Can't Fight This Feeling (28 page)

Sitting up, she rubbed at the last of her lingering headache. Fresh air would get rid of it completely, she decided. A walk would give her a chance to explore the woods around the cabins, something she’d yet to do. It would be another item she could tick off her goodbye checklist.

She’d been creating a mental one, ever since coming to grips with reality a couple of days ago. Her new life would have to begin elsewhere. As far as her heart was concerned, she’d have to get out of the mountains. But her car was also impractical for the climate, and she could find cheaper living as a flatlander as well as more employment opportunities.

Though it was sunny outside, she dressed in layers that included a hat and scarf. Her sneakers weren’t hiking boots, but she’d been fine on the walk to the falls and didn’t think this trek would be much different.

Slipping her cell phone in her pocket out of habit, she set off into the woods. Besides the cabins in the clearing, Mac had told her there were others nestled among the trees. Angelica could discern a faint path, and she followed it, her footsteps muffled by the fallen pine needles. The air smelled like shaded green and damp earth and it seemed to Angelica that Mother Nature might be some kind of
bruja
in her own right because it felt as if she was under a spell.

Her fingers trailed rough bark and feathery cedar boughs. She stooped to gather a handful of powdery dirt that she rubbed between her fingers, then let it sift to the ground like sand through an hourglass. At a granite boulder just off the path, she took a seat to unlace her shoe and dump out a troublesome pebble. Task done, on impulse she bent down to sniff the stone.

It was cool on the tip of her nose and smelled salty. She touched her tongue to its rough surface. It tasted...clean. Fresh, like water. Then she glanced around, wondering what someone might think to see her licking local rocks. Brett would likely tell her it was past time she left the high elevation. It was making her loco.

She continued on, discovering each of the other Walker cabins. They were quiet surprises around bends or tucked into a stand of sheltering trees. Poppy wanted to renovate them all in a style she called “rustic chic.” There would be seclusion, but with luxuries, including the option of delivered gourmet food and beverages.

No internet. No TV. Just the lovely woods and delicious things to eat and drink.

“Maybe someday I’ll come back and stay here,” she said aloud, testing out the sound of the idea.

The only answer was the wind rustling high in the trees.

On a sigh, Angelica kept walking until she encountered the burned shell of another bungalow. This was the last cabin, she knew, the one destroyed in the summer. Instead of turning back, however, she glanced around and saw another path leading upward.

She didn’t have the directional sense God gave a GPS, but she suspected it would take her up the mountain that had been the location of the ski runs. The place of Brett’s dream—the one that he and Zan and Mac used to envision as kids.

Angelica began trudging upward.

The trail soon took her out of the thick trees. She walked up what must have been the bunny slopes, because the angle wasn’t steep. Her breath felt just a little labored and there was only the hint of dampness around her hairline. She’d become accustomed to the thinner air, she thought.

No longer such a city girl.

Would there be some adjustment when she returned to sea level? Certainly an emotional one. She’d miss Glory and Mac and Shay and Poppy and the other Blue Arrow people she’d come to know. She should have found a group of friends when she lived in LA. But the women she’d met through her father had been older. Stupid of her not to have joined a Pilates studio or found some yoga classes to regularly attend. Then she’d have acquaintances to call, girlfriends she could tell about her sojourn in the mountains.

I fell for a rugged, complicated man.

I fell for the mountains where he lives.

Would there be a physical cost for leaving such beauty, as well?

For leaving Brett?

What did a broken heart feel like?

Pausing, she turned in a slow circle. From here she could see just the tip of the rooflines of the cabins in the clearing below. Wanting to press a memory of them in her mind, she scrabbled sideways along the dry grasses to get a better view. She slipped on the slick, hay-colored shoots and fell to her butt, hard.

Lucky for her, she had plenty of padding, and she slid on her denim jeans a little way before she could dig her heels into the mountainside and halt her movement. Folding her forearms on her upraised knees, she rested her chin on them and gazed upon the place where she’d spend her last days in the mountains.

The breeze caught the ends of her hair, sending them over her eyes and cheeks. When she drew them away, she glanced at Brett’s cabin. Neither of his vehicles was in evidence. So, he wasn’t home yet. Late afternoon was sucking the light out of the sky, but he might not be home for hours...if at all.

Her gaze sharpened. From this angle she could see the windows of his bedroom at the back of the cabin. Was that movement? A figure? Had he returned after all?

She shot to her feet, thinking she wanted to go to him. But why? It seemed to her they’d already said some sort of goodbye.

