Mountain Laurel (5 page)

Laurel snapped her mouth shut and thought fast. "I don't know whether or not you've noticed," she said with a smug smile, "but we're out in the middle of the woods. Where, pray tell, are we going to find any men?"

"Guys are around," Ginny shrugged. "We'll find them, don't worry."

"I don't like how you said that. Like you're some kind of expert."

"Well."

"Never mind! I don't want to know." Laurel scowled.

"We could always round up that gorgeous cousin of Jim's." Ginny's grin was infectious.

"Ginny." Laurel couldn't help but chuckle. "You sound like you're herding cattle."

"In a way, we are," she said with an impish smirk. "We'll have him hog-tied before he knows it. He'll never know what hit him."

"Well, cowpoke, I have some news for you." Sauntering a few steps, Laurel said, "That bull's already been branded."

"Oh? He's married?"

"Not yet. But he will be soon, though. He expected Jim home for the wedding." Then she speculated, "Maybe Jim's going to be his best man." Staring into the wavering shadows the fire cast across the room, she was bewildered by the tiny tug of dismay that the thought of his wedding caused inside her. Impatiently, she shook off the feeling, bringing her thoughts back to her present problem.

Laurel studied her sister's peachy complexion and her long silky blond mane and thought that someone who didn't know Ginny would think she was an angel.

"Well, is it a deal or what?"

"Don't rush me. I need to think about this a minute." Laurel heaved a sigh. Heaven knew she'd tried everything to make her see reason short of locking Ginny in the basement. Laurel thought of all the lectures she'd doled out that had gone unheeded. Maybe it was time to change tactics.

"Now, let me get this straight." Laurel picked up the poker and jabbed at the fire, sending glowing ashes swirling up the chimney. "All I have to do is show you I can have a good time?"

"You have to fraternize with the opposite sex."

Ginny's bluntness made Laurel grimace. It wasn't that she didn't like men. Men were fine. A necessary part of the human race. It was just that she was a bit rusty where men were concerned.

Rusty? That didn't even begin to describe her.

"If I'm not able to?" Laurel asked.

"Then you'll keep your nose out of my life," Ginny retorted.

"And if I win this bet? If I have what you call 'a good time'?" Laying the poker down, she faced Ginny with her question.

"Then I'll think about my future."

"College?" Laurel challenged.

"I'll think about college." Ginny's confident look said that this was something that would never happen.

Laurel mused. How hard could it be? Go out to dinner a couple of nights, maybe a movie or two. It might even be fun.

A slow sardonic smile played on her lips as she said, "You're on."

~ ~ ~

Laurel awoke with a start, aware of only one thing, the bone-chilling cold. She pulled at the quilt and drew herself into a ball, trying to stop the violent shaking, but warmth evaded her.

Dawn was beginning to light the sky. She crept out of bed, the floor like ice on her already frozen feet. Groping for her robe and a pair of wool socks, she shivered uncontrollably. The fire in the living room hearth had died to a soft orange glow.

Removing the screen that protected the floor against sparks, she placed the last chunk of wood on top of the ashes. Adding a piece of wadded newspaper, she gently blew on the embers, bringing the fire crackling back to life.

After slipping into her sneakers, Laurel stepped onto the porch on her way to the woodpile. She paused at the eerie beauty that met her eyes. A thin lacy fog slowly danced and swirled in silent abandon around the trees and bushes of the forest. The screen door creaked as it slid from her fingers.

A sudden movement on the porch made her stop. Not three feet from her was a skunk. He, too, had stopped and was curiously sniffing in her direction.

"Ohh...I think I'm in trouble," she whispered.

Inching her way back to the front door, she spoke quietly to the animal.

"Stay as long as you like. The porch is all yours."

She slipped back inside and closed the door with a sigh of relief. She glanced at the fire and decided the chunk of wood would last a while yet. Biting her bottom lip, she grinned at her first successful encounter with nature and padded to the kitchen for a mug of hot tea.

Ginny was still snoring in the loft after Laurel had showered and dressed. Knowing a herd of elephants couldn't wake her sister, Laurel went about straightening up the tiny cabin. That didn't take long and she found herself pacing from bedroom to kitchen to sitting room. She was so used to being constantly busy that she didn't know what to do with herself.

Relax!
she scolded silently.
You're on vacation
.

Moving to the bookcase, she chose a book and sat down, propping her feet up. Forty Years in the Life of a Hunter turned out to be a fascinating account of one man's life in Garrett County. Meshock Browning lived in the early 1800s, she learned, and was a famous hunter of deer and bear right here in this very area. Resting the book on her chest, she pictured Michael as a rough and rugged hunter.

She wondered what it would be like out in the wild with him: eating fresh grilled fish over a camp fire, or sharing wild berries, or snuggling deep into a soft warm sleeping bag, his hands and lips on her body.

That last errant thought made her gasp softly and set her heart racing. She lifted the book and tried to concentrate on the words, but thoughts of Michael Walker kept intruding. The vivid description she read of the beautiful Appalachian Mountains made her eager to experience them for herself, and a nice long walk was sure to vanquish her unsettling thoughts. She closed the old book and gently placed it back on the shelf.

She grabbed her jacket and left the cabin. Taking care that the skunk was nowhere around, she chose a path and started walking. The sun glistened through lacy wet spider webs and sparkled on diamonds of dew clinging to the tips of wild ferns. The calm serenity of the forest was majestic, glorious, almost holy. But the tranquility of the forest didn't extend itself to Laurel as doubts and confusion of another kind tumbled over her.

