4. Trace
4
TRACE
The ride to Cherry Hollow is nearly impossible. How the hell can I focus on the road when this gorgeous girl is sitting beside me? She’s wearing another pretty blouse and a pair of blue jeans that stretch deliciously around her thick thighs.
God, she’s perfect.
I barely slept last night. I spent hours pacing the cabin, keeping an eye out for intruders and thinking about Chloe’s gorgeous curves, her angelic face. The fierce protectiveness I feel toward her kept me awake until morning, but the cabin stayed quiet. Hopefully, that means Will Mercer doesn’t know she’s in Colorado with me, but I’m not taking any chances. I’ll stay up every night if I have to.
As we enter the town, Chloe gasps with delight, grinning adorably as we pass the quaint storefronts and flower-lined streets. It only makes me want her more. She has the prettiest smile, and seeing those blue-gray eyes light up is enough to set my heart on fire.
“What a cute town!” she exclaims as I park outside The Craft Corner. “It looks like a movie set.”
I can’t help smiling at her excitement. She’s right, Cherry Hollow is one of the prettiest towns in Crave County, and it’s full of good people. But right now, I’d like this place a lot better if it was nearer to Phoenix. Nearer to Chloe’s home.
Fuck, don’t think like that.
We head into the store, walking so close that our sides keep brushing, making my stomach somersault every damn time. The Craft Corner is bursting with art supplies, from paints of every kind to a million different colors of yarn. I know the chances of Will Mercer hiding behind a stack of sketchbooks are pretty slim, but I keep my eyes peeled anyway, staying close to Chloe.
“Get whatever you want,” I tell her. “Go nuts.”
She beams at me, and she looks so fucking pretty that my cock swells painfully in my boxers, forcing me to stifle a groan as Chloe starts to browse the store. Something tells me she’s too polite to really “go nuts”, so I pick up a few things myself just in case, acrylics and watercolors like she mentioned, as well as a pack of paintbrushes. I look all over the store for an easel, but they seem to be sold out.
“That’s okay,” Chloe insists when I tell her. “Any solid surface will work for painting.”
Once I pay for the art supplies, I grab another cherry pie from Buttercup Bakery and then take Chloe to the grocery store, grabbing everything she could possibly need. It feels almost intimate to be out shopping together, like a couple. I can’t stop snatching glances at her, desperate to run my hands through her caramel-colored hair. And those lips…fuck, they’re so pink and pouty, begging to be kissed. If I had it my way, I’d carry her out of here right now and floor it back to my cabin. I’d take her to bed with me and worship those gorgeous curves until she can’t remember her own damn name.
Fuck, who am I kidding?
At forty-four, I’m way too old for a pretty young thing like Chloe. Even if she wasn’t my buddy’s daughter, she’d still be miles out of my league. Hell, she’s miles out of any man’s league. Nobody could ever be good enough for this beautiful woman, but especially not a grumpy middle-aged lumberjack like me.
“I really can’t thank you enough for all this,” Chloe says once we’re back at my cabin, Rocky yelping excitedly at us. “It’s so kind of you, Trace.”
My whole life I’ve barely given women a second thought, yet simply hearing my name in Chloe’s sweet voice is enough to give me a raging hard-on. It’s like she’s shocked my body to life, making blood sizzle in my veins. Of all the women in the world, why does it have to be my buddy’s daughter who makes me fucking crazy?
“You’re welcome,” I tell her, swallowing hard. “Sorry about the easel.”
“It’s fine.” She smiles at me, showing her pearly white teeth. “What you got for me is more than enough.”
A thought strikes me as I help her get set up, layering old sheets of newspaper over the table to cover it. While Chloe sits down to paint, I head for my outbuilding. It’s where I store lumber that’s waiting to be sold, but it doubles as a workshop. I sketch out my plan and get to work, sawing and drilling with determination, keeping a keen eye on my cabin in case of intruders. It takes me a couple of hours to finish my project, and I sand it down before applying a quick coat of varnish. Once it’s dry, I carry the finished product back into the cabin, where Chloe is staring down at her painting with intense concentration. I watch her work for a moment, admiring the fluid movements of her hand and the adorable way she bites her lip in concentration. She has tied her hair back in a messy bun and rolled up the sleeves of her blouse, several streaks of paint already staining her arms. It’s a long time before I finally speak.
