Текст книги "Only With A Highlander"
Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен
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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
Matt’s chest expanded on a deep breath, and he cupped her head to him with a gentle rumble of amusement. “I am definitely glad I didn’t wait.” His finger came under her chin and lifted her face to look at him. “You’re lovely, Winter. Please don’t go all shy on me. I’m attracted to you, and it’s only reasonable to expect that attraction to lead to kissing.”
She couldn’t respond to save her soul. Matt gave another soft laugh and kissed her on the forehead, then let her go, took hold of her hand again, and started them walking down the moon-shadowed path toward the hotel.
“So,” he said conversationally, “do you think the meadow would be a good place for me to build my house?”
Winter was thinking a meadow in China would be even better. “It certainly has everything you’
re looking for,” she said, proud that she had found her voice and that it had sounded quite normal. She sensed him looking at her, but she continued staring at the path ahead. “Though I’ve always thought living within a stone’s throw of the water would be as equally appealing as a magnificent view,” she added, trying to ignore the heat of his hand surrounding hers.
Aye. This was nice, Winter decided. The man kissed like a prince, yet he felt so wonderfully comfortable to be with. Her poor scattered emotions were bouncing from wanting to kiss him again and wanting to simply cuddle into his warm embrace.
Cursed chemistry.
It seemed he needed to think about that, until he finally said, “Living on the water does have a certain appeal, but it’s such a narrow perspective. Up in the meadow a person has a sense of…well, of the largeness of the world.”
“Aye,” Winter agreed, her nerves finally settling down the closer they got to the hotel. “It reminds you how insignificant we really are in the overall scheme of things.”
Matt gave a laugh, his hand tightening on hers as he lifted it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles without breaking stride. “I prefer to think we have great significance,” he said as they walked under the hotel canopy. “Otherwise, what’s the point of our being here?”
Winter blinked up at him as he held the lobby door open for her. Matt’s smile was warm and genuine—and rather breathtaking when he was amused. “The point is, we’re supposed to be seeking the point,” she said, finally stepping into the lobby ahead of him. “We’re all on a collective journey,” she continued as his long, easy gait brought him beside her again. “But individually, we’re mere whispers in a very crowded universe.”
She stopped and waved at the mural she’d painted of TarStone Mountain in wintertime. “That’s why the skiers are nothing more than single dots of paint,” she explained. “And why the resort itself took only a few brushstrokes. Compared to the timeless, massive energy sitting dormant in the granite, soil, and timber of the mountain, people are just like little animals taking advantage of TarStone’s energy.”
“You talk as if the mountain were alive,” he said softly as he studied the mural. He looked over at her, his eyes dark and enigmatic as he lifted one brow in question. “Is it?”
“Aye, it’s quite alive,” she said just as softly. “You can lie prone on its granite with your eyes closed and feel the mountain gently breathing.”
“Stone is inert, Winter,” he argued. “It doesn’t breathe, much less live or die. It’s nothing but matter.”
She tilted her head. “Did you not feel the powerful weight of Bear Mountain when you sat up on that boulder this afternoon and ate your lunch?” she asked. “Did a sense of peace not come over you?
For those few moments of time, did you not feel you were part of something just as alive as you are?”
“Is that what happens when you sit in your forest and paint? You get this sense of being part of everything, of being one with the animals as well as the rocks and trees?”
“Yes,” she said simply.
He took hold of her shoulders, moving closer when a group of people walked by, his darkly intense gaze remaining locked on hers. “Can you teach me that, Winter? Will you take me with you the next time you paint, and let me see if I can feel it, too?”
Without even thinking, Winter reached up and laid a hand on his chest. “But you canfeel it, Matt. There’s nothing special about me; anyone can feel the energy if he only stops long enough to notice.”
“Tomorrow, then. We’ll head up to my meadow and we’ll sit on a rock and listen together.”
