Creighton's Hideaway Read online

  He squeezed her hand.

  Her stomach gurgled again in response.

  He needed to feed this woman. How else could he care for her?

  ****

  There must be a conspiracy between Creighton and my stomach.

  Shana took a big bite of buttered oat bread and looked up to catch his gaze. But his focus, now on her mouth, made her pause. She swirled her tongue around before attempting to swallow the riot his intent stare created in her dry throat.

  “What now?” she choked out as she lowered the bread to the edge of her plate.

  “Nothing. Except once in a while you remind me of the good times Rita and I used to have, just the two of us.”

  But you never fixated on her mouth.

  “Just the two of you?” She was curious about Tom and what caused the dark look that had crossed Creighton’s face earlier at the mention of his brother.

  “Uh huh. For a couple of years when we were both in college.”

  “So, your purpose in life then was feeding her like your purpose now seems to be feeding me,” she challenged.

  “Oops. You’re onto me.”

  Studying his mouth in turn sparked a fire that had nothing to do with food.

  “She’d get busy and forget to eat, sometimes. But I have to admit, you’re a prettier purpose than my sis.”

  Shana felt her cheeks heat up and concentrated on cutting a piece of potato. She didn’t look up again until her bowl was more than half empty and Creighton was refilling his. When she glanced back at him, she met his grin.

  “Are you daring?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?” What could he have in mind?

  “I dare you to a game of Scrabble.” He lifted his brows a couple of times in a challenge to rival any silent film villain’s.

  Now it was her turn to grin. She coyly lifted her eyebrows right back at him. “I’ve played a game or two.” Shana finished her stew and leaned back in the chair.

  While Creighton ate his second helping, she roamed the large common room. She approved of the open area: kitchen, dining, and living all in one. Contrasting types and hues of wood were masculine, yet neat and appealing. A lovely quilted wall hanging invited her into a wooded glade with pine trees, accented by a winding creek. Whoever had done the work knew Creighton’s world.

  Curious about the book laid face down on the couch, she excused herself and went to see what he was reading. A western. She recognized the name of the author. Her fingertips trailed the back of the couch as she walked to the end table. A thick, well-used study Bible and notebook made her pause.

  “Answer.”

  She jumped at Creighton’s voice just above her ear. She had no idea he was so close.

  “I do topical studies. Last night I was searching the Bible for the word ‘answer.’ I especially like the verse in the Psalms, where David sought the Lord and God answered him.”

  Shana shifted her body so she could look up at him without hurting her neck. Her shoulder brushed Creighton’s chest. She didn’t have a clue what was in the Bible.

  God answers? He solves problems? Where were His answers for all the troubled youth she met professionally?

  Creighton seemed to wait for her response, but he said nothing. Could he read the questions she needed answers for, just by looking at her?

  “Ready for that Scrabble game?” His voice was so deep it traveled through her.

  She rubbed chill bumps in an attempt to wipe away the sudden thrill as it flowed through her torso.

  “I agree. The temperature seems to be dropping.” Creighton moved. “I’ll start a fire.”

  If she was prone to pray, she’d ask for a reprieve and scurry home like a frightened rabbit.

  A game. It’s only a board game.

  A man. He’s just my best friend’s brother.

  Thankful that he thought her shiver was from the cooling air, she all but jumped when he asked her to get the Scrabble game from the drawer on the right side of the TV cabinet.

  She followed his instructions while he continued to orient her and work on the fire. “Feel like sitting on the floor? We can use those giant pillows for backrests.”

  Shana located the game board, placed the dark brown pillows on the floor in front of the couch, and had the letter tiles all face down in the box lid by the time Creighton finished with the fire.

  “Ladies first.” His hand waved in her direction.

  She drew the letter A so he didn’t even try for his turn at drawing a letter. Then she replaced the tile and selected her seven letters.

  She lined her tiles up on the wooden rack, all the while her teeth played with her bottom lip. She concentrated on keeping a straight face and placed her letters—all seven—across the star in the center of the board. The word R-O-B-B-E-R-Y began her favorite game.

