Tall, Dark, and Determined (17 page)

No matter the other three joint owners of Hope Falls disagreed with her plans and tried to block her way. If cooking demanded their hands, they lobbed comments she couldn't ignore.

“Why not?” Evie put down her wooden spoon, an almost unprecedented occurrence when she stood beside the stove. “If common manners aren't enough reason, then because a woman who won't listen to others is a woman who no one will listen to!”

Lacey gave a humorless chuckle. “Now there's a moot point since we've already established that no one listens to me.”

“Save the self-pity,” Cora snapped. “Braden shows no sign of letting loose his hold on that monopoly, and I'd hate to think such self-indulgence represents a Lyman family trait.”

“Just as I'd hate to think—” Lacey stopped short of firing back an unforgivable insult. Never mind her best friend accused her of being self-pitying and lumped her in with her sulking brother. Braden's pity party cast a cloud over all Hope Falls, raining with particular force on his former fiancée.

When Lacey herself wasn't bearing the brunt of her brother's poor temper, Cora stepped in to shoulder the burden. And since Braden tried to cast her aside, Cora didn't have to anymore.
What I bear out of obligation, she bears in love
.

Shame began its familiar hot prickle at the thought.

Cora's jaw jutted forward, eyes filled with suspicion. “You'd hate to think what, Lacey? Come on. We're
listening
.” It was the emphasis on the last word to tip Lacey back to anger.

“Now you choose to listen?” She reached behind her waist and tugged at her apron strings. “Then hear this much, ladies. If you can choose to listen only when you want to, but deny me the same right”—the knot gave way and she whipped the apron off triumphantly, balling it up and tossing it atop her table—”then I can at least choose whether or not I wish to speak.”

With that she left the ladies and the loaves to their own devices. Because, while Lacey didn't have anything to say to the women, she found she had a lot to say to someone else.

All she had to do now was find him.

And when she did, she'd make good and sure he listened.

Chase could hear her coming from a mile away—and so could any animal he might have hoped to bring to the dinner table. Not that it mattered. Once he identified one of the women blundering around the mountainside without the benefit of an escort—or basic common sense—he knew he'd be cutting his hunting short.

There go my plans to reassure the women they made the right decision
. Without any game to prove his skill, Chase still relied on Granger's word to prove his worth. It didn't sit well.

Grudgingly, he engaged the safety on his shotgun and slid it through the leather straps across his back. He palmed his pistol and retraced a few steps before veering off to look over the edge of a bluff. A wise man never traveled through the wilderness unaware of his surroundings. Or unarmed against them.

Decoy trotted after, poking his nose over the rock facing and peering toward their stalker with misplaced enthusiasm. His panting shifted into the louder, more huffing version Chase knew signaled a particularly happy dog. Eyes widened, tongue lolling out, and tail wagging, Decoy clearly approved of the view below.

Most men would
, Chase admitted as he watched the trim figure weaving through the trees. Clad in green, she blended more easily with her surroundings than she'd managed yesterday, but Lacey Lyman's ruffled skirts and overblown headgear still stuck out like a peacock among pigeons.

    FOURTEEN    

P
retty … but loud
.

The excess fabric of her skirts rustled with every move she made, the heels—and Chase had no doubt they were higher than strictly necessary—of her boots rang at random intervals whenever her steps struck stone. But more than that … the daft woman was talking to herself. Chase couldn't quite make it out, but furious mutterings made their way up the mountainside.

He strained to hear, but the wind carried the words away, and eventually he gave it up as a bad job. Now the question was whether to start down, head her off, and traipse her back to town … or wait for her to find him. The obvious answer would be the former, as he might be able to return to his plans for the day afterward. But surprising her in the woods yesterday earned him nothing but enmity. Chase got the impression Miss Lyman had too much experience having her every move tracked by men.

The more intriguing option was to let her turn the tables and see how long it would take the intrepid Miss Lyman to find him. Because, oddly enough, in spite of his typical caution not to alter the landscape as he passed through, Miss Lyman seemed eerily good at tracing his path. Was it luck? Instinct?

Certainly it was worth waiting awhile to find out. Besides, the hike could siphon some of the wind from her sails before she caught hold of him. Chase may not know what the mutters said, but a man would have to be a fool not to know they meant the same thing as a snake's rattle.
Beware and back away
.