“Tomorrow I’m meeting Tom at my gallery in the morning,” she told him. “And you’re meeting him in the afternoon.”
Matt stopped her from lowering her hand by covering it with his own. “Then when?”
“Tom can show you when you go see your sunset. He’s just as aware of the energy as I am, Matt. You only need to look at the carving he did for Megan to see that.”
Matt pressed her hand more firmly against his chest. “I don’t want Tom; I want you.”
There was a loud commotion at the front of the lobby, and Winter turned with a frown—and suddenly gasped. “Father Daar,” she said, as the old priest used his cane to push his way through a group of people congregated by the door.
“Winter!” Daar called as he scurried past the desk clerk trying to head him off. “I’m needing to talk to ye!”
“It’s okay, John. I’ve got him,” Winter told the clerk as she met up with Daar. “Father,” she said calmly, covering his arm holding the cane so he would stop waving it around. “What’s wrong?”
“Where’s Greylen?” he impatiently asked, his face flushed with worry as his gaze searched the lobby. “I’m needing to speak with your papa,” he said, bringing his frantic eyes back to her.
“He’s not here, Father,” she said softly, edging them both away from the mainstream of guests.
“He and Mama are camping on the mountain tonight.”
Daar pulled away and thumped his cane on the floor. “I need him now!” he snapped. “I need Greylen. Or Robbie. Where in hell is MacBain? This is a crisis,” he ground out, shaking his head. “I need them now.”
“Can I be of help, Father?” Matt asked from behind Winter.
“Who the hell are ye?” Daar growled, glaring past Winter’s shoulder. His eyes suddenly widened, and he pointed his cane at Matt as he looked at Winter. “Is he yer date?” he yelped. He furiously thumped his cane on the floor again. “Ye’re not supposed to date anyone!”
Winter moved between them and took hold of Daar by both arms. “You need to calm down,”
she said softly. “Tell me what’s happened and I’ll try to help you.”
Even as she held his upper arms, Daar started wringing his hands together, causing his cane to bump her shin. “It’s my tree,” he whispered harshly. “Someone’s killed my tree. I need to speak to Robbie and Greylen. They have to help me.”
Winter sucked in her breath. She looked over her shoulder at Matt and said, “Will you excuse us a minute, please? Just long enough for me to calm him down?”
Though he was obviously concerned, Matt nodded and stepped back a few paces. Winter smiled her thanks and looked at Daar. “What do you mean, someone killed your tree? The pine tree?”
“Aye,” Daar said, vigorously nodding. “It’s been cut clean off about thirty feet up. The entire top is gone.” He reversed their grip and clutched her arms tightly, this time causing his cane to smack her thigh. “And I can’t find the top. It’s been stolen. I need Robbie to find it!”
Winter wiggled free and stroked her hands soothingly along his arms. “Robbie will help you, Father. Just as soon as it’s daylight, both Robbie and Papa will start looking for the top of your tree. Let me take you to Gù Brath, and when Robbie gets back from his dinner with Cat, we’ll tell him what happened and he’ll know what to do.”
“Nay,” Daar growled. “I must go home. I need to be up on the mountain. Ye get Robbie from his dinner and tell him to come to me right now.”
“You can’t do anything about it tonight,” Winter reasoned. “And I’m not letting you walk home alone,” she added, thinking about the two swordsmen Tom had told her about. “Robbie will be back in a few hours. Until then, I’ll call Papa on his cell phone and tell him what’s happened.”
“I tried that!” Daar snapped. “I stopped at Gù Brath and used yer phone, but all I got was some foolish woman wanting me to leave a message. She wouldn’t tell me where Greylen is.”
Winter couldn’t help but smile. “That lady is a recording, Father. Papa likely shut off his phone,” she explained, turning and linking her arm through his to lead him toward the lobby door. “Come on. I’ll make you a nice cup of hot tea, and I’ll give you some cookies while we wait for Robbie.”
