Page 3

She appears ready to say more, then clamps her lips tightly together. The need to protect her rises sharp in my chest. I lean closer, my height hovering over her. “He didn’t hurt you in any way, did he?”

“What? No. Well, nothing but my feelings. He never got physical about anything. Barely tolerated it when I touched him accidentally. We had separate bedrooms.”

Good. He doesn’t deserve the slightest consideration from her. She’s mine.

In my head, I’m claiming her and I don’t even know her name. Under the circumstances, she might not want me to know. I ask, “What would you like to be called?”

“Clover.” She chuckles and the sound settles low in my body. “I guess maybe I was destined to become a modern day hippie when my folks named me that. Actually, it’s an old family name. One of my grandfather’s aunts I think it was.”

Her openness is a refreshing surprise. I’m more accustomed to women who save and dole out personal details like rewards or tests. Okay, one woman. Both the reason I left this mountain a few years ago and why I returned.

“Clover.” I test the feel of her name as I say it softly. It suits her. “Let’s get inside. Come with me.”

I hold out my hand and after a moment’s hesitation, she rests her palm against mine. “You’ve got my suitcase, I can make it up the hill without help.”

“I know. But the ground is unfamiliar to you, and the light’s fading. A fall could be dangerous.”

“What about you? What if you fall?”

“This is my property. I’ve walked and climbed nearly every inch. And yes, I’ve fallen and learned how to do that properly.”

“There’s a right way to fall?”

While we’re talking I’ve already moved half way up the steep incline. “There is. So that damage is limited.” I make a wrong step on purpose and slip backward until she’s in front of me. “See, even knowing what I know, there are dangers.”

“Okay, I understand. Sugar lumps, if I had to carry my suitcase, I’d probably end up crawling. Thank you.”

“Sugar lumps?” I give her a gentle push in the center of her back then watch her rounded ass sway with each step. At almost eye level, the temptation to cup each full globe is held at bay by the fact I’m carrying her suitcase.

“I use that, and a couple other phrases instead of cuss words. My grandmother actually washed out my mouth with soap when I was little. It was… nasty. I never wanted to risk that again, so I found ways to express frustration or anger that didn’t include what she called ‘low class sailor talk’.”

“Like peas and carrots?” When she glances back over her shoulder, I grin.

“You heard that?”

“Yep. Now at the top of the hill, keep going straight.”

three

Clover

Half way up the hill I realize the man who’s following close behind me has the perfect view of my butt. Too wide, too soft, it’s not one of my better features. There’s nothing I can do about the view now, the trail is too narrow for us to switch places.

Then I take a misstep and slip backwards with a yelp. His palm against my hip helps me regain my physical balance. Even through the denim of my jeans there’s something about his touch that totally discombobulates my thought process. The pressure feels so good, so right. I don’t understand the tingles racing over my skin.

Once I’m steady he mumbles something I assume is an apology and nods for me to keep going. I attempt to speed up my ascent and finally, panting softly, reach the top of the incline. The path hadn’t looked so steep from the bottom and staring down at the climb, my eyes go wide. “Wow. I never would have made it up here with my suitcase in tow.”

My rescuer gives a soft huff and I move my stare to him. He’s not the least bit winded, darn it. He sets down my garish pink suitcase. The bright color’s great when I have to grab it from a luggage claim conveyer belt. Here on the wooded mountain, it is so out of place. Like me. That’s something I’m hoping to change.

He clears his throat. “My place isn’t much further. It’s uh… don’t expect much.”

After the over done, trying to be rustic modernization of Pete’s so called cabin, I’m ready for something simpler. Less complicated. “That’s good news. I’ve been walking all day. I’m exhausted.”

His lips twitch. “Hungry, too?”

He’s seen my butt… up close. There’s no way I can pretend to be one of those ‘oh, I’m never hungry’, or ‘I’m full after two bites’ kind of girl. I nod. “Yeah. And my feet hurt.”

His chuckle is deep and honest. He grabs my suitcase and holds out his free hand. It hovers in the air between us a second before he jerks it back and flattens his palm against his thigh.