Maggie's Mountain (3 page)

Hale shrugged negligently. “Most people around here are willing to part with a few acres.”

“The best land bordering ours is Maggie Brannon’s, and she’s not selling, not to any of the companies that have offered, and definitely not to us.”

He let out a deep breath at the mention of the woman he was trying to forget. “Why wouldn’t she? I’m sure it’s a high appraisal. I’d think she’d want the money.”

Trent turned to him, his hazel eyes barely visible in the dark. “Maggie isn’t a teenager anymore, Hale. She’s a grown woman.”

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked in a tight tone.

“It means that Exum, and the people who live here, didn’t just freeze when you left for South Carolina. Life moved on,
people
moved on.”

“You mean her marriage.”

Trent waited a beat before he continued. “Christopher Brannon was a good man. He walked into a hornetʼs nest when it came to Maggie, but he took the stings anyway.”

Hale’s empty hand involuntarily fisted on the arm of the rocking chair. He heard his father’s voice raised in anger and deliberately calmed himself. “Why should I care?”

“Because she was caught in a hornet’s nest she had no hand in making. I know how Quinn Cooper spread rumors about our father’s work ethic; I know that Rebecca harassed dad. But whatever else you believe, you have to know that Maggie was the innocent one in her household, and she’s been the one who’s had to suffer the most.”

“What are you talking about? I never said she was as bad as her parents, at least not that I’m aware of. And as far as suffering…she’s still living in Exum when she could’ve moved.”

Trent grimaced and sighed. “Look, all I’m saying is you should give the woman a break. She put the man she loved
and
her mother into the ground a little over two years ago. There’s no one left for her. That can’t be easy.”

He ignored the squeezing of his chest as he listened to Trent. Maggie Mae Cooper, or Brannon, or whatever the hell she called herself, was wiggling under his skin with too much ease after just one long look. The feeling was uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to being the one all tangled up, but damned if that wasn’t just what she’d done to him. And he hadn’t even exchanged a word with the woman yet.

“You thinking about going after her, Trent? You seem awfully protective.”

His brother studied him for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re too damn cynical when it comes to people. You always have been. Maggie was in my class at school. I watched her work her ass off trying to keep her grades up and hold down a seven day a week job, just so they’d have enough money to live. She managed to graduate valedictorian, and do you know what most of the town did? They boycotted the ceremony. As for leaving town, yeah, she could have gone off to college, told Exum to kiss her butt and never look back, but she didn’t because she knew her mother couldn’t survive without her here. Maggie worked two jobs, went to a local college and got her degree. I think that’s damned impressive and I won’t say anything against that woman. Mother can rant and rave all she wants; the Coopers and our father made mother’s life miserable, I’m aware of that. But the fact is Maggie hasn’t done anything to hurt our family, ever. She’s done more than enough to prove herself, Hale. If she doesn’t want to sell her family’s land, I am
not
going to force her.”

Damn it, he didn’t want to know all of that. He didn’t want to have the picture of the scrawny little kid in the worn out hand-me-downs he remembered struggling to survive. Suddenly it chafed that, when he’d been a teenager, he hadn’t thought about Maggie as a separate person, but only as the Cooper girl. In fact, he’d rarely thought of her at all. Obviously Trent had not only been aware of her, but he’d managed to see past her parents, and for some reason that irritated him even more. Of course, his brother hadn’t been privy to all the issues the Coopers had created. He hadn’t seen their mother weeping, or heard their father cursing, or dealt with their parents’ bloodless arguments. That had been Hale’s job. It still was.

Without any rebuttal, Hale tossed back the rest of his whiskey and stood. “I’m going up to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“No, you won’t.” Trent smiled like a kid with a dirty secret. “I’m leaving early and driving into Knoxville for a breakfast meeting with our real estate firm.”

“Better you than me. Call me when you get back into town so we can discuss what they had to say.”

With a roll of his shoulders, Hale opened the door and headed up to his bedroom, determinedly shoving aside the wayward thoughts of one gorgeous brunette.

