Twice Shy

Chapter 1-3

“I’m Tracie Hammond,” the older woman said, extending a hand.

“Skye Hathaway. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”

“Hathaway? I thought you said it was Fitzhugh.”

“It was. Well, it is, but it won’t be for much longer.”

Genuine concern flickered over the woman’s face, telling Skye that her companion had noticed the trace of bitterness in her voice. “Are congratulations in order? Or condolences?”

“Both, I suppose,” she replied. “It is certainly for the best, Mrs. Hammond.”

“Please, call me Tracie. So, Hathaway is….”

“My maiden name and the name I use for my photography. Am I all right to be taking pictures here?”

“Absolutely. The cabin sits on ten acres, and there is a fence surrounding the property, so you’ll know when you get to the edge.”

“How are folks around here about letting people on their property?” Skye inquired. “Just so I don’t accidentally wander onto someone’s land and get shot at.”

Tracie laughed. “You needn’t worry about that. As long as you’re respectful of our land, we’re all pretty friendly people. You are, of course, always welcome on the Lazy H, and I imagine Nick or Aaron would be happy to show you around, maybe take you riding, if you want. As would Ty Evans, whose family owns the Bar E Ranch behind you. And you probably know most of the Carlyles already. As for the rest, just ask—and remember to close gates—and you’ll likely have the whole of the valley at your disposal.”

“That’s very kind. I appreciate that… and your invitation. Truly.”

“I had another purpose for coming back here other than to introduce myself. I wanted to let you know my sons Nick and Aaron will be here shortly to replace that front door. I also wanted to invite you to dinner down at the ranch house, if you don’t have already plans.”

“I do, actually. Evie and Vince are taking me out to the Ramshorn.”

“I figured as much, but I wanted to make sure you got something decent to eat after your long drive.”

“Thank you,” Skye replied, touched by her landlady’s generous and friendly offer.

“I’ll let you get back to your pictures. Remember, if you need anything at all, just give us a call.”

“I will. Thank you again.”

Skye watched the rancher’s wife walk away. If Tracie Hammond was a good representation of the inhabitants of this tiny Montana community—Evie’s descriptions of Northstar led her to believe she was—the next six weeks were going to do wonders for her.

Glancing at her watch, she wasn’t entirely surprised to see that she’d already used up three quarters of an hour. With a sigh, she headed back to the cabin to clean herself up a little before heading to the Ramshorn Hot Springs and Lodge for dinner with Evie and Vince. Tracie’s sons had not yet arrived, and after Evie’s suggestion that she should use the widower Aaron to distract her, Skye hoped she would be able to sneak out of the cabin before they showed up.

When she stepped through the kitchen door, she immediately noticed a red light flashing on the answering machine. She leaned over to look at its tiny screen and saw a number two displayed. Hesitantly, she pressed play and let out a sigh of relief when her parents’ voices greeted her with a request that she call them to let them know she’d made it to Northstar in one piece. Smiling but feeling a tingle of guilt for not calling them before she’d gone out to take pictures, she picked up the cordless handset. Then the second message started playing, and her blood chilled.

“Please come home, Skye,” Darren said. “You’re being silly and impulsive, and that isn’t like you. You know I love you. I’m sorry about Leslie. I’m a weak man, but I promise it won’t happen again.”

At the mention of the woman’s name, Skye sneered, unable to prevent the memory from barreling into her mind’s eye for the second time in as many hours with the finesse of a rampaging bull. She sank to the floor beside the counter and cursed the tears that again stung her eyes. If Leslie had been the first, Skye might have believed she would be the last, but there was at least one other woman she was certain Darren had slept with—his own mother had ratted him out about that one after Skye had caught him with Leslie—and she suspected there were at least three others.

“Please, baby, I don’t want a divorce,” her husband’s recorded voice pleaded. “I can’t live without you. Those other women… it was just physical. I didn’t love them. I know you don’t understand, but I need to touch and be touched, and you never gave me that. Please come home, baby. We can work this out.”

Lies, she reminded herself. Nothing but lies, and you don’t deserve any of them.

“You need me, too. You’re too delicate to be alone, and you’ve never had to take care of yourself. You’ve always had someone—your parents or me.”

Two stingers in one message, first when he again implied that she was at fault for his affair—affairs, she corrected—then following it up with an insinuation that she wasn’t strong enough to make it on her own. He certainly hadn’t lost his touch. His tone was all sugar and honey, and for too many years, she had allowed herself to be sweet-talked, but no more. Now that she knew the real meaning beneath the saccharine coating, she couldn’t return to ignorance. She wouldn’t, she promised herself. Without a moment’s hesitation, she erased the message, picked up the phone, and dialed her old home number.

