Loving Deep: Steele Ridge Series Page 17

  Britt reached over and drew her mouth to his. He slid his tongue along the rim of her upper lip, and she opened, giving him access. She tasted of beer and brats and heaven. It was a chickenshit way of conveying his gratitude, his growing affection. One day, he would find the right words. But not tonight. Tonight, he would show her.

  When he eased back, she asked, “What was that for?”

  “For giving me something to think on.”

  “I’ll have to come up with a few more things to occupy your mind.”

  He laughed, and they settled into an easy silence while staring into the flames.

  The fire died down, and Britt got up to add a few more logs. He took the opportunity to ask the question that had been stabbing at his curiosity for days.

  “My turn for a question.”

  She sent him a don’t-screw-with-my-serenity look. He ignored her.

  “What happened between you and your mom?”

  Her longneck slipped between her fingers, though she caught it before the bottle hit the ground. “Pardon?”

  “Like your mom, you’re a good person. Both caring, smart, funny.” He took a drink. “I’ve been trying to figure out what drove you apart.”

  “Britt, it’s been a great day. I don’t want to dampen it by talking about my mom.”

  “We had a deal, remember? Question for a question.”

  A deep sigh erupted beside him. “It’s complicated.”

  “We’ve got all night.”

  “Our estrangement wasn’t caused by any one thing.” She set her plate aside. “It was more like a lot of small events that wedged between us, creating a gaping chasm neither of us could—or would—cross.”

  The indifferent tone to her voice made him want to pull her onto his lap and rock her to tears. Because no matter what control she had over her emotions right now, she needed to let go. To mourn her mother. To grieve for the mother-daughter relationship she secretly yearned for, but was now lost to her.

  “What kind of events?” he asked.

  “That counts as a second question.” She sent him a steady sideways glance. “Are you sure you want to continue our question for a question game?”

  Britt bit back a curse. He’d allowed himself to forget how her beauty masked a savvy businesswoman, one who knew how to barter and get what she wanted.

  All in.

  “I don’t consider this a game,” he said in a low voice. “I’m trying to figure you out, share with you. If quid pro quo is the only way I can achieve my goal, so be it.”

  Her expression turned guarded, and she returned her attention back to the fire. “Until I was about eight or nine, I enjoyed a full, loving family life. Then my mother got a position with International Wildlife Conservation and everything changed.”

  “Didn’t she work before?”

  “Oh yes, she’d always held a job. A single-income household wasn’t an option for us.”

  “What was it about the IWC position that changed everything?”

  “She traveled—a lot. When not at work, she volunteered. She rescued animals. She mentored college students.” Randi broke off a dandelion leaf near her foot. “Her position with IWC triggered an almost manic need to save everything—except her family.”

  “Where was your father in all of this?”

  “My father did his best to make up for my mother’s absence. But some things, like braiding my hair or glamming me up for a school play, were beyond his skill set.” She tore the leaf apart, bit by bit. “I miss him.”

  “How’d he die again? Barbara said something about a heart condition.”

  “Massive heart attack. My dad hated going to the doctor, so he ignored my repeated requests for him to get his swollen ankles and numb fingers looked at. One day he was at the dinner table and the next, he wasn’t.”

  Not knowing what else to do, Britt smoothed his palm over her back in large circles. “I’m sorry, Randi.”

  She sent him a small smile. “It was a long time ago.”

  “But no less painful.”

  Dropping the shredded leaf bits, she asked, “What about your dad?”

  He set his empty plate on the ground and picked up her half-full one. “Finish your supper while I share the Steele family saga.”

  “Are we setting caveats on answering each other’s questions now?”

  “Just this one time.” He pointed to her food. “Eat.”

  She picked up her fork. “Yes, sir.”

  “The situation with my dad wasn’t much different than what you experienced with your mom. Except for one thing. Your mom stuck around.” Britt rested his arms on his knees and stared into the fire. “Not long after Evie was born, my dad started spending weekends at an almost uninhabitable cabin. Weekends turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Months into years. Every great once in a while, he’ll make an appearance at a family function. But for the most part, he’s cut himself from our lives.”

  “Why?”

  “Nobody knows. Any time we ask him about it, he disappears again.”

  Randi reached out and clasped his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Everyone in the family is past it. I feel bad that Evie never had her dad in her life for any solid time. But I’ve tried to make sure she didn’t feel the loss too much.”

  “You’re a good brother.” She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. “I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for you.”

  “Me? I had more time with him than my brothers and sisters.”

  “You became a father figure overnight. In ways you probably don’t even realize, you lost parts of your youth.”

  “Maybe. Maybe I have a different relationship with my siblings than I would have had if my dad had stuck around. But given the same situation all over again, I’d take care of them as best I could.”

  “From what I can tell, the Steeles are a happy, good-hearted family. In large part due to you.”

  “The credit goes to Mom. She’s the heart of the family. All I did was keep her kids from killing each other.”

  “I suspect you contributed far more to the family than curtailing death and dismemberment.”

  Britt leaned over and used his thumb to wipe off a dollop of mustard at the corner of her mouth. Without thinking, he licked it from his thumb. “And I suspect you redirected this conversation away from answering the rest of my question.”

