Only By Your Touch (12 page)

Chloe nodded miserably.

“Bummer. How did it get broken?”

Chloe almost blurted out her suspicion that Bobby Lee had broken the lantern on purpose. She liked Sue, and they were becoming friends. But if it meant Sue’s job, where would her loyalties lie? Bobby Lee had been a deputy for years and had a sterling record. Chloe was a new hire with no proof the man had gotten out of line.

“It got knocked off my desk,” she settled for saying.

“I’m sorry, Chloe. I know it was special.”

“Yes,” Chloe agreed, “very special.”

And Bobby Lee knew it.

Later that night after taking Tracy home, Chloe was still too upset over the incident to sleep. In hopes of exhausting herself, she cleaned like a dervish for two
hours, wiping out drawers and cupboards, dusting the top of the fridge, and polishing all her kitchen appliances. If she accomplished nothing else, she would at least have some free time to spend with Jeremy tomorrow.

When the kitchen was spotlessly clean, she attacked the laundry. While sorting the colored clothes, she came across the jeans Jeremy had worn that day. There was dog hair on the denim. She held the pants up to the light. How had Jeremy gotten dog hair on his jeans?

Chloe leaned wearily against the washer. Dumb question. He’d gone to Cinnamon Ridge without permission. She couldn’t believe it. She had expressly told him not to go back up there, and he’d promised that he wouldn’t.

Sighing, Chloe let the pants slip from her fingers. For just an instant, she felt angry with Tracy. She was paying the girl well to watch her son.

The thought no sooner entered Chloe’s mind than reason nudged it right back out again. Tracy was doing her job and doing it fine. She kept the house tidy. She played with Jeremy in the evenings and read to him. She was one of the best baby-sitters that Chloe had ever had. The problem lay not with Tracy but with Jeremy, who had chosen to take advantage of his new-found freedom.

Chloe had moved to this area so her son could have a wholesome, wonderful childhood, running and playing in safety in the pockets of forest that surrounded the old subdivision. Jeremy was on his honor to abide by Chloe’s rules, to report back to his sitter, and be where he said he would be. Tracy couldn’t be blamed because Jeremy had suddenly developed a devious streak.

Chloe knew she couldn’t ignore this. Tomorrow morning, she and Jeremy had to talk.

Chloe was pouring her second cup of coffee the next morning when Jeremy skipped into the kitchen.

“Hi, Mom!”

Chloe smiled. It did her heart good to see him acting like a normal little boy again. “What would you like for breakfast, big guy?”

“Happy-face pancakes!”

“Happy-face pancakes, coming up.” Chloe opened a cupboard to make sure she had enough raisins to create eyes and noses. “Berry syrup or maple?”

“Maple!”

“Do you want some bacon today?”

“Just pancakes.”

Chloe was surprised. “No bacon?” She checked him for fever. “You sick?”

He shook his head. “Bacon comes from pigs.”

She bit back a grin. “Well, yes. Where did you think it came from?”

“I knew it came from pigs. I just never thought about the pigs before.”

“Oh. And you’ve decided you don’t want to eat bacon because it comes from pigs?”

In the process of climbing the drawers to get a glass, Jeremy paused, looked over his shoulder, and said, “There’s other good stuff to eat.”

Chloe suspected there was more to the story, but she opted to let the subject drop. Her son had a shoestring tied around his head again this morning, and he was wearing his moccasin slippers instead of sneakers, reminders of her suspicion that Jeremy had sneaked up to the ridge yesterday.

While she mixed the pancake batter, Chloe tried to think of how to broach that subject with her son. After considering several different tacks, she decided on a
straightforward approach. “I noticed the strangest thing last night.”

He sloshed milk into a glass. Grabbing a towel to wipe up the spillage, he said, “What kinda strange thing?”

Chloe poured a measure of batter into the hot skillet, quickly formed a happy face with a handful of raisins, and then turned from the stove. “I found dog hair on your jeans.” She quickly realized that would allow him far too much wiggle room. “More specifically, on the jeans you wore yesterday.”

Jeremy wrinkled his nose and squinted. “I had Rowdy on my bed that first day, ’member? He must’ve got hair on my bedspread. It hasn’t never been washed since then, and I played on it last night before my bath.”

Chloe had to give him points for ingenuity. Did all moms feel this awful the first time they caught their children lying? “Jeremy, I want you to tell me the truth. Did you sneak up to Ben Longtree’s house yesterday?”

