Worth the Wait (Last Hope Ranch Book 2) Page 9

  “Sure,” he said. “How’s the new neighbor?”

  “Seriously?”

  Clay shrugged. “Just asking. Dalton mentioned that Hank called him and wanted to know how you were doing.”

  “He’s checking up on me?” She bristled at the idea that he didn’t trust her. Then again, was she being trustworthy toward Hank?

  “No, seems he was checking up on you after having a strange phone call with you the other night. Apparently, he felt a disconnect. Hank didn’t even know about Hunter until Dalton mentioned him living at the cabins.”

  “Oh.” Julie felt contrite, if not a tad guilty, for not having mentioned Hunter or the fact that she’d offered him the cabin next to hers while his truck was in repair.

  “Yeah, he noticed you didn’t mention him.” Clay’s brow knit as he held her gaze. “You getting cold feet, Jules?”

  Was she? Why wouldn’t she mention meeting Hunter if there was nothing to be concerned over? Then again, she justified mentally, they had others things to discuss. It wasn’t important at the time. Important enough that your palms were sweating as you spoke to Hank on the phone and it was only stray thoughts about the stranger making that happen. “No.” She straightened. “Just because I…we haven’t set a date, just because I may find another man attractive…”

  Clay tipped his head. Oh, yeah, he took notice of that.

  “It doesn’t mean that I’m getting cold feet,” she continued, or that I’m going to go out and make poor choices.”

  He held his hands up in defense. “Okay. Okay. I get it.” He searched her eyes. “I’m here, though, if you need to talk.”

  Julie leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, your concern is noted and appreciated, but entirely unnecessary.”

  Sally returned from the ladies’ room looking a tad green around the gills. “Clay, do you mind if we go home? I don’t think I’m up for pie today.”

  Julie buckled her niece into the stroller, kissing each cherub-faced girl on the cheek. She stood and gave Sally a hug. “Call if you need me to help watch the girls.”

  Chapter Seven

  Hank shoved aside the thought that Julie hadn’t mentioned loaning out his cabin to the new stranger in town.

  “Everything looks good, Mr. Richardson,” the airport mechanic, a man by the name of Ray Davidson told him. He’d known Ray for several years, meeting him first back in Chicago where he worked at Midway. “Would have had her ready,” he said, wiping his hands on a grease rag. “I must have marked my calendar wrong. Swore you told me you’d fly out Thursday. Though I had a few days yet.”

  Hank shook the man’s hand. A little dirt on his hands didn’t bother Hank, but it would have repulsed his father. “No problem, Ray. I had a change in my schedule. Emergency back home.” My fiancée may be flirting with a handsome stranger, he thought to himself, and then batted away the idea.

  The mechanic frowned. “I hope everything’s okay.”

  Hank nodded as he loaded his gear into the plane. “I’m sure it will be. Have a boy—well, my fiancée’s boy—up at a camp in Colorado. They’ve got some wildfires in the White River Forest area that are a little too close for comfort. Thought I’d fly up there and get him. You know, in case.”

  Ray nodded. “I understand. My sister and her family live up in the mountains just west of Denver. I’ve been in contact with her, but she hasn’t been notified of any evacuations yet. They say what started it?”

  Hank slipped on his aviator glasses and climbed into the cockpit. “I haven’t heard, but a friend of mine in Denver is checking into things. He said the authorities are pretty good at giving people ample time to evacuate.”

  Ray nodded, his lips flattened to a thin line as he frowned. “Just the same, I think I better give my sister a call.” He closed the door behind Hank and offered a short wave as he walked across the tarmac.

  Moments later, Hank’s wheels left the McClellan Palomar runway en route to End of the Line. If all went as planned, it should be a little over two hours to touchdown.

  According to his plan, that is.

  Nothing since his disastrous attempt at a romantic proposal had gone according to plan. He tried to call Julie to let her know he was on his way to the ranch to pick up a few things from his training days in case he’d need them. The call rang several times before going to her voicemail.

  “Hi, I’m unable to take your call, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Have a great day.”