He pulled free. “I want to go home.”
“Okay, then,” Winter said quietly, still edging him toward the door. “I’ll get my truck and drive you home.”
“I’ll drive,” Matt said, stepping around them and opening the door so they could walk outside.
“We can take my truck. It’s in the parking lot.”
Winter blinked at Matt. Good heavens, she’d forgotten him. She started to tell him he needn’t bother, but the look in his eyes made her snap her mouth shut without uttering a word.
Matt smiled. “Wait here while I get the truck.”
“I want ye to call Robbie,” Daar interjected, first scowling at Matt, then Winter. “I want MacBain.”
“This is Robbie and Catherine’s first night out since Angus was born,” Winter told him gently but firmly. “We are not ruining their evening when nothing can be done until daylight anyway. Robbie will come to see you as soon as he gets home.”
Daar pointed at Matt. “We don’t need him.”
“You need me if you want to get home tonight,” Matt said. “Because Winter is not traveling that mountain alone at night.”
Daar lifted his chin, his crystal blue eyes filled with challenge. “Winter’s been traveling that mountain at night since she was ten,” he said. “She knows it better than anyone.”
“Nevertheless, it’s me and my truck, or you have dinner with us here while you wait for MacBain.”
Daar turned his glare on Winter. “Since when are ye letting a man tell ye what to do?”
“Since she agreed to have dinner with me tonight,” Matt said before she could respond. The polite smile Matt had been using on Daar turned amused when he looked at Winter. “I’ll be right back,”
he said as he started jogging toward the parking lot.
“Well, I never—” Daar muttered, shaking his head at Winter. “Ye shouldn’t be dating that interfering man,” he told her. “Ye shouldn’t be dating anyone!”
“Maybe I should run away and join a convent instead.”
“Aye,” Daar said with a thoughtful nod. “That would work.”
Winter scowled at him. “I was joking, Father.” She patted his arm and softly urged, “Please calm down. Everything will be all right. Robbie will find out what happened to your tree.”
Daar dropped his gaze. “I cannot believe someone cut my pine,” he muttered. He looked up at her. “Not one of the other trees around it was touched. I had it hidden in a stand of several other pines, and it’s the only one that was cut.” His eyes suddenly widened and he took a step back. “Greylen,” he said on an indrawn breath. “He chopped down my tree!”
“Papa?” Winter said in a whispered yelp. She immediately shook her head. “He wouldn’t, Father. He knows the importance of that pine tree. He wouldn’t dare harm it.”
Daar scowled at her, obviously thinking furiously. “He would if he was trying to protect…ah, someone,” he said. “Greylen would dare anything. That’s why the blackguard can’t be found tonight,” he hissed, looking toward the summit and thumping his cane on the ground between them. “He’s probably up there with yer mama right now, burning the top of it.”
“Think, Father,” Winter said. “Why would he cut the tree thirty feet up from the ground? If Papa wanted to kill it, he would have cut it off at the stump.”
Daar eyed her as he rubbed his short white beard with the butt of his cane. “Aye,” he said softly, his eyes narrowed in thought. “I did wonder about that.”
A large, black, four-door pickup pulled under the canopy and came to a stop beside Winter and Daar. Matt got out, walked around the front, and opened the back passenger door. “Let’s get you home, Father,” he said, reaching to help Daar.
Daar thumped his cane again. “I’m riding in the front.”
“There’s only bucket seats in the front,” Matt patiently explained. “And since Winter needs to show me the way, that leaves only the backseat or the cargo bay.”
“It used to be people respected priests,” Daar muttered as he finally climbed in the backseat with Matt’s help.
Matt handed Daar the seat belt. “Used to be priests were pious servants,” he countered with a chuckle. “Or so I’ve been told.”
Daar squinted at Matt, clearly taking umbrage. “Ye’re a godless man, Mr.—” He suddenly looked over at Winter. “Ye didn’t even introduce us proper, girl.”
