Creighton's Hideaway (14 page)

“What?” Creighton asked as he pulled his concentration from the road to her face.

“Those cattle. They looked like some hogs that I've seen. Black with a white stripe around the middle.”

“Oh. They're Belted Galloways.” He chuckled. “I admit they take some getting used to. They look like a chocolate sandwich cookie to me. But they remind me of Angus cows.”

“The black ones, right?”

He belonged in his environment, an environment so different from what she was used to.

They rounded a curve where trees filled the ditch. A thick cloud of noisy blackbirds took flight.

“Goodness, they startled me.” Shana gasped. The squawks and flaps carried through the open windows as they passed.

“That's a sure sign of fall, when those birds congregate like that,” Creighton commented.

They each became lost in their separate contemplations. Somewhere along the line they'd agreed to snack on the trail mix Rita had sent along and not stop for lunch.

Shana drifted off on the thought of the two of them agreeing on the big things in life as well as simple fare. She jerked to full alertness when the truck slowed. “What's up?”

“I thought I'd give you a little tour.” Creighton turned off the highway instead of continuing north out of Neligh. “We'll go into the park.” He drove slowly. “And, downtown? It might be kind of fun.”

“Sounds good to me. A transition between the city and the range would be welcome.”

The road rounded Penn Park.

“There's history here, and some rebuilding since the Elkhorn flooded. Oh, yeah.” Creighton pointed. “We're coming up on Neligh Mills, it's on the list of Historic Places. Real interesting to tour, but it's closed for the season.” He nodded to the south. “The Mill Bridge there has been restored.”

She glimpsed the sign that read Narrow Bridge, and imagined the clip clop of a horse's hooves ringing atop the wood.

Creighton stopped at Highway 275 and turned south into Riverside Park.

The brown water of the Elkhorn River meandered on the right and a baseball field, complete with enclosed bleachers, rose on the left. There was a closed swimming pool on a sunny hill and playground equipment in the park. He stopped the truck.

Creighton's hard-to-resist smile lit his face. “Ever crossed a river on a swinging bridge?” He lifted her to the ground from the truck. The weight of his hands against her sides lingered, warmer than the sun. But it was a brief touch. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into a jog. “Come on, I'll bet you can't run across.”

Shana giggled when he swung her around in front and gave her a slight push. She took off at a stumbling run.

They paused at the deepest sway of the bridge.

Creighton's warm words tickled her ear, “Wobble. Wobble.” He stepped back, and the ropes and boards joggled from side to side.

Shana planted her feet on the planked slats. The sun-kissed woven cable felt warm beneath her fingers. The drab water frothed and flowed swift. Sunlight caressed her upturned face. Shana put her worries aside and cherished the moment. She sniffed the air around her. It smelled fresh, not fishy. Birds performed in concert. Her body swayed with inward motion. Creighton created a greater commotion in her body than this swinging bridge.

He sauntered her way, as easy as a sailor on the deck of his ship. The tremor opened her eyes wide. A breath caught somewhere before it reached her lungs. The clutch in her stomach had nothing to do with the motion of the bridge or the flow of water beneath.

Golden light reflected from the sun on the murky water. Outdoors, with the river expanse surrounding them, Creighton's maleness was more contained in that space around them than when they were in the cab of his truck.

Creighton's gaze locked on hers. “Hi.”

Every fiber of Shana's flesh felt his softly spoken greeting. She faced him.
Where have you been all my life?

Birdsong and the musical waters faded. Only Creighton filled her world.

“Where have you been all my life?” Creighton said, as low as the breeze.

She gulped, unable to blink or get the air she needed to fill her lungs. She opened her mouth, but she didn't want to spoil the moment with her voice.

A fish slapped the water beneath the bridge and broke the spell.

Even her toes needed oxygen.

 

****

 

Creighton set the wooden slats of the bridge to swaying. The sight of Shana, gilded in the sun, suspended over the water, hurt something deep inside his chest. She looked like a dark haired angel. But she was all woman. The combined trickery of the bright sun and his imagination had silhouetted her form as swollen with child, welcoming him.

