eyes commanded a natural beauty. He’d become so used to women in mannish shirts and denim pants he couldn’t help but notice how her thin summer top revealed the soft smoothness of her neck and accented the firm fullness of her breasts. He did his best to keep his gaze from lingering there.
What was a woman like her doing alone in these parts? She hadn’t offered anything but her name and the fact that she had family in Timberlane. It puzzled him. As far as Josh knew there weren’t any Ashfords anywhere in the immediate area. He kept his curiosity in check, and as soon as she finished eating, they left the house.
He led the way to a pickup truck with more mud than paint showing on it. The interior was scarred and the upholstery on the seats worn.
As they drove away from the house and passed some of the empty cabins, Stacy couldn’t help remarking, “Business must be bad.”
The muscles in his cheeks tightened. “August is usually our busiest summer month, but recent repairs on the bridge have closed us down for six weeks now.” He shot her a stern look. “If your car has damaged some of the new bulwark, our hopes for a busy September may be shot.”
“I’m…I’m sorry,” she stammered, realizing for the first time how her accident might affect him and his livelihood. No wonder he’d been gruff and distant with her. Under the circumstances his attitude was understandable. She felt guilty for having endowed him with all kinds of unfounded motives for rescuing her. She’d certainly imposed upon him enough. If he took her as far as the road, she could, perhaps, flag someone down and catch a ride into Timberlane.
When they reached the bridge, Josh’s worst fears were realized. Her rental car was still there and resting against a cement reinforcement that had been knocked out of position. The bridge shook as Josh drove the pickup over it, making it clear that it wouldn’t be safe for general traffic until it could be repaired.
He stopped the pickup, got out, and surveyed the abandoned car. Swollen waters had engulfed the front of it, but the back doors seemed free. “I’ll take a look and see if I can get some of your things. Is the trunk locked?”
“Yes, but I put my two suitcases on the back seat, and my purse is in the front.” She swallowed hard. “Are you sure it’s safe to try and get them?”
“We won’t know until I try.” His blunt tone cut off all argument. Reaching into the back of the truck, he took out a pair of hip waders and pulled them on over his jeans. Then he waded down the embankment to the muddy swath her car had cut when she missed the road.
As she watched him, the terror of the storm came back with its shrieking wind, clawing torrents of rain, and the lashing darkness. Remembering the strength of his embrace and the warmth of his body as he held her against his chest, she was painfully aware of how much she was indebted to this stranger. When Josh reached the car, he opened the back door, leaned in over the front seat, picked up her purse and slung the strap over his shoulder. Then he picked up the two matched suitcases lying on the back seat and eased out of the car.
As Stacy watched, the illusion of rapidly flowing water made it seem as if the car was moving and slipping away. Her breath caught and choked cries crowded her throat. Get out! Get out!
She was weak with relief when he moved away from the car with the suitcases in his hand. Bending forward, his strong legs took him through the sucking mud and water. He was breathing heavily when he reached the pickup and slung the suitcases in the back. Then he shed the muddy rubber boots and climbed into the seat beside her.
“I guess I got everything,” he said as he handed her the leather purse.
“Oh, yes,” she said, grasping it gratefully. “I really appreciate what you’ve done. If you’ll just take me as far as the main road, I can flag someone down and catch a ride into Timberlane.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” he snapped. “I’ll take you into Timberlane. No telling who might pick you up.”
She had trouble controlling a swell of laughter and covered her mouth to muffle it.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s just that…that…” She didn’t know how to explain that it was likely that anyone picking her up would have frightened her as much as he had.
“Oh, I get it.” His brown eyes suddenly darkened with black flecks. “You’d rather take your chances with anyone but me.”
“No, not now,” she countered quickly. “I’d appreciate the ride. I’m sorry if I offended you. I’m really in your debt.”
“Yes, you are, aren’t you?”
The way he said it gave her a strange feeling that he might collect on that debt sometime in the future.
When they reached Timberlane, Stacy’s heart sank. If it had once been a busy logging settlement in the early forties, now only a hodgepodge of old buildings remained. Any hint of prosperity was gone on the rundown two-block main street, and the few rustic homes clustered on the nearby mountain slope.
Stacy tried to cover up her shock.
Seeing her expression, Josh explained that modest summer tourism, activities in a nearby National Forest and a limited local economy barely enabled the town to limp along.
“I wonder why my uncle bought property in a place like this,” she said.
“What kind of property?”
“It’s called the Haverly Hotel.” She wasn’t prepared for the surge of color that swept into his face.
“Haverly Hotel?” he repeated as if the name was like poison in his mouth.
“Yes, my uncle left it to me. Do you know it?”
He gave an ugly laugh. “Know it? Hell, yes, I know all about the Haverly Hotel.”
Her mouth suddenly went dry. “I don’t understand.”
“My sister, Glenda, fell to her death off one of the balconies.” Then he added bitterly, “Only she didn’t fall. She was pushed!”
“Who…who pushed her?” she asked as her heart jumped. Please God, not weird Uncle Willard.
“If I knew,” Josh answered bitterly, “the bastard wouldn’t be drawing his next breath.”
“That was two years ago?” Stacy said, remembering Josh had said his sister had been dead that long.
Josh nodded as his hands tightened on the wheel.
Stacy’s breathing eased. Uncle Willard had only owned the hotel for a year. “Who had the Haverly Hotel before my uncle bought it?”
Josh’s mouth tightened. “Malo Renquist. He left town the same night Glenda was killed, and the bastard has eluded the authorities for two years. The property was sold to cover delinquent taxes.” He shot her a quick look. “The place was a haven for drugs, drifters and all kinds of scum. What are your plans for it?”
She took a deep breath and told him about her uncle’s will, which stipulated that she couldn’t collect her inheritance until a certain amount of the bequest was spent on renovating the property.
“The