“Father,” Winter said with a smile, “this is Matt Gregor. He owns Bear Mountain and is building a house there. Matt, this is Father Daar…ah, an old friend of my family. He lives up on TarStone.”
Matt gave a slight, formal bow. “Father Daar,” he said.
“Gregor,” Daar repeated softly as he studied Matt. “Ye seem familiar, now that I’ve calmed down enough to look at ye. Where are ye from?”
Matt shrugged. “Here and there. New York most recently.”
The door Matt was holding moved as a strong gust of wind blew under the open canopy, buffeting them and the truck in a flurry of dried leaves. Winter looked toward the summit and saw the moon peaking out from a bank of dark, roiling clouds. She looked at Matt. “A storm must be moving in.”
“Aye,” Daar interjected. “One hell of a storm.” He reached over and took hold of the door Matt was still holding. “I want to go home,” he said just before he slammed it shut.
Matt turned to Winter with a crooked smile. “You have some very colorful friends,” he said.
“First Talking Tom and now Father Daar.”
“Hey, I can’t pick my neighbors.”
Matt opened the front passenger door, and before Winter could put her foot on the running board to climb in, he lifted her into the front seat. She didn’t even squeak this time, but only gave him a smug smile as he softly closed the door.
Matt walked around the front of the truck and climbed in behind the wheel.
“Which way?” Matt asked as he reached over and finished fastening Winter’s seat belt for her.
“Toward town or straight up the ski slope?”
“We head up past Gù Brath, on the same road we took this afternoon,” she told him as he fastened his own seat belt. “Then we turn right on another old tote road two miles up. That’s when it really gets rough and steep. I’m glad you thought to buy a four-wheel-drive truck.”
He put the truck in gear, shot her a smile, and started them toward Gù Brath. “I own a mountain,” he reminded her, then said over his shoulder, “So, Father, did I hear you say a pine tree was cut down? It must be special for you to be so upset. Were you growing it for Christmas?” He turned off the paved driveway and onto the tote road. “Isn’t it a little early for someone to be stealing a Christmas tree?”
“It’s not a Christmas tree,” Daar said. “It’s…I…ah, I’m studying the genetics of white pines, and I was going to collect the cones for their seeds. But somebody cut off the top last night.”
Winter was impressed. She couldn’t have come up with a better excuse, though she wasn’t surprised by Daar’s explanation, considering all the time the priest spent at Robbie’s logging operation.
Daar was always begging for rides and asking questions about clear-cutting and regrowth. This was obviously a fib Daar felt comfortable playing out.
“But why would someone want to steal its pine cones?” Matt asked. “Is the tree a hybrid you’
ve developed?”
“It’s…I was…It’s…”
Winter realized Daar might not know such a modern term, and quickly said, “It hasn’t been genetically altered or anything. It’s just a naturally occurring seed tree for lumber. Lumbermen are always looking for really straight trees with thick trunks, as they make perfect saw logs for dimensional lumber.
Daar has been watching this particular tree for several years and hoped to give my cousin the seeds.
Robbie owns several thousand acres of timberland, and he has to replant the areas he cuts.”
Matt squeezed her hand and gave a nod. “So the real worry is that someone trespassed and cut down a tree he didn’t own, is that it?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Winter said. “As well as how that person even knew about that particular tree. Turn here,” she said, pointing at the narrow road on the right.
Matt turned, causing the truck’s headlights to close into a narrow beam as the overgrown path gave the illusion they were traveling into a rising, twisting cave. Matt let go of her hand and pushed the button that engaged the four-wheel drive, but before Winter could pull away, he again covered her hand with his to rest on the console. And he didn’t let go again until the trail really got rough and he needed both hands to control the sometimes halting, sometimes slipping truck.
“Is there a reason you don’t rebuild this goat path?” he asked, after muttering a rather colorful curse when the truck side-slipped on a steep outcropping of ledge.