Was it the near miss with the life of his niece or nephew that made him look at Shana in a whole new light? Why not enjoy the time they could spend together? She needed a distraction from her troubles in Lincoln. He really didn't have anything else to do with his time. Why not go ahead and spend some of it with her? He rested his hands on her hips to help her plant her feet again. Or was it to reassure himself that she was really here, in the flesh? Just as fast, he released her. Touching her filled him with unbelievable longing.

Shana froze.

Creighton pictured a rabbit waiting for a foe to pounce first. “Wanna go downtown? I'll treat you at the coffee shop.” He waited for the bridge to still from her steps. Then he raced across. Were her senses as muddled as his? He asked the Lord for strength on how to lighten the moment.

Back inside the truck, Creighton turned at the first corner and then proceeded north on Main. He drove in deep thought for three blocks. Then he pointed out the courthouse with the statue of an antelope perched on the peak of the roof. At the library, a block farther, he made a U-turn and backtracked.

The tavern looked busy, judging by all the cars out front. He swung the steering wheel to the left and parked.

Evidently accustomed to the height now, Shana jumped out of the truck as soon as it stopped moving.

Creighton scurried ahead to reach the door of the renovated brick building in time to let her precede him.

The fragrance of coffee beans hit him head-on.

“Wonderful!” She stepped across the black and white tiled floor. Ecstasy glowed across her face. “They have cappuccino.”

Shana's sparkling smile gave him hope. Maybe she could overlook his dark behavior. He searched for something to talk about. Should he ignore whatever this was between them, pretend that no way could she get under his defenses? But she was already there. Big time.

The soda fountain boasted an array of flavors and drinks to match any big city establishment. He straddled a stool and opted for regular coffee over any fancy cold fountain drink. “On second thought, I'll take a squirt of white chocolate syrup in that regular blend,” Creighton said to the barista.

Shana hooked her feet on a rung even with his knees and ordered white chocolate raspberry cappuccino. She swiveled on her stool, knees turning to knock his.

They shared a quick smile before her gaze roamed around the quaint establishment.

He was thrilled at her obvious pleasure with the place.

Machines ground and swished and spurted behind the circular counter. Sweet flavors mingled in the air, and met those of scented candles from the far reaches of the room.

Creighton nodded towards the inviting deep sofa, paid for their drinks, and moved in that direction. With a sigh, he eased into the cushiony depths.

Shana was graceful as she sat on the edge and then slid back with the heavy, hot mug.

He sipped the flavored coffee.

Shana slid forward. “This thing feels like it's swallowing me up. I'm going to check out the candles over there.” She eased off the sofa, and then ambled away.

He liked the way she wore her simple red shirt and khaki pants. She appeared more petite than ever, maybe because a couple of athletic football-player-sized teens were the only people nearby. She picked up a mint green candle and held it to her nose.

Creighton walked over. “Is that your choice?”

Shana's elbow brushed his side. “It's outdoorsy. Piney, but not pungent. Reminds me of you.”

“Thanks, I think.” Creighton plucked it off the shelf and whiffed. “A touch of sage, as well.”

“How can you tell?”

“I grew up smelling sage.” He took the candle and her empty mug to the register. Creighton drained his own man-sized mug, set it on the counter and paid for drinks and the candle. Back outside, he asked, “Is there any shop that calls your name?”

“You get that from Rita.” Shana laughed. “She says certain places at the mall ‘call her name.'”

Creighton's smile widened as an idea struck. The Starlite Drive-in called his name. “Have you ever been to a drive-in theater?”

“An outdoor movie theater?” Her voice sounded incredulous.

“Yeah. There's one here, just outside of town. Only one of three left in the state.”

“Let's go see what's playing.”

On the road again, he mentally booted himself. The need pressed in to build distance between them. Had he totally lost it? He should have his head examined at the idea that he could spend two hours in a darkened vehicle without the compulsion to hold her close and kiss her luscious lips.

 

****

 

Shana tensed every muscle in her body to keep from losing it. How could she handle the intimacy of spending two hours alone with Creighton, in the dark confines of his truck? Her heart raced. In minutes, they were parked in front of the gated Starlite Drive-In. If it was a good movie, she could forget her soon-to-be dire straits for an interlude of time.

