Slow Burn (6 page)

He asked her easy questions, such as what were her favorite kinds of movies. She didn’t watch chick flicks or romantic anything anymore because she no longer believed in happily-ever-afters. She didn’t say why, but it was because of Salvatore and her marriage to him.

Trace, too, wasn’t crazy about chick flicks or romances. He did appreciate comedies, including Jim Carrey’s and David Spade’s brand of what Christie deemed “guy humor.” Trace enjoyed drama and thrillers, but thanks to all that was happening, like getting shot, Christie had lost her taste for them, at least for the time being.

Neither one of them liked horror movies. They both were into fantasy, like the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy, and sword and sandals movies, of which
Gladiator
was number one on their lists. They shared a wicked delight in TV shows such as
The Walking Dead
and
Dexter
. Trace almost looked sheepish when he admitted that he liked to watch
American Idol
, and she laughed as she said she did, too.

By the time Trace told her they were near their destination, she was much more relaxed. Any tension that might have existed between them was gone.

Except for sexual tension. She didn’t know if it was all one-sided, her side, but sometimes he looked at her in a way that made her feel beautiful. It was as if he appreciated everything about her. She didn’t know if she was imagining it, or putting meaning where there was none, but whatever it was…she liked it.

Trace eventually veered off of the main road onto a dirt road that could barely be seen. Christie wouldn’t have noticed it if she’d been driving.

The SUV bounced over rocks and potholes, the terrain growing rougher as they traveled. Patches of snow lined the road, and it was starting to get dark.

“You weren’t kidding when you said this place was isolated.” She gritted her teeth as they were jostled in the vehicle and her arm ached.

“You should feel safe here.” He glanced at her. “Maybe you should take the Percocet. You look like you could use it.”

She shrugged. “Once we get to the cabin.” As she spoke, the road opened up into a small clearing with a log cabin at the back of it.

He guided the SUV closer to the cabin. “Home sweet home for a few days.”

“This looks nice.” She smiled at him. “I think I’m going to like this much better than being surrounded by Agent Stillwater and her minions. I mean agents.” She gave a little grin as she shook her head. “Seriously, I know they’re all doing their jobs and I do appreciate them. They’re all good men and women. I just like this better.”

He flashed a grin at her. “I thought you might feel that way.”

She couldn’t help a smile of her own as he parked in front of the cabin. It had a small porch with a weathered but sturdy-looking swing that was big enough for two. To the right was a massive pile of chopped firewood.

“Do you take a lot of protected witnesses up here?” she asked.

“You’re the first.” He leaned over the seat and grabbed her jacket along with his leather one.

He helped her put the jacket around her shoulders and slide her good arm into the sleeve. He zipped it up over her arm that was still in its sling, and she was glad the jacket was big enough that there was no pressure on her arm.

Once they were bundled up, Trace killed the engine before he jumped out and slammed the door behind him. He came around and helped her climb out.

Immediately the cold chilled Christie’s cheeks and she stuffed her hand into a pocket. Her breath fogged in the air. It wasn’t as cold as it was back in Indiana, but it was certainly close.

When she asked him, he handed her the purse she’d carried with her on the plane. He grabbed her suitcase and laptop bag and they headed toward the cabin. His legs were long but he walked at her pace. They reached the front door and he unlocked it and pushed it open.

They walked inside and he closed the door behind them. He set her suitcase on the wood floor and she placed her purse on a small table nearby.

She took off the ball cap and shook out her hair as she looked over the log cabin that had a bed, a small kitchen, and a round dining table. A couch and a couple of chairs were on the opposite side of the room, across from the bed. A fireplace was on the right wall. Coleman LED lanterns were on a couple of surfaces in the room.

All of the furniture looked handmade from knotted wood. Two skylights were in the ceiling of the cabin, letting in the last of the day’s dying light. A door was in one corner of the room and she assumed it led to the bathroom.

She set the ball cap on a hook on a tall, knotted wood hat and coat rack. A beat-up old Stetson was on the rack along with an old ball cap and a hat for cold weather with earmuffs. A well-worn jean jacket was also on the rack.