Had she done the right thing in accepting this silly bet with Ginny? She wasn't sure. She plucked a long weed growing along the path and ran her hand over its feathery tendrils.

If it took a bet to make Ginny think about college, then Laurel was happy to accept it.

A smile smoothed her lips into a delicate curve as she thought of her sister's suggestion of Michael as a possible candidate for "fooling around." His face came to her in a crystal clear image: dark lashes fringing laughing eyes, that little cleft in the chin of his handsome face. And she was sure his strong broad shoulders would be a perfect place for a woman to lay her head. Wondering how it would feel to be enveloped by his warm embrace, she sighed heavily.

"It's too bad you're already branded, Michael Walker," she said aloud.

The rustle of underbrush caught her attention and she stopped to look around. A raccoon was scratching at the ground, and she crouched down to watch the furry bandit as it stretched and climbed atop a tree stump. The animal's black-and-white-ringed tail was so long that, as it hung over the edge of the rotting wood, it almost touched the ground.

"Beautiful," Laurel whispered.

Moving slightly to the left get a better look, she inhaled sharply as a hand clamped down on her shoulder, pushing her roughly to her knees.

Chapter Three

S
he stifled a scream, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Shh," a male voice whispered in her ear.

Jerking herself loose from his grasp, Laurel twisted around to see Michael's face two inches from her own. Exhaling sharply, she glared at him.

"You scared the living daylights out of me!"

"Shh!" He watched the raccoon closely. The animal was alert, staring in their direction, and he warily sniffed the air before returning to his search for breakfast. They silently watched it for several moments.

"Isn't he cute?" Laurel finally whispered. Michael seemed not to hear, so intent was he on the raccoon.

Suddenly aware of Michael's chest pressing tightly against her arm, she grew warm as the heat of him penetrated her thin jacket. Every nerve in her body came alive. Turning her head toward him once more, she lifted her chin slightly. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the woodsy scent of him. She felt surrounded by his presence. The steady pressure of his body against hers gave her an unbelievable sense of security. She fought desperately against the strong, almost overpowering, urge to relax against him. Her eyes snapped open as he moved away from her. She turned her head away, surprised and embarrassed that she felt shaky. Laurel desperately hoped he didn't notice the trembling that his closeness caused her. A quick, anxious glance at his face assured her she was safe, that his concentration was focused strictly on the raccoon. Then she noticed the rifle he was carrying and watched in disbelief as he slowly raised it to his shoulder.

The warm security inside her chilled to an icy horror as she saw him take aim at the defenseless animal. Without thinking, she grabbed the barrel of the gun, shoving it down hard toward the ground. "No!"

The scream frightened the raccoon and it scampered into the thick underbrush.

"What the devil did you do that for?" He stood and angrily reset the safety on the rifle. "Do you realize that I've been tracking that animal for over two hours?"

Laurel jumped to her feet, her eyes fixed on him in a stern glare.

"You were going to shoot that poor thing!" she accused him, then jeeringly added, "What a big, mighty hunter you are!"

"Tranquilize!" He shook the gun. "I was going to tranquilize 'that poor thing'!"

The anger she felt drained from her body like water gurgling from a wide-mouthed bottle. Standing there dazed and numb, she watched as his irritation seemed to dissolve with a heavy sigh.

"Look, raccoons are strictly nocturnal animals." He spoke to her with the exaggerated patience one would use on a child. "That means if you see one out during the day, it's probably sick, maybe even rabid. It could very well be a threat to the other animals in the area. I was going to tranquilize that animal, cage it and have it watched."

Laurel was mortified. She'd done it again. Every single time she met this man she acted asinine. "I'm sorry." Miserable, she looked down at the ground and swallowed convulsively. It took all the courage she could muster to look him in the eye. "I didn't know."

Once again lowering her gaze, she wondered what it was about this man that left her feeling so uncertain, so inadequate. She, who single-handedly managed a successful business, who took excellent care of a sick parent and practically raised her younger sister, never felt incompetent. Not until she met Michael Walker, that is.

He curled his fingers under her chin and gently lifted until their eyes locked. "It's okay." His smile was kind, his look oddly intense and full of tender warmth.

His thumb softly caressed the silky skin of her jaw, then he bent and placed a light kiss on the corner of her mouth. "These forests and creatures mean a lot to me." His voice was quiet, almost reverent. "It's nice to know someone else cares as much as I do." He lightly smoothed her furrowed brow and added, "Don't worry, he won't hide for long."

Laurel felt her brows draw together as she watched him tramp off in the same direction the raccoon had taken. Her frown wasn't caused by worrying about the animal. In fact, she'd forgotten all about it. Her frown was due to a much different reason.

His kiss had caught her off guard, his soft, warm lips barely touching hers before it was over. Not having time to savor the moment had been frustrating, but what confused her was the warm tingling, something akin to electricity, that skittered across her breasts and downward, urging her to lean forward and slide her arms around him. But, thank goodness, she hadn't had time to act before he'd pulled away. And afterward, as he stared at her, his heavy-lidded eyes seemed filled with...

With what? If she didn't know better, she'd say desire. But that's impossible, she thought. Ridiculous, even. The man was going to be married. Shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders, she shook herself out of this silly sentimentality and passed his quirky behavior off as gratitude. She had shown concern over one of his forest creatures. That's all it was. That's all it could have been.