Chapter Three

Hale wandered through the woods, absorbing the quiet sounds of birds, the rushing brook, the dancing leaves. He’d had one hell of a week, and he needed a break. Ostensibly he’d come to the stables to check out what would be needed for expansion; what he’d really come for, though, was some alone time. He had snuck off, like he’d done numerous times when he was a kid, meandering through the woods and kicking at the thick underlay of dead leaves. It went a long way to easing his nerves.

He’d spent too many days going over paperwork, making phone calls, soothing worries, and signing deals. And through it all, he’d barely had a decent night’s sleep, though he’d stayed so exhausted his eyes often closed before his head hit the pillow. His subconscious hadn’t allowed him more than a few minutes of peace at a time; his dreams were constantly interrupted by the memory of violet eyes and a sweet, reluctant smile. His body had stirred and ached, a damn annoying reaction considering the lectures he’d been giving himself. He’d put it down to being without a woman for nearly six months. He couldn’t allow himself to imagine anything else.

Letting out a long, deep breath, Hale tucked his hands into his jeans pockets and rambled on. He tried to blank his mind of the image of Maggie Mae Cooper; he tried not to remember his mother’s cool questions about his plans for the business; he tried not to think about his brother who was, at this moment, happily conducting business over luncheon cocktails. Hale had never been jealous of Trent’s schmoozing…until now.

Rolling his shoulders, Hale determinedly tuned himself into the gentle world around him. It was simple here, surrounded by towering trees, the outside world cut off by the tender hand of nature. The smell of deep earth, the cool fingers of the breeze, the tumble of crystal clear water over smooth stones, the muted sound of sobbing.

He came to an abrupt stop and shook his head. Sobbing? He had to be wrong. He tilted his head, listened, and the sound came again. No, he hadn’t been mistaken. Someone was in his woods, and they were crying. Not just crying, he thought, but weeping with deep pain. It was obvious that whoever it was had wanted privacy.

Quietly, he began to turn around, intending to leave the person alone. Then he caught a glimpse of rich brown hair cascading over a red jacket and he stopped cold. Even without seeing her face he knew who it was perched on the large rock. Maggie Mae Cooper.

"Of all the—" Frustration and curiosity overrode good sense and he strode toward her. “What are you doing on my land?” The question came out completely wrong and was harsher than he’d intended, causing him to inwardly flinch as she looked up, startled, her brilliant eyes rimmed red. Her face was flushed from crying, but the skin around the crimson color had quickly leeched white. She appeared to be as dumbfounded to see him as he had been to find her.

“Your land?” The words were a husky question. “I don’t think so.”

He might have made a mistake by blundering into a confrontation, but he was a Warrick, and Warricks didn't back down. “I’m pretty sure I know Warrick land, Maggie Mae, and you're sitting on it.”

She blinked, brushed her hair behind her ear, sighed. “You missed the property marker?”

It was his turn to be confused. “Marker?”

“Granite, about waist high, a foot wide, with Eli R. carved into it?”

“Eli R.?” Now he sounded like an irritating echo.

“My several-times-great grandfather. There are several of them marking the border between my land and your stables.” With a final sniff, she eased herself up and wiped her hands down her wash-worn jeans. “They’re easy to miss.”

“Oh,” was all he could say. He’d been so sure she was trespassing, but he’d been the one in the wrong. The knowledge was humbling and maddening. “I didn’t know.”

She shrugged, avoiding his gaze. That move alone irritated him. He couldn’t understand why, since she hadn’t done anything more than be caught crying. He remembered the sound, saw the traces of the emotional storm on her face, and bit back the strange need to curse. He hated acting like a bastard, but that’s what he’d been on the verge of doing, and all because of what…family pride? Hadn’t he struggled most of his life
not
to act with the same type of angry suspicion his father had? And here he was, causing pain. He was man enough to admit that it wasn’t Maggie’s fault; she certainly hadn’t come onto him in any way. He felt a bit unbalanced as he watched her climb off the rock and begin to turn away.

“Are you okay?” He hadn’t meant to ask; the words just slipped out.

She waved her hand in the air but refused to look at him. “I’m fine.”

Annoyance sizzled to exasperation and he found himself closing the distance between them, his interest piqued. “Is that why you were out here sobbing like your heart was broken?”

She didn’t have to utter a gasp for him to feel her shock. “This is my land, Mr. Warrick. What I do on it is none of your business.”

