Love By Accident (3 page)

When he got too cocky, when he became too complacent with his health, he replayed the devastating words the doctors had spoken. Because he knew how easy it was to lose everything. The doctors had warned him from the beginning that his prognosis didn't look good.

Matt had refused to believe it. Only the determination to prove them all wrong had kept him going. It had given him a focus, an outlet for his anger, his grief. There had been many times along his road to recovery when he'd stumbled on that belief and doubted he'd ever again swim laps in a pool. Luckily for him, those moments--once he'd yanked himself back from drowning in the pity pool--had only fuelled him harder until he'd proven every single doctor wrong.

He moved onto his belly, eased into a breaststroke. His muscles were warm now, his breathing even as he bobbed in and out of the water. The pool was empty except for an old guy on the other side who was doing the doggy paddle. Good for him, for not wasting a moment of his life.

Matt lived by that rule. Hell, he'd always figured he had his whole life ahead of him to do things. Why rush? It took eighteen long months of physical therapy and bone-deep pain to make him see just how wrong he'd been. Not only about the time he had to accomplish things either. He'd been wrong about Lauren, too.

Reaching the edge, Matt slipped out of the pool, dripping water onto the rough deck surface. He opted against the steam room and whirlpool and rinsed off in the shower before changing back into his jeans and sweatshirt. He stuffed his trunks and wet towel into his duffel bag, finger-combed his hair and put on his fleece-lined jean jacket.

Outside, the chilly mountain air was filled with a damp earthy smell and the promise of winter. Matt inhaled deep, beeped open his black Corvette, and settled into the leather seat, his thoughts stubbornly stuck on Lauren.

He thumped the steering wheel. Of all the scenarios he'd envisioned when he'd thought of their coming face to face after all this time, he hadn't imagined the one that had taken place. She'd taken one look at him, blanched, and high-tailed it out the door. No "hello", no, "hey, glad to see you're all right", "glad to see you can use your legs again. Sorry I didn't stick around to find out for myself". Nope, not even close. She'd ducked and run. Just like she had four years ago.

And just like it had then, his heart had bled when she'd fled.

But this time was different. Now he
could
walk, he wasn't confined to a bed, wasn't unconscious, wasn't helpless to do anything.

No, by God, this time he was going to do something.

***

Matt's new office wasn't fancy, but it was bigger than he'd expected. Twelve by twelve, a window to keep an eye on his staff, a four-drawer metal file cabinet and a coat rack. He walked to the desk, which took up a good chunk of the floor space, and eyed the wooden rolling chair that didn't look the least bit comfortable.

"Well?" Ted asked from his side.

"Beats the cubicles."

"Wait until you add your snow shoes, skis, poles and rain gear. Then it'll be real cozy."

"Cozy," Matt mumbled and took his chair, smoothing his hands over a desk surface desperately in need of a sanding and varnish.

"How does it feel?"

"Rough." Then, knowing what Ted meant, he added, "and right."

"I saw your application, I don't have any doubt they hired the right guy. And since I'm rarely wrong..." He pointed to the bank of drawers on the left side of the desk. "I left you a file in there. A bear was found a couple of weeks ago, dead in some back country."

"Natural causes?"

"Hard to tell. Coyotes and birds had gotten to it, but it wasn't more than three years old."

"If a hunter shot it, he'd take it for meat."

"Yeah. Look, it was just the one, so it might be nothing, but I jotted down the information anyway. In case it turns out to be more."

Matt looked at the drawer, blew out a breath. "I hope this is one of those times you're wrong."

"Me too." Ted folded himself into one of the seats next to the door, then, without having to get up, pushed the door closed. Stretching his legs before him, Ted crossed his arms over his Parks jacket.

"I didn't know you knew Lauren."