Winter was holding on to the handle just above her door, and was turned around checking on Daar. “We usually make the trip on horseback,” she said. “Or by snow-cat in the winter.” She smiled at the sight of Matt’s scowling face illuminated by the dash lights. “And keeping it impassable discourages the tourists.”
“And Father Daar lives up here…why?”
“Because I like my privacy,” Daar interjected, also mouthing a curse when his cane smacked his own shin. “I don’t like people.”
“Really?” Matt drawled.
They rode in silence for another twenty minutes, the rutted path that had overgrown to nothing more than a trail taking all of Matt’s concentration. Branches scraped along the side of his new truck, and Winter winced when she heard a loud thud hit the frame.
“For a fancy truck, this thing rides like a damn donkey cart,” Daar said, giving a grunt as they came to an abrupt stop.
“Did you see that?” Matt asked, staring out the windshield.
“See what?” Winter asked, also scanning the trail ahead in the beam of the headlights.
“I swear I saw a cat. It darted into the bushes just beyond the beam of the lights. It was big and black, like that picture in your gallery. What did you call it? Gasser?”
“Gesader,” Winter told him, shaking her head. “But he’s not real. You must have seen a lynx.”
“Are lynx black?”
“It could have been a bear.”
“Do bears have tails as long as their bodies?”
“You didn’t see a panther, Matt. They’re jungle animals.”
“I’ve seen a dark, long-tailed lynx,” Daar interjected. “He’s a big one, too. He lives over on West Shoulder Ridge, but he hunts over here sometimes. He must be one of them hybrids,” Daar finished smugly.
Great, Winter thought. They were all going to hell for telling lies, and she would be responsible for taking a priest down with her. “The cabin is just a few hundred yards farther up the path,” she said.
“There’s a clearing where you can turn around.”
Matt moved his narrow-eyed stare from Daar to her.
“I’m sure Father Daar will make us some tea and toast, since we missed dinner and he’s so thankful we brought him home,” she continued. “Won’t you, Father?” she asked without looking away from Matt.
“Aye. I think I have an old loaf of dry bread and some tea left,” Daar returned, sounding anything but hospitable.
Without saying a word, Matt put the truck back in gear and slowly started forward again. And other than the occasional scrape of a branch, a person could have heard a mouse sneeze in the cab of the truck. Daar’s cabin came into view a few minutes later, and Matt turned in a wide circle that ended at the porch stairs. He shut off the engine but left the headlights on, and the silence became even more pronounced but for the occasional ping of dried leaves hitting the truck roof and windshield.
“If you don’t mind, Father,” Matt said quietly, “I’ll take a rain check on the tea and toast. I need to have Winter back by eleven, or her cousin is going to stomp me into the ground.”
Winter let out a relieved breath, grateful Matt was going to stop pursuing his panther sighting.
She unfastened her seat belt and got out, then turned to help Daar from the backseat. Matt came around and took his arm as they climbed the porch stairs.
“I’m sorely tired,” Daar said as he stood at his door and looked at Winter. “Ye promise ye’ll tell Robbie what’s happened the minute he gets back?”
“I promise.”
Daar looked at Matt and lifted his chin. “My manners compel me to thank ye, Gregor, for bringing me home.”
“You’re welcome,” Matt said, with a slight incline of his head. “Do you want us to come in and build up your fire?”
“Nay. I can tend my own fire.”
Winter leaned over and gave Daar a kiss on his bearded cheek. “Good night, Father. I’ll likely see you tomorrow. I’ll come up to help Robbie and Papa in the afternoon.”
“Nay,” Daar said with a quick shake of his head. “I only want the men.”
Winter wasn’t insulted. In fact, she was assured Daar was back to his cantankerous old self.
She patted his arm with a laugh, then turned and walked down the steps and over to the passenger door of the truck. Remembering Tom’s swordsmen, she warned, “You stay inside tonight, Father. You can’t help Robbie if you catch a chill. He’ll be up as soon as he can.”