  “Hey, Jules,” Hank said, searching the low-level clouds. “Letting you know that I’m on my way back home and, barring any weather, I should be arriving in a couple of hours.” He paused, his thoughts taunting him with why she wasn’t answering his call. Especially when he’d told her he’d keep her informed about what Pete found out. “Okay, hope you get this. See you soon. I love you.” He laid the phone on the control panel.

  His thoughts meandered back to his conversation earlier with Pete.

  “You know, I’ve been offered a position as head trainer up at the Montana smokejumper camp. I could use a guy like you to help me.”

  Hank considered the future—at least, what seemed the foreseeable future. It was clear Julie seemed uncertain about setting a date, thought she had agreed to an engagement. Then there was the matter of whatever trust they had between them. Why hadn’t she just told him about offering the cabin to the very handsome—according to Dalton—stranger? Why hadn’t she assured him that he had nothing at all to worry about?

  Rein had also known, and chances were good that the entire town knew about Mr. Wonderful occupying the cabin next to his fiancée. And, worse, he had to find it out from them instead of Julie.

  Hank took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He’d thought that the proposal was going to be a step in the direction in setting down roots, being a real family, giving the boys and Julie a foundation—love, security. Instead, it seemed to create a chaotic domino effect on his life.

  He picked up the phone, punched in the quick dial for Julie’s number. It went straight to voicemail. He didn’t leave a message, but disconnected with a number of thoughts, none of them good, racing through his mind.

  “It’s that white-knight syndrome,” his sister’s voice repeated in his brain.

  Maybe she was right. A man secure in the knowledge of how his fiancée felt about him wouldn’t be spinning his wheels about some guy needing a place to stay. After all, he was gone, the cabin was empty and all others full. Simple. Still, he couldn’t help but reason, if Dalton picked up the guy, why didn’t he offer him a room at his place?

  He was for certain going to drive himself mad if he continued to dwell on this. He glanced at the phone and told himself to wait. “Crap,” he said, and snatched up the phone. He punched her number again, and, as anticipated, got her voicemail. He waited impatiently through the message before leaving another of his own. “Hi, Jules. If you get this…I’m not exactly sure why you’re not picking up, but give me a call.” Hank paused. “Haven’t heard from Pete. How’s Chris? Okay, bye.” He disconnected without any endearments, secretly hoping she might realize as much when she listened to the messages—if she listened to the messages.

  He started to set the phone down when it rang. Hank answered, putting the phone to his ear without checking to see who it was. “Hello? Jules? I’ve been trying to call you for—”

  “Hank, it’s Pete,” said the caller.

  Hank mentally kicked himself. The stress was getting to him. He reeled in his emotions, teetering on edge. “Sorry, Pete. Thought you were someone else.”

  “I figured that. Listen, I can go if you’re expecting a call, but I thought you’d want to know that I have an update on that fire.”

  “No, it’s okay. What have you got?” Hank said.

  “Sounds like a blast of southern air has turned the fire, fanning it northward in the Arapaho Forest.”

  “What does that mean?” Hank asked, unfamiliar with the territory. “Is that near
the Scout camp?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. We just got a call to move out. Evacuation protocol has begun at the National Park campgrounds and mountain residents in that area.

  Hank checked his watch. “I’m about ninety minutes or so from the ranch. I’m going to refuel and then I’ll head your way. What can I do to help?”

  “What are you flying?” Pete asked.

  “A Twin Otter,” Hank answered.

  “Excellent. Meet me at the Denver airport. Emergency helicopters and crew are meeting there to be briefed.”

  “Sounds good, Pete. And thank you.”

  “You bet,” his friend said. There was a brief pause. “Not sure if you’ve ever thought about getting back into this, but I was very serious when I said I could use your help in this new position.”

  Hank kept his eyes on the horizon. A few days ago, when his immediate future involved setting a wedding date, Hank’s answer might have been more decisive. If no plans were set by spring, maybe some time apart would help Julie realize what it was she wanted. Whether, in fact, she really loved him, or if she only felt some type of obligation for his involvement in rescuing her and the boys.

