Rescued by the Ranger (5 page)

“It’s what Amanda wanted. It’s what she worked for every day of her life. At least stay a few days before you make up your mind. Maybe you’ll find something here worth staying for.” Peg took the document and returned it with the envelope to her desk drawer.

Garrett took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. A new contentment left him feeling lighter. The silver-haired lady across the desk seemed to hold no bitterness toward him—no greed for Amanda’s half of the resort. This apparently selfless woman only wanted to honor the memory of her sister by welcoming him like a long-lost son. The barriers around Garrett’s heart wobbled a bit. Calm nipped at the edges of his frayed nerves as he considered the idea of spending a day or two here on this remote mountain. It just might do him some good. “Yeah. Maybe that’d be okay . . . Aunt Peg.” The name came out naturally, as though almost three decades hadn’t separated them.

A pleased smile slowly spread across her face, and she nodded. “All right then. I’ll get you set up in a room and have your bags brought in. Dinner will be ready at six o’clock. Make yourself at home.”

Garrett rose. “One more thing—how did my mother die?”

“Heart attack. Her drug use weakened her heart. It happened so fast. She didn’t suffer.”

Garrett took her hand in his, aware how hard it had been to answer him. “Thanks for telling me . . . and for the warm welcome. You didn’t have to be nearly as gracious under the circumstances, but it means a lot.” Sensing her need to be alone, he gave her a warm hug and strode from the office with Cowboy at his heels.

A surprising tranquility had settled over him. As if he had the key to the mystery—the answer to the questions that burned inside him. He had to keep reminding himself that there were two sides to every story—that his father deserved to be heard. But with every passing moment, Garrett became more certain of the validity of Peg’s story. He would wait for adequate proof before confronting his father, but it was almost as though Garrett had known all along.

He dreaded calling Luke and considered putting it off for a couple of days, but his little brother would worry if Garrett didn’t at least let him know he’d arrived safely. Still, how was he going to explain the whole sordid mess over the phone?

Garrett stepped outside onto the deck that ran the length of the building and stopped at the top of the steps, leaning his hip against the rail. Cowboy continued down the steps to find a spot in the shade. The creek bubbled along its winding path not too far away. Timbered slopes rolled down toward the meadow, alive with bachelor buttons, black-eyed Susan, and about a hundred other varieties of wildflowers. The tops of other mountains filled the skyline as the sun slowly marched toward obscurity.

His mother
had
written to him and Luke. If Aunt Peg could be believed, Amanda had wanted to be a part of their lives. Hell, he hadn’t even gotten his PI friend started on the investigation to confirm Aunt Peg’s story, and already he was free of the debilitating weight he’d been carrying around since he was about twelve years old. Was it because he wanted to believe it so badly? Or because he’d suspected there was something off in his father’s handling of the whole event?

Quick footsteps drew his attention over his shoulder.

Rachel, dressed now in tight-fitting jeans rolled up to show slender ankles, a blue calico button-up shirt, and red canvas shoes, barreled out onto the deck, her head down, oblivious to his proximity. She was parallel with him, one foot poised to take the first step off the deck, when he cleared his throat to warn her of his presence. Her head whipped toward him, her eyes widened, and her saucy lips puckered into a perfect O.

As quickly as she made eye contact with him, her head turned back toward the steps. She was clearly off balance, and her gaze darted frantically toward the railing. Only problem was,
he
stood between her and the railing, and she would obviously rather tumble down the steps than chance touching him in her bid to regain her footing.

At the last second, Garrett snagged her waist with one arm and swung her away from the edge, up against his chest.

With a small squeak, the entire length of her body collided with his. Her blush was crimson and instantaneous, priceless considering her earlier bold behavior. Soft, full breasts crushed against his chest, even as she tried to push herself away. Her thighs brushed his, and her enticingly toned stomach leaned against a part of him that awoke with a fully formed agenda of its own.

Her wavy red hair came to just beneath his chin, and the sweet scent of jasmine warred with his practicality as it swirled around him. He set her down a safe distance from the steps. Without thinking, he dipped his head to breathe in her honeyed aroma.

She expelled a furious gasp and jammed her palms against his chest. “
What
do you think you’re doing? Let go of me, you Neanderthal!”

What the hell
was
he doing? Garrett raised his head to face the heated anger smoldering in her gorgeous green eyes. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling like a fool. Nor could he help wanting to hold on to her for a little while longer.

