Courting Carolina (6 page)

Damn, she didn’t quite have the courage, and he started breathing again when she tucked the bra and sweater under
her arm and quietly walked down the shelter’s steps. After looking around, she stood with her eyes closed and her face bathed in the rising sun long enough that he stopped breathing again. She finally headed toward the outhouse hidden in a stand of young spruce trees fifty yards up behind the lean-to, Kitty dutifully trotting ahead to run interference against any lingering night critters.

Alec sat up and rubbed his hands over his face with a muttered curse. What, exactly, had he gotten himself into? Because other than spending the next few days walking around in pants that felt two sizes too small from watching Jane walking around in her too-tight pants, he was pretty sure he’d be spending more time babysitting the woman than working.

That is, unless he put her to work, too.

Yeah, he should be able to find something the princess could do to earn her room and board. Nothing too strenuous that might cause her to chip a nail or anything, but maybe she could fetch him water, hold the end of the measuring tape, and hand him tools. Stuff like that. He was just warming up to his plan when he remembered the cut on her thigh and her tender foot from running in one shoe, and stood up with a sigh. Maybe she could sit by the stream he was prepping for the bridge and read. First, though, he supposed he should feed her before Jane started equating him with her kidnappers.

“You’re up,” she said in surprise as she rounded the side of the shelter—carrying his T-shirt rolled around her red bra, he couldn’t help but notice.

Now why hadn’t she put on her bra, and why did he have to be so damned observant? “Yeah, the sun woke me. You hungry?” he asked, opening the food locker.

She gave a laugh. “Actually, I seem to still be full from last night, and I rarely eat first thing in the morning, anyway.” He watched her stuff the bra and T-shirt under her pillow before turning to him. “But I would be happy to fix you something. Do you have eggs? I make a very good omelet.”

“You cook?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Up went that chin—although it was accompanied by a derisive smile. “In the first month I was on my own, I discovered hunger is all the motivation needed to teach oneself to cook.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that I thought you—”

She laughed, cutting him off. “Of course you did, Alec. I surprised myself at how good a cook I’ve become.” She sobered. “Please, I want to earn my way this week by helping out however I can. I can do the cooking and keep the shelter organized, and I can even wash your clothes if you’d like.” Her smile returned. “But my first order of business this morning is to go down to the fiord and gather some sweet grass to make you a mattress, so you won’t have to lie on those hard planks tonight.”

Was she seri— Whoa, a week? A few days had turned into a
week
?

She crowded him out of the way and knelt in front of the food locker. “Go do your morning rituals as if I’m not even here,” she instructed as she started rummaging through what was left of his supplies. “I’ll have something cooked for you in no time.”

“Thanks, but I usually only have cold cereal or trail mix in the morning. I don’t like working on a stomach full of heavy food.”

She straightened and turned to him. “You have milk?”

“No, I think I used the last of it two days ago. But they’re supposed to bring me supplies today when they bring the bridge.”

She scrambled to her feet. “People are coming here today?”

“No, they’re not coming
here
.” He pointed down the trail. “They’re bringing the bridge only as far as the falls, which is a quarter of a mile to the south. You don’t need to worry, Jane. The helicopter’s not even going to land, so if you simply hide in the trees while it’s hovering, no one will see you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “They’re bringing a bridge by helicopter?”

He nodded. “We figured the easiest way to build the
infrastructure for the trail was for me to give the carpenters working on the resort the measurements, and for them to build the bridges and lean-tos and privies at the shop. Then they fly the structures here instead of lugging in the timber.”

“And they just lower them down to you? But how do you set them in place?”

“I guide them down and swing them onto the rock abutments I’ve built.”

She clutched her throat. “You’ll stand under the bridge while it’s in the air?”

“No, I’ll grab the rope dangling from it while the winch operator lowers it to me.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to see that,” she said, clasping her hands together. “What an ingenious way to build a wilderness trail without hurting the wilderness. And they also lower whatever supplies you need?”