The cabin was cold but it smelled good, unlike the musty odor she’d expected. She swung her gaze to meet his. “You must have stayed here not too long ago.”

“I was here for a weekend a couple of weeks back.” He settled his hand on her shoulder. “I come up here every now and then to air it out and to escape into the woods.”

“Did you spend your childhood in the mountains?” she asked.

“I grew up on a ranch outside of Houston, not in the mountains, but I have an affinity for them.” He smiled. “Sometimes Dylan and Brooks come with me, but like I mentioned before, they’re the only two who know about this place.”

She wasn’t in the least bit worried about the two men knowing Trace came up here.

He squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll grab the bags and ice chest and be right back.”

She nodded and cool air swirled into the cabin as he left and closed the door behind him. The place did offer some protection from the cold despite the fact it wasn’t heated at the moment.

In no time, Trace returned and kicked the door shut after he set down the ice chest and the bags he’d grabbed out of the SUV.

Her stomach rumbled and he grinned. “Ready for that canned chili and dried apples?”

“You bet.” She pointed to the door on the far side of the room. “Bathroom?”

“Make yourself at home.” He looked a little embarrassed as he gestured to where her one arm was beneath her jacket. “Need any help?”

Holding back a smile, she shook her head. “I’m good.”

She walked into the bathroom. She was surprised that it had a lot of the amenities bathrooms usually had. He must have had a septic tank put in and had a source for water. Another skylight was overhead, giving enough light to see by.

It was awkward with one arm, but she took care of business. It would be easier when the cabin was heated and she wasn’t wearing a jacket.

When she had finished and washed her hands in the cold water in the sink, she dried them on a hand towel hanging up near the vanity case in front of her. She stopped long enough to see that she looked like she could use a nap. She had dark circles under her eyes and she was tired. Her arm throbbed. After she’d gotten something into her stomach, he probably wouldn’t mind letting her curl up on the couch.

She walked out of the bathroom and closed the door behind her. The Coleman lanterns on the table and the coffee table were both lit and glowing.

Trace was crouched in front of the stone fireplace, putting a log on the fire that he’d started in a big metal grate. He stirred the fire with the iron poker. A large stack of chopped wood was next to the fireplace along with a wire basket filled with kindling and a bucket for ashes.

“Sorry about the cold water.” He looked over his shoulder. “Warm water and electricity are the two things I don’t have up here.”

“I don’t mind.” She smiled, still hugging her jacket to her until the heat generated by the burning wood in the fireplace could warm the room. “Is there anything I can do?”

The fire was growing and he set down the poker before getting to his feet. “You can watch me make our gourmet dinner.”

“I can help.” With her good hand, she grabbed the handle of the ice chest he had brought in and pulled it into the little kitchen area.

He followed, carrying the grocery bags. He knelt in front of the cooler, opened it, and brought out a package of meat and another package with sliced cheese, along with condiments. He stood and set everything on the countertop before he leaned over and grabbed a loaf of bread out of a shopping bag.

She grinned. “What happened to chili and dried apples?”

“I thought sandwiches might be more appealing.” He opened the bag of bread. “Mayo or mustard on smoked turkey?”

Her stomach growled again as she got paper plates out of one of the grocery bags and set them on the countertop before reaching for a package of napkins. “I like both mustard and mayo.”

He picked up a butter knife. “Coming right up.”

She set the napkins on the countertop and studied him. “Why are you doing this for me?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.”

She knew she was pushing, but she wanted to know. “That’s not all of it.”

His mouth quirked into a little grin. “I had such a relaxing time protecting you the last time that I thought I’d try it out again.”

She couldn’t help a laugh. The last time he’d protected her had been anything but relaxing.

“I like your hair.” He was clearly trying to change the subject.

She put her hand to the back of her head where the hair was shorter. “I’ve never had it any way but long.”

He gave her a look that made her feel beautiful. “It suits you.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

The fire in the fireplace was doing a great job of taking the chill out of the room. Trace helped her take off her jacket and then he removed his own before putting them both on the hat and coat rack.