  She snatched her paper napkin from beneath her plate and swiped it over her mouth, cheeks, and chin.

  Britt sat back in his chair and stretched out his legs and waited.

  “I held out hope for six long years, expecting that she’d get tired or fired and return to us.” She rinsed down her brat with some beer. “Mom never did. Had I not known how good it could be, I probably would have adapted to the new regime.” She stared hard at the bottle in her hand. “But I knew. I prayed and prayed and prayed for my mom to come back. But she put her job before her family, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive her for taking something so precious away from me.”

  Little wonder she’d detached herself from nature. In her mind, it was the reason she’d lost the close bond with her mother and it eventually broke apart her family. Britt slid his hand down her arm and curled his fingers between hers. “I know you might not be ready to hear this, but Barbara loved you.”

  Randi picked at her potato chips.

  “She did,” he insisted. “Every moment we had together that allowed for idle conversation, she spent those minutes praising your accomplishments.”

  “Britt, please. We’ve been through this.” Absently she rubbed the pad of her thumb, hard, against his forefinger. “Other than knowing about Blues, Brews, and Books, my mother knew nothing of my hopes, dreams, wins, or failures. And honestly, knowing about Triple B was not impressive. The whole town’s aware of my ownership.”

  In as conversational tone as he could muster, he recited the first story that came to mind. “On your eighteenth birthday, you spent the day vi
siting your top two universities rather than hang out with your friends.”

  Her thumb paused in its quest to rub a hole through his skin.

  “On your twenty-first birthday, you chose to drive your Aunt Sharon to the women’s clinic on the fifth anniversary of her cancer-free status, because you couldn’t bear for her to get the mammogram results alone.”

  “Hardly a sacrifice. Aunt Sharon’s one of my best friends. She’s always been there for me when I needed her. How could I not do the same?”

  “You’d be surprised at the number of people who would have chosen differently.” Angling toward her—a difficult feat in a folding chair that was barely wide enough to support his ass—he sandwiched her hands inside his. “She saw you graduate summa cum laude.”

  “What do you mean ‘she saw’?”

  “With her own eyes. In the audience.”

  Her face began to crumple. “Why didn’t she find me afterward?”

  “She didn’t say.” He softened his voice. “Would you have welcomed her?”

  Tears glistened in her beautiful eyes. “No,” she whispered. “No.”

  She closed her eyes, fighting emotions pent up far too long. He expected to see tears flow down her cheeks, but none appeared. With a will made of steel, something he’d admired many times over the months but hated witnessing now, she pushed and stomped and punched every vulnerable feeling into a cold coffin of self-preservation.

  A forced smile appeared on her strained face. “Could we unveil the rest of my screwed-up life at another time?” Need shone in her eyes. Need for him. “I think it might be time for us to warm up our sleeping bags.”

  Britt wanted to better understand her and share so much more with her. But he dared not. She looked drained and fatigued, and despite his awareness that her offer of sex was, at least in part, a seductive ploy to redirect his efforts from her mind to her body, her suggestion sent fire through his veins.

  What was the Hollywood expression? Ah, yes. Baby steps. He would take this—them—one small, clumsy step at a time.

  22

  Randi’s body ached. Bone deep, body and soul.

  Spending the night on the hard ground was only part of the reason. Britt had accepted her offer of pleasure with unexpected intensity. She’d lost track of the number of times he’d awoken her with kisses and caresses. Close to morning, he’d curled his body around hers, entering her, though not taking them to climax. Two bodies merged. One being, one thought, one need. She had slept more soundly in those few hours before dawn, with him inside her, than all the nights of her life combined.

  After spooning down some oatmeal and packing up their campsite, they returned to Steele Ridge to check on the red wolves. A thick fog had gathered in the trees, making long-distance visibility impossible. Randi made sure she stayed within ten feet of Britt’s broad back. The disorienting fog didn’t seem to faze him at all. He attacked every meter of invisible trail with a sure foot and confidence few achieved in broad daylight when hiking the woods.

  Rather than enter via the Steele Conservation Area side, Britt chose to set off from her mother’s property, so Randi could locate the Steele-Shepherd pack from this vantage point. Whether he intended to do so or not, their hike took them by the bluff that had claimed her mother’s life.

  Randi had not been here since the authorities had hauled Barbara Shepherd’s broken body up the cliff. She’d arrived on the scene in time to see the last few minutes of the recovery effort. Five minutes that would be forever etched her in mind.

  Britt guided her to the edge. “This is the place?”

  She nodded, staring down at the steep embankment to the wide stream below. “A young man who’d wandered onto our property fly fishing spotted her. If he hadn’t come along when he did, Mom could have lain out here for days.”

  It was unnecessary to explain to Britt what could have happened to a fresh corpse in this area of North Carolina that supported coyotes, bears, wolves, and a multitude of other scavenging creatures. A cramp took hold of her stomach.

  “Have the authorities determined what caused her to fall?”

  “No evidence of wrongdoing. Nothing beyond what logic dictates—she had a moment of inattention, something spooked her, she tripped, slipped, the possibilities seem endless.”

