Be Mine (6 page)

She recalled his lighthearted teasing last evening — and the matter-of-fact way he’d approached kissing her this morning. A kiss which had been rather more than matter-of-fact.

“How did you break your nose?” she asked, desperate to break the silence.

The Jeep swung around a corner and settled back into its normal stiff ride. He swiveled, treating her to a wicked grin. “Nothing very romantic. I walked into the edge of the dining room table when I was five. My mother said it would be a permanent reminder to me to watch where I was going.” He laughed ruefully.

“Sounds as if you didn’t get much sympathy.”

“She was hugging me when she said it.” They bumped along a narrow mining road which branched off the highway. The clear air was almost addictive.

Sabina unbuttoned the top button of her coat, then stuffed her woolen gloves into her pocket. She wanted to get out of the Jeep and revel in the scented breeze. As if in response to her unspoken wish, they plunged to a stop.

“This is a good place to start,” Chad threw over his shoulder as he climbed out.

Sabina joined him. Acres of land spread before her, the earth slick and damp beneath a sparse cover of dead grasses. The landscape was a blur of subtle contours sloping to the left toward a meandering creek.

“Was that the stream you diverted?” She visualized the paperwork; the diversion had been creative, avoiding disturbance of the water table during the operation.

His expression patient and solemn, Chad responded, “Yes, ma’am. And now the creek’s back where it was before we began.”

Sabina swallowed the temptation to stick out her tongue at him. “What kinds of trees are those?” She pointed right, where a slope of seedlings climbed toward a heavily wooded area.

“Pine, oak, walnut, maple, ash, spruce, locust, lots of dogwood . . . I’m partial to dogwood in the spring . . . plus anything else that will grow here.” Enthusiasm lit his voice. “Follow me to the creek so you can see how it’s coming along.”

Wordlessly, Sabina followed his effortless stride across the field. He seemed to know instinctively where the footing was solid; only once did mud suck at her boot. Sock ranged far to their left, spraying muddy water as he threw himself through flat, shallow puddles of melting snow.

The swollen creek flowed briskly between its banks. She knew that when the earth bloomed the site would be beautiful.

It was difficult to superimpose this over the horrors she’d seen elsewhere. Chad seemed a part of the scene in front of her. His fluid grace drew her like a Pied Piper. She’d been so entranced by his movements and the way the sun burrowed into his tawny hair that she’d nearly forgotten why they were there.

“When Zack and I were kids we always went to the woods in the early spring. When we returned home soaking wet, Zack would say I’d fallen in and he’d leaped in to save me. He was five years older than I.” Chad’s voice broke, then steadied. “I think I was twenty before my mother admitted she’d used the same lie when she was a kid. Some things never change.”

With a gesture toward raw sections of the creek bed, she answered sadly, “This has.”

“Give it a few more years. You’ll never know anything disturbed it.” Chad’s words were clipped; his gaze challenged her. “If you don’t believe me, come back to see.”

Her narrowed eyes questioned his claim; her voice was as firm as her look. “I just might do that.”

“I like you, Sabina Hanlon. I really do. You’d spit in my eye if you thought I deserved it.” He planted a smacking kiss on her forehead, whirled, and led the way back toward the Jeep.

She stomped behind him, his impulsive words lingering in her ears. The clean smell of thawing earth, the plaintive calls of mourning doves, the gusting wind — all went unnoticed. Sabina was mad.

As they reached the jeep, she grabbed his arm. He offered no resistance. “Do you kiss all the deputy inspectors who come your way?”

* * * *

Chad was exhilarated. The sights, sounds and smells of spring affected him like wine. Was it because she said she might return? Ridiculous. If he wanted her back, she’d come. Or would she? He’d realized from the start that Sabina Hanlon wouldn’t leap at anyone’s bidding — unless she wanted to. The thought pleased him more than it frustrated him. “I never saw one as pretty as you before.” He looked down at her hand clutching his upper arm and asked lightly, “Are you going to flip me over your shoulder now?”

“Do you think I can’t?”

