Cold River - Carla Neggers [56]
Sean could see her reserve, her self-control, drop into place. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets, obviously forgetting momentarily about her injured wrist. She bit down on her lower lip in pain but didn’t moan or make any sound. Then she bolted back across the common.
He caught up with her across the street in front of the café entrance.
She held up a hand before he could speak. “I know,” she said stiffly. “I pushed you into saying that.”
“No one’s trying to make things harder for you.”
She peeled his scarf off her neck and handed it to him. “Good night, Sean.”
“If you decide you want to talk, you know where to find me.”
She pretended not to hear him and headed down to the main entrance, running up the steps to the center-hall door. She glanced back at him. “You’re not hiring Devin out of charity or some sense of guilt, are you?”
He stood at the bottom of the steps. “If you know anything about me, Hannah, you know I do almost nothing out of guilt, and you’re not a charity case.”
“Fair enough.” She seemed to make an effort to smile. “You’re not used to cold-weather hiking. You might want to soak in a hot tub tonight.”
“You do the same.”
“I would,” she said cheerfully, “except my cheap landlord won’t install a tub in our bathroom.”
He grinned at her. “Then come up to the lodge. You can use the tub in my room.”
A picture came into his head of Hannah settling into a scented bath in his warm, comfortable room at Black Falls Lodge.
“I’ll keep you posted on cellar repairs,” she said crisply.
He wondered if she was fighting similar images of him, her and a hot bath but forced himself to return to the issue at hand. “We all understand you want to believe Bowie has his act together. With your brothers away—”
“I’ll be alone.” Her tone wasn’t combative. “Yes, Sean, I know.”
“Hannah,” he said, “is there more of a history between you and Bowie than my brothers and I are aware of?”
She gave him a cool smile. “How would that be possible? Nothing goes on in Black Falls that you Camerons don’t know about,” she said, and ducked inside.
Sean waited for the door to shut behind her before he walked back up the street to Elijah’s truck and the dark drive back up the mountain. He’d figure out how much he’d tell Jo and his brothers about his evening in town.
It wouldn’t be everything, that was for damn sure.
Hannah lay awake, the shades pulled, her brothers’ voices and the television in the next room part of the background noise that was life in their small apartment. Devin had tried to explain more about his plans to her—the mix of impulsiveness and long-held dreams that had gone into them—but Hannah was so tired and distracted, trying not to feel rejected, that she took in only half the details, finally promising to sit down with him tomorrow and get everything sorted out.
“It’s just a seven-hour flight to Los Angeles, Hannah.”
A day to get there. A continent between them. The time, the money—the distance. The world her brothers had grown up in versus the one they wanted to embrace.
She stared at the old plaster ceiling. Her parents had dreamed of being a normal family. She wasn’t sure anymore who knew her father had been to prison, serving sentences for brawls, theft, disorderly conduct and simple assault. She wasn’t even sure at this point how much Devin and Toby knew. They’d probably learned more about their father from town gossip than from her.
He’d failed them and himself. And he’d known it.
As she went over the events of the day in her mind, Hannah concluded Sean’s little hit on her in the cellar had been largely tactical, perhaps subconsciously so. He’d been trying to win her trust, worm his way into her psyche. Even if his reaction to her hadn’t been calculated or deliberate, it was, she decided, intended to get her to let down her guard.
“Hannah…Hannah…Hannah…”
She tried to block out the voice and rolled over onto her side, her wrist throbbing as she replayed the day in her head. Hiking up Cameron Mountain. Checking the old stone foundation of Drew’s cabin. Realizing Sean was out there. Seeing