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Authors: Barbara J. Hancock
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never be certain of what it was prepared for.
With one last penetrating look, he turned away and walked back to the large SUV he’d left by the curb. Trinity watched him climb into the vehicle, slam the door and rev its idling engine to life.
“He’s in over his head,” Creed said. He’d silently come up behind her. Now, he draped an old trench coat over her shoulders.
“I don’t know,” Trinity replied. “He’s pretty damn tall.”
She smiled slightly at the man beside her who was even taller.
* * *
There were firefighters milling around, winding hose and politely not staring at the outline of Trinity’s legs through thin satin. The fire hadn’t touched her room, but smoke had. She would definitely have to stay elsewhere for the night and possibly longer.
Creed disappeared again while she shoved a few things into her backpack. When she came out the front door, she was surprised to see a late model sports car come around the side of the house to pick her up. It was low and silver and sexy—so like Creed—but a far more modern choice than she would have expected from him. Yet, when she sank down into the passenger seat, he was very at home behind the wheel.
“Don’t worry. I don’t drink while I’m writing,” Creed said.
Trinity hadn’t thought to ask. His eyes were bright. His movements brisk. At times, he might depend on the Scotch more than he should, but it was obvious this wasn’t one of those times.
They drove away from Hillhaven.
She would have to call her parents, and once the damage was assessed in the daylight, she would. For now, she struggled to hold back memories of another fire. She also fought the feeling of being hunted and flushed from one shelter after another.
“I have a cottage by the lake. We can stay there until it’s safe to return to Hillhaven,” Creed said.
By the lake?
Trinity looked up and out the window. She recognized the road and the ascent. Sure enough, the town was below them and the black waters of High Lake gleamed, getting closer, ever closer.
She looked at the man behind the wheel.
Creed’s eyes gleamed, too, black and deep, as he drove them to the place that had nearly killed them both.
Chapter Seven
The cottage appeared after they’d left the hard top for a long, winding gravel drive that snaked through a dense evergreen thicket on the south side of the lake. It wasn’t dense enough. As Creed took his car around bumps and curves with surprising ease, Trinity could glimpse the occasional black shine of still waters through the trees.
When the white walls and a high-pitched roof of an A-frame house came into view around a final bend, she wasn’t relieved. It should have been welcoming. A neat oasis of careful landscaping and mulched plantings held back the encroachment of nature while at the same time gave off an air of being a peaceful part of it. Yet, the cottage left her uneasy. It seemed vulnerable. Its cheerful aspect perched on a rocky hill above the tangle of undergrowth surrounding the lake itself.
Creed braked to a stop in front of a steep path cobbled with stone steps that led to an impressive redwood deck and the cottage’s front door. She could see a similar path leading down the back of the house to disappear into the shadowy trees and she thought possibly beyond all the way to the water’s edge.
Trinity straightened her back against the apprehension that threatened to tighten her shoulders.
When Creed opened his door, she followed suit and stood beside the car with her backpack while he rummaged in the trunk for a hastily packed box.
“I keep the kitchen stocked because I come here to work sometimes,” he said. “Nothing fancy. Canned food and crackers.”
She didn’t ask him if he had a stuffed crow or a ragdoll in his box. She didn’t want to know. Instead, she headed up the path with him close on her heels. Here, close to the lake, the air held a metallic bite from the iron water, but it was softened by fir trees and
With one last penetrating look, he turned away and walked back to the large SUV he’d left by the curb. Trinity watched him climb into the vehicle, slam the door and rev its idling engine to life.
“He’s in over his head,” Creed said. He’d silently come up behind her. Now, he draped an old trench coat over her shoulders.
“I don’t know,” Trinity replied. “He’s pretty damn tall.”
She smiled slightly at the man beside her who was even taller.
* * *
There were firefighters milling around, winding hose and politely not staring at the outline of Trinity’s legs through thin satin. The fire hadn’t touched her room, but smoke had. She would definitely have to stay elsewhere for the night and possibly longer.
Creed disappeared again while she shoved a few things into her backpack. When she came out the front door, she was surprised to see a late model sports car come around the side of the house to pick her up. It was low and silver and sexy—so like Creed—but a far more modern choice than she would have expected from him. Yet, when she sank down into the passenger seat, he was very at home behind the wheel.
“Don’t worry. I don’t drink while I’m writing,” Creed said.
Trinity hadn’t thought to ask. His eyes were bright. His movements brisk. At times, he might depend on the Scotch more than he should, but it was obvious this wasn’t one of those times.
They drove away from Hillhaven.
She would have to call her parents, and once the damage was assessed in the daylight, she would. For now, she struggled to hold back memories of another fire. She also fought the feeling of being hunted and flushed from one shelter after another.
“I have a cottage by the lake. We can stay there until it’s safe to return to Hillhaven,” Creed said.
By the lake?
Trinity looked up and out the window. She recognized the road and the ascent. Sure enough, the town was below them and the black waters of High Lake gleamed, getting closer, ever closer.
She looked at the man behind the wheel.
Creed’s eyes gleamed, too, black and deep, as he drove them to the place that had nearly killed them both.
Chapter Seven
The cottage appeared after they’d left the hard top for a long, winding gravel drive that snaked through a dense evergreen thicket on the south side of the lake. It wasn’t dense enough. As Creed took his car around bumps and curves with surprising ease, Trinity could glimpse the occasional black shine of still waters through the trees.
When the white walls and a high-pitched roof of an A-frame house came into view around a final bend, she wasn’t relieved. It should have been welcoming. A neat oasis of careful landscaping and mulched plantings held back the encroachment of nature while at the same time gave off an air of being a peaceful part of it. Yet, the cottage left her uneasy. It seemed vulnerable. Its cheerful aspect perched on a rocky hill above the tangle of undergrowth surrounding the lake itself.
Creed braked to a stop in front of a steep path cobbled with stone steps that led to an impressive redwood deck and the cottage’s front door. She could see a similar path leading down the back of the house to disappear into the shadowy trees and she thought possibly beyond all the way to the water’s edge.
Trinity straightened her back against the apprehension that threatened to tighten her shoulders.
When Creed opened his door, she followed suit and stood beside the car with her backpack while he rummaged in the trunk for a hastily packed box.
“I keep the kitchen stocked because I come here to work sometimes,” he said. “Nothing fancy. Canned food and crackers.”
She didn’t ask him if he had a stuffed crow or a ragdoll in his box. She didn’t want to know. Instead, she headed up the path with him close on her heels. Here, close to the lake, the air held a metallic bite from the iron water, but it was softened by fir trees and
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