Second Chances (Nugget Romance 3) (19 page)

He checked out his hair in the mirror. “Looks good, Darla. Thanks.”

“Feel free to spread the word,” she told him.

“Business still slow?”

“A little,” she said.

“This is a town that’s slow to embrace change,” Nate said. “We had a big fight on our hands when it came to the inn. Nugget didn’t want it and the Addisons were dead set on seeing us run out of town. But everything turned out fine.” He smiled, showing off a mouth of straight, gleaming white teeth. “Hang in there, Darla.”

Nate paid his bill and walked across the square back to the Lumber Baron.

“Were the Addisons the ones giving us the evil eye at the bowling alley New Year’s Eve?” Harlee asked.

“Yep. They’re the ones who own the Beary Quaint.”

It was a funny little town, Harlee thought. Despite everyone being up in everyone else’s business, there was comfort in knowing your neighbors. She’d lived on top of people in San Francisco, could hear them showering and flushing their toilets through the thin walls, yet she couldn’t pick out most of them in a photo lineup. Here, people took the time to get to know one another. Nugget might be isolated, but with its sense of community it wasn’t lonely. Perhaps that’s why Sam had decided to stay. Maybe she needed people who were different from the ones she’d run from.

Harlee thought that in a weird way Nugget had healing powers. Look at her. She’d come depressed and defeated, but the town wouldn’t allow her to wallow. The beauty and strength of the mountains and trees, the power of the clean, fresh air, and her newfound clique of creative friends had lifted her up. When she finally moved on, found another newspaper job, this place would leave an indelible mark.

“Yoga starts up again next week,” Darla said. Pam had given them a hiatus for the holidays. “I don’t know about you, but I could use the exercise.”

“Me too.”

“There she is again,” Darla said as she gazed out the window onto the square.

“Who?”

“Wyatt’s blonde. See him walking with her?”

Harlee joined Darla at the window and watched them stroll together in the direction of the Ponderosa. They didn’t touch but walked close to each other, their heads bowed in conversation. When they got to a Volvo station wagon, the woman searched her purse for a set of keys. Wyatt braced his hand against the car door and kissed her on the cheek, then the woman slid behind the wheel and drove away.

“What do you think that’s about?” Darla asked.

“I don’t know.” But Harlee definitely thought they had the familiarity of a couple.

 

Colin bolted the last glider bracket to the bench leg, turned it right-side up and sat in it, testing the rocking motion with his foot, making it go back and forth and back and forth. Not bad for a Sunday afternoon. He’d finished the glider as well as a nice-looking nightstand, trying to bulk up his inventory, which had been reduced to a few odds and ends. With the amount of finish work that still needed to be done on Sophie and Mariah’s house and the demolition on the McCreedy kitchen starting the following weekend, he wouldn’t have a lot of time to build furniture.

Still, he was grateful to have as much construction work as he did, especially in the dead of winter. Colin looked at his watch, knowing full well that he’d buried himself in his shop partly to avoid Harlee. After he left her last night, he should’ve at least called. He’d basically screwed her brains out and gone running for the hills. Not because he’d wanted to ditch her, but because the fear of losing her had been as intense as the sex.

He needed to make good on taking off the way he had, and prayed she was still talking to him. First, he wanted to shower off the sawdust and wood oil before putting on fresh jeans and a sweatshirt.

Ready, he loaded Max into his truck and drove down the hill. Harlee’s Pathfinder wasn’t parked in the driveway. Colin assumed that she’d gone into town to hang out with Darla and decided to wait for her on the porch. It was one of those clear Sierra days, where if you could find a spot in the sun, the cold wasn’t too bad.

He must’ve dozed off in the redwood chair, because he jerked awake at the sound of gravel crunching. Max stood up, stretched his legs until they shook, and barked his head off. Harlee got out of her truck, using the running board to get down in her high-heeled boots. Why she wore those in Nugget, Colin couldn’t imagine, but they were sexy as hell. Her face held no expression. She didn’t look happy to see him, but she didn’t look angry either. Colin thought it best to presume the worst and tried to appear as repentant as possible. Although he didn’t exactly know what that was supposed to look like. Maybe he should’ve brought flowers.

