d come ready to work. She had on he
r old lace-up work boots from the box at her mother’s. Her jeans were sturdy and her sleeves were long. She dug around in her plastic bag until she found the pair of work gloves she’d borrowed from Thelma.

  Collin’s chain saw roared out as she left the truck. Buster was already down from the bed and sniffing around on the side of the road. He would probably take off if she didn’t put him on his leash, but he looked so happy and free, she didn’t have the heart to tie him up.

  So she decided to leave him free, but keep an eye on him. If he started ranging too far, she’d call him back.

  She went to join Collin at the fallen tree.

  Willa hauled and Collin expertly stripped the branches from the log, then cut the log into sections. When he was done with the saw, he helped her drag off the brush.

  As they cleared the brush, he finally started speaking to her again.

  “I hate to waste firewood,” he said. “But I’ve got more than enough up at my place.”

  They left the stove-size logs and the cleanest parts of the branches stacked on the side of the road for anyone in need to collect. It wasn’t that big of a tree. In an hour, they had the roadway clear.

  She took off her gloves. With her sleeve, she wiped sweat from her brow. And then she remembered to check on the dog. Wouldn’t you know? “Buster’s run off again.”

  He put two fingers between his lips and let loose with a whistle so high and piercing, she put her hands over her ears. As soon as he stopped, Buster came bounding out of the trees. He ran straight to Collin and dropped to his haunches in front of him.

  “Good dog,” Collin said. “Stay.”

  Willa blinked in admiration. “Wow.”

  “I used to call Libby that way. Never failed.”

  She remembered his dog. A sweet-natured brown-spotted white mutt that followed him everywhere. “What happened to Libby?”

  “Lost her last winter. She was pretty old.”

  “I’m sorry. She always seemed so devoted to you.”

  “Yeah. I guess she was.” He made a low, thoughtful sound. “I still miss her. Now and then I think I see her out of the corner of my eye. I forget for a split second that she’s gone and I turn to call her to me....”

  Willa was nodding, thinking of Mr. Puffy, the barn kitten she’d claimed as her own when she was five. Puffs had become a house cat and lived to be seventeen. “Oh, I know the feeling. It’s like they’re still with you, somehow, even though you know that they’re gone....”

  “That’s right.” He regarded her for a moment that seemed to stretch out into forever. He didn’t seem angry anymore and she realized that neither was she.

  “Thirsty?” he asked at last.

  At her nod, he turned and started walking, pausing only to signal her with a wave of his powerful arm.

  “Come on, Buster.” She fell in behind him.

  A trail took off below the road. They followed it, pine needles crunching under their feet, Buster taking up the rear.

  Maybe two hundred yards later, they came to a ditch full of rushing, clear water. They both got down on their bellies to drink. Buster tried to join them, but she shooed him downstream a ways.

  It was so good, that water. Fresh and cold and perfect. When they’d both drunk their fill, they scrambled upright and returned to the pickup. They got in, Buster hopped in the back and off they went.

  After that, it was stop and go. There were three more downed trees to clear and any number of rutted, rough places scattered with rock, where instant streams had formed during the storm, destroying the road surface, dragging debris. Often they would have to get out and clear away the biggest of the boulders. It was dusty, thirsty work. But there were plenty of ditches to drink from once the road was passable again.

  At one of the outlook points, they found that the road had fallen away at the edge of the cliff. It was just wide enough for the pickup to proceed. Twice on that narrow spot, she felt the back wheel on her side slip over the edge.

  But Collin had done a lot of driving on narrow, treacherous mountain roads. He knew when to change gears and when to hit the gas. Both times, there was only a split second of falling and then the truck gained purchase again and they went on.

  They didn’t reach the falls until a little after seven. More than two hours of daylight remained to them, so they stopped the truck. Buster following behind them, they walked close to admire the view.

  “It was twice as wide when I came down on the Fourth,” he told her, as they stared at the wall of shining water.

  “So beautiful.” She stood near the edge, looking over, entranced by the plumes of mist that rose from the rocks below. A prayerful kind of feeling came over her. It happened every time she visited the falls.

  When they turned for the truck, he said, “It’s not that far now.” He put down the gate long enough for Buster to hop in the back again. Then he joined her in the cab.