A huge notice beneath the marquee sign read: Closed for the Season. See you at the New Moon Theater.

Oh, thank You, God. You must be watching over me after all.

Shana drooped in relief. After he awakened her senses on the bridge, she needed some breathing room.

Creighton sighed and dropped his chin onto his wrists resting on the steering wheel.

“It was a nice idea, Creighton.” She surprised herself by sharing his disappointment. How could her feelings go so squishy? She wanted him to touch her. She wanted him to not get too close. She had enough to deal with in her life.

“Yeah.” He straightened in the seat. “We would have had to find something to do until the sun set, and I guess I'm ready to get back to the ranch.”

When they were on the blacktop approaching Highway 14, she said, “Creigh.” The shortened version of his name barely squeaked past her lips. “Creighton,” Shana repeated a little louder.

“Hmmm?” He answered offhandedly.

“Stop the truck.”

“What's wrong?”

“Just stop. Please.” He had to stop, fast, or she'd lose all courage.

He checked his mirrors, pulled the pickup off onto the shoulder. Then he half turned, his brows raised in question.

Shana had already unbuckled her seat belt. She placed her hands on his shoulders, and leaned in close. She held eye contact until the very last instant, when her gaze dropped to his mouth. She ran her tongue over her own lips to erase any lingering hint of cappuccino. Then she kissed Creighton. It was the slightest touch possible, a mere meeting of tender flesh, but she tasted his coffee. And the essence that could only be Creighton. Every nerve ending made its presence known. Shana leaned back on her heels.

Had Creighton even blinked?

She couldn't believe her rash action, but it had relieved tension. She sent him a smile, now trusting her impulsive action as the right one. “Thank you for the candle.” She moved back into her seat. “Now, if you think that was some awful thing to be afraid of, get over it ‘cuz I'm not sorry.”

He still sat dumbstruck.

Confidence renewed, she drew a breath. “But, if you're up to the challenge—”

“Oh, I'm up to the challenge. After all, I have yet to beat you in Scrabble.” He burst out a laugh. With an earnest tone that gave her a thrill, he said, “Rest assured, you won't see my kiss when it comes.”

Any more than you saw mine
.

 

 

 

 

12

 

“I've never been one for such impulsiveness,” Shana admitted to Valerie the next afternoon, “especially where men are concerned. I haven't the slightest notion what came over me. But I had thought about kissing Creighton so much, that when the urge came, I just needed to act spontaneously.”

Valerie stopped hiking to lean on her stick. Laugh lines added parentheses to her smile. “You did that, all right. Bet he was at a loss for words.”

Shana's steps halted as well. Her shoulders shook with her whole-hearted laugh. She shrugged. “Yeah. I did render him speechless. For a few seconds, anyway.”

The women drank from their water bottles and then as one, resumed their brisk pace.

Shana wanted to focus on the landscape rather than the images of Creighton that had invaded her dreams the night before. The memory of their brief touch of lips was more intrusive than her anger over the interloper who had stolen her identity.

The rustic scenery wasn't doing the trick of distracting her from the situation in Lincoln. “There's something else, Valerie.”

Valerie gave her undivided attention.

Shana made an effort to release the tension before she spoke. “I hope you don't mind. Sometimes it's easier to talk to people we don't know well. Someone invaded my duplex since I've been up here. I didn't do anything at first, but I ended up calling the police. Then we discovered my car was gone.”

Valerie's eyes filled. She reached for Shana's hand.

“Before we left Lincoln, Creigh took me to the bank. A stranger has stolen my money, somehow got a hold of my checking account.” She brushed aside a tear. “The bank is investigating but I may never know the details. It looks like someone walked right into my home and stole my identity and my financial security! I can't explain how violated I feel. I thought I could leave it there in Lincoln while I'm on the ranch. The sense of loss is a shock, but what's scarier is that someone could just slip into my life and no one knew while I was gone. I've worked so hard to save for a home of my own. I don't know why anyone would do this. I'm talking in circles.” Shana fisted her hands and kicked a hillock of tangled grass out of her path. “I'm smarter than this. I can't figure out how I let it happen! Some stranger has invaded my privacy, so why do I feel responsible?”