“Hey,” he called down to her.

“Hey,” she called back.

“Your hair looks great.” It always looked great to him, but it was a bit shorter, like she’d gotten it trimmed, and had big, bouncy curls.

“Thanks. Darla.”

He didn’t need a lot of experience with women to know that the terse one-word responses were not a good sign. “How’s her business doing?”

She made a so-so sign with her hand. “You need something? Like maybe some sex to go?”

Ah, hell, here it comes. “Don’t be mad, Harlee. I told you I needed a little time to think.”

“How’s that working for you?” She scratched Max’s head, brushed by him, and went inside the cabin.

“Apparently not too well.” He followed her and watched as she took off her jacket and hung it on a hook in the hallway.

She had on a clingy top with a lacy thing layered underneath and a pair of snug, low-riding corduroys tucked into her boots. It was probably the wrong thing to do under the circumstance, but she looked so goddamn hot that he couldn’t help himself. He hooked his hands around her waist and pulled her into him. The contact made him grow hard and her eyes went wide as she felt his erection pressed against her belly.

“Hey, buddy, this ain’t In-N-Out Burger.”

He nuzzled her neck—she smelled like that fantastic perfume she sometimes wore—and whispered into her ear. “Please. I won’t leave this time.”

“I don’t know,” she said against his lips. “I felt pretty ill-used, Colin.”

He pulled apart from her. “I feel bad about that, Harlee. I never want you to feel ill-used. Never.”

She kissed him, snaking her tongue into his mouth, making him groan with pleasure. Colin inched his fingers under her top, feeling the soft filigree of her undershirt.

“What is this thing?” The woman had a fondness for lingerie. Usually he only liked lacy bras and underwear when they lay in a heap on the floor, but on Harlee it reminded him of unwrapping a most excellent present. Something worth waiting for.

“Just a shell.”

“Can I see it?”

She pulled the shirt over her head and stood there for his perusal in a skintight red lace long-sleeved top and matching bra. For a minute he didn’t think he could breathe. Then he kissed her through the sheer fabric. On her belly, her breasts, her collarbone, anywhere he could feel warm skin inside the lacy pattern. Her fingers nimbly unbuttoned his denim shirt, pushed it off him, and tugged the thermal undershirt over his head. Then she wrestled with the buckle on his belt.

“We doing this here?” he asked. They were still in the hallway, just inches away from the front door.

“I want to. Do you?”

“I’m definitely game.” Because he couldn’t wait any longer, he pushed her hands away and finished with the belt and got his jeans around his ankles. She immediately took him in her soft hands.

“Slow down, Harlee.”

He fought with the buttons on her pants, shimmied them down as far as the top of her boots, and slid his hand under her panties, working her with his fingers until she whimpered over and over again. Going down on his knees, he pulled the panties down, spread her thighs apart, and laved her with his tongue and mouth.

“Oh God,” she moaned, and he felt her legs buckle.

“I’ve got you.” He gripped her around the waist and Harlee clung to his shoulders until she cried out as her body shuddered.

He watched her rest the back of her head against the wall, her blue eyes hooded, as she tried to gain control. Prying off his boots, he kicked his jeans off, pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and rose to his feet, pulling her against him. She wrapped her legs around him and he carried her into the bedroom, across the gleaming wood floor to the sleigh bed where they’d first made love.

Without ceremony, he got rid of her boots, pants, and the underwear that matched her lacy top. She sat up, propped on her elbows, watching him undress her.

“What about my shirt and bra?”

“The bra comes off. The lace thing stays on.”

“Okay.” She stripped off the top, removed her bra and wriggled the shirt back on. It was completely see-through.

“Yeah, that’s good.” He kissed her, his hands racing over her, touching and molding, as she arched under him, offering and taking as much as she could.