His expression went incredulous. “Why do you think that?”

He was a slippery little eel. Chloe folded her arms, looked him dead in the eye, and replied, “It wasn’t only Rowdy’s hair that I found on your britches, but Diablo’s, as well. Would you like me to get the jeans and show you?”

He hung his head. “No.”

“You did go up to the ridge yesterday, didn’t you?”

He nodded.

Chloe knew it was stupid to feel betrayed. All kids fibbed to their parents at one time or another. But she and Jeremy had a very special relationship—or so she’d always thought. Hands shaking, she turned to
flip his pancake and spent a moment pushing at the edges to make it perfectly round.

“I didn’t tell you a real lie, Mommy,” Jeremy tried.

Chloe turned his pancake onto a plate. “No, but you did dance around the question. That’s the same as lying.” Chloe recalled how she had danced around Bobby Lee’s questions. “Almost the same, anyway.”

“It is?”

She broke off from pouring more batter. “You know it is, Jeremy.”

He scrunched his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I know it was naughty. But I was afraid you’d be real, real mad if I told you.”

“You were right. I’m very upset with you.”

She turned off the burner so she could give the conversation her full attention. After sitting at the table, she patted her knee. “Come here, sweetie.”

He shuffled over. Chloe lifted him onto her lap. “I love you more than anyone else in the world. Do you know that?”

“Yup.”

“Because I love you so much, I make rules to keep you safe.”

“I know.” He pressed his face against her blouse. “I love you, too.”

“You have asthma, Jeremy. The road up to the ridge is steep and dusty. What if you’d had a breathing attack? Tracy had no idea where you were, and neither did I. Did Mr. Longtree even know you were coming?”

“No, I ’prised him.”

After seeing Ben interact with Jeremy, it was difficult for Chloe to believe that he might harm the child, but given town opinion and their short acquaintance, she couldn’t entirely rule out the possibility.
Nevertheless, it seemed wiser not to mention that and to focus on other issues.

“Do you remember the time I had to call the ambulance?”

Jeremy nodded. “I had to go to the hospital.”

“That’s right. And on the way, the man in the ambulance gave you a shot and oxygen.” Chloe didn’t want to terrify the child, but she did feel it was vital for him to understand the seriousness of his condition. “What if you’d had a bad breathing attack yesterday? There would have been no one to help you.”

Jeremy rubbed his eye with a fist. “I didn’t have a breathing ’tack, though.”

“You were lucky.”

He pouted his bottom lip. “Rowdy’s real sick, Mom. I gotta go see him every day—to pet him and tell him not to be scared. I’m his only person.”

Chloe hugged him close. “Oh, sweetie, I know you want to see your dog, but you mustn’t take off like that without telling me. It’s too risky.”

What was she going to do? If she refused to take Jeremy to see his dog, he might sneak off and go by himself again. Better that she take him. At least then she’d be there to run interference if Ben Longtree really was as crazy as everyone claimed. “If I promise to take you to see Rowdy as often as Mr. Longtree will allow, do you promise never to go up there alone again?”

“Do you think he’ll let us visit every day?”

“Maybe. I’ll have to ask him. I’ll call him shortly, but only after you and I have settled this to my satisfaction.”

“Am I in real big trouble?”

Chloe touched her nose to his hair, which smelled of shampoo and a wonderful essence exclusively his
own. “Let’s just say I can’t let this slide. Lying is a bad habit, and I need to think of a punishment that will make you think twice before you do it again. That being the case, I think your coloring me a picture would be effective.”

“What kind of picture?”

She thought for a moment. “Two pictures, actually—one of an ugly old lie, and one of the truth, which has to be really, really pretty. Can you do that?”

Jeremy nodded.

“While you’re coloring, I want you to think about how hurtful it is to lie to the people you love—and how happy the truth makes everyone feel.”

Ben Longtree answered on the fourth ring, his deep voice slightly edgy.

Chloe identified herself, and then said, “I’m sorry. Have I caught you at a busy moment?” She heard water running in the background. “I can call back later.”

“No, no. Around here, one moment’s as good as another.”

She wrapped the phone cord around her forefinger and watched the tip turn red. “I called to ask if you would mind having company for a little while today. I was hoping to bring Jeremy up to see his puppy.”

A clattering sound came over the wire. Chloe pictured him washing dishes. There was something irresistibly attractive about a man in the kitchen.

“No, I don’t mind at all.”