Wanted to—but he let her go anyway, trying not to take offense as she backed a half dozen steps away. “I don’t bite, you know. I was only trying to keep you from breaking that pretty little neck of yours. You have nothing to fear from me.”

Rachel pulled herself up straight. “I’m
not
afraid of you.” The way her eyes focused somewhere on his chest seemed to say otherwise.

“Okay. Look, obviously we got off on the wrong foot. Maybe we could start over again. I’m thinking of sticking around for a couple of weeks.” He quirked an eyebrow, waiting to see how she would take that news.

“A couple of weeks?”

He chuckled, having gotten the expected response. “There you go again . . . making me feel welcome.”

“You’re not a guest.” Her tone clearly implied that this was possibly the worst news she could have received.

Garrett didn’t fully understand why he was yanking her chain since he’d planned to stay only a day or two, but he wasn’t ready to let her off the hook yet.

“Aunt Peg asked me to stick around for a while. I’m considering.” He turned back to the gorgeous landscape beyond the deck, leaning his weight against the railing. He could almost hear the explosion building within her.

“
Aunt
Peg
?
Well, it didn’t take you long to figure out who to cozy up to, did it? But why? For that matter, why are you here at all? Peg doesn’t owe you anything. Showing up here, after Amanda is gone, only causes more sorrow. Don’t you get it?
Amanda
wanted to reconcile with you and your brother. You missed out. Now go back to wherever you came from. Peg is the only one who wants you here, and trust me, you’re not doing her any favors by hanging around.” The words rushed out as though she’d been holding them in for a long time. Her chest heaved with her effort to catch her breath, and tears rushed to her eyes but didn’t fall.

Garrett caught her in a sideways glance. “If I thought I was causing Aunt Peg to suffer, I’d leave in a heartbeat. I think you’re the only one who doesn’t want me here. You can’t forgive me for what you see as my callous mistreatment of Amanda Harding.”

“Her name was Amanda
Williams
. She stopped using her married name a long time ago. Can’t imagine why she wouldn’t want to be associated with the Harding family.” Scorn burned hot in her eyes as she stared him down.

Maybe he should tell her he’d never received one of the letters his mother supposedly wrote in all those years. It was highly unlikely that she’d believe him, though. He was just another man passing through her town—one who’d managed to get on her bad side without even trying. On the other hand, that she’d obviously loved Amanda when he couldn’t, automatically granted her access to a soft spot in his heart.

Suddenly, he wanted to get to know this woman more than anything in the world. He wanted her to understand how badly it had affected him to lose his mother. And he wanted her to know how fast he would have camped on their doorstep if he’d received even one of Amanda’s letters.

Clearly, the only way Rachel would change her mind about what kind of a man he was, would be if she spent some time with him . . . got to know him. He was on the verge of pleading his case when he caught the contempt that furrowed her brow and curled her lip. It was obvious that she despised him. If he told her the sky was blue right now, she probably wouldn’t believe him. But . . . maybe there was something he could do to increase his odds.

Rachel backed another couple of steps and started to turn.

“Tell you what. I’ll make you a deal.” Garrett watched her casually, schooling his expression to play down his sudden and significant need for her to hear him out.

She stopped, her gaze searching his distrustfully. “What kind of a deal?”

“It’s Saturday. You give me the next two days—show me around this place that was Amanda’s home. If you still hate my guts by Tuesday morning, I’ll leave.”

Melodious laughter fell from her lips. “That’s all I’d have to do?”

“One more little thing. You have to be
nice
to me.” Garrett nearly laughed at the look of abject horror that crossed her face.

An unladylike snort escaped and she slammed her hands on her hips. “How nice?”

“Well, hell, don’t you know how to be pleasant? Lay off the snarky comments. Be polite. Pretend you like me. We’ll spend a couple enjoyable days getting to know each other while you show off what Amanda and Peg built on this mountain.”

Rachel crossed her arms in front of her. “How do I know you’ll really leave?”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Right. Like you were ever a Scout.” She narrowed her eyes. “Just one thing wrong with that plan. I work for a living. I can’t let my other chores slide to babysit some city boy.”

Garrett’s ego cringed at that description. Was that really how she saw him? “Now, see? That was a perfect example of
not
being nice.” He scowled until she looked away. “Anyway, I’m sure if I asked Aunt Peg, she’d arrange for someone to take over your duties so that you could help me out for two days.”

Rachel chortled. “Peg doesn’t show preferential treatment to anyone, so if you can get her to agree . . . you’re on. But if not . . . you leave today.” She turned toward the door again. “I wouldn’t bother unpacking if I were you.”