Who the hell has ever loved you?

As his voice, those words, echoed in her head, she closed her eyes. It was definitely time to move on. Pulling her phone free of her pocket, she checked for messages and then for cell coverage. Maybe Shay would tell her she had a working car with which she could make her escape.

But there were no texts and not even a single bar.

She glanced back at Brett’s cabin and froze.

A figure was standing on the back porch, which was just an A-line overhang sheltering a postage-size doorstep. From here, she couldn’t make out much about the person, just legs and feet, but those legs and feet did not belong to Brett Walker.

Maybe Jace, she thought. Maybe Ryan.

But wouldn’t either of the men have come in a vehicle? She should be able to see one.

And because she didn’t...she remembered the burglaries.

“Crap,” she whispered, staring down again at her phone. Still no way to make a call. She began scrambling downhill, and not because she wanted to head into danger. It was her best bet to find a signal to call for help.

At first she stayed clear of the tree line. But it felt as though the mountains surrounding her had eyes, so she slipped between the trunks and weaved around them, hoping she could trust her sense of direction. Squirrels ran along the limbs above her, scolding, but she ignored their complaints.

Rodents didn’t worry her—at least not right now. She thought of bears and mountain lions and wild burros, but it was a human danger that seemed more threatening. Not that anyone had been harmed by the thieves, but who knew what would happen if there were a confrontation? Still, she couldn’t sit back and do nothing. At least she might be able to get a description to give to law enforcement.

The journey back to the cabins seemed a lot longer on the return. She kept her phone in hand, checking for decent signal strength every few minutes. Once, when her gaze was on the screen, her toe caught a root that sent her sprawling. To protect her device, she kept one arm in the air and landed awkwardly onto her side and other elbow.

Breathing hard, she took stock. Her phone was fine, the parts of her that had met the ground stung. After a minute she sat up, noticing the rip in her sweatshirt sleeve and the bloody skin beneath. Her knee felt bruised, but the denim was intact.

She plucked pine needles from the knot of her knitted scarf. Then she got to her feet and continued onward, though more slowly. A little rattled now, her heartbeat was loud in her ears. She picked up the pace, glancing around because she had the distinct sense of being watched again.

A shiver rolled down her spine. Her footsteps thudded against the ground and oxygen was harder to pull into her lungs.

Someone was watching.

Someone was following.

Panic dried her mouth. Her gaze flicked to the screen of her cell once again.
Please. Bars! Please.

Another root snatched at her shoe. Her stomach jolted and she felt her body flung toward the ground once more, an almost violent pitch.

Then arms locked around her.

She was pulled upright and yanked against a tall, muscled body.

Angelica screamed.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“O
H
G
OD
,
OH
G
OD
.”
Brett’s voice was hoarse and filled with harsh terror. “Are you all right?”

“I’m okay.” She struggled in his hold, alarmed by his tone, but he only tightened his arms.

“Give me a minute.” His heart was pounding much too hard against her back. “Oh, God.”

“Brett.” This time she forced herself around. She was still enclosed by him, his clutch still too constricting, but one look at his face and she froze. He was staring at her, the lines of his face harsh, his eyes glassy.

“I smell blood,” he said, shoving her away with his hands at her shoulders. His gaze jerked from her head to her toes and back again. “Where is it? You’re bleeding. You’re hurt.”

He wasn’t in his right mind.

His head swung up toward the trees. “Are those the choppers?”

She only heard the wind, rustling through branches high above. “It’s nothing. It’s the breeze.”

His gaze shifted to her again. “All the blood.”

“No,” she said, starting to really worry. She lifted her elbow to show him the tear in her sweatshirt and the scraped skin beneath. “See? Just a scratch.”

For a long moment, he stared at the abraded flesh, then he let go of her to sink to the ground. “Shit,” he said. “Sorry. Shit.” His knees were drawn up and he buried his head in his hands. “I’ll be all right in a second.”

She dropped to the soft pine needles and placed her hand on his shoulder. With gentle strokes, she rubbed there, feeling the tension in both muscle and bone.

After several long moments, he lifted his head on a sigh but didn’t look at her. “What are you doing out here?”

“I went for a walk.”

He gave a quick nod. “Okay.” His voice was still hoarse, as if he had to force each syllable through constricted vocal chords. “When you weren’t at either cabin...”

New alarm had her fingers tightening on him. “You just came from the cabins? Did you see anyone there?”

“Not you, obviously.” He glanced over and his eyes narrowed with a new alertness. “What is it?”