“Aye,” Daar agreed, the headlights illuminating his wave from the porch rail. “I’ll be right here when Robbie arrives.”
Winter opened her door and waited, only to frown when Matt didn’t lift her in. She turned to find him standing behind her, his hands on his hips, smiling.
“It’s no fun when you’re expecting it,” he said.
Winter rolled her eyes with a laugh, stepped on the running board, and climbed in the truck.
Matt softly closed the door and walked around the front, stopping when Daar said something to him that she couldn’t hear. They exchanged words, then Matt finally climbed in behind the wheel.
“What did he say to you?”
He shrugged and started the engine. “Just another friendly warning,” he told her, putting the truck in gear and slowly easing out of the clearing and back onto the steep path. He darted a quick glance at her. “That if I value my life, I might want to find another lass to charm.”
“Oh, no,” Winter muttered, covering her face with her hands and shaking her head.
“He also kindly explained that your father is even more protective of you than your cousin, and that getting on the wrong side of Greylen MacKeage was tantamount to suicide.” Matt brushed back her hair and pulled one hand from her face, exposing one of her eyes so she could see his smile. “He also suggested I spend more time praying and less time pursuing a woman destined for the convent.”
Winter did groan then, quite loudly, and covered her face again as they bumped their way down the mountain.
“I’m beginning to realize why you aren’t already married. How many boyfriends have your army of protectors scared off?”
“Dozens,” she muttered before lowering her hands to smile at him. “That I know of. That’s not counting the guys who never even dared to ask me out.”
Matt kept his attention on the path ahead. “Well, Miss MacKeage, your army has just come up against a man who doesn’t scare easily.” He braked to a stop and looked at her. “Do you?”
Chapter Nine
“T he only thing that scares me,”Winter said softly, watching his face in the dash lights, “is not being able to tell if what I’m feeling is real or just my imagination.”
“You’re not imagining me, Winter MacKeage. I assure you, I’m very real.”
Winter clasped her hands on her lap and stared out the windshield. “Then that does scare me,”
she whispered.
He said nothing to that, but sat with his own hands loosely holding the steering wheel as he also stared out the windshield. Then, still without saying anything, he finally began easing the truck down the rutted trail again, the stark, pregnant silence inside the cab making Winter’s heart pound with dread.
Had she just blown it? Had she finally managed to do what Robbie and Father Daar hadn’t been able to? Had she just scared off Matt by letting him know she was attracted to him?
She knew better! She knew men didn’t like being chased by infatuated, starry-eyed women; they wanted to be the pursuer. Men were like bears: run from them and they would go after their prey without questioning why, but stand firm and make a lot of noise and they’d just as likely turn tail and run.
Matt had been enjoying pursuing her, giving chase by buying her paintings, commissioning her time, even kissing her on his own terms. But she had just told him she liked him so much it scared her, and now he was suddenly rethinking his intentions toward her.
Aye, she’d blown it big time.
The sound of the bushes scraping the truck grated on Winter’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard. She had met Matt only yesterday, yet in that short time she’d experienced a whole roller coaster of emotions. She’d gotten angry at both him and herself, been intrigued, infatuated, charmed, and quite wonderfully kissed. Maybe she really should join a convent; it had to be easier than maneuvering through this quagmire of feminine awareness.
But curses, running away wasn’t the solution, either. Hadn’t her parents always taught her to follow her heart? Well, despite what her mind was all but screaming, Winter’s heart was telling her that Matheson Gregor was one man worth making a fool of herself over.
So what the heck, she suddenly decided with a determined lift of her chin, she might as well begin as she intended to go on. And if Matt Gregor couldn’t handle her own intentions, it was his loss!
“If you want to really feel the mountain,” she said into the silence, “the best time is when a storm is moving in.”
He stopped the truck, put it in neutral, and looked at her.