“You’re a prickly one, aren’t you Maggie Mae?” When she would have rushed in the other direction, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Damn it, I’m trying to be neighborly here.”

She gave a bitter little laugh as she finally met his gaze. “Neighborly? Really? Is that why you’re keeping me here?”

Hale ground down the desire to demand answers. The patience he’d once been so proud of was quickly deserting him, leaving heat in its wake. He could feel her skin, soft under his calloused fingers, warm to his rough touch, with an erratic heartbeat reverberating just underneath the surface. Putting his hands on her had been a mistake.

“Just…I didn’t mean to scare you, okay?” He could hear the tension in his words and swallowed to ease it. “You’re right. This is your land. I should be the one to leave.”

Maggie narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Yes, you should.” She waited a beat. “But you aren’t the first one to miss the markers, and you won’t be the last. If you had the need to walk here, then I won’t chase you off. I have to get back anyway.”

He squeezed her wrist, a silent, automatic protest, before deliberately letting her go. “I didn’t mean to intrude. You’re…all right?”

She appeared to take his temporary flag of truce as she shifted her weight to one foot. “It’s my husband’s birthday.”

The sucker punch to his solar plexus was painful. “Oh.”

She nodded in mute acknowledgement, hesitating for another moment. “You should be careful; there are still snakes out.”

“I remember the woods.” He gave her a small smile, and was strangely hurt when she didn’t return it. “You should be careful, too.”

“I’m wearing hiking boots and carrying a revolver.”

Why that should sound so sexy made no sense to him, but it did. His body tightened, on sudden and high alert as she moved away. She didn’t get far. One moment she was steady, the next she was twisting, pinwheeling her arms as she searched for balance. She began to fall, gravity pulling her down the slight hill toward him. Hale didn’t think.

He moved rapidly, bracing himself as he held out his arms to catch her. She fell backward, a soft, solid weight against his chest. The contact was a furious charge, jolting through his system with a violent shudder.

Everything seemed to stop. There were no sounds except her breathing, no scents except her warm flesh. He felt the pressure grow and expand from his chest all the way to his loins. Before he realized it, instinct took over, and he nuzzled her ear with a movement so subtle it couldn’t be anything but seductive. He tightened his grip on her waist, felt the heat of her skin through her jacket and shirt. He had never been so knotted up with the desire to touch a woman before. He didn’t like it, not a bit.

“Just being neighborly again, Maggie, I swear.” He ruined his words by inhaling her scent.

If he thought he’d experienced a woman’s frigidity before, he’d been wrong. She went utterly still, her body going cold against his. She straightened her spine with extreme care, not bothering to struggle against his embrace, instead stinging him with her quiet dignity. His words hadn’t been deliberate; he’d slipped into teasing persuasion without thinking, forgetting for the moment who and where they were. She’d been crying over her husband, and he’d been trying to feel her up. Regret was a bitter pill, but not as bitter as his anger of the whole twisted situation. He let go of her with slow, reluctant movements.

“Have a nice hike.” Her words dripped with ice, smacking his skin like hard sleet.

He shoved his hands back into his pockets, fisting them against the itching need Maggie had elicited. Neither said another word as she walked away from him with poised grace.

****

Maggie held her temper until she reached her back porch. She stomped across the wood, made her way to the side door, and ripped it open with a furious jerk. Slamming it closed behind her, she stood in the dining room for several seconds, taking deep, careful breaths to calm her nerves.

“How dare he! How dare he do something like that! Touch me like that!” Her words bled through gritted teeth. “Treat me as if I threw myself at him. Like I’m some sort of sex starved widow.”

With a loud growl, she stalked into the kitchen, opened a cabinet, slammed it shut without taking anything out. “Being neighborly? Practically crawling into my skin! Caught me crying and decided I was an easy mark. That…that…narcissistic, egotistical…ass!”

She trudged to the living room, sat on the soft couch, bounced back up. “Didn’t even have the grace to apologize. Of course not. Why would he?”

Maggie moved to the fireplace, stared blindly at the framed pictures, turned away again. “Hale Warrick, you are a pain in the butt. That’s what you are. A chauvinistic ladies’ man who couldn’t possibly understand the word no.”