“Yup,” Alec said with a grin, her smile contagious. “So if there’s anything you need, I could have them bring it on their next trip. Except…ah, female stuff, because that might be a little hard for me to explain.” He felt heat creeping up the back of his neck and turned and headed down the stairs. “If there’s something you absolutely have to have, I can make a boat trip into town one of these evenings.”

“Alec,” she called out, making him stop and turn to her. “Thank you for being so accommodating,” she said, her own cheeks turning slightly pink.

“My pleasure, lass. Why don’t you pack yourself anything ye might want for the morning? You can use that smaller backpack hanging on the rear wall. Also put the satellite phone in it, would you? And you might want to bring your iPad, in case you don’t find watching me shovel dirt to be all that interesting.”

“But I want to help you.”

“You can’t. Not with that cut on your leg and bruise on your side.”

“But there must be something I can do. Oh, your mattress; I can walk down to the water and gather sweet grass this morning.”

“No, you can’t,” he repeated, grinning at her scowl. “Someone might see you. The entire fiord is crawling with tourist boats out looking at the colorful foliage and trying to spot whales and dolphins. And I wouldn’t be surprised if the sheriff shows up again today with state troopers in tow, trying to figure out what two men wearing street clothes were doing out here. But,” he conceded when her shoulders slumped, “I’ll give you clippers and you can cut some fir tips to make me a bed if ye want.”

She grabbed the small backpack off the peg. “I’ll be ready when you get back,” she said, giving him a princesslike wave of dismissal.

Not only was she ready, but she was standing in the trail waiting for him, her hair pulled into a ponytail, the backpack on her shoulders with all four canteens hanging off it, and that saint-tempting smile making another appearance when she saw him. She waited while he went to the lean-to and gathered up what tools he needed, then fell into step behind him.

Speaking of ponytails, he probably should give his own hair a trim, seeing as how it was nearly as long as Jane’s. Washing his face this morning, Alec had realized he hadn’t shaved in over a week, either. Hell, it was a wonder the woman hadn’t run screaming into the forest again when she’d awakened to find herself more naked than clothed, looking up at the hairy giant who’d undressed her. So he’d spent half an hour this morning shaving and trying to tame his own mess of dark blond hair before Jane decided to take her tiny scissors to him while he was sleeping.

“Where’s Kit?” he asked over his shoulder, refusing to call the wolf Kitty any longer.

“Probably hunting, as I think he prefers something more substantial than cereal for breakfast.”

“Where did ye find him?”

“I didn’t,” she said with a musical laugh, the sound sending a good number of blood cells straight to his groin. “Kitty found me. He just showed up on my doorstep one day and wouldn’t leave.”

“Which doorstep would that be; the one in New York City or Monte Carlo or South Africa?”

“I…I can’t remember,” she said after a long hesitation. She gave a soft snort. “I guess the bump on my head damaged a few memory cells. So, Alec,” she rushed on, “how long have you worked for the resort?”

Okay then, it appeared they were going to talk about
him
. “I don’t, actually. I’m what you might call a ski bum from November to late April. My family owns TarStone Mountain Ski Resort over in Pine Creek. Have you heard of it?”

“I have,” she said, sounding slightly out of breath.

Alec immediately slowed down, contrite for having forgotten her sore foot. “In the summer and early fall I come to Spellbound to help my uncle, Duncan MacKeage, in his construction business. Duncan built a home across the fiord a little farther up from here two years ago, and he’s been doing the earthwork for Olivia and Mac Oceanus, who own Nova Mare. You know them?”

Another, even longer hesitation, and then, “I know
of
them. So how come you’re not helping your uncle finish the resort? Only the first phase is completed, isn’t it? I think I read that someplace,” she quickly tacked on.

“They started taking guests a couple of years ago as they built each of the sixteen planned cottages, and three of the five hotel segments opened just this month. But when Olivia mentioned that she’d like to offer backcountry camping, I volunteered to spend the summer building her a wilderness trail.”

“But is it really a wilderness trail if there are bridges and shelters and privies?”

He stopped and turned, disguising his checking on her with a crooked grin. “For city-dwellers, I imagine this is about as roughing it as they care to get. Having a marked trail and lean-tos makes the deep woods less overwhelming.” He shrugged. “The true naturalists still have the option of carrying a tent and compass, and stripping off to ford the rivers and larger streams.”