The room dimmed in the fading sunlight, leaving shadows on the walls. They rolled together on the bed, fondling and groping. Kissing and licking. She got him onto his back and straddled him, her dark hair cascading over each side of his face. He flipped her under him, somehow managing to roll the condom on, and dove into her.

Joined, they rode the wave, higher and higher until they reached the crest and came tumbling down. Afterward, they lay in a heap of tangled limbs and wrinkled sheets. Colin got up to get rid of the rubber and she frowned.

“Leaving so soon?” She tried to sound light, but it was clear that she anticipated his pulling another disappearing act.

“Just going to the bathroom,” he said, returning a few minutes later to join her under the covers. “I turned the heat on.”

She let out a low laugh. “I thought it was already on.”

“Yeah?” He kissed the back of her neck and wrapped himself around her. “What did you do today besides get your hair done?”

“Went over to the Gas and Go to say hello to Griffin. He told me that Samantha wants to rent one of the Sierra Heights homes.”

“Who’s Samantha?”

Harlee rolled over so she faced Colin. “You were in LA when she got here. She’s sort of this tragic woman who ran away from home. She was supposed to get married on Christmas Day. But instead skipped the wedding, got in her car, and drove west from New York City.”

“Oh yeah?” Colin ran his finger down the length of her nose. He’d never noticed the smattering of tiny freckles sprinkled across the bridge. “So how did you meet her?”

“She came into Darla’s to get her hair fixed. She’d taken a scissor to it herself and did a real number. At the time she didn’t mention anything about ditching her fiancé at the altar. But I read the newspaper clips online.”

“You? Never.” He chuckled. Colin didn’t much care about this Samantha woman’s personal life. People were entitled to their privacy and as far as he was concerned it was no one’s business that she ran out on her wedding. Maybe she even had a good reason for doing so.

But he did enjoy the way Harlee told a story. She liked punctuating her anecdotes with colorful details and interesting bits of information. He imagined it was the same way she wrote her articles for the newspaper.

“So she’s decided to settle here?”

Harlee nodded. “Maddy gave her a job working at the Lumber Baron and Nate is being incredibly pissy about it.”

“Why’s that?”

“He thinks she’s a flake,” Harlee said. “And he says she has no hotel experience. But there has to be more to it than that, because the woman really pushes his buttons. He just went on and on about how much she annoyed him and how he didn’t want her for a neighbor at Sierra Heights.”

“The hotel has innkeeper’s quarters,” Colin said. He knew because he’d built them for Maddy, who had wound up marrying and moving in with Rhys. “Why doesn’t she just live there?”

Harlee shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s really rich, so she’s probably used to living in high style. Maybe I should run a background check on her just in case she’s a klepto deb with a record.”

“Deb?”

“You know, a debutante,” Harlee explained. “It would probably make Nate feel better about her working there if I checked her out first.”

Colin stiffened. “Leave it alone, Harlee. Don’t go sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

“What are you talking about? That’s the work I do.”

“Did Nate or Maddy hire you to check her out?” Colin didn’t wait for an answer. “Of course not. Why would they when Maddy is married to the police chief?”

“I suppose,” she said with reluctance. “But the woman is such a mystery.”

“Not all mysteries have to be solved,” he said brusquely, and kissed her, hoping it would put an end to any more conversation about background checks.

“I guess,” she said. “You hungry?”

“I need to swing by Sophie and Mariah’s to drop off a gift for the baby.” Colin figured there wouldn’t be a lot of visitors over at their place on a Sunday evening. If there were, he’d just leave the present at the door. “You want to come with me? We can get takeout at the Bun Boy afterward and bring it back home.”

“I’d love to see the baby, but I don’t have a gift,” she said.

“I’ll make mine from both of us.” After the words left his mouth, Colin realized how very much it made them sound like a couple, which hadn’t been his intention.

For both their sakes it would be best to keep whatever they had together as light as possible.

O
n the second weekend in January, Colin started work on Emily and Clay’s kitchen. Harlee had been champing at the bit to get a peek at McCreedy Ranch. According to Della James’s cookbook, the cattle ranch had been in Clay’s family since the gold rush and boasted thousands of acres of gorgeous land, a spectacular farmhouse, and a barn full of pretty horses. Harlee wanted to see it up close and personal.