Since Matt had excused himself as soon as Lauren had fled last night, he wasn't surprised Ted would have questions. Especially since he'd seen them talking and hugging through the café window. He'd had a moment watching when he'd wanted to race in and tell the old guy Lauren was too damn young for him, but then he'd remembered someone had told him Ted and his wife were moving to British Columbia.

Even knowing that, however, Matt heard the edge in his voice when he replied, "We went to college together."

"Ah, it didn't go well?"

"No," Matt answered as a few scenes from college ran through his head, "it was great. We had the time of our lives."

Ted frowned. "Look, I know it's not any of my business, and you don't know me from Adam, but Lauren's a good girl. Me and Joy, my wife, have really enjoyed getting to know her and we've come to think of her as another daughter. I don't like knowing she's upset, and after seeing you last night, she was visibly upset." He leaned forward. "She looked almost scared of you. I'd like to know why."

Outside the office, a few of his staff cast inquiring glances at Matt's window. He couldn't say he blamed them, especially considering the serious looks on both his and Ted's faces.

"The only reason Lauren is scared of me is because she knows she can't hide anymore."

"If you--"

"I'm entitled to answers!" Matt said coming to his feet as Ted did.

Ted blinked, paused a moment. "Answers?"

Now it was Matt's turn to hesitate. He shook his head, expelled a deep breath and sat back down. "She didn't tell you about the accident?"

"Accident? What accident?"

Matt waited for Ted to get comfortable again and then told him what he knew, or rather what he'd been told since he didn't remember anything until the time he regained consciousness.

"I never saw her again. Not until last night."

Ted gave a long, low whistle. "Did you know she was here when you applied for the transfer?"

"Yeah," Matt said on a deep sigh, "I knew." He wasn't going to divulge how, because if Lauren ever found out...

Ted shook his head. "I never expected this. I thought I'd have to try to take you on if you'd hurt her in any way." Ted chuckled. "But after seeing those arms and shoulders," he said, angling his chin toward Matt's short-sleeved sage green uniform shirt, "I'm damn glad I don't have to."

Matt grinned. He was almost sorry he and Ted couldn't have worked together, since he seemed to be a stand-up guy. "That's okay," he said. "When I saw you hugging Lauren through the window last night I thought I'd have to do some grandstanding of my own, since she's way too young for you."

Ted's laugh filled the room, but his eyes were beacons on Matt's. "So it's not all about friendship, is it?"

Thinking back to his secret crush on Lauren all those years she'd been with Gil, to the long days he'd mourned the loss of her presence in his life after the accident. To the anger which boiled if he'd thought too long about how she'd abandoned him when he'd needed her most. To the way his heart had squeezed when she'd looked at him again after all these years.

"No," he admitted. "It's not all about friendship."

THREE

Saturday morning dawned damp and foggy with the dewy mist hovering like an old granny. Lauren stood on the small porch of her two-bedroom house. The brown and orange-trimmed house needed to be rescued by an extreme makeover, but she could afford the mortgage and utilities, if not the flooring and new porch it desperately needed.

Behind her and down a few streets the train chugged by. Though she couldn't see much of the Rockies, she felt them. She'd heard of some people feeling claustrophobic if they stayed in the mountains too long. Something about not being able to see for long distances. For Lauren, it had the opposite effect. Within their granite shadow she felt encircled by strength and longevity.

Lauren pulled on her thin gloves, tugged the zipper of her jacket to her throat and grabbed her hazing stick. Jumping off the porch to avoid the rotting steps, she landed on the brown grass.

The multi-colored ribbons attached to the blade of the hockey stick swished in the quiet morning. Hazing. She'd done it as a ranger countless times, waving the length of wood, letting the bright colors and the crinkling of ribbons and crepe paper scare off the wandering elk and deer that attracted throngs of tourists. It was a natural, chemical-free, low impact way of keeping both the animals and the people safe.

It was part of her routine. If she caught the morning shift, she hazed in the evenings and vice-versa if she had an evening shift. On days off, like today, she preferred the morning, going up past the school.