Despite the reassurance, she detected a note of reluctance in his voice. She thought about saying that they could do it another day, but then she caught a glimpse of Jeremy shoveling down pancakes at record speed, one of his cheeks bulging. The child would be
disappointed if he wasn’t able to see Rowdy today, and Chloe didn’t want him sneaking off again.

“I’m off today,” she said. “What time would be convenient for you?”

“I’ll be tied up the next couple of hours. Eleven will work.”

“You’re sure we won’t be interrupting?”

“Not at all,” he said. “I’ll be expecting you.”

Muttering under his breath, Ben plunged his hands back into the dishwater, chased around for the dishcloth, and then furiously scrubbed the nonstick pot he’d used for his mother’s oatmeal.
Damn it
. He didn’t want to see Chloe today—or any other day. Why the hell had he agreed to let her come?

He wasn’t a man who courted trouble; it came knocking on his door often enough. The last thing he needed was to get hung up on some woman. He’d been down that path before, and he wasn’t making the mistake again.

With a hard jerk, he pulled the sink plug, slapped it down on the counter, and turned on the water to rinse out the suds.
No way.
When a lady affected a man in this way, the smart thing was to avoid her. He should have known after Jeremy’s visit yesterday that Chloe would soon follow.

Ben was tempted to send the pup home with them. Even as the thought took root, he discarded it. The pup was weak. If Rowdy caught another virus, it’d be over.

Not even a miracle would save him.

B
en smiled as he crouched by his mother’s rocker. She didn’t glance up from her work, an afghan she was making for his niece Bonnie. He watched her nimble fingers for a moment, glad that she could still crochet. The hobby kept her occupied and out of his hair for hours on end.

The thought filled Ben with guilt. Hap had been a terrible father, but Nan had always tried to make up for it. He owed this lady, not just for her efforts to make his younger years tolerable, but also because she had accepted him just as he was. To Ben, that was a blessing for which he would always be grateful.

“Mom? I’ll be out for a bit. Is there anything I can get you before I leave?”

Scowling at the interruption, she straightened her shoulders. “I’ll be fine, sweetie. You run along and play. When you get back, we’ll make cookies.”

Ever fearful that she might start a fire in the kitchen, he said, “Making cookies will be fun. Just don’t turn on the oven before I get back. Okay?”

“Oh, no. That’s the fun of making cookies, doing it together.”

Confident that she would crochet until he returned,
Ben grabbed his pack and the watercooler, then began the hike up to the cave to care for his other patients. The appreciation that settled over him as he walked through his woods never failed to soothe him. The huge, cinnamon-colored trunks of the Ponderosas evoked a sense of serenity within him that he could find nowhere else. He loved the moldy scent of the forest floor. Though the wind whispered in the trees, and birds and squirrels chattered ceaselessly, he could still hear his feet crunch the pine needles that carpeted the earth. He flexed his shoulders, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight that penetrated his cotton shirt.

A rabbit bounded from behind a bush, stopped in his path, and then hopped slowly away, pausing to look back at him. Ben accepted the invitation to follow, and moments later, he found himself standing over a baby bunny with its hind foot caught in a coil of wire snagged on the roots of a tree.

“Hey, little fellow.” Ben set aside his gear and squatted over the helplessly trapped youngster. “Just be still. I’ll have you loose in two shakes.”

The baby rabbit went motionless the instant Ben touched it. Taking care not to pull the wire tighter, he struggled to extricate the little guy’s foot. He was relieved to see that no permanent damage had been done.

The wire untangled easily, and within moments, the baby hopped happily away with his mother. Ben gazed after the pair, feeling necessary in a way that he knew would elude him anywhere else. When he’d first returned to Cinnamon Ridge to care for his mom, he had felt trapped. Now he understood that the true prison had been the life he’d left behind.

You’ve closed the door to your soul,
his mother had accused last night, but that wasn’t entirely true. He
had opened it partway, he just hadn’t found the courage to open it all the way yet. And perhaps he never would.

After ducking between the strands of barbed wire that marked his property line, Ben began searching the earth for any sign of human footprints that weren’t his own. Since the snowmelt, someone had been invading these woods almost daily to wreak havoc on the animals. What kind of person could cause so much needless suffering and still manage to sleep at night?

The question was still troubling Ben when he approached the cave, situated in the rock face of a cliff, its entrance concealed with brush. Just outside, a doe stood vigil. She was slender and delicately formed, with an easy agility that he envied. He particularly admired the shape of her head and her expressive brown eyes. Many people thought all deer looked alike, but to Ben, they were as individual as humans. This pretty little lady was a sweetheart, and Ben had nicknamed her Sweet Cakes.