  The very thought that her emotions might be so fickle sickened him. Could he have been so blind? Or had he only seen what he wanted to see? How much longer was he willing to wait? He had to consider his future. What might happen if this thing, God forbid, fizzled into nothing?

  “You know, Pete, right now I just want to find Kyle and make sure he’s safe.” He hesitated, realizing this was a chance to fulfill a dream he’d set aside a long time ago. “Listen, though, I’m not adverse to talking more about this later. How’s that?”

  “Sounds great to me, man,” Pete said. “We’ll see you soon.”

  Hank hung up, looked at his phone, and debated whether to call Wyatt to see if Julie’s car was in the drive. But with Julie giving the stranger his bed to sleep in, a phone call with his inquiry might start a whole landslide of rumors and speculation. Instead, he punched her quick dial and once more received her perky voicemail message. He disconnected, blowing out a frustrated sigh. He’d be home in a few minutes, anyway. Besides, there was probably a logical explanation for why she wasn’t responding to his calls.

  Probably.

  ***

  Julie inhaled deeply. She loved driving the country road back to the ranch. With her windows rolled down, the scent of mown hay and pine warmed by the sun mingled into a heady fragrance at this time of year. A welcome northwest wind had blown in during the afternoon pushing everyone—animal and human—outdoors.

  After the session earlier with Reverend Cook, Julie decided to take her advice and work on giving Chris consistency, establishing a routine so as to help him feel safe.

  She slowed as she came down the small service road that trailed past the row of cabin rentals. With her windows rolled down, she swore she’d heard Chris’s laughter—though he and Emilee were supposed to be helping muck stalls about this time of day while the horses were out to pasture.

  She pulled into the short drive next to her cabin and looked up through her car window to see Hunter McCoy standing at the edge of their connecting backyards. He was dressed in camo shorts that exposed his muscular calves and a navy-colored T-shirt that was split on the sides, providing an eye-opening view of his ripped torso.

  Julie stepped from the Jeep and shaded her eyes against the glint of the sun reflecting on the…was that a hatchet? Her eyes widened.

  She left the groceries in the trunk and walked toward him, stumbling slightly as she navigated the small knoll between the two cabins.

  “Let me show you guys one more time, then you can give it a try,” Hunter said to an unseen guest.

  Julie rounded the corner of the cabin and caught a glimpse of Emilee and Chris standing on the patio watching the man in rapt fascination.

  A motion caught her eye and her gaze darted to Hunter. The hatchet left his grasp and spun end over end, landing with a resounding thwack against a crude handmade target made of barnboard propped against two bales of hay. A bullseye and rings had been sprayed on the wood, and a variety of hatchets and knives clung to the board.

  Julie let out a yelp. What kind of barbaric game was this? She looked at Hunter. “What are you doing?”

  Chris ran up to her, his eyes alive, an excited grin plastered on his face. “Hunter’s teaching us how to throw hatchets. Isn’t that cool?”

  Julie scanned the faces of all three, who seemed to be wondering why she didn’t share their enthusiasm.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I was telling them how my dad taught me this when I was their age,” Hunter explained. With a confident swagger, even in flip-flops, he walked over and pulled the hatchets from the board.

  Julie pointed to her son. “You—since I assume you’ve done your chores up at the barn—can take the groceries in and put them away.”

  “But Mom,” he started with a high-pitched whine, only to have it crack midway.

  “I should go. Grandfather will be wondering where I am,” Emilee said. “Goodbye, Mr. McCoy. Mrs. Williams.” She started around the house and stopped to pick up something in the grass. Studying it, she walked back to Julie, her steps slowing as she got closer. Her gaze came up, but it was not focused on Julie. She stared straight ahead. Julie had heard of the young girl’s special abilities, though had not seen it in practice—if that’s what this was.

  Julie met her and held her hand out to accept the object. “Emilee, are you okay?” she asked.

  The girl blinked and then nodded. She placed a pen knife in Julie’s hand. “Grandmother said that I’ve been given a gift that helps people.” She searched Julie’s eyes.

