Chapter Ten

ROSE SHOULD HAVE been enjoying herself.

Here she sat in an antique copper tub that Colby had hauled in from a storage shed. Not only had he cleaned it, then filled it with pot after pot of steaming water, but he’d then added berry-scented oil. A remnant of his time with Margot? From some odd reason, Rose couldn’t bear to ask.

Perched on a table beside her was a vase filled with wildflowers. Some with dainty white petals and others so blue they couldn’t be real, yet were. He’d even been kind enough to assemble snacks—the squirt cheese she’d feared long gone in the truck, and those little round crackers she’d come to adore. Sweet grapes and slightly tart apple slices. Best of all, a tall glass of sweet herbal iced tea Colby had cooled by sticking the whole jug in the frigid lake.

Cheese cracker in one hand, tea in another, the rest of her submerged in sinfully warm water, Rose should have been content. But from just outside the window came the sharp whack and ker-thunk of Colby splitting logs, then the thump of them hitting ground.

Rose closed her eyes.

“Baby…” She curved her hands around her bump. “Your father’s a workaholic, and your mom’s turning into a whine-a-holic.”

Her only answer was the occasional plip-plop coming from the old-fashioned hand pump beside the sink.

Colby was a good man. Judging by what her single friends said, a really good man was an increasingly tough breed to find. He was handsome and loyal and honorable and hardworking. And here she’d been grousing about how she’d never marry anyone, let alone a man like him, when he was working so hard to make her time at the rustic cabin enjoyable. He was about as far from her father or Rick as anyone could be.

So why was she still so scared? Why couldn’t she once and for all release her ugly past to focus on what might be an intriguing new future? Fear. Plain and simple. A potential avalanche of what-if scenarios of all the things that could potentially go wrong if she tried playing this Colby’s way. On the flip side, there were an equal amount of ways things between them could go right. But it could potentially cost her everything to find out.

Okay, so in the meantime she’d established the fact that she was behaving like a spoiled brat, but what was she going to do about it? There was no way he’d let her help cut wood.

Maybe there were other things she could do? Cook or dust or pick berries, or whatever else mountain women did to help their men keep food on the table.

Not that Colby was her man.

Sloshing out of the tub, Rose hastily dried herself on the fluffy white towel Colby had been thoughtful enough to provide, then dressed in black warm-up pants, a white T-shirt, and the matching warm-up jacket. After adding thick white socks and comfy shoes, then securing her ponytail, she headed outside. To her surprise, Colby wasn’t at the neatly stacked woodpile where she’d thought he’d be.

“Colby!” she shouted, swallowing a twinge of panic. What would she do if he’d been eaten by a bear or fallen down some rotted old mine shaft?

“Over here!”

She only exhaled after spotting him at the lake’s edge, fluidly casting a fly rod in and out. He’d changed into a navy-blue T-shirt, and with each cast, the muscles of his shoulders and back flexed. Remembering only too well the feel of those muscles beneath her palms, Rose licked her lips.

Carefully making her way down the dirt path, she called, “Catch anything?” Besides my overactive imagination?

“One. But I figured since you probably want to eat, too, I might need to catch a few more.”

“A few more?”

“Hey, it’s not your fault that kid of mine is always hungry.”

Having reached him on the shore, she landed a light smack to his bicep. A mistake, because it felt too good for a woman holding tight to her resolve to steer clear of all men—in particular, this one.

“Ouch. You’re vicious.” He winked before once again casting out. “Thought you were relaxing in the tub?”

“I was.” She eased onto a smooth-topped boulder, wincing when the cold seeped through the thin fabric of her pants. “But then I got to thinking about how hard you’ve been working ever since we climbed out of that truck, and I feel guilty.”

“Aw, this isn’t work,” he said with another cast and mesmerizing grin. “This is as close to heaven as I figure I’m going to get on this earth.”

“You like fishing?”

“Always have.”

“When did you learn?”

He shrugged. “Seems like I’ve always known. But I guess, looking back on it, I used to tag along with my friend Tanner and his dad. Mr. Muldoon was a pretty cool guy—half Athabascan Indian. Died of a sudden heart attack a few years back.” Colby threw out another cast. “Anyway, he taught us to tie our own flies, and he was a real stickler for not catching more than we could eat. We must’ve fished every river and lake around here for a couple hundred miles.”

“Wow, I’m impressed. Sounds like I’m angling with a pro.”

His expression took on a wistful glow. “I’ll never forget my first big catch—a forty-pound king salmon. Man, did he fight. Toward the end, I was beginning to wonder if that sucker was bigger than me. Brody’s dad put it on ice for me till we got home, so I could show it to Mom. I wanted to save it, but we didn’t have the money to take it to a taxidermist, so Mom thought she’d try tanning it by scooping out the insides, then hanging it on the clothesline.” Still wearing that far-off expression, he chuckled. “After it dried, she moved it to the shed to try making it into a pillow or something, but whatever she’d done didn’t work, and the thing started stinking. One morning I went out to the shed before school to look at it, only to find the shed door had been busted in, and a black bear was munching my poor fish for breakfast.”

“Oh, no!” Rose said, hand to her mouth to hide her horrified smile. “What did you do?”

Grimacing while throwing another cast, he said, “Truth? Flat-out bawled. Mom let me stay home from school.”

“She sounds sweet.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She still happy with her new husband?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Please tell me if I’m overstepping, but you told me your dad left the two of you. How old were you?”

“Six. He took off the day before my birthday. Mom and Nugget held this great party for me down at the lodge. All the town kids came. My friends Brody and Tanner. Streamers, balloons, cake. But through the whole thing, I stood at one of the lodge windows, just waiting for my dad to get there.”

“How awful.”