As he covered the remaining few feet to the enclosure, he called out softly to warn of his approach. Accustomed to his twice-daily visits, the doe merely wheeled away so he could toss aside the camouflage.

“How’s your baby this morning?”

The doe’s only response was to nuzzle his discarded pack in search of a treat. Ben opened a side pocket, gave her a slice of apple, and proceeded into the cave with her at his heels. Her fawn, caged just inside the entrance, bleated at the sight of her, hungry for her milk.

Setting aside his gear, Ben threw open the cage door. “With an appetite like that, Kiddo, I’d say you’re on the mend.”

Unlike the other animals, which had all been shot with a .22-caliber rifle, Kiddo had a compound
fracture of the right rear leg, compliments of a careless motorist. Late one night about three weeks ago, Ben had found the poor little tyke lying on Shoshone Road. He’d loaded the fawn into the back of his pickup and driven home at a crawl so the mother could follow. In another six weeks, he would remove the cast and release the fawn back into her care.

Hobbling awkwardly from the cage, Kiddo bleated again and rubbed noses with his mama. When the initial hellos had been said, he moved to her side, nuzzled her underbelly, and began to nurse. Smiling, Ben watched for a moment.

A dank, musty smell assailed his nostrils as he turned away to light the lantern. As the lamp’s golden glow illuminated the walls of the cave, he softly cursed Bobby Lee Schuck for making it necessary to hide his patients here. The accommodations were inadequate, with poor ventilation, moist air, and a rocky floor that made leveling the cages a pain in the ass. Ben did his best to keep the pens clean and the water fresh, but with so many critters in a confined space, housekeeping was an uphill battle. There was also the constant worry that one of the animals might have a setback, which was why he came twice a day to check on them.

Before starting to work, Ben visited the cages to give each occupant a little one-on-one. The badger loved to have his belly scratched. Carefully protecting his hurt shoulder, the animal rolled onto his back and gave Ben a beady-eyed, imperious look. While Ben rubbed the demanding fellow’s belly, he visually examined the wound. There was less seepage on the bandage this morning, a good sign. The antibiotics were clearing up the infection.

“You’re just a big old baby,” he accused as the badger arched his back for more scratching. “Like I have time to give you a belly rub?”

After petting the badger a few more seconds, Ben moved from cage to cage, speaking softly to the other animals and giving each some special attention. It wasn’t really necessary to their recovery, but it was Ben’s policy to make petting as important a part of the routine as medical treatment. He believed his patients recovered more quickly as a result.

He made no sudden movements as he crouched by the rabbit’s cage. She was a timid little thing even with Ben, yearning for attention but nervous when she received it. “You don’t trust easily, do you, Valentine?” The muscles along her spine twitched as he lightly stroked her fur. “That’s okay. Neither do I.” He drew a piece of carrot from his pocket, which he’d brought just for her. “It doesn’t mean we don’t need a little TLC now and again, does it?”

Her pink, heart-shaped nose twitched as she sniffed the offering. He’d sliced it thin because she preferred her carrots that way—little slivers that she could munch easily. While she enjoyed the morsel, he gently examined her left haunch, where she’d been shot two weeks before. The wound, which he no longer kept covered, was healing nicely. She’d be lame, but over time, she’d learn to compensate.

His heart squeezed as he moved across the cave to visit the raccoon and coyote. In the final stages of recovery from a bullet wound to the front shoulder, the smaller animal was doing well, but the canid lay listlessly in his pen.

“Hey, Sly.” Ben opened the coyote’s cage to examine the wound, located high on his back. The slug, lodged dangerously close to the spine, couldn’t be removed without risking permanent paralysis. Ben could only wait and hope that the damaged nerves healed themselves. For now, the coyote had only partial use
of one hind leg. “You’re not looking too chipper today, my friend.”

Waiting and doing nothing for the creature bothered Ben deeply. That’s what came of making exceptions, he supposed. Like an ex-smoker who’d sneaked a cigarette, now that he’d bent the rules for Rowdy, he found himself wanting to go the extra mile all the time.

He gently stroked the coyote’s shaggy fur, and the tension went out of its body. Ben sighed and ran his palm over the animal’s flank. “That’s the best I can do for you. I’m sorry.”

