Chapter 3 #2
“Why are we avoiding that area?” I asked finally, pointing to a dense cluster of trees at the bottom of a slope in the distance. I flipped my laptop around so Beck could see the screen. The bars on the graph soared into the red zone.
He barely glanced at it as he adjusted the straps of the backpack over his shoulders. “The terrain down there is rougher than it looks. It’s not safe this time of year.”
Flipping the screen back to me, I scanned the readings. “The magnetic variance is off the charts in that area.”
“Old timers tell stories of mining corporations dumping runoff in these parts decades ago. There’s still a lot of metal in the ground. It’s probably throwing off your equipment.”
It was possible. Mining operations were notorious for breaking the rules, especially before environmental laws started fining them. But something about the way he said it, his tone sure and smooth, made doubt stir at the edges of my mind.
We stopped for lunch by a small stream, the crystal-clear water bubbling over rocks dusted with snow. Beck produced sandwiches made with thick, fresh bread and stuffed with turkey, cheese, lettuce, and some kind of spicy mustard that made my eyes roll back in my head.
“You’re absolutely certain you’re not a professional chef?” I demanded.
He smiled as he unscrewed the cap on a thermos. “Just like to eat.” He poured water into the cap and handed it to me. “Plus, when you run a bed and breakfast, cooking is a big part of the job.”
“How long have you run it?”
“A little over a year.” He ate the last of his sandwich and dusted his hands.
“Took it over from a friend.” He pulled out another thermos and poured water for himself.
“What about you? How’d you end up at your college?
” Silver eyes met mine. “Colorado State, right? It’s known for its wildlife program. ”
Awareness settled over me. Most people didn’t know about CSU unless they were interested in conservation. Which, okay, maybe he was.
Or, maybe, he’d looked me up.
“My parents died when I was four,” I said. “My mom had cancer. My dad passed in a car accident about six months after she died.”
Beck paused with his water halfway to his mouth. He lowered it, his forehead furrowing. “Damn, Charlotte. I’m sorry.”
I lifted a shoulder, shrugging off sympathy I was accustomed to receiving but didn’t always feel like I deserved. My history was depressing, but other people had pasts that were just as difficult.
“I don’t remember much about them,” I said.
“I’m an only child, and my parents were, too, so I didn’t have any family around to take me.
I grew up in foster care. It was fine, but we didn’t have much money.
There were three other kids in the house, and we all shared a room.
School was my escape, and I was always good at it. I started skipping grades.”
Beck held his thermos cup on his knee, his long fingers wrapped around the metal. “You were gifted.”
“I tested out of high school at fourteen. Dr. Henry saw something in me at an academic conference. He took me under his wing. I got really lucky.”
Beck nodded slowly. “You should meet Skyler Laskin. She’s the wife of our town doctor, Everett. She grew up in foster care, too.”
“Really?”
His expression softened. “She came to Bear Cove last year. She and Everett have an eight-month-old son.”
“I’d love to meet her,” I said, anticipation building. Academic life didn’t leave many opportunities for socializing. And it couldn’t hurt to speak to other residents of Bear Cove.
Beck stood and began stuffing the wrappers from our lunch into the backpack.
“What about you?” I asked. “You must have family here.”
He knelt as he fastened the straps. “My parents passed years ago. I have brothers, though.”
“Brothers?”
He glanced at me, his expression shuttering. “Not biological. More like a…brotherhood.” He stood. “Extended family. We look out for each other.” He pointed toward a mountain peak. “If we leave now, we can make that summit before it gets dark.”
Topic closed. His tone and expression told me he wouldn’t answer any additional questions.
We continued climbing. I took samples and recorded data. Beck observed with what appeared to be genuine interest. He asked smart questions, and he absorbed my answers with a thoughtful expression.
And I cataloged every single one of them.
As the day wore on, I couldn’t keep my gaze off his shoulders, his nape, the bunching of muscle in his ass as he strode ahead of me.
His sweater hugged his biceps as he held branches out of the way.
The silver in the scruff on his jaw glinted in the late afternoon sunlight.
What would it feel like under my hand? What would his hands feel like on my skin?
He was old enough to be my father. But everything about him called to something deep inside me. His quiet competence. His solid strength. A therapist would probably have a field day explaining my attraction.