He chuckled. “See you at dinner, Rachel, and don’t get too cocky. The game hasn’t even started yet.”

She disappeared inside without another word. Garrett shook his head and blew out his breath.
What in the hell just happened?
He could no longer deny the attraction he felt for her, but this was the act of a crazy, desperate man. Yep—that seemed to describe him right down to his boots, all right. Still, a small spark of resolve swelled within him at the thought of the challenge ahead. He had to admit that he’d likely be going down in flames unless he came up with a plan to reinvent himself in her eyes. That wasn’t going to be easy because Rachel held her bitterness with both hands, and she was determined to see him out of here in two days . . . or sooner. That meant he had very little time. He’d have to move fast.

First thing on the agenda was to search out Aunt Peg and find out how she felt about rescheduling the help so that Garrett could spend two days with the lovely, though sharp-tongued, Rachel. While he was at it, he’d better ask Peg to keep the details of his mother’s will quiet for the time being. If his best guess was right, Rachel would waste no time in putting this mountain behind her if she learned he might actually be her boss.

Chapter Four

R
ACHEL STOPPED JUST
inside the door to let herself fall apart. How would she ever get through the next few days? Peg had practically begged her to treat Garrett Harding like the honored guest he would have been if his mother was still alive. Now, he’d offered her an easy way out if she’d show him around and
be nice
to him for two days. It sounded simple enough, but it had taken a surprising amount of effort to stand her ground and agree to Garrett’s proposition.

Her breathing started to slow as she leaned against the wall. There was no chance Peg would concede to trade her shift out, but it would have been worth it to get Garrett out of their lives in two days. She wouldn’t even consider whether she could have been
nice
to the egomaniac for that long, because it was probably a challenge that was doomed from the beginning.

Why did she have to literally bump into him anyway? The resort was big enough that she should be able to stay out of his way. Sure, he’d saved her from a nasty tumble, but then he’d held her too close . . . for too long . . . and she hadn’t stopped him quickly enough. The heat of a telltale blush crept up her neck and into her face. Damn it! She hated him. So why had his arms around her been so comfortable and made her feel so safe? She drew a ragged breath and leaned her head against the door. He was going to drive her crazy if he stayed for more than two days.

Rachel pushed away from the wall and made a beeline for the stairs and her room on the second floor. She had a few minutes before she needed to join Dory in the kitchen to help with dinner. That would be enough time to change and wash away Garrett’s musky scent so she wouldn’t have to relive her embarrassing moment every time she breathed.

Five minutes later, clean and clothed in khaki slacks, a salmon-colored T-shirt, and wedge-soled sandals, she closed her bedroom door and skipped down the stairs. It smelled as if Dory’s famous pot roast was on the menu tonight. As she passed Peg’s office, she caught a glimpse of her talking to Garrett. Rachel couldn’t help wishing Peg would put the outsider in his place firmly enough that he’d take his bag and his dog and go home.

Well, actually, he could leave Cowboy. The dog at least was well-mannered and didn’t talk all the time. That put a smile on her face as she entered the kitchen.

“There you are.” Dory’s consistently cheery voice came from halfway inside the oven where she was testing the temperature of the meat. “There’s a new guest in the house tonight. With you, Peg, Jonathan, and Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, that makes six. When you set the table, be sure to put the new hunk next to you.”

“He’s not a guest,” Rachel mumbled. But was Garrett a hunk? He was attractive, she’d give him that, but as soon as she’d discovered who he was, he ceased to be anything but the detestable man who’d made Amanda cry once a month like clockwork and probably other times in between that no one had known about. Rachel had learned that outward appearance usually meant zilch. What was inside made the man, and as far as she could tell, Garrett didn’t have it in that department. “Why would I want him to sit by me?” She returned Dory’s impish grin with a scowl. The other woman’s sparkling blue eyes and dimpled cheeks soon had Rachel choking on a laugh.

Dory chuckled loudly. “That just proves it right there, girl. When was the last time you made hot monkey love with the likes of Mr. McDreamy out there?” Her gaze skewered Rachel, demanding an answer.

Dory Sullivan was about as cute as they came. Two years older than Rachel, with a petite figure that could stop traffic, she had no trouble getting dates. She also had no qualms about dispensing advice to those less fortunate, a position Rachel had found herself in more times than she cared to count.