 He looked deeply into her eyes. They were wide and dark, and her breathing was shallow. It was gratifying to discover that this unorthodox conversation effected her as much as it did him. “I warn you, I’ve kept some rough company. It would go against the grain to use some of my tricks on a woman.”

“I knew you were a wimp. With surprise on my side, I bet I could take you down,” she challenged.

“You want to make book?”

“You mean like the betting at the mine site?”

He reached out to tousle her hair as he’d been wanting to all morning. The soft, belled cut fell back automatically into its tidy curve. “Who taught you to defend yourself?”

“One of my college instructors. He said I might come across a smart-mouthed miner and need to put him in his place. He didn’t mention bankers.”

“He should have. Are you hungry?”

“I’m starved.” Sabina answered honestly, hoping her dizziness was simple hunger.

“We can kill two birds with one stone.” He latched the door behind her, then swung into the driver’s seat. “We’ll eat in an area that was mined eleven years ago.” He lifted two fingers to his lips and whistled. Moments later Sock appeared, mud caking his sleek body. Chad fished a tattered bath towel from the back of the jeep to remove the worst before allowing the dog to clamber behind the seat, then started the Jeep.

Sabina was lost. The winding trails they followed couldn’t be on any map, and she jounced from left to right, struggling to keep hold of the bulky photo albums. “Where are we going?” she shouted above the motor’s roar as they swept up a rutted track that looked as if it had been abandoned sometime during Teddy Roosevelt’s administration.

“You’ll see,” he replied, concentrating on controlling the Jeep. “This is a shortcut. Only the natives know it.”

They topped a small rise, the woods still thick around them. The muddy vehicle took one last headlong swoop and came to a stop. The track ended abruptly behind an A-frame nestled on a plateau. The mature trees which had surrounded them had vanished, giving way to growth perhaps half as high as the earlier forest. The building merged into the landscape.

“Where are we?”

“At my house.” Pride of possession radiated in his voice.

“I thought we were coming to see another reclaimed site.”

“You’re standing on one. Zack mined and reclaimed this whole section.” The beauty of the countryside around him stood for an accomplishment — something tangible by which to remember his cousin. “After the accident I bought fifty acres to keep as a memory. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Through the half-grown trees, Sabina saw fast-moving water. Sunlight danced across its surface. “I suppose that creek was also put back in its original course?” She couldn’t help injecting skepticism, even though she was sure of the answer.

 “Of course. These streams all drain toward the Muskingum River, so we take good care of them. Can you imagine what the Y-Bridge in Zanesville would look like without any water beneath it? The tourists wouldn’t come and take pictures.”

“Everyone talks about that bridge as if it were one of the seven wonders, but I haven’t figured out the necessity.” This was a Chad she hadn’t yet seen. Instead of treating her as a nosy intruder in the closeknit fraternity of the area, he was sharing his affection for the land and its history.

“A tributary comes in at the natural crossing, and the original bridge connected three different settlements. Now they’re one town. Pilots flying cross country in the early days used the Y-bridge to get their bearings. The old National Road went due west from the bridge, and the planes followed it.”

All of a sudden Chad realized he sounded like an agent for the local tourist bureau, but he shrugged and went on. “I have an article about it inside. I’ll make you a copy.”

Sabina watched the fast-moving creek, visualizing the flowing water joining other tributaries and flowing under the legendary bridge. “Where does the Muskingum go?”

“To the Ohio, then into the Mississippi and on to the Gulf of Mexico. When I was a kid, I resented the water I was watching doing all that traveling without me. Zack and I thought we pretty much owned all the creeks around here.”

“I’ll bet the two of you thought you owned just about everything in sight,” Sabina teased.

Chad grinned sheepishly. “Aunt Clara said we were `big feelin’
,
’ but she never had any trouble jerking us into line.”

An ominous rumble from her midsection reminded Sabina of her hunger. She shifted the albums to one arm and stepped out of the Jeep. “We better find lunch before I get cranky.” As she spoke, the impact of where they were hit her. She stopped in mid-movement.

His clear, flexible voice, capable of so many different levels of warmth, came from disturbingly close.

“`Come into my parlor’, said the villain.”

She jumped, clutching the books in front of her as if for protection. “Why did you sneak up on me?”