“I got you an easel.”
She looks up, starting slightly. “Oh! Really? But I didn’t hear you go back out?”
“Made you one instead.” I set it down in front of her. “Hope the size is okay.”
She gawks at the easel, then up at me. “You made this? For me?”
“Yes.”
“It’s so beautiful!” she says, reaching out to touch the smooth wood. “It’s even better than the one I left in Phoenix.” Her eyes sparkle as she looks up at me. “Thank you so much. I don’t even know what to say. It’s perfect.”
My heart squeezes at the happiness in her eyes. This girl is so fucking sweet, so innocent, and all at once, I’m reminded of why she’s here. It makes my blood boil to know that someone out there threatened this angel. Part of me wants to go to Phoenix myself and find Will Mercer. I’d beat the shit out of him. Hell, if it came to it, I’d fucking kill him. Anything to keep Chloe safe.
“I’m glad you like it,” I tell her, watching as she transfers her canvas to the easel. I take a step toward her and smile when I see the painting. It’s Rocky, curled up in front of the fireplace. “Looks great so far.”
“Thanks.” She beams shyly at me. “It’s still in the early stages, though.”
“Can’t wait to see it.”
I was meant to get more work done this afternoon, preparing lumber to sell to my buddy Duke for his hardware store. But there’s no way I can work knowing this curvy beauty is in my home, so instead, I sit down at the table, watching her gentle brushstrokes. I’m never usually interested in people, but it’s different with Chloe. I want to know everything about her.
“When did you learn to paint?” I ask as she layers on some rich brown color for Rocky’s coat.
“A while ago.” Her hand freezes and she looks back at me, as if she’s debating whether to tell me something. “I did a lot of art therapy as a kid. It was part of my…readjustment, I guess you’d call it.” My heart squeezes at the pain that flickers in her eyes, and she lowers her brush, breaking eye contact as she says, “I don’t know how much my dad told you about my past.”
“I know bits and pieces,” I tell her, resisting the urge to pull her into a tight hug. “Your dad told me about it back when he first adopted you.”
Chloe looks down at her lap, and instinctively, I reach out to take her hand, squeezing tight. She sucks in a breath and meets my gaze with those pretty blue-gray eyes, so different from Roman’s green ones. After he left the military to become a police officer in Arizona, we stayed in touch despite the distance, and when he told me he was adopting a kid, I was shocked as hell. Roman never seemed like the paternal type—he was too grumpy, too introverted, a lot like me. But people change, and he clearly loves his adopted daughter. I know he’s done everything in his power to give her a good life.
“My biological parents…” Chloe begins with a deep breath. “They were drug addicts. I was an accident, and when I came along, they couldn’t cope. They neglected me and left me to fend for myself while they got high.” Tears well in her eyes. “Then, when I was four, my father died from an overdose. That brought the police to the house, and Roman was the first officer on the scene. I was just skin and bone by then, living in a filthy drug den, but he carried me out of there. The doctors said a couple more weeks and I would have died.”
My grip tightens on Chloe’s hand, my jaw clenching. It breaks my heart to think of Chloe as a little girl, malnourished and neglected, just waiting to be rescued.
“Social services took me away,” Chloe continues. “They sent me to a child therapist, but I wouldn’t talk to anybody except Roman.” She smiles slightly despite the tear that slides down her cheek. “He was the only person I trusted, and once the case was over and my mom was sent to jail for child neglect, he started the adoption process. He and Polly, his mom, became my legal guardians: my dad and my grandma.”
“I remember your grandma,” I say, images of a smiley old lady with red hair flashing through my mind. “She was a great woman. I was sorry to hear that she passed away.”
Chloe nods. “It was a few years ago now, but I still miss her. She was more like a mom to me than a grandma.” She wipes away another tear. “My biological mom spent a couple of years in prison, then skipped town. I didn’t hear from her again, not until I googled her name when I was fifteen and found her obituary.” Shaking her head, she adds, “They didn’t specify how she died, but I’m certain it was an overdose.”