“We’ve talked about this, Dory. Still not interested.” Rachel sidestepped the question, but couldn’t escape the shiver that feathered along her spine. So she didn’t trust men easily. What was so wrong with that? There’d been a time, many years ago, when she’d given her heart, soul, and body to the man of her dreams. Those dreams had somehow turned into a living nightmare. She was happier and safer on her own, despite what Dory thought.

Dory straightened, and her blonde head wagged back and forth. “You’re not getting any younger you know, Rach.”

They both laughed. “Yeah, well, the last time I checked, twenty-eight was still too young for assisted living.” Rachel grabbed an apron from the hangers beside the refrigerator and tied it around her as she stepped forward.

“It all depends on who’s doing the assisting, in my opinion.” Dory’s grin widened.

Rachel rolled her eyes and grimaced. “Would you stop, please? Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Set the table. And then stir the gravy while I whip up my famous broccoli salad.” Dory handed Rachel a wooden stirring spoon as she passed her on the way to the refrigerator. With one hand on the door handle, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Are you still getting those calls?”

Rachel stiffened even as she pasted a phony smile on her face. If only she hadn’t confided in Dory last week after her friend had witnessed her answer three calls in a row with either heavy breathing or silence on the line. Thank goodness she’d sworn her to secrecy so Rachel didn’t have to worry about Peg finding out. “No. Must have just been kids playing pranks.” She grabbed plates and silverware and headed toward the dining room, hoping Dory would buy her lie.

After making quick work of the table settings, she folded simple place cards and put one at each seat. It would be foolish to deny her friend’s suggestion completely when it was within her power to ensure that Garrett sat as far away from her as possible. Upon returning to the kitchen, Dory was occupied with last-minute preparations, and Rachel was relieved to tend to the gravy without any further questions.

A few minutes later, she and Dory carried the food dishes into the dining room table as Peg, Jonathan, and the guests started filing in. Dory went back to the kitchen, while Rachel turned toward her seat.

Peg sat at the head of the table with the Taylors, a couple from Colorado, on her left, but Jonathan sat on her right . . . where Rachel’s place card should have been. A quick glance revealed the worst-case scenario. Her name was on the placard next to Jonathan . . . and Garrett was already seated on her right.
Dory
. Oh, how her friend was going to pay for this.

As she circled the table to take her place, she caught a smug grin from Jonathan, which shot
him
to the top of her most likely culprits list. She should have known he wouldn’t want to make small talk with Garrett any more than she did. Still, it was unforgiveable, and she narrowed her eyes, hoping he’d understand that she
would
get even.

Just as she reached her seat, Garrett jumped up, pulled her chair out, and smiled as he waited for her to sit. She slid onto the seat and allowed him to push her in while her stomach did a little flip-flop, which she assured herself was only hunger.

Mr. Taylor, Alan, paused in the conversation he’d been having with Peg to watch curiously as Garrett seated her. Realizing that everyone had now fallen silent, Rachel felt the smoldering heat of embarrassment. If only a hole would open in the floor, she would gladly disappear through it. Alan exchanged a glance with his wife, then studied Rachel for a moment before he grinned.

“You’re making the rest of us look bad, son.” A good ten years Garrett’s senior and considerably smaller in stature, Alan’s low, raspy voice vibrated with humor as he extended his hand toward Garrett. “Alan Taylor, and this is my wife, Linda.”

Garrett shook hands and introduced himself. “I’ve been in the military for the last fourteen years. Women are rare. Pretty ones are even harder to come by. You learn to make an impression any way you can.”

Everyone but Rachel laughed—even the traitor, Jonathan. Was that what Garrett was trying to do—make an impression? Well, he’d have to pull out the big guns to impress her.

“I understand completely. And it’s nice to see that chivalry is still alive and well.” Alan winked at Rachel. “In spite of what they’ll tell you, women like their men to make them feel special. Sure . . . today’s woman can fend for herself just fine, but that doesn’t mean she’d object to being set up on that pedestal now and then. Right, honey?” Alan turned to his wife, the slant of his lips forming a crooked smile.

Linda’s gaze swept to her husband, and Rachel was surprised at the vacant stare that made her seem miles away. Then, as though Linda suddenly realized where she was, she laughed softly, wrapped her hand around Alan’s forearm, and looked around the table. “That’s what I love about Alan. He’s always coming up with new ways to show me I’m the only woman in his life.” She leaned toward him and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

Alan smiled proudly, but Rachel was struck by how quickly Linda detached emotionally from the conversation, apparently resuming whatever internal thoughts had occupied her before her husband pulled her into the discussion. Was there trouble up on that pedestal? Rachel sincerely hoped not. They’d seemed so happy together whenever they’d come to stay at the lodge. Rachel hadn’t analyzed their marriage before . . . and it would be best if she didn’t start now.