  “I’m sure that’s true. Did you see something?” Julie asked.

  Emilee nodded slowly. “Sometimes, if more than one person has owned an object, the pictures I see are hazy.”

  Julie recognized the pocketknife as the one Hank had given to Kyle on the day that he joined the Scouts. It had been given to Hank by his grandfather. “It must have fallen out of Kyle’s pocket when he was mowing,” she said.

  “I couldn’t see anything clearly. It was dark. That’s all I can tell you,” Emilee said. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Julie said, trying to shake off the strange, foreboding feeling in her gut. “You run on and find your grandfather.”

  The moment Emilee left, Julie pocketed the knife and turned to Hunter. “I’d like to know what you think you were doing? Teaching these kids about playing with bow knives and hatchets?”

  “Well, I—”

  “And without permission, I might add,” Julie said. Her concern about Chris’s safety muddied the situation. “Do you have any idea what might have happened?” She walked up toe-to-toe with him.

  He held his ground, staring down at her. His all-male, musky scent teased her senses.

  He held her gaze. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to either of those kids.”

  Julie’s emotions went off the rail. Somewhere in her anger, she saw a pinpoint of logic in his words. Heck, hadn’t she allowed her son to go off to tromp around the Colorado mountains, even given the multitude of unknown dangers? “Mr. McCoy, it is not your prerogative to decide what is best for my son, or for Emilee. I’m quite certain Dalton would have wanted to be asked first about this.”

  “It was his idea, actually.” Hunter raked his thumbnail over his brow.

  “Well, it wasn’t mine and I’d appreciate you asking first before including my son in such activities. Do I make myself clear?” She sounded overprotective, she knew, but Chris was only just beginning to deal with his anger. Perhaps in time, hatchet-throwing might prove beneficial. Maybe even for her.

  “Loud and clear, ma’am,” he said with a brief salute.

  ***

  Thankfully, Chris didn’t bring up the hatchet topic as they ate their pizza and watched their favorite movie, Goonies. She’d not yet heard from Hank, but took comfort in the idea that no news w
as good news. She checked her hoodie pockets where she normally carried her phone and found them empty. Surprised, she uncurled from the couch and fished through her backpack. It wasn’t there. She checked the kitchen, the bathroom, her bed, where she’d changed before making dinner. The phone was nowhere to be found.

  “What’d you lose?” Chris asked, glancing at her as he helped himself to another slice of pizza.

  “Have you seen my phone?” she asked.

  He shrugged and shook his head, already drawn back into the movie. She tapped her fingers on the kitchen counter, thinking back to the last time she had it out. Then she realized that she had it out when she’d been checking dates for the next meeting at the diner. She’d likely left it on the table, or on her desk in the back room when she went to shut down her computer. Hopefully, Betty had found it and put it in safekeeping until the morning. She’d check when she went in tomorrow. Meantime, she’d walk up to Wyatt and Aimee’s and borrow their phone to give Hank a call.

  “You stay put,” she told her son. “I’ve got to run up to the main house and borrow a phone.” She placed her hand on the doorknob and jumped when someone knocked loudly on the door.

  Wondering who it could be at this hour of the night, she flipped on the light and peeked out the peephole. “Oh, brother,” she muttered as she swung open the door.

  Her handsome neighbor had changed into a full T-shirt and jeans, for which she should have been grateful. Stop that.

  “I bring a peace offering,” he said, holding up a stick in one hand and chocolate bars and a bag of marshmallows in the other. His long blond locks looked better than hers and she made a mental note to ask Lila, her hairdresser at the Curl Up and Dye salon, about a new conditioner.

  “That’s not necessary,” she said, opening the door fully.

  “I feel like maybe we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” he said with a quick nod to the side. “I’ve got the firepit going out back and all the provisions.” He offered a charming grin.

  “Are we making s’mores?” Chris ducked under her arm and beamed up at Hunter. “I haven’t had those in like forever, mom.” He looked at her with pleading eyes.