“There’s a sheltered bluff not a hundred yards away, where we could feel the mountain breathing.”
He shut off the engine and then the headlights, plunging them into absolute darkness. Winter twined her fingers together, both dreading and hoping he’d say something—anything—to put her out of her misery.
She flinched when his large hand covered hers, stilling her action. “I finally understand your family,” he said through the darkness. “You really do need looking after, don’t you? You’ve put yourself on a mountain in the middle of nowhere, with someone you’ve just met, and now you’re offering to take a walk in the woods with a complete stranger who outweighs you by at least a hundred pounds.”
She pulled her hands from his and crossed her arms under her breasts. Okay, so maybe this hadn’t been a good idea. Whether Matt was angry or amused by her not-so-subtle offer, he was definitely surprised. She sensed him leaning back on his side of the truck, and could just make out his own arms folded over his chest as her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness.
“What about that cat I saw?” he asked after a long silence.
“He’ll smell us before we see him and will keep his distance,” she said in a near whisper, profoundly thankful the darkness was hiding her scorching red cheeks. “Lynx are curious, but they’re not aggressive.”
Matt suddenly moved, causing Winter to flinch again when he opened his door and flooded the interior of the truck with light. He climbed out, then turned and started rummaging under his seat, his hand finally emerging with a flashlight and tiny case.
“W-what’s that?” Winter asked, beginning to worry she was about to get more than she’d wished for.
He set the flashlight on the seat and unzipped the case. “A pistol,” he said, taking the automatic out and tucking it in his jacket pocket.
“No,” Winter said harshly. “You don’t need a gun.”
About to pick up the flashlight, he looked at her. “It’s just a precaution,” he assured her. “We’
re in the woods, it’s nighttime, and I don’t care for surprises.”
She shook her head. “I’m not leaving this truck if you bring that gun,” she said, thinking about Gesader’s penchant for lurking in the bushes. “There’s nothing in the woods that isn’t more afraid of us than we are of it.”
He frowned at her, studying her face. “You’re serious,” he finally said. “Do guns bother you, Winter? You seemed concerned this afternoon when I told Tom I had one rolled in my jacket.”
“Guns don’t bother me when they’re necessary,” she said, shaking her head again. “But you don’t need one now.” She unfastened her seat belt and turned to face him, leaning on the console and pointing at the flashlight. “We don’t need a gun or a light,” she told him. “Our eyes will adjust to the darkness, and we won’t be more than a hundred yards away from the safety of the truck.”
He hesitated, then finally reached in his pocket, pulled out the pistol, and slipped it back in its case. He put the case under the seat and softly closed his door without picking up the flashlight, then walked around the truck to open her door, and reached inside for her hand.
It took Winter a full minute to set her hand in his and slip out of the truck.
“Stand there a minute,” he said, opening the back door and reaching under the seat, once more bringing on the cab lights. At this rate, Winter feared their eyes were going to be so confused they’d never adjust.
He straightened, tucking a blanket under his arm. “A picnic kit came with the truck,” he said in explanation as he closed the door and felt around in the darkness for her hand again. He gave her fingers a squeeze and chuckled aloud. “I don’t know which of us is more trusting—your trusting that I’m not a serial killer, or my trusting that nothing out here is going to eat us.”
“I’ve been told the probability is slight that you’re a serial killer,” Winter said, finally starting to relax as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She started leading Matt farther down the path, deciding everything would be okay, that the woods were the safest place she could be. “And besides, I could easily slip away in the darkness, leaving you as bewildered as that lynx in my painting you bought.”
He laughed again, his hand tightening on hers as she stepped off the path and into the forest.
“That’s reassuring. Are you warm enough?”
“I like the cold. Watch that log,” she said, guiding him around a fallen tree, slowly relaxing the farther they went into the woods. “It’s hard to believe in another couple of months the snow up here will be deeper than I am tall.”