“I saw someone. I hiked up the mountain a ways and I could see your cabin. I thought I saw a man in there. There was definitely one on your back porch.”

“Was it me?”

“No. I could see where you park and there wasn’t any vehicle.”

Brett frowned. “And I didn’t go out the back door. Shay had told me about your car, so I wanted to give you a report. When I didn’t find you, I came into the woods.”

“You must have arrived after the intruder left.” Angelica jumped to her feet. “Did you see anything missing from your cabin?”

“Like what? There’s nothing there to steal but flannel shirts and a boring selection of canned soup.”

“Someone was there.”

“Okay, okay.” Brett rose. “Let’s check it out.”

He led, she followed. While she was wild to know what had set off his temporary outburst, the first priority was the intruder she’d spotted from above. At the edge of the clearing, they paused. Brett pressed a big palm to her middle, pushing her back a step. “Stay here while I check things out.”

She opened her mouth. “Brett...”

He turned, put his hands to her shoulders and his forehead against hers. “Angel face, listen to me this time,” he said, his voice low. “This might not be kids after Piney.”

“I know, that’s why—”

“Please. I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you. Right now I’m not in a good place and I need to know you’re safe.” He drew her close and she felt a shudder run through him. “Give me this, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered. And as his arms pulled her even nearer, she pressed her cheek to his chest. It was impossible to deny him, not now when he seemed vulnerable.

When it seemed like he might care about her in a way that went beyond the casual. More than friends.

From behind a tree, she watched him approach the cabins. He stooped to grab a hefty log from the woodpile, then he climbed the steps to her place. He used his keys to enter and came out moments later. He shook his head at her, then strode to the bungalow next door.

Her fingers dug into the bark of the tree and air didn’t seem to make it to her lungs. She couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to him, either.

But then he was back on the porch. He tossed down the log and beckoned to her. “All clear,” he called, but the expression on his face was grim.

Angelica scampered across the clearing and up the steps. “What?”

“Nothing’s been taken,” he said. “But it doesn’t feel right.”

“We need to call the sheriff’s office. Do you have a signal?” she asked, pulling out her phone and frowning at the screen. “I’ve got nothing.”

“Me neither,” Brett said, and took her hand to tug her into the house. “But with the only evidence a bad feeling, the deputies aren’t going to come out anyhow.”

“I saw someone!” Angelica protested, as Brett towed her to the bathroom.

“We’ll go into town and report that. But first let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Cleaned up? I—” The rest was muffled as he yanked her sweatshirt over her head. Underneath she wore a tank top and goose bumps broke over her skin as Brett grabbed her bare arm.

“You’re cold,” he said. “Let me get this cleaned and then we’ll warm you up.”

“It’s just a scrape.”

But he pushed her onto the closed toilet lid and bent her arm, pressing her hand to her shoulder. She winced as the movement stretched the injured skin.

“Ouch,” he said, his voice sympathetic. He ran a knuckle along her cheek, the action gentle. Tender.

Angelica could only be glad she was seated, because his warm gaze and soft touch were taking the starch out of her knees. This wasn’t the way a man looked at someone he hardly cared about, was it?

Who the hell has ever loved you?

He was right about that, but it didn’t mean her instincts were wrong.

Maybe there was hope for them...

“I have a message for you from Shay,” he said, as he tended to the wounds.

“That’s right, my car.” She sucked in a breath as he dabbed on some antiseptic. “It wouldn’t start this morning.”

“Jace checked it out when he got home. Corroded battery cables. That’s all. He cleaned ’em up and you’re good to go.”

Good to go. That had been her intention, to go as soon as possible—when she wouldn’t be leaving Glory and Mac in a lurch. Maybe as soon as the end of the week. But if there was a chance that Brett...

Heaving in a breath as he turned to grab a couple of elastic bandages, she decided to test the waters. “Great about my car... I’m planning on leaving soon.”

His gaze down, he stilled in the process of ripping the paper covering away. “Leaving?”

“I’ve mentioned it before. My car won’t make it through a mountain winter...so I guess that means I should head for other climes before the temperatures cool even more.”

He tossed the wrapping into the trash after applying the bandage. “I guess you should.”

Disappointment dropped like a stone in her belly. Why was she such a fool? It was time to stop this silly hoping. She fluttered her lashes to blink away the tears forming in her eyes.

He glanced up. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry it hurts.” His palm cradled her cheek and he brushed away an errant drop with his thumb. “But it’s clean now. Want some pain relievers?”