God, I had to stop my runaway thoughts about Beck Antonovich. He was a kind man who’d offered to help me. He’d cooked all my meals, and now he was basically my pack mule as I conducted research. I was lucky to have his assistance.
But the pattern from the morning held. Every time I wanted to investigate an area with strong readings, Beck found a reason to redirect me. Too steep. Too dangerous. Landslides. Avalanches. Rocky terrain.
Each excuse was plausible on its own, but together they formed a picture I couldn’t ignore.
He was deliberately steering me away from something.
By the time we returned to the bed and breakfast, the sun flirted with the horizon, and my legs ached from the day of hiking.
But speculation pounded through my head. What was Beck hiding? And why did I care more about uncovering the mystery behind the man than the mystery of Bear Cove’s dead zone?
“Thanks for today,” I said as he held open the front door.
His smile was as warm as the others he’d given me. “My pleasure.” He followed as I stepped over the threshold. “I was thinking of making stew for dinner.”
There was no way I could get through another meal without blushing so hard my face caught fire. Besides, I needed to review my data without Beck looking over my shoulder. I needed to figure out what he was steering me away from.
“Sounds good,” I said, “but I’m not really hungry.” I paused in the foyer and hooked a thumb toward the stairs. “I’ll probably just shower and turn in for the night.”
His brows drew together. “It’s still early. You might get hungry later. I’ll leave a tray outside your door. No hard feelings if you skip my stew.” A hint of smugness touched his features. “You won’t, though.”
I fought my smile, but it burst through my defenses. “All right.”
“Same time tomorrow?” he asked.
“Sounds good.”
My muscles protested as I climbed the stairs to my room. In the bathroom, I stripped off my layers and unraveled my braids. Steam filled the small space as I stepped into the shower and let the hot spray pound over my nape.
I tilted my head back, letting the water carry away the day’s sweat and grime. But it couldn’t wash away the images that played behind my closed lids.
Beck’s hands, large and capable, reaching up to move a branch from my path. The flex of muscle in his forearms. The way his sweater had stretched across his shoulders when he’d crouched to examine one of my soil samples.
That square jaw. The silver threading through his dark hair.
Heat pooled between my legs, and it had nothing to do with the water temperature.
This was ridiculous. Beck was probably twenty-five years my senior. Maybe more. He was being helpful, and I was standing in his shower having completely inappropriate thoughts about him.
But my body didn’t care about appropriate.
My hand drifted lower, sliding down my stomach. Eyes closed, I slipped my fingers between my thighs.
The day’s events paraded through my head, Beck featured in every frame. His silver eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiled. His taut backside lovingly encased in those tight gray pants.
My fingers circled my clit. Heat sizzled through me, and I gasped, water drumming against my scalp as I stroked my slick, swollen center.
In my mind, Beck looked at me over his shoulder, his piercing eyes steady. His hands were probably big enough to span my waist.
My breath quickened. I stroked myself faster, my free hand braced on the tiled wall. Pressure built between my legs, and thick waves of shimmering arousal built higher…and higher. My imagination supplied me with other images.
Beck looming over me in bed, his broad chest bare. Beck’s scruff against my skin. Between my thighs. His massive body pressed against mine. His thick cock thrusting inside me.
A knot of tension coiled tightly inside me. I stroked my clit faster, arousal soaking my fingers.
“God,” I gasped, widening my stance. My breath came in gasps as I worked my clit hard and fast, the phantom Beck fucking me into the mattress. Pleasure crested in a tidal wave, and I came on a shudder, biting my lip hard to stifle my scream.
Steam rolled around me in thick clouds. Pulling my fingers from my pussy, I turned into the wall and rested my forehead against the tile.
What was wrong with me? But even as shame prickled at the edges of my mind, I couldn’t quite regret my release. For the first time in months, I felt relaxed, my muscles free of tension.
I quickly soaped my body and washed and conditioned my hair. Ran a razor over my legs and under my arms. When I finished, I stood before the mirror with a thick towel around me.
In the glass, my face was flushed, my eyes bright. I looked…satisfied. Biting my lip, I turned from the sink.
Beck could never know I’d gotten off to fantasies of him. And he wouldn’t, I thought as I pulled on pajamas and combed the tangles from my hair.
But I needed to figure out why he was so evasive on the trail. What was he keeping from me? What was he protecting?
As I settled at the desk with my laptop, one thought replaced all the others.
Beck was hiding something, and I was going to figure it out.