So she packed a lunch for Colin and headed out to McCreedy Road. It wasn’t exactly a ruse, since Colin needed to eat. But she figured he’d probably bristle at her tactics, knowing full well that her wicker picnic basket was partly an excuse for a tour.

Tough. Unless she got invited to Clay and Emily’s wedding—and why would she? Other than sharing a yoga class with Emily, she barely knew the couple—this might be her only chance to see the place. She’d heard that even when the town had been besieged by reporters last year to cover the serial killer who’d falsely confessed to the kidnapping of Emily’s missing daughter, no one had been allowed to step foot on the property.

The long driveway up to the McCreedy house did not disappoint. Harlee noted that unlike Grizzly Peak, mountainous and thick with pine trees, the terrain here was more rolling pastures, green with frothy patches of white. In the distance she saw three boys riding on horseback and assumed that at least two of them were Clay’s sons. As she drove up the grade, the house came into view. It was white, with a wide porch larger than most San Franciscans’ backyards.

A few dogs, including Max, greeted her as she pulled in behind Colin’s truck. She tried to get out of the driver’s seat, but the McCreedy dogs stood at her door, barking. They looked a little bloodthirsty to Harlee. Clay called them away and she was able to hop out, collecting her basket from the backseat.

“Hi.” She waved. Every time she’d seen the man he’d been sitting down. Standing, with his hat on, Clay was as tall, maybe even taller, than Colin. And handsome. “I’m Harlee. I don’t think we’ve officially met.”

“Clay.” He extended his hand and flashed a set of pearly whites. “You come to hang out with Colin?”

“Bring him lunch.” She held up the basket.

He eyed it for a second, started to say something, but stopped himself. “Come on in.”

He led her up the porch steps, where she immediately recognized a couple of Colin’s rockers, and smiled. They walked through a wide foyer with walls covered in family portraits, past an enormous living room with incredible views of the snow-capped mountains, and an expansive dining room with a giant stone fireplace, into a kitchen that looked like a bomb had gone off. Today was demo day, she remembered.

At a table pushed up against the wall sat Colin and Emily, eating what looked like short ribs and mashed potatoes. Colin looked surprised to see her.

“Hi,” he said, and started to stand up.

“I brought you lunch.” Harlee motioned for him to sit back down and looked at his heaping plate of food. “But that looks better than what I brought.”

“Emily cooked,” Colin said, and Harlee looked around the room at the gaping holes where she suspected appliances used to be.

Clearly anticipating the question on the tip of Harlee’s tongue, Emily said, “I made lunch in the barn.” She pulled a plate from a stack at the end of the table and made an extra place-setting. “Come join us. Clay, you too, honey.”

“You have a kitchen in your barn?” Harlee asked as she found a tidy spot to put down the basket and took the chair next to Clay’s.

“It’s a barn that Clay’s late wife converted into a beautiful apartment. I used to live in it, but now use it as an office and test kitchen.”

“Well, that should certainly come in handy during the remodel,” Harlee said, taking another look around the room.

The cabinets were still intact, but the dated tile countertops had been partially ripped out, floral-themed wallpaper peeled from the walls, and huge chunks of linoleum pulled up from the floor.

Clay served her enough short ribs and potatoes for a small army, then served himself twice as much. “Dig in. It’s good stuff.” He pushed a big wooden bowl of salad her way and handed her a small plate.

“That was so nice of you to bring Colin lunch,” Emily said, and met Clay’s eyes across the table, conveying a silent message.

Harlee knew what the message was.
Told you they were an item.
No secrets in Nugget.

Colin, on the other hand, was conveying an altogether different message with his eyes.
You’re not fooling me for one second, Miss Nosy.

“So I hear you’re some kind of an investigator,” Clay said.

“Actually I’m a journalist. But I’m taking a break to get my start-up off the ground before I go back to newspapers.”