“I’m testing your defenses. Here, give me those. This path gets slippery.” He led the way sure-footedly. “We’ll make subs, and you can look at the albums while you eat.”

Sabina breathed an inward sigh of relief. The menu hardly sounded like an invitation to seduction. Perhaps the only real danger from Chad Peters existed in her own fevered imagination.

“No, Sock. You can’t come in till you’ve had a bath.” Chad held the door for her as the dog disappeared around the corner of the house. “The garage and my recreation room are down here. Give me your coat.”

Sunlight and the sheen of highly polished natural woods greeted her as she climbed the last tread. The whole room was open, save for the wall behind a vast central fireplace which created the illusion of a separate kitchen. Broad windows gave on the stark winter landscape around them. Sabina was enchanted.

“Do the deer come close?” she asked as she gravitated toward the expansive view. Comfortable upholstered chairs and sofas were arranged near the windows and others were grouped in front of the fireplace. Light, natural wood paneling matched the hardwood floors gleaming between jewel-toned area rugs.

“They like to look in at me. I keep a salt lick out for them. Do you want to see the view from the deck upstairs before lunch?”

At her suspicious look, he held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor. You’ll love the view. Period.”

Sabina approached the stairway. “Must I remind you I work for the State of Ohio? We aren’t allowed to flirt on the job.”

“Does that mean you flirt after working hours?”

Sabina ignored him. At the landing, Chad drew her through a door at the end of the hall, then stood back to await her reaction.

“Skylights!” Her head tilted, she looked up at the rectangles of sunlight on each side of the roof line. Sunlight flowed through them and met in the center of the room, creating a suspended diamond of gold. More light flooded in the sliding glass door.

Chad watched her blissful expression, pleased by her reaction. “You like my hideaway?”

“I love it.” Since her broken engagement, she’d pushed romance from her life, applying her energies to her work. Now, with Chad so near, and with her thoughts skittering in all directions, she felt inept.

 “Come out on the deck.” Chad crossed to the sliding glass door, beckoning to her to join him. The whole countryside lay before their eyes.

“The earth’s awakening,” she breathed, leaning on the railing. “Everything’s been hibernating, and a few more days of this will bring a miracle.”

“The snowdrops are out already. Around here we always say there will be at least six inches of snow before anything else can bloom.” The buoyant weather tested his restraint. She was wary, making him move with the caution he used with the wild creatures who came to inspect his wooded hideaway.

He felt Sabina move away slightly. Her face was flushed, as if she were making conversation to fill the silence.

“Having your hot tub up here is a real luxury. You can . . .” Her words trickled to silence.

Chad bit his lip to keep from laughing at her confusion. “It’s a good way to relax after a long day.” He turned from her. “Much as I hate to say this, we have to hurry along and eat lunch, or I’ll be late.”

* * * *

His abrupt change of subject renewed Sabina’s ability to breathe. Her relief almost tangible, she followed him through the light-filled room and down the stairs.

Chad was already pulling paper-wrapped packages from the refrigerator. He opened a bakery bag containing fresh, fragrant buns and added them to the array of cheeses and meats on the counter.

“Nothing elegant, but it should do the trick,” he said as he pulled out a coffee filter. “Coffee or tea?”

“Milk, if you have it,” she replied, her hands busy layering salami and ham with cheeses.

He stuffed the filter back in the box and pulled two tumblers from the cupboard. By the time the glasses were in place on the maple table in front of the picture window she was sliding into her chair. “You don’t waste any time when you’re hungry, do you?” he joked.

“I’m starved. Where did you put those albums?”

Wordlessly, he retrieved them from the couch, passed them to her and made his own sandwich.

They ate in silence broken only by Sabina’s tiny sounds of approval. Finally, he asked, “Is it the food or the photographs causing those little punctuation marks you’re making? You sound like Victor Borge.”

She swallowing, her eyes still on the pages in front of her, before answering, “Both.”

Chad concentrated on his sandwich. He’d known the pictures would be the clincher. Her report should keep them off his back for a long time. Then he realized he didn’t give a hoot about the state’s reaction. He wanted to impress Sabina.