Her arm was throbbing like crazy, so she decided she’d go ahead and take the meds for pain. She grabbed the container out of her purse and took one of the tablets out before putting the bottle back.

When Trace finished making sandwiches, he reached into the cooler that also had ice, bottled water, sodas, beer, and Chardonnay. “What would you like to drink? I can make coffee or hot chocolate if you want something warm.”

“Water.” She took the water bottle he offered her. The cold, wet plastic chilled her hand. She opened the bottle as she spoke. “I’d better stay away from the wine while I’m on the meds. Maybe tomorrow.” She swallowed the pain med.

“Have a seat on the couch.” He nodded toward it. “It’s more relaxing than sitting at the table, and it’s closer to the fireplace.”

“I’m all for more relaxing and keeping warm.” She headed to the couch where she set her water on the simple coffee table made with knotted wood like the other furniture in the cabin.

When he joined her on the couch, he placed a plate of sandwiches and another water bottle on the coffee table. He sat close to her on the couch and his nearness sent a storm of dragonflies battering around her belly.

He raised his bottle of water. “To turkey sandwiches and water with a lovely woman.”

She grinned and bumped her plastic bottle against his before taking a sip.

He handed her a sandwich. “Eat up. You look as though you need it.”

She smiled as she took it. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

The small dinner of sandwiches was great after two days of bland hospital food. The fire crackled and popped in the fireplace, its heat enough to warm the cozy cabin. The two Coleman lanterns and the fire were the only light in the cabin now that it was dark outside.

Trace finished off his second sandwich and drained his bottle of water. “How are things in Indiana?”

Christie lowered the last bit of her turkey sandwich instead of taking a bite. She tilted her head to the side as she thought about it. “Things have been good, but it’s taken me a while to adjust.”

He held her gaze. “When this is all over, will you consider staying in Arizona?”

“I don’t know.” She set the rest of her sandwich on the paper plate on the coffee table and wiped her fingers on a napkin. “Bisbee will always be home to me, and I miss it.” She looked away before meeting his eyes again. “But there are bad memories that I want to get away from.”

“I’ll bet there are a hundred times more good memories.” He spoke with sincerity in his tone. “You have your friends from the CoS, too.”

“Thanks to my ex-husband, the Circle of Seven doesn’t exist anymore.” She had to fight to hold back the tears. “We’re broken.”

“I’m so sorry, honey.” He wrapped his big arms around her and pulled her close to his chest, clearly taking care not to hurt her injured arm, which was now not bothering her in the least thanks to the pain med. “I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“It’s okay.” She rested her cheek against his chest. He felt so warm, so solid and real. “I should think of the friends who remain.”

“Like Belle and Dylan.” Trace kissed the top of her head. “And their baby.”

Christie tilted her head so she could see his face. “You’re right. Nate and Tom would have wanted each of us to be happy.”

Her words died away as she met Trace’s eyes. The flint gray had darkened nearly to charcoal. He slid his fingers along her jawline before brushing her lips with his thumb.

“This wasn’t a good idea.” He spoke in a low rumble that caused her insides to quiver.

“What wasn’t?” She found herself staring at his lips. Lips that she wanted to kiss.

“Bringing you here.” His throat visibly worked. “Being alone with you.”

She reached up and stroked his stubbled jaw. “I want to be here. Alone with you.” She didn’t know where the confidence came from—maybe her newfound independence over the past several months.

He put his hand over hers, stilling it. “Christie.” He looked like he wanted to say more but couldn’t get it out.

“Tell me why you’re
really
here.” All she had to do was make a little movement and they would be kissing. Maybe she
should
shut up and kiss him. But she wanted him to tell her. “You skated past it before. I want to know.”

He shifted her in his arms and stroked her hair. For a long moment, he just looked into her eyes before he finally spoke. “It’s been over a year since the first time I saw you. I’ve never been able to get you out of my mind since the beginning. I’ve even dreamed of you.”