“That’s this DataDate online deal you’ve got going?” Clay asked, and Harlee nodded. “Sounds interesting. You want a good start-up, you ought to buy the
Nugget Tribune
.”

“I didn’t realize it was for sale.” And it wasn’t exactly a start-up. The banner on the paper said it had been around since 1848. Harlee had bought a subscription when she first moved to Nugget to keep abreast of area news.

Unfortunately, the little rag was more of a shopper than a newspaper. Bake sale notices, a pet of the week column, and a small police blotter passed as journalism. The only section Harlee even looked at was the op-ed page. People in Nugget had a lot of opinions and a lot of free time to rant about them. Some of the pieces cracked her up, like the latest controversy over whether Griffin should keep the Gas and Go open twenty-four seven. One faction argued that big rigs would use the town as a detour to and from the interstate at all hours of the night, making noise and wreaking havoc on air quality. While others countered that it would be nice to have the extra business, not to mention the convenience of an all-night gas station.

“Yup,” Clay said. “Lila Stone bought it twenty years ago when she moved here from Marin County. Back then it was a nice little paper. High school sports scores, little features about the shop owners, a fish report, and even a ranching column. But she’s older now and I suspect tired of writing all the articles and selling all the ads. I’m guessing it’s probably not as profitable as it used to be.”

No newspaper was anymore, Harlee thought sadly. And as far as the
Nugget Tribune
, you could get more hard-hitting news off of Twitter and Facebook.

“I think the Addisons put in an offer,” Clay continued, and shook his head.

“Those people who own the Beary Quaint? What, you don’t like them?”

“They’re petty and vindictive. I’d hate to see them use the paper to even up scores. I thought about buying it and hiring someone else to run it. But I don’t know if I could trust myself not to use the paper to push my own agenda. It’s heady stuff owning a media outlet. You have a duty to be balanced and objective, otherwise you’re just a propaganda machine, giving people skewed facts to make them buy into your own beliefs.”

Harlee was impressed. Clay McCreedy was a smart and honorable man.

“It’s too small-town for Harlee,” Colin piped in. “She needs a big-city newspaper.”

Harlee was taken aback by his adamancy. She had no intention of buying, or for that matter working, at the crappy little
Nugget Tribune
, but it was as if Colin wanted to make it crystal clear that this thing they had together was only temporary, which of course it was. It shouldn’t have hurt her feelings, because it was absolutely true. Harlee wasn’t ready to give up working at a metropolitan paper. It was who and what she was.

But it had.

She turned to Emily. “This was delicious.”

“It’s the McCreedy beef,” Emily said, and looked at Clay with such love in her eyes that Harlee could feel the staggering weight of it from across the table.

“I need to get back to work,” Colin said. He stood up and started to clear the dishes. “Uh, no sink.”

Emily laughed. “I’ll take everything over to the barn.”

“I’ll help,” Harlee said, wanting to see more of the place.

“Great.” Emily found a box and loaded up the dirty plates. “I’ll give you the nickel tour on the way over.”

Emily led Harlee down a flagstone trail, casually indicating points of interest. Things like: Down there are the stables. Over that mountain is a gorgeous little lake where Clay takes the boys canoeing. Here is the Hot Spot, the beach where we spend our summers, lounging next to the Feather River.

Nowhere in Emily’s voice did Harlee detect boastfulness. The woman wasn’t trying to show off. Everything was said with a degree of pride, like this is my husband-to-be’s history, look how well he and his family have preserved it. From what Harlee had heard, the Mc-Creedys were generous benefactors who often hosted fund-raisers and gatherings at the ranch.

When they came upon the so-called barn, Harlee let out a sigh. The picture in Della’s book didn’t do it justice. It was red with white trim, had a Dutch front door, dormer windows, old-timey lantern light fixtures, and a rooster weather vane. It was singularly the most charming building Harlee had ever seen.

“Wow, Emily.”

“Isn’t it, though? Wait until you see the inside.”

She opened the door and Harlee caught her breath. The place was all open beams, wide-plank floors and spectacular picture-window views of the river and mountains.

“This is spectacular.” Harlee gaped.