  Around the next sharp curve another tree lay, uprooted, across the road. They got out and got to work. By the time that one was out of the way and he was starting up the truck again, it was nine-thirty and the sky was steadily darkening.

  He sent her a glance across the console. “We’re there in five minutes, barring more crap in the road.”

  She grinned. “I will pray for an absence of crap.”

  “Good thinking.” He started to shift into gear—and then stopped. “I would be sleeping in this truck tonight, three fallen trees back, if not for you.”

  “If more crap happens, you could still end up sleeping in this truck.”

  He arched a brow. “That was a thank-you.”

  She felt hugely gratified. “Well, all right. You’re welcome.”

  “And an apology.”

  “Which is accepted.”

  They did that thing, the eye-contact thing. The moment stretched out. Finally, he said, “I’m glad you’re with me.”

  “That is so nice to hear.” She said it softly, a little bit breathlessly. “Because I’m glad to be with you.”

  They shared another endless glance. The world seemed a fine place, exciting, a place where anything might happen. A place where a girl’s lifelong forbidden fantasies might just come true.

  Friends, she reminded herself. We are friends and that’s all.

  But the way he was looking at her, well, a girl could definitely get ideas.

  “We should get going,” he said.

  “Yeah,” she whispered, as though there was some kind of secret they were sharing.

  He buckled his seat belt and put it in gear.

  The headlights were on, the powerful twin beams cutting the thickening shadows. Everything looked clear up ahead. The road was very steep, though, there at the last. Gravel spun out from under the tires as they kept losing traction. But Collin held it in low, with an even pressure on the gas. They climbed steadily upward, almost there.

  “One more switchback,” he said. The sharp turn loomed ahead. Tires spinning, gravel flying, the truck slipping to one side and then the other, Collin guided them around it.

  They’d made it without having to sleep in the cab. Through the tall, thick trees, she could see the shadowed form of his house up ahead. A light shone in the window, one he must have left on when he raced down the mountain four days ago, a light that still burned because he had a generator.

  Lights that wouldn’t be turned off promptly at 11:00 p.m. How wonderful. She had a couple of bestsellers she’d borrowed from Paige in the bottom of her bag. Why, she might read late into the night if she felt like it. She might blow-dry her hair—well, if only she’d thought to scare up a blow-dryer.

  And not only would there be light that was hers to control, she would sleep on a real bed, in a real bedroom, without all those other people nearby snoring or mumbling in their sleep....

&
nbsp; The truck slid, snapping her back to reality, and she felt a stomach-turning lurch as the rear wheels lost contact with the road. Collin swore under his breath.

  The truck—and the world—hung suspended by two front wheels.

  It was bad. She knew it. She tasted copper in her suddenly dry mouth. Her heart boomed, the sound a roar in her ears.

  It took her a second or two to realize what had happened. As they came around the turn, the road had collapsed on the cliff side, just dropped off and fallen away under the back wheels.

  “Oh, dear Lord,” she whispered, and nothing more. Words were lost to her.

  The truck was sliding backward, the bed dropping, dragging. They were going to go over the cliff, tail first....

  But Collin hit the gas then. The front wheels grabbed and held. Praise heaven for four-wheel drive. He eased the throttle even higher.

  The truck lurched again, jumping forward this time, grabbing at the road. The front wheels had good purchase. Gravel flew every which way, grinding grooves in the dirt, but they did move forward. The truck leveled out as the rear wheels reached the road again.

  He had done it. He had all four tires on solid ground again. She heard him suck in a long breath and realized that she was doing the same thing.

  “We’re okay,” she whispered, as though to say it too loudly would somehow send them rolling backward over the cliff once more.

  But then she glanced through the rear window. Buster wasn’t there.

  Chapter Nine

  “Collin, Buster’s gone!”

  Collin hit the brake as Willa’s door flew open. “Willa. Wait...” But she didn’t wait. She was out the door before the truck came to a full stop. “Be careful at the cliff edge!” he shouted.

  Not that she heard him. She was already out and running back to that last almost-deadly turn.

  He slammed it in Park, turned off the engine, and shoved in the parking brake, grabbing a flashlight from the glove box before he jumped out and ran after her. “Stay back from the edge, damn it, Willa!”