Darren answered on the fifth ring. “Hello?”

“How in the hell did you get this number?”

“Skye,” he breathed with relief. “Baby, please. This is foolish, and—”

“Don’t call me again.”

She poked the end-call button hard enough to elicit a complaint from her finger. Not fifteen seconds later, the phone in her hand rang, and the caller ID showed Darren’s number. She accepted the call and spat, “Stop calling me. It’s over.”

Again, she hung up on him. This time, however, she didn’t wait for him to call back and quickly set the phone back on the base, then strode toward the front door. She settled her camera back in its bag on her way by the dining room table.

She yanked the door open only to find a very attractive man in his mid thirties standing on the other side with his fist lifted to knock. She smiled and held her hand over her heart as if that would slow the erratic beating.

“Sorry I startled you, Mrs. Fitzhugh,” the man said.

“Hathaway,” she corrected quietly.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m Skye Hathaway,” she said more loudly, extending her left hand in greeting since he clutched a bucket of tools in his right. “It won’t be Fitzhugh much longer. Better yet, call me Skye.”

“My apologies, Skye,” he replied, shaking her hand.

When she caught the glint of a plain gold band on his ring finger, she wondered if this was Nick or if Aaron still wore his wedding ring. A moment later, he answered her unspoken question.

“I’m Nick Hammond. Call me Nick.”

Another man of nearly identical build, stature, and coloring—and no wedding ring—crested the steps with a stack of what appeared to be one-by-fours balanced on his shoulder. Aaron, she decided. Like his older brother, he had dark blond hair just long enough for a woman to bury her fingers in and kind blue eyes that smiled at her from a handsome face. Her brows lifted in appreciation as her gaze drifted over the rest of him. He wore a plain black T-shirt that fit well enough to accentuate broad shoulders, toned chest, and flat stomach and jeans that hugged his narrow hips and long legs. The muscles in his arms flexed mesmerizingly as he lowered the stack of lumber to the deck and extended his hand in greeting. Feminine interest set her heart to fluttering.

“I’m Aaron,” he said.

“Skye.”

She shook his hand, acutely aware of the warmth and strength in his grip. “It’s very nice to meet you,” she said a little more breathlessly than a first introduction warranted. Evie’s comments rippled through her mind. Tried-and-true, blond-and-blue, and sexy as hell indeed. And the last thing you need right now. Down, girl.

With her pulse jumping too quickly, she decided it would be best if she didn’t linger to chat with the Hammond brothers. “I hate to be rude, but I’m supposed to meet Vince and Evie at the Ramshorn in a few minutes. If you’ll excuse me…?”

“Certainly,” Nick replied. “We should be done and out of your hair by the time you get home.”

“Thanks.”

Skye smiled politely and strode across the deck with an unsettling combination of desire and nerves weakening her knees. Pausing at the top of the steps to collect herself, she turned her face toward the sun, hoping it would warm away this odd, unbalancing sensation. After a couple deep breaths—and stubbornly resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder at the Hammond brothers—she headed to her SUV.

Following the directions Evie had given her, Skye turned right from the cabin’s driveway onto the packed dirt and gravel of Elkhorn Road. Once she was headed north on the main road through the valley, she rolled her windows down and allowed the pine-scented air to cleanse away the rest of her anger at Darren. It didn’t take long. On this stunning, blue-skied summer day, she had much to celebrate. Her best friend was getting married in just three short days, she was surrounded by beauty and wide-open skies, and she was free to be her own person for the first time in her life.

Darren was right about one thing. She had always had someone to take care of her, but now she was independent. And that felt wonderful. Giddy abandon bubbled up inside her, and she laughed. If she wanted to stay up until the wee hours of the morning to finish a project, there wouldn’t be anyone to chastise her for staying up half the night. If she wanted to spend all afternoon with Evie gossiping about the handsome men of Northstar with the same giggling amusement as they’d had talking about boys back in high school, there was no one to make her feel guilty. When her brief meeting with Aaron Hammond danced into her mind, she laughed. If she wanted to have a wild fling with a willing cowboy, well hell, she could do that, too.

Maybe giving in to the promise of adventure that lay before her was rebellious and childish, but she didn’t care. Playing it safe and obedient had only helped Darren beat her down, and she was done with that.