Well, she didn’t look ready to faint. In fact, except for the
handprint, her face was positively glowing. So maybe he’d been a bit hasty labeling her a princess, as the woman actually appeared to be enjoying herself. “How’s that bruise on your side?” he asked. “You want me to carry the pack?”

“I can handle it,” she said, grasping the straps protectively.

“At least let me take the water bottles,” he said, reaching toward her. “They have to be banging against your hip.”

“I’m okay,” she said, moving past him. “How much of the trail have you finished?”

Damn, now he was forced to watch that luscious heart-shaped bottom. He could see why she’d had the boots custom made, because those were really long legs.

“Alec?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

He lifted his gaze in time to see her smile when she realized where he’d been looking, and he’d swear her hips sashayed a bit more as she continued on.

“What was the question?”

“How much of the trail have you finished?”

“About forty miles. I only have this last larger bridge and five small ones left to set in place, two more shelters and privies to find locations for, and a spur trail I want to lay out that’ll lead down to a pretty little grotto I found near the end of the fiord.”

She stopped and turned. “What do you mean by a grotto?”

“I discovered a small sandy beach hidden at the base of a crescent-shaped cliff, and the only way to get there is during low tide. There’s a shallow cave at the back that has a sweet-tasting spring flowing out of it.” He used the opportunity to take the lead again. “The place reminded me of a grotto, where a couple of lovebirds could have some privacy or a person could go and think in peace.”

“You’re a romantic.”

Alec tripped on a root and scrambled to catch himself. He’d been called a lot of things in his life, but sure as hell never a romantic. “Here we are,” he muttered, setting down his tools.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” she said over the gush of the water tumbling down the narrow, boulder-strewn ravine. She turned to look at where the stream continued its descent below. “This is where you’re putting the bridge?” she asked, stepping up to the edge and peering down. She looked across to the other side, then back at him in surprise. “The span must be twenty-five or thirty feet! They’re going to fly a bridge that large out here dangling from a helicopter?”

Good Lord, Duncan’s seven-year-old twin sons didn’t ask as many questions as she did. “The resort has two helicopters; one for scenic tours and one’s a workhorse designed for heavy lifting, like they use out west to log the steeper mountains.”

She looked across the stream to the other side again, then down the ravine and then back up it. “How come you didn’t place the bridge up there where the span is narrower? It can’t be more than fifteen feet between those ledges, and there would have been less work constructing the abutment,” she said, pointing across the stream at the log cribbing he’d spent the last three days building and filling with rocks.

“Because if I’d set it up there, you’d miss the beauty of the falls.”

She blinked at him, and then her gaze suddenly dropped and he saw her cheeks redden, as if she were…embarrassed. “Oh, yes, that makes perfect sense.”

Alec frowned as she walked to a boulder and slipped off the backpack. Now what in hell was she embarrassed about?

“Um, did you remember to bring the clippers?” she asked, turning to him and holding out her hand—her gaze aimed in the vicinity of his chest.

What just happened? One minute she was all excited and the next she was acting like he’d kicked her. He hadn’t sounded defensive when he’d told her why he’d placed the bridge down here, had he? “You really don’t have to make me a mattress,” he said, even as he pulled the clippers out of his hind pocket.

“But I want to.” She took the clippers and turned away,
then stood in the trail with her back to him and looked around. “That seems like a good stand of fir. I’ll be just over there,” she said, walking to where she’d been pointing.

What in hell just
happened
?

Whatever it was, it appeared to have passed an hour later when Jane had amassed a pile of fir tips large enough for all three of Goldilocks’s bears to sleep on, and for the last hour she and Kit had been watching him shovel dirt as if it were the most fascinating activity on earth. Jane would make him stop about every twenty minutes, though, and take a drink from the canteen she would hold out to him. During his last break, however, she’d snatched the shovel out of his hand and replaced it with a granola bar. So he was obediently sitting and eating, wondering when the last time was that anyone had treated him like a four-year-old—or worse, a little brother.