“Jennifer had good taste. That was Clay’s late wife.”

Harlee figured there was a story there, but didn’t know Emily well enough to ask. Although it took great restraint.

“So you and Colin are seeing each other, huh?” No such restraint from Emily. But to be fair, Harlee had brought him lunch. That was a pretty girlfriend-like thing to do.

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s pretty casual, but . . . well, you know.”

Emily smiled and carted the box into the kitchen. “Yes, I definitely know. Although I have to say I wouldn’t have put you two together.”

“No? Why’s that?”

“You’re so outgoing and Colin is . . . uh . . . reserved. But you know what they say, opposites attract.”

Harlee nodded in agreement, but she didn’t really think she and Colin were so very different. He wasn’t all that reserved around her. Especially in bed. But she supposed people saw Colin as eccentric. She thought part of that was his demophobia. He hid it well and as a result people just assumed he was antisocial. But she’d seen him one-on-one with Darla, Griffin, Maddy, Sophie, and Mariah, and his interactions with them were quite natural. Charming, really. He was a great listener and very caring. And humble, although an incredibly gifted carpenter with a real knack for business. He’d given her good money advice, yet didn’t seem to judge the fact that she was a financial train wreck.

At least she was working on that. Since moving to Nugget, she hadn’t gone on any huge shopping sprees, mostly cooked at home, and other than a few bowling expeditions, spent very little money on entertainment. If she kept it up, Harlee might be caught up in, oh, say, twenty years. How depressing.

“So you and Clay are tying the knot in June, huh?”

“We are.” Emily beamed so bright the barn practically lit up. “You and Colin absolutely have to come.”

“We’d love to.” At least Harlee would—if she was still here. “You’re holding the ceremony and reception on the ranch?” Harlee remembered Emily talking about the wedding at yoga. Something about using big white tents.

“On the front lawn.”

“That’ll be beautiful,” Harlee said. The property, at least the small part she’d seen, was breathtaking. “You’re not doing the food yourself, are you?”

“No,” Emily said. “I’m still working on that, but we’d like to keep it simple. Maybe a big tri-tip grill with all the fixings.”

“That sounds perfect.” Very California. Very country. And Harlee presumed they’d use McCreedy beef. Nice! She almost hoped she’d still be here for the big event. If Colin wouldn’t come with her, she’d take Darla as her date.

“I hear your mom has been selling quite a bit of Colin’s furniture.” Emily started rinsing their lunch plates in the big farm sink and loading them into the dishwasher.

“Her customers love his stuff,” Harlee said with pride. “Unfortunately, she can only stock so much, because her shop is pretty small. She mostly sells housewares, linens, soaps, and tchotchkes. But over the holidays she managed to cram one of Colin’s four-poster beds in the store and it went in a matter of days.”

“That’s great.” Emily closed the dishwasher and turned it on. “His work is amazing and I like that it’s getting out there.”

Harlee knew that he could stock his pieces in a lot more stores if he participated in the big furniture convention shows. That’s where retailers went to find new lines. Harlee had been to one once at the Moscone Center with her mother. It had been jam-packed with every kind of accessory and furniture imaginable—modern, contemporary, traditional, vintage, antique reproductions, even repurposed garbage. She and her mother had spent eight hours taking in the showrooms and hadn’t even seen half of them. But the swarms of people would send Colin over the edge.

“I hope he doesn’t mind,” Emily said, “but I told that new woman, Samantha, about his furniture. She’s moving into one of the Sierra Heights homes for the winter and needs to set up house.”

“Griffin told me that she was thinking of renting one of the homes. Why doesn’t she just live in the innkeeper’s quarters at the Lumber Baron, since she’ll be working there?”

Emily lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know that Maddy offered it. I think no one is really sure that Sam is all that serious about staying here. She seems a little flighty. But she did pay Griff first and last months’ rent and a substantial deposit, so we’ll see. In the meantime, Colin shouldn’t be surprised if she calls him.”

“That was nice of you to pass his name along. I know he’ll appreciate it.”