  “A double word plus fifty points right off the bat?” Creighton’s voice was incredulous.

  She shot him a grin and jiggled her eyebrows as Creighton had earlier.

  He stared at her, mouth agape.

  “Give me seventy-two points, big guy.” Fingers snapped. “Right off the bat.”

  “I don’t believe this,” Creighton grumbled. He tore his gaze from hers and wrote down her score. He lined up his own letters and used the Y on the board to spell A-R-R-O-Y-O.

  “What in the world is that?”

  “A gulch. Dry, except when it flash floods.”

  “And just how do you know that?”

  “I read. Westerns.” He jerked his head towards the book she had seen earlier. “And Louis L’Amour.” Creighton frowned at the board. “That pretty much takes care of the Os and Rs.”

  “Not quite.” Shana drew the syllables out as though they were compound words. With grand hand gestures and exaggerated moves, she placed her Z on a blue triple square down from the O of her first play and made the word O-O-Z-E.

  Just as quick, Creighton used her E to place Q-U-I-T-E on the board.

  “All right.” Shana jumped up. “This is war. What do you have to drink?”

  “Apple cider?”

  “Wait a minute, it’s my turn.” She plopped back down.

  Creighton’s mouth formed an oval.

  “So what if I take my games seriously. No big deal.” Shana tried to frown but couldn’t stop her mouth from quivering. A giggle escaped.

  Creighton’s deep rumbling laugh joined hers.

  They finished the game in less than an hour. Their vocal word play accentuated what they put on the game board. Shana won by seventeen points.

  Their hands brushed as they picked up the letter tiles. Shana felt that zing of attraction travel through her arm until it ended in a sizzle at the base of her neck. She lifted her gaze. Her nose almost met Creighton’s. She dare not breathe. Dare she blink? This close, she noticed all the different colors in the depths of his hazel eyes, accentuated by dancing firelight. Shana waited, too caught up in the moment to process a thought. Did he want to kiss her?

  Creighton lowered his lashes and pulled back.

  Disappointed at his lack of response, and her desire for the unspoken, air escaped in a rush through her teeth. She eased back and rose to her feet.

  “That stew and energetic game warmed me up.” She hugged her waist in an effort to regain control. “I think I’d like to walk back and cool off some.”

  Creighton stood without a word and crossed into the kitchen to fish a flashlight from a drawer near the back door. He went into the combination mud room/bathroom and came out with a hooded sweatshirt.

  “Raise your arms.” He smoothed the garment over her back and pulled the fleece down where it bunched across her shoulders. He patted her where the sleeve covered her hand. Then they parted without another word.

  Wrapped in the masculine, outdoorsy smell of Creighton, her mind churned with the idea of them as man and woman, as well as embarrassment. She followed the bright beam of light through the darkness. Did Creighton think she was bad news, not worthy of a little kiss?
/>   A sudden rustle welcomed Shana into the windbreak and a bird squawked as it took flight. She stopped, attempting to calm her pulse. Shana squinted at the milky half-moon shining through the whispering pine branches. “Oh, what am I going to do?”

  The moon didn’t answer.

  ****

  “I need to cool off,” Creighton growled as he shoved the drawer shut on the stored Scrabble game. He crossed from locking the front door to recheck the back one that he had secured after Shana left. He forgot to tell her he locked up at night. He slid his gaze over the expanse of the common room, meant for a family.

  “This house is too big for one guy. Too quiet. Maybe I need a dog.”

  Memories of their evening together and her oh-so-feminine proximity mocked him from the very corners of the room. What am I doing, to almost kiss a woman I’ve known for mere days?

  Man, you’ve got to get her out of your head! She’s a career woman, made for an office in Lincoln, and she won’t be here much longer. He shut off pictures of her lovely, pale face along with the hall light.

  Good thing he hadn’t braved a kiss.

  She scoffed at God.

  What exactly was he doing grousing around? He needed to get on his knees.

  And thank the Lord for saving him.