* * *

Aaron watched over his shoulder as the striking brunette stopped before descending the stairs. There was something about the way she tilted her face to the sun that spoke of a woman in need of some peace and quiet. The tone in her voice—a trembling anger with a touch of sadness—when she’d told Nick that her last name wouldn’t be Fitzhugh much longer was a pretty clear indicator that the name change was due to divorce, and Aaron couldn’t help but wonder why her marriage hadn’t worked out. Less than two minutes and only a handful of words were hardly enough to form an accurate opinion, but it was plenty for a basic assessment.

Dark, wavy hair cascaded over proud shoulders, reaching halfway down her back, and her trim waist, gracefully swaying hips, firm backside, and shapely legs begged to be caressed. She walked with a subtle, natural confidence rather than a practiced poise, but there was something much deeper than her outward beauty that instantly snagged his attention and invited his gaze to linger. Though she’d glanced over him with obvious appreciation, there had been a shyness about her appraisal that contradicted the almost defiant way she’d distanced herself from her married name. She was wounded but strong. Stronger, he thought, than she probably realized.

She was the kind of woman a man could get lost in, not just for a night or two but for a lifetime. What kind of i***t let a woman like that go?

With a shake of his head and a low whistle, Aaron turned toward the cabin and the work to be done. “How long’s she staying?” he asked his brother casually.

Nick regarded him with brows lifted and amusement thick in his eyes. “Through the end of September, so about six weeks.”

“Well, I guess we’d better get this door fixed, eh?”

Knowing it was stupid in the extreme to entertain any ideas about their parents’ tenant, he pushed the lingering image of her out of his head and focused on the task at hand.

The last tenants, who had vacated the two-bedroom log cabin only a few days ago, had somehow managed to skew the hinges and break the doorframe. The door itself, which Nick was now beginning to remove, bore what looked distinctly like claw and teeth marks on the inside. Aaron didn’t want to think about what the rest of the house had looked like before Nick and their parents had cleaned it and replaced rugs and carpet.

“What the hell did they do?” he asked, trailing his fingertips over the gouges in the once-silky pine panel. “They were only here for two weeks.”

“Left their monster of a dog inside while they went digging for crystals at Crystal Park. The dog freaked.”

“Obviously. Do me a favor, Nick. If I ever get it in my head to buy a vacation rental, slap me, would you?”

“Only if you promise to do the same for me.”

“So, why’d Ms. Hathaway suddenly decide to rent the cabin for so much longer? I thought she was only supposed to be here until Labor Day.”

Nick shrugged and handed him a hammer, and he again pushed the beautiful new tenant from his mind. If she’d decided to extend her stay because she needed space from her ex-husband or because she just wanted to take some time to enjoy Montana, it was none of his business. He had enough of his own issues to worry about without taking on a total stranger’s, he reminded himself, hoping the kid he’d sent to jail not once but twice would keep his nose out of trouble this time.

As much as he would rather spend his evening with his daughter, Aaron was glad for the work. Prying the boards of the old doorframe from the logs allowed him an outlet for his pent-up emotions about Jerry Mackey’s parole, and Nick’s quiet, steadfast companionship was a soothing balm. He and his older brother had always been close, and they worked well together.

“Mom said Pearl called after you left Devyn,” Nick said gently. He screwed down the top hinge while Aaron held the new door steady. “You all right with that Mackey kid getting out?”

“I guess I’ll have to be.”

“He didn’t kill Erica, you know, and his brother didn’t mean to, either.”

“I know, but sometimes it’s not so easy to remember that.”

“I know it isn’t, but you’re man enough to understand it.”

Aaron frowned at his brother. “What makes you say that?”

“When he came after you at the truck stop, you did your job instead of giving in to the urge to beat the hell out of him. And you can try to deny it, but I know you wanted to.”

“I did give him a black eye,” he replied with a brief smile, then sobered again. “Maybe I should hate him, but I don’t. He’s just a dumb, skinny kid who got bullied by his cousin into doing something stupid. I just hope he’s over blaming me for his brother’s suicide.”

“If not… maybe you should thump him a little more thoroughly next time.” Nick winked.

To his surprise, Aaron laughed. After Nick tightened the last screw and backed out of the way, he swung the door closed. “Smooth and quiet. We’re done here, so let’s get down to the main house.”

“Mom did say she was going to feed us for this, right?” Aaron asked.

“Yes, she did. And she’s had baby back ribs smoking all afternoon.”

Still smiling, Aaron helped Nick pile the tools and scraps in the back of his brother’s pickup, then climbed in the passenger side. He’d be all right, he decided, regardless of Jerry Mackey’s release. He was beginning to doubt that he’d ever marry again, but he would be all right.