In this case, he'd settle for not getting close. Mind made up, Chase eased back and brushed aside some rocks and rubble before settling in. Dipping into his side pack, he drew out one of the biscuits Granger brought him that morning. Chase had already eaten a hearty helping of his own flapjacks by then, but biscuits traveled well, so he'd brought them along for lunch.

Still … Chase rarely ate food he hadn't cooked himself or at least seen prepared. He'd seen too many men retch their guts out after a poorly made meal not to take precautions. He split the bread open, noting its light, flaky texture with approval before lifting it to his nose and giving a cautious sniff.

Butter
. He'd bet these smelled even better fresh from an oven. Chase peeled off a layer and looked at Decoy, who sat stiffly at attention, eyes fixed on the biscuit. The drool pooling between his paws showed his assessment of the biscuit. Chase tossed the piece, watching the dog catch and swallow the treat by thrusting his massive head forward. He didn't move another muscle. Or chew. But then, Decoy never chewed. He just gulped down whatever food came his way before turning plaintive brown eyes toward Chase as though to ask, “Where did it go?”

He grinned, shook his head, and sank his teeth into the biscuit.
Good as it looks
. Chase chewed a moment then conceded. “Better.” He dug around in his pack, unearthed some cheese, and made a nice snack for himself as the muttering drew nearer. By the time he finished, he could make out the words.

“So very bright out here today. Should've brought my parasol.” A scuffle that sounded as though she almost lost her footing. “Really must order more sensible footwear. Naomi was right, though only about the boots. Not about
that man
.”

Chase held little doubt who “that man” might be, and his suspicions were confirmed when her short silence ended.

“And where
is
he?” Frustration made her huffy—or was it the climb? “Up ahead is all rock, and there'll be no boot prints.”

Ah, she's worried
. Chase put a hand on the ground, preparing to lever himself up. Now he knew how she followed him. There was no reason to wait longer and cause her distress. Who knew? Perhaps she'd even be glad to see him at this point.

“Wouldn't that be just like a man?” Her gripe froze him.

He'd gathered she didn't hold a high opinion of his gender, but that made no sense.
Wouldn't
what
be just like a man?

“Lead you down the pretty path, show you just enough to get you interested and make you think you're really getting somewhere, and then cut you off with nothing to go on and no way to follow.” Her footsteps halted on the other side of a large boulder, her voice taking on a deeper note as though mimicking someone from her past. “Oh no, Lacey, it's too dangerous. Run along back now, Lacey, you don't want to think for yourself or do anything interesting or try something new, do you?”

“Is that what you're doing?” Chase cut her off before she gained more steam with this speech. Interesting as it was, he knew she'd never forgive him if he heard more of the depth of what angered her about men. And since she stood a few steps away, he couldn't pretend not to hear, nor find a way to avoid her. The best he could do was break in before it got worse.

Though, from the expression on her face when she saw him turn the corner, he should have done a better job of it.

Things couldn't be worse! Lacey bit back a shriek of rage as Chase Dunstan loped around the boulder, clearly having heard her giving vent to her ire over being treated like a china doll.

There went all her plans to track him down unawares and explain to him, calmly and in a manner so utterly authoritative and superior he had no alternative but to accept her direction, the things she expected of him. Instead of looking impressed by his coolly collected employer, Chase Dunstan looked as though he was barely managing not to laugh at her foolish tirade.

Why must my mouth always ruin my best-laid plans?
Lacey struggled not to turn around and march back down the mountainside, away from the site of her humiliation. Lymans didn't back down after all.
Oh yes. Because whenever I'm around people, I keep having to bite my tongue. So the moment I feel free to unleash my thoughts, they fly about and batter everything and everyone nearby
.

That's why I wait until I'm alone. But I'm never allowed to be alone anymore!
Frustration mounting, Lacey eyed Chase Dunstan with growing dislike.
Not even when I think I'm by myself can I be safe with this man on the loose. Which is part of the reason I didn't want him here!

And, most likely, part of the reason everyone else does
. The sudden realization drained her. The anger, seething and swelling beneath her every step, carried her along this far. But sorrow made for a far weightier companion. Lacey acknowledged her friends might have a point in wanting to keep her more tempestuous side tucked away. It was safer for them. Maybe safer for her, too.
But it's boring. And constraining. How can Hope Falls become everything I came here to escape?