  ****

  Creighton woke up in his pickup. Everything ached, even his teeth. “Where am I?” He groaned. Kinks traveled through his neck. He summoned up the courage to fight the nausea and pounding in his head. He stretched his eyes open to mere slits. “OK, the Bates place. How did I get here?” He slumped back so his head leaned against the head rest. Another blackout. His mouth tasted like a mouse nest.

  He used all his mental strength to go back to the night before. Yeah, he’d closed out Willy’s Bar. And that’s the last he could remember. His eyes opened wider, to half-mast. And freaked at the discovery of blood on his knuckles.

  7

  “Oh, God, please. Not again.” Creighton moaned in half prayer, half groan, and opened his eyes all the way. His hands were scarred, but not bloody. He wasn’t in his pickup!

  Early morning sunlight peeked through the blinds of his bedroom.

  “Thank you, Lord. It was only a bad dream.”

  Why now? His unconscious mind hadn’t gone back there for a long time.

  Then it hit him.

  Shana.

  He needed to remember who he was: an ex-drunk not good enough for someone like Shana. She was too good for him, even if she miraculously came to share his faith.

  ****

  Shana leaned against the deck rail, cuddled again in Creighton’s sweatshirt, and warmed her hands on the coffee mug.

  Valerie’s voice carried across the tranquil morning, singing a melody Shana couldn’t place.

  A light misty fog hovered in low spots and in the distance. It was kind of eerie for the voice to be coming out of the grayness where neither breeze nor bird stirred.

  Then the tune came to Shana, Beethoven’s Ninth. She hummed the final measures in her light soprano, hadn’t known there were lyrics.

  When Valerie came into view, Shana waved and called out.

  “Where were you and your lullaby last night when I couldn’t sleep?”

  Valerie lifted her walking stick in answer to Shana’s greeting and neared. “How’re you doing, sweetie?”

  “I’m a bit down. Sleep evaded me again. Worked on ordering my chapters. It takes so much energy to not become angry over the injustice these patients endure. I kept trying to find solutions to prevent the kids at The Pines from the same fate as those in the rehab program at Hope Circle.” Shana shrugged her shoulders forward and back. “Even the night creatures were against my peace of mind. I’d settle down, totally relaxed, and then I’d hear a screech.”

  “Sorry about that. I should loan you a hymnal. When I have troubled thoughts, the great songwriters of old help switch my heart attitude right around.” Valerie leaned against her stick. “You do sing, don’t you?”

  “I have a passable voice. But I didn’t grow up going to church so I don’t know many hymns.”

  Valerie’s shirt matched the gray sky this morning. She was dressed as usual in her long denim skirt and boots. The fringe of her bright orange scarf lifted in the sudden breeze.

  Valerie smiled, “God’s breath is fanning my cheek.”

  Shana didn’t answer.

  Valerie climbed the steps up to the deck to lay an arm across Shana’s shoulders. “What’s wrong, Shana?”

  “Maybe I’m just homesick.”

  “Hello, the cabin.”

  “We’re back here,” Shana called, and turned towards Creighton’s voice coming from the side.

  When she saw him, her heart leapt in welcome, beating faster as he approached. He looked so good. Strong and capable and yummy.

  But he shied away from getting close to her.

  “Morning,” he said as he cleared the steps to the deck. “Rita called. Said she needs to let you know about some concerns at work.” He looked over Shana’s shoulder instead of into her eyes.

  Had Valerie noticed his distance?

  “Hey, Valerie. How’s it going?”

  “It’s a fine morning, Creighton. You’re handsome as ever.”

  “Thanks. It’s my lumberjack look instead of rancher.” He swiped a hand over the flannel that covered his chest. “Wanted a bit of color so I wouldn’t scare any critters in this fog.” He wore the bright red plaid well. His dark denim jeans looked new, and he appeared bulkier somehow, more breathtaking.

  She blinked her eyes to clear her thoughts. Remember, he’s not interested.

  Yet his gaze now linked with hers.