Rachel usually enjoyed these dinners with travelers from across the country, learning where they were from and where they’d been. The Taylors were almost always the first to arrive each spring. This was the sixth year in a row they’d been guests of the lodge for the early bear hunts. For all intents and purposes, they were practically family. They’d grown to know the area and many of the local people.

Hanging on their guests’ every word was normally the high spot of each day for Rachel, but today’s dinner seemed to drag on forever. All too aware of Garrett’s imposing form beside her, she found it nearly impossible to concentrate on the conversation. Instead, her attention focused on her food, which she shuffled around her plate. On the other hand, Garrett was apparently completely comfortable, joining in the discussion as though he’d sat around this same table all his life, much to Rachel’s annoyance.

Alan Taylor leaned his elbows on the table, his rapt attention evident in the bobbing of his head and the consideration in his penetrating gaze. Linda looked from speaker to speaker, her shoulder-length red hair flipping against one side of her collar and then the other. Their words all blurred together for Rachel—until Alan mentioned that he’d grown up in Texas and still had family there.

She jumped as though electricity had zapped her nerve endings, then went rigid, her arms braced on the edge of the table, hoping it hadn’t been as noticeable as she feared. Her skin tingled beneath Garrett’s curious stare, and she could feel Alan’s gaze on her as well. That answered the question. Even Peg eyed her with concern etched in the lines around her mouth. Rachel made a conscious effort to relax, which failed big-time. Sad when the mere mention of Texas, her home when her stalker began threatening her, could send her into full-fledged panic.

As though he knew the reason for her tension, Garrett turned the subject away from Texas. The Taylors had a winter residence in Garrett’s home state of California, so the discussion moved to the housing problems, the economy, and politics. With an uneasy glance toward Peg, Garrett admitted that his father was a US senator from the Golden State.

“You don’t say. Well, hell, I didn’t vote for him,” Alan said.

Everyone chuckled except Garrett. Rachel studied him from beneath her lashes, immediately picking up on his discomfort and animosity. Was this a chink in his armor? Something she could use to hasten his departure? In the next breath, a tiny sprout of sympathy unsettled her as red splotches appeared on his face.

Anger? Was there trouble in paradise? Or was Garrett embarrassed by something about his old man?

When Amanda had mentioned that her ex-husband was now a US senator and worth a lot of money, Rachel hadn’t given it much thought. Now, however, she could imagine growing up in that household, where the only parental figure had spent most of his time in Washington, DC, and when he’d been home, was probably more concerned about his image than his sons.

Oh no. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be feeling sorry for Garrett next. The Taylors finally excused themselves, and Rachel immediately began gathering empty dishes, unable to wait another minute to make her escape.

“Rachel, I’d like you to show Garrett around our mountain while he’s here.” Peg’s words wrapped around Rachel’s thoughts, and for a moment she forgot to breathe.

“What? What about the Watering Hole? We’re opening in two weeks. I have to take inventory and order supplies.” She glanced at Garrett, and to his credit, he seemed as curious about the answer to her question as she was.

“There’s plenty of time for all that. And Jonathan said he’d check for needed repairs, so that will take quite a bit off your plate, dear. Garrett isn’t sure how long he’ll be staying yet, but I know Amanda would want him to see as much of the mountain and countryside as possible. I’d give him the grand tour myself, but I just can’t get away right now.” The sadness in Peg’s eyes implored her.

Rachel bit back the refusal poised on the tip of her tongue, because Peg’s wistful smile told the real story. She was asking for Amanda . . . for her son’s visit to be all that Amanda would have made it if she’d been there. No matter how unfair life became, no matter how angry Rachel was, it didn’t matter. There or not, these were Amanda’s two days. And since when wouldn’t she cut off her right arm for either Peg or Amanda?

Rachel had agreed to Garrett’s deal thinking Peg would refuse his request. She should have known Peg would likely grant him anything within reason. She’d walked right into that one and now she was stuck, but she didn’t have to like it.

Rachel breathed deeply and straightened, tamping down her desire to storm out of the room. She smiled, probably a wobbly, pathetic stretching of her lips. “Of course, Peg. I’ll be happy to show Mr. Harding around.” She turned toward Garrett, wishing looks really could kill. “What time would you like to start?”