The coyote’s eyes had drifted shut. Ben made a mental note to administer an injection of morphine before he left. That would keep the animal comfortable until he returned tonight.

After feeding all his patients and changing their water, Ben made his rounds, checking wounds and temperatures, applying fresh bandages, and doling out medications. The fawn had finished his breakfast and was leaning happily against his mama by the time Ben finished. He hated to cut the cuddle session short, but his guests would be arriving soon. If he didn’t get back, his mother would have Chloe cleaning the oven.

Ben had just started to fix his mother’s lunch when he heard a car pull up out front. That was undoubtedly Chloe, arriving on the dot. Why that annoyed him, he didn’t know. He hated to be kept waiting. Maybe that was what rankled, he decided as he walked to the entry hall with Diablo trailing behind him. He wanted her to do something to make him dislike her, and she wasn’t cooperating.

Most of the time when he got to know a woman, he grew critical. He didn’t like the way she simpered,
or he discovered that she was a rotten mother, or the way she laughed began to needle him, or her conversation bored him. The list was endless, and it was a rare female who didn’t fall short in some way.

So why hadn’t Chloe? So far, she was too damned perfect to be real.

Standing back from the tall, narrow window that flanked the front door, Ben angled his head to peer out. Ms. Perfect was rounding the front bumper of her car, one hand held out to her son. Even with the door closed, Ben could hear the cheerful lilt of her voice and felt warmed.

And a little empty, he decided as he watched her and Jeremy together. The love between them was almost tangible—a relaxed, offhand affection that made both of them smile at each other. How might his life have turned out if Sherry had been that kind of woman—tenderhearted and loyal, with a loving nature?

Ben shoved the thought away. He couldn’t let himself move in that direction. Didn’t dare. Developing a fondness for Chloe Evans would be emotional suicide. He’d
never
open himself up to that kind of hurt again.

The doorbell chimed, and Ben jumped a foot. Muttering curses at himself for acting like such an idiot, he reached to open the door, then stopped himself because he didn’t want to seem eager. And if that wasn’t stupid, he didn’t know what was. What did he care if she thought he was eager? He wasn’t. That was the bottom line, and what she thought didn’t matter.

Right,
a little voice whispered mockingly at the back of his mind.
You care what she thinks. That’s what’s eating you
.

Ben braced himself as he drew the door open. What he needed was a one-night fling to get his libido under control. He’d been too long without a woman; that
was all. Any female would look good to him right now.

And, damn it, she does look good.

Holding her son’s hand, she stood in a pool of bright sunlight, wearing faded jeans and a baggy Seahawks T-shirt. Her auburn hair had been slicked back from her face into a French braid, but tendrils had whipped free in the breeze to saucily frame her face. As near as he could tell, she wore no makeup, but the naturally dark gloss of her lashes lent her eyes definition, and the rosy flush on her cheeks was all the color she needed.

“Hi,” she said.

Her smile was sweet, and her gaze, though still wary, was more direct today. Dressed as she was, she obviously wasn’t out to impress him, so why was his hand sweating on the doorknob? “Hi.”

Jeremy tugged free from her grasp and dashed past Ben into the house. “Jeremy!” she cried. When the child kept going, she shrugged. “I’m sorry. He’s six. What more can I say?” Diablo turned to follow the child. Flicking a look at Ben, she asked, “Is your dog okay with him barging in like this?”

“They’ve met a couple of times. I’m sure it’s fine.” Ben moved back to let her in. “He’s generally cantankerous only with adults.”

Observing her as she stepped through the doorway, Ben wondered how she managed to look so good without trying. The T-shirt clung softly to her shape, outlining a small bust and a trim waist that flared temptingly to nicely rounded hips. From the hem of the shirt down, the faded jeans took over, showcasing slender legs with just enough plumpness at the thigh to draw a man’s eye.

For a slightly built woman, she packed a hell of a wallop.

Neck craned to gaze after her child, she said, “He really shouldn’t rush in like that. I thought I taught him better manners.”

Ben’s gaze was fixed on the V of her collarbone, exposed by the stretched-out neckline of the T-shirt. Her skin there was creamy and looked as soft as a baby’s. There was a freckle just above the ribbed cotton, and seeing it, he yearned to see if she had more under the shirt. He shoved his hands in his pockets. The thought of trailing kisses from freckle to freckle made him miss what she’d said.

She glanced up. “He’s acting like he owns the place.”

“He came up yesterday to see the pup. He knows he’s welcome.”