Technically, she wasn't supposed to do it, but Ted let her. The first time he'd caught her doing it, she'd panicked. She'd quickly explained how she'd seen some rangers do it. He wasn't thrilled about her doing it, but she'd lied and said she really only did it to protect herself on her walks. She never actually went out of her way to clear any animals from town.

Thankfully he'd let it go, and because Ted let it slide so had his staff, for which Lauren was extremely grateful. It was hard to be back in the mountains and not yearn for her old job, but she'd vowed not to be a ranger again. It seemed a fitting punishment for what she'd done to Gil and Matt.

Matt. She'd hardly slept last night thinking of him and what it meant to have him so close. To be able to see him again, see him walking again. Despite the anxiety of wondering about their impending confrontation, she was thrilled he could walk. Of course had she stuck around, she'd have known.

"Too late for that," she muttered, as she crossed the quiet street.

Lauren headed up the sidewalk toward the school. The playground was empty; the slides looked cold and lonely. The swings swayed with the barely-there breeze. The edges of the field blurred in the fog. She walked the perimeter anyway, in case there were any elk hiding and contemplating a morning jaunt through the school grounds.

The trees were half bare now, with brown and orange leaves crunching underneath her feet. They'd been lucky to avoid snow so far, though the skiers were chomping at the bit to get on the slopes. For herself, she didn't mind the delay. Winters were long enough in Alberta.

A familiar white truck with the green Parks logo rolled to her side and stopped. Matt came around the hood of his vehicle, not a hint of a limp in his stride. God, how was it even possible? How was it possible that he looked healthier, more alive now then he had before the accident?

She wished he'd smile at her, tease her the way he used to. That, somehow, he'd forgive the unforgivable. But there was no humor in the blue gaze drilling into hers.

He gestured to her stick. "Do you do this often?"

"Why?"

"Last I heard it wasn't your job anymore."

Her hand tightened around the wood. "It's not hurting anything."

Matt shook his head, unconvinced. "First, you're not armed if an elk decides to charge. Second, it's not your job, is it? And third, it's illegal."

She tipped her chin up, shooting for cocky. No doubt if he knew just how much hazing meant to her he'd strip her of the pleasure, if only as punishment for what she'd put him through.

"So charge me."

His grin held no warmth. "Don't tempt me. And don't think you'll get off as easy as a three-hundred dollar fine this time."

Lauren felt the color drain from her face. "That's not funny."

He crossed his arms over his chest, braced his legs apart. "It wasn't a joke."

He towered over her, or maybe it just felt like it because of the energy pulsing around him. Or maybe it was because he was right, she had deserved more than a three-hundred dollar fine for killing Gil. The coffee she'd had that morning rose to the back of her throat.

His mobile phone trilled from his truck. He looked from the cab back to her and shook his head. "Shit. Don't g--"

"Answer the phone, Matt," Lauren said. "I know you have a lot to say, but this isn't the time or place for this conversation."

Clutching her hazing stick, Lauren headed toward home.

"Don't you dare walk away from me again."

The tone, the accusation, the raw fury in his eyes when she looked at him, was exactly what she'd feared most. She couldn't help feeling a little glad that she'd been given another reprieve before he unleashed the rest of it on her. But she also understood his anger. And because she did, she stopped, forced herself to face him.

"Matt, I live here and now so do you. I'm not running, but I'm not having this discussion in the middle of the street." His phone shrieked again. "You'd better answer it."

"This isn't the end of it, Lauren."

Her smile was sad. Sad for everything that had happened, and what she knew was coming.

"I know, Matt. I know."

***

It was shortly after lunch by the time Lauren headed to Ted's house to help load the moving truck. Matt had followed her home. She'd watched him through the peep hole, truck idling at the curb, and her stomach had churned. She'd been so sure he'd storm up to her house and demand answers. Instead, after about ten minutes of hearing nothing but her kitchen tap drip, he'd driven off.