She shook her head. “They won’t help.” They wouldn’t stop the shrouding ache of sadness.

“I owe you a couple of things,” he said, his attention focused on the first-aid supplies he was packing back into their case. “First, an apology.”

“It’s all right—”

“Let me finish.” He stowed the plastic box into a drawer in the vanity. “I shouldn’t have said no one has ever loved you.”

She gave a shrug. “But it’s true.”

“I saw the interview you gave.”

Her eyes widened. “You did?”

“This morning.” He dropped to the edge of the tub, pushing the shower curtain away so they were seated knees to knees. “I was very impressed.”

Not even the hem of that shroud lifted. Still, she pasted on a smile. “Thanks.”

“And you know what I thought at the end of it?”

She shook her head.

“That you for damn sure should love yourself, Angelica Rodriguez.” He nudged her leg with his. “You’re a beautiful person, inside and out.”

You for damn sure should love yourself.
Staring at him, the words echoed again and again in her head.
You for damn sure should love yourself.

Her spine straightened. Even though her heart remained heavy, a new vigor infused her. She should love herself. Of course she should. She did.

Wow.

“Thank you, Brett.” She found his hand, gave it a quick squeeze. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

It was his turn to shrug. “And speaking of truth...” He shifted his gaze to his knees. “I think I’d better explain what happened out there.”

“You don’t—”

“I think I do if I don’t want you approaching my sisters about their crazy brother, Brett.”

“I don’t believe you’re crazy.” But she did want to know what had made him so anxious. Though he wasn’t trying to hold her back from leaving Blue Arrow, that didn’t cut off her feelings about him. Her loving him.

He still sat, eyes downcast. “Brett?” she prompted.

He ran his palm over the top of his head then seemed to force his hand away. “I had a bad experience in Afghanistan. Well, Afghanistan was a series of bad experiences, but my deployment didn’t begin well.”

Reaching out, she grasped his hand again.

“Shay knows a little about this,” he continued, absently beginning to play with Angelica’s fingers. “But the other girls are not aware of anything beyond the basic details.”

Did he mean not only Mac and Poppy, but every other woman he’d ever let into his life? It was another wow moment to imagine that big bad Brett Walker was going to let Angelica in on something private.

“Not until then did I fully appreciate how things can go bad, so very bad, and so very fast. You’d think, after a swift-moving fire destroyed the ski resort and how quickly my father’s health deteriorated following that, I would have already learned the lesson.”

Ah. The roots of his distrust.

“The choppers dropped us off in the mountains...a remote-as-shit place. The bad guys always like to give the new guys a little welcome party. We had to sprint from the helicopters to the gates of the forward operating base as mortar rounds were dropping around us.”

“Oh, God.” Angelica put her free hand to her mouth, remembering how he’d been distressed and worried about blood in the woods. “Were you hurt?”

He shook his head. “Not me. Some villagers were heading into the base at the same time that we landed. Just...bad luck on their part. A woman went down right in front of me.”

She could see that he’d squeezed his eyes shut.

“It was instinct. I...I scooped her up in my arms and kept running. But I knew it was bad. I could smell the blood. Feel it running down my arms, feel my uniform soaking it up. When I got her to the triage area...” He shrugged.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “On your very first day.”

“I saw her die,” he said. “She was looking up at me, moaning. I told her to hang on. I
willed
her to hang on. But it was no use.”

He stood up, turning so she only had his back. “I can’t forget the life leaving her eyes. The smell of blood. I was trying to wipe it off my hands.”

One hand went to his head, and she realized now what was behind his habitual gesture...Brett trying to clean his hands, likely on the only place free of someone else’s blood. Angelica moved, coming up behind him and putting her palm against his back. He didn’t seem to register her touch.

What irony, she thought, that this was coming out in here, a room where a person went to be washed.

“I closed off after that,” he spoke as if it was something he’d come to terms with long before. “The only way to survive was to build defenses around your emotions. Shut down anything soft.”

“You had feelings for Lorraine.”

“My one attempt after I returned. That experience shored up any chinks in my guard I might have had left, believe me. Now...I’m hardened through and through.”

Glancing to the side, Angelica found her reflection in the mirror over the sink. Her face was pale, her eyes dark pools of trouble. “You had to protect your heart.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her, his mouth turned in a frown. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, honey. I don’t have one anymore.”

Oh, Brett, she thought, further dismayed. Of course he had a heart. There was evidence of it everywhere in how much he cared about his family, his town, his mountains. In how he’d been devastated by a stranger’s death and stung so deeply by a later betrayal.