  Did Creighton recall the elusive near-kiss and wonder as much about it as she did?

  “I’ll let you two go about your day and I’ll be on my way,” Valerie’s voice broke into Shana’s contemplation. “I’m a little bogged down in the middle of my story today, but if you want to stop by later, please come see me.”

  “Thanks, I’ll probably do that,” Shana automatically responded. She lifted her gaze back to Creighton. “I just need to call to see what Rita needs.” She turned to get her phone from inside the cabin.

  Creighton hadn’t moved. He stood with his thumbs tucked in his back jeans pockets, gaze roaming over the land.

  A moment later she huffed a shaky laugh. “I keep forgetting cells don’t work along the creek. Is it all right to call Rita from the house now?”

  Looking off into the distance, Creighton answered, “No problem. Let’s do it.”

  “Is she feeling all right, did she say?”

  “Yep. Just a little tired.”

  They didn’t speak for the first fifty yards. The edge of the windbreak came into view, and Creighton halted her steps by touching her elbow. She sent him a questioning glance while he slid his hand down her arm, all the while intent on a point ahead and to the left. He reached for her hand and without raising her arm, pointed her index finger at a doe and fawn.

  Shana caught her breath.

  The graceful duo was picture perfect.

  Her shoulders relaxed over the peaceful sight. Creighton’s hand brushed back up her arm. She had never imagined a movement so slow. His touch awakened sensitive nerves. Shana felt the light weight of both his hands on her shoulders. The fire of his touch thrummed through the layers of her T-shirt, denim shirt, and his own sweatshirt under his hands.

  She recognized the surreal moment as one painting its imprint on her mind. The very land and air pulsed with life through the enveloping mist. Her heightened senses whenever she was around Creighton fluttered through her veins.

  A pesky mosquito and Shana’s resulting slap on her wrist intruded on the moment.

  The doe lifted her nose and bounded away, the fawn leaping after.

  Shana watched the white tails flash out of sight.

  He removed his hands, and she experienced loss.

  “Here.” Creighton lifted the hood up over her head and g
ave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. “We’d best get going or we’ll be eaten alive.”

  They matched fast steps for the rest of the walk and were both a bit out of breath when they reached his house.

  “You go ahead. I haven’t fed the cats down at the barn yet.”

  Shana halted. “You have cats?”

  “Only a couple. I keep them around to help with rodents.” Creighton nodded towards the barn. “They’re more on the wild side for that purpose so I only feed them a couple times a week when the weather is nice.”

  “Guess I’ll see you later, then. Thanks for the message. And the use of your phone.” Shana kept Creighton in view until the fog swallowed him up, eerily alone after their interlude in the trees.

  Phone in hand, Shana gazed out the window over the sink in Creighton’s home. She pictured Rita seated behind her desk at the youth center since the call was answered mid-ring.

  “Hi, little mommy, how’re you doing?”

  “Feeling bigger every day.” Rita laughed. “Are you doing OK? Is my brother treating you to his moods yet?”

  “Oh, he’s treating me all right. I barely beat him in a hot game of Scrabble last night.”

  “If I know Creigh, there will have to be a rematch,” Rita paused.

  Shana let it go and asked, “So, how’s work?”

  “Well, that’s why I wanted you to call. I don’t really know what’s going on. We’re down to seven kids in our program. One staff person on nights has found another job and one of our day staff has just given notice.”

  “Is there talk about my absence? Do you think I need to come back now?” Shana folded her arm across her stomach and supported the elbow holding the weight of the phone.

  “We assistant managers are doing all right with your tasks divided among us. We miss you, though. I know this sounds crazy, but one of the kids thought he saw you in the parking lot earlier.”

  “Somebody conjured me up, huh?”

  “Like I said, they miss you. Libby especially.” Rita’s voice turned serious, “I just wanted you to know things don’t feel the same around here without you.”

  “Rita, I’ll rely on your judgment. I’m really just starting to relax enough to concentrate on my paper. But if you think I should return, please don’t hesitate to call me.”