“I’m so sorry Chloe. Fuck, you went through so much.”
Rocky unfurls himself from his position by the fireplace and joins us, whimpering as he rests his head against Chloe’s leg. She gives him a watery smile.
“Luckily, I don’t have many memories from that period of my life,” she says. “I was too young. But it still makes me sad to think about my parents, knowing that drugs stole their lives like that.” She sighs. “Sometimes I wish I could have met them before they became addicts, just to see who they really were before addiction changed them.”
“You deserved better, Chloe.” It’s painful to hear her talk about all the shit she’s been through. Yet, despite everything, she’s still sweet and kind. There’s no bitterness in her voice, not even when she talked about the neglect she suffered, and I wish more than anything that I could take the pain away. I already knew the bare bones of the story—how Roman and Polly adopted Chloe when she was young because her parents couldn’t look after her. But I had no idea her childhood was so bad. Knowing that she almost died from neglect makes me feel sick to my stomach.
“I did deserve better,” Chloe says. “No child should go through that. But I’ve been so lucky.” Her eyes light up with emotion. “I have the best dad in the world, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Life could have turned out very differently for me, but thanks to my dad, I’ve been happy. Normal.” Her smile slips slightly. “Well, apart from the death threat. Everything was normal until then.”
I rub my thumb reassuringly against her hand, my skin burning at the contact. “Your dad’s a damn good cop, Chloe. If he says he can catch Will Mercer, he can. And in the meantime, I’m here to keep you safe.” My heart sinks a little as I add, “You’ll be back in Phoenix in no time.”
She gives me a weak smile. “Thank you, Trace. And thanks for listening to me vent. It means a lot. Something about the craziness of everything that’s going on…I guess it just stirred up some old emotions.”
I nod. “I know a thing or two about old emotions. They always show up when you least expect them. Doesn’t matter if it’s been months, years…some things never go away. We just learn to live with them.”
Chloe cocks her head curiously, but I don’t want to talk about Nolan right now. I can’t face it. Before she can ask me anything, though, a knock sounds at the door, and I’m instantly on high alert. Will Mercer is still fresh in my mind, and I jump up from my seat, peering out of the window to get a glimpse of the person on the doorstep. But it’s only Duke.
“Hey,” he says when I open the door. “I’m here to pick up that lumber. The maple.”
“I don’t have it.”
Duke raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“I haven’t been working today. Only chopped down one tree this morning, and it wasn’t a maple.”
“Damn.” He whistles. “In all these years, I don’t think you’ve ever taken a day off.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”
Duke’s right, usually my work is my life. I spend all day long roaming the forest, chopping wood, and my lumber has a reputation for being the best in Crave County. I’ve been throwing myself into this job for years, but right now, it seems so unimportant compared to the girl sitting in my cabin.
“Guess I’ll come back tomorrow then,” Duke says.
“Make that next week.”
“You’re taking the whole week off?”
He looks incredulous, but as much as I like Duke, I want him to get the hell out of here so I can go back to Chloe.
“Hopefully longer,” I say. “When I have more lumber, I’ll call the hardware store and let you know. Might not be for a while.”
Duke shakes his head. “Damn. You feeling okay?”
“Never better. Bye, Duke.”
Before he can say anything else, I shut the door and head back to Chloe. She’s completely engrossed in her painting once more, and I watch as she adds the finer details—the shine of Rocky’s coat, the twinkle in his puppy dog eyes. When she finally sets her brush down, I’m stunned.
“Fuck, you’re talented,” I mutter, taking in the painting. It’s a perfect likeness of Rocky. “I love it. Can I keep it?”
Chloe smiles. “Of course. It’s for you—to say thanks for letting me stay.”
This girl has no idea what she’s doing to me. Not only is she beautiful, but she’s sweet as hell and insanely talented.
She hands me the canvas and I immediately hang it above the mantel, giving it pride of place just above where the real Rocky is currently curled up in exactly the same position as in the painting. But as I look at the pretty colors and delicate brushstrokes, I can’t help thinking that soon, when Chloe goes back to Phoenix, this might be all I have left of her.
It’s a thought that feels impossible to accept.