“Yeah, well, crap happens.”

“But you were just a little boy. Did he leave a note, or at least call, or what?”

“None of the above. One day I thought we had this perfect family. The next, he was gone.”

“I’m sorry.” Rose swallowed hard, thinking back to the day her father had left. There’d been nothing mysterious about it. He’d been cuffed, riding in the back of a squad car. She and her mother had been transported by ambulance to the nearest hospital. Vivian had needed brain surgery to relieve the swelling. Rose had received one hundred and thirteen stiches.

Sometimes, she harbored guilt for being glad he was dead.

It was easier.

And now here was Colby’s story of his own messed-up father, which proved that even if her dad hadn’t been violent, that didn’t necessarily mean he’d have been a better parent.

So how did that affect her convictions about raising her son without a father? It left her more confused than ever.

“Don’t be sorry, Rose. I’m over it. And anyway, it’s not like it’s your fault.”

“I know, but—oh, look! You caught one!” Rose’s animated cry echoed across the lake.

“Come here…” He edged toward her with the pole. “Reel him in.”

“Oh, no—you do it.”

“Really.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, urging her to her feet, flooding her with heady awareness of his size. “It’s high time you learned how to catch your supper.”

She stood and he put his arms around her, awkwardly shuffling the rod into her hands. His fingers cupped hers, making sure she held the rod tight and away from her stomach.

“Okay,” he said, “start reeling.”

She did. When her tingling fingers slipped, he was there to catch the reel, starting her again. “Pull back,” he urged.

Laughing and breathless, she followed his directions.

On the lake’s sparkling surface, the trout leapt, landing with an impressive splash. “Look at him!” she said. “He’s huge!”

Laughing along with her, Colby said, “I’d offer to make him into a pillow for you, but…”

“That’s okay, but thanks for the thought.”

Tugging hard on the rod, he said, “You bet.”

They stood there together, reeling in the fish, for what felt like the longest time, when it had probably only been seconds. The fish was still fighting as Colby unhooked him, then added him to a vintage fish basket.

They caught three more nice-sized trout, which was epic. Even better was standing in the circle of Colby’s arms, with his solid chest warming her back, imbuing her with his strength. Making her yearn for the sort of connection between a man and woman that she’d only ever seen in movies. But none of this was real. The idyllic scenery forged a backdrop for romance—anyone would feel butterflies in such a magical place, right?

When Colby announced they’d caught enough to make a great dinner and maybe even breakfast, he left her to rinse his hands in the lake.

“That was fun,” she said while he gathered his knife and tackle.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I wasn’t sure.”

“What do you mean?” She shaded her eyes from the sun that was finally low on the horizon.

“You being a city girl and all, I thought you probably wouldn’t get a kick out of something as mundane as fishing.”

“Nothing about that was remotely mundane.” She gathered his pliers and a khaki-colored vest covered in more fishing flies. “Though I have to admit that this is the closest I’ve come to hunting my own dinner—unless you count picking a lobster out of a tank.”

“Nope.” He carried the rod and basket of fish in one hand, resting his free hand on the small of her back.

Not only did his touch warm her, but it made her feel safe and secure, as if she was someone to be looked after and cherished. It was a lovely feeling. Wholly unexpected.

Soon, she’d have an entire new life to care for in the form of a child, at least for the next eighteen or so years. But then what? She wasn’t about to saddle her son with one of those needy mothers who expected him to dedicate his life to her. What happened after he left the nest? What happened when she was once again on her own with nothing to warm her but memories of perfect days like this?

The whole thing was bizarre. Completely out of character. She’d forever known she’d be better off alone, so how come she couldn’t get enough of Colby’s company?

“You’re awfully quiet,” he said along the short return trip to the cabin. He slipped his trout rod into a hollow log holder on the back porch.

“Guess I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“The baby?”

She nodded. “How did you guess?”

“When you think about him, you have this protective way of holding your bump.”

“I’ve never noticed.” She followed him to the small fish-cleaning station at the porch’s far end, then glanced down to her hands’ placement. “You’re right.”

“It’s cute.” Scaling the fish, he added, “Besides, I like knowing you’re already watching out for the little guy—even if you do hit the squirt cheese a bit too hard.”

Leaning against the porch rail, she grimaced. “Guilty as charged. Need help?”

“Nah. Why don’t you go on inside and take a nap? It’s been a long day. I’ll wake you when dinner is done.”

“Colby, I’m not an invalid.”

“Did I say you were?”

“No, but…”

“You’ve already put in plenty of hard labor lugging my kid around.”

“Are you for real?” she asked with a shake of her head.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re flawless. You’re like some textbook example of the perfect guy. Don’t you ever loaf around doing nothing? Or burp real loud, or leave your clothes all over the floor?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but what good would any of that do?”

“I don’t know, I just…” She tugged her sweatsuit zipper up and down. “Part of me feels like you’re too good to be true. There’s got to be something about you that’s bad.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Just because.”

“Let me guess,” he said, filleting the first fish. “If I’m not some womanizing chauvinistic creep, you don’t have a convenient out.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. If I’m a bad guy, then you’re the good guy by default. You’re not only right in keeping me away from my son, but noble. You’re taking the high road, while I’m a few thousand miles away where you can forget all about me. Then you can tell our son anything you want. But you want to know something, Rose?”

Swallowing hard, she raised her chin.

“Whatever you say, you’re going to know the truth. Whatever you decide at the end of the week, you’re going to know I am a good guy. I’d be a caring, considerate husband to you, and a damned good father for our son. So hey, if you decide none of it matters and that you’d be better off sailing this family ship all on your own—well, you can take that up with my lawyer. But in the meantime, I want you to know what you’re passing up.”