  Randi turned away from the scene of her mother’s last moments on earth. The same questions pounded in her head. Had she died instantly? Had she suffered for hours before finally succumbing to her injuries? Randi would never know. The only person who could tell her had plummeted to her death. “Mom knew the dangers of hiking alone. She died doing what she loved most in the world.”

  Even after bleeding out her emotions to Britt last night, she still couldn’t hold back the bitterness. The landscape she’d been admiring only moments ago now appeared exactly what it was, gray and bleak.

  “How much longer until we reach the den?”

  “Another twenty minutes or so.” He wrapped his hand around hers. “Did anyone ever approach your mom about selling her property?”

  “Not that she ever told me. Why?”

  “Nothing. Just a random thought.”

  Randi’s focus turned inward, scouring her mind for a stray comment made by her mom or aunt that meant little to her at the time but now held relevance. Her steps slowed.

  “A few months ago, my aunt said something about my mom having a run-in with a solicitor. I assumed she meant a lawn care service salesman or something similar.” She covered her mouth. “Could it have been the Carolina Club’s attorney?”

  He squeezed her hand. “It’s hard to say. But I’m growing suspicious of your stream of bad luck.”

  A corkscrew dug into the center of her heart. Could Britt’s suspicions be right? Could the Carolina Club be the architect behind her mother’s death, her financial advisor’s earnest recommendation, her failing business?

  “Why would they go to such lengths? For a plot of land? The property is a naturalist’s dream, but a hunter’s?”

  He kissed her temple. “Don’t mind me. I have a dozen nefarious plots running through my head at any one time. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  Without another word, he led them away from the bluff. A chill tapped down her spine. Tucking her chin into her chest, she shoved her hands into her fleece jacket pockets. She followed Britt for several minutes, her mind full of nothing and everything. The glow of their night of lovemaking long gone. The closeness, the warmth, the joy seemed ages ago. A different Randi, a different time.

  Craaack!

  Britt stopped.

  With her body hunkered against the chill, Randi didn’t react to the sound as quickly as he and plowed into his solid back. He didn’t grunt in pain, simply reached back and steadied her.

  “Gunfire?” she whispered.

  He nodded. “Close, too. Had to be on Steele or Shepherd property.”

  Grasping her hand, he continued along the trail for several more minutes before bending down on his haunches to inspect something on the ground. Peering over his shoulder, she noticed red liquid smearing several leaves on a low-growing New Jersey tea bush.

  “Is that blood?”

  Breaking off a leaf, he held it up to his nose. “That would be my guess.” He tossed the leaf away and rose, scanning the area. “Stay put. I’ll be back in a moment.”

  “Wait, no—”

  “I can track the blood trail faster and stealthier alone.” He squeezed her hand in reassurance. “The shot came from ahead of us. You’ll be safer here.” He kissed her fingertips. “Stay here, Randi.” His gaze met hers. “Please.”

  She had yet to see this commanding side of him. Being the eldest of six children and with an absentee father, he’d probably had to take control often over the years. And that six-lettered concession he tacked on the end of his directive felt a little rusty.

  Nodding, she said, “Be careful.”

  He disappeared into the fog far too soon, leaving an eerie, desolate silence in his wake. R
andi scanned her surroundings, though nothing besides the bloody leaves looked out of place. The fog was so dense, even wind could not penetrate the moist barrier.

  A hundred scenarios ran though her mind as to what the presence of the blood meant. The more she thought about it, the more sinister the scenarios became. She shook her head with enough force to rattle her brain. Dramatics weren’t her thing. The most likely reason for the blood was a rabbit, or some other unfortunate creature, coming into contact with a wolf.

  Above her, a twig snapped. She studied the edge of the cliff above and caught a glimpse of color. She backed up a step for a better look. But nothing was there. No furtive movements, no shadowy figure, no predatory eyes.

  Leaves rustled on the path behind her. Randi whipped around. Empty. Her heart fluttered inside her chest like a bird trapped in a cage. Fog had a way of amplifying noise, making music playing a half mile away sound as though it were in your backyard.

  She knew this, yet she still found herself backing away, one foot after another. Toward Britt, toward safety. With nothing more than a half-cocked smile and a few words of reassurance, he would return her mind to its rational, logical state.

  As she continued her careful retreat, she split her attention between the cliff above and the path behind her. The hairs on her arms and neck rose to attention. Someone—or something—hovered above her. Watched her. Or maybe she had too many scary movies under her belt. Or maybe Britt’s comments about the Carolina Club carried more truth than fiction.

  Either way, she was getting the hell out of here. She took three frantic backward steps before she realized she could become hopelessly lost out here without Britt. Navigating the woods wasn’t a problem for her once she’d explored the area a few times. But she’d never ventured this deep. Even if she had, the fog changed the looks of everything.

  Damn. Damn. Double Dog Damn.

  Then she heard it. The distinct, rhythmic sound of feet on forest floor moving toward her, from the direction Britt had disappeared. Relief cascaded over her like a waterfall of warm water. Before she even saw him, he calmed her. Embarrassment heated her cheeks at the way she’d allowed her imagination to run amok. All because of a little creepy fog.