Chapter Four
Paul woke at dawn, his heart racing with panic.
He clutched at the center of his T-shirt and took steady breaths, willing himself to calm.
A light coat of sweat dampened his skin.
There was no nightmare, no flashback, no specific reason for his distress.
The ache in his shoulder, while constant, had not worsened as he slept. He didn’t feel unsafe, just unsettled.
He’d had several mornings like this since his shoulder surgery.
He’d bolted upright with his mind blank and his body locked in fight-or-flight mode.
Once he’d jumped out of bed and started swinging at a nonexistent enemy.
It was a natural reaction, he supposed, to a life-threatening injury.
The orthopedic specialist had recommended physical therapy.
Paul had made an appointment with a local office, but he wasn’t looking forward to getting poked and prodded or twisted into a pretzel.
He let go of his damp shirt and waited until his pulse returned to normal.
Then he rose from the bed, pulled on a fresh set of clothes, and prepared to start his day.
A glance out the window revealed that his unwanted guests hadn’t left.
He dragged a hand down his face. No wonder he was on edge.
He couldn’t believe Vanessa Nava had slept outdoors like a vagrant.
The fact that she had a young child made her choice even more ineffable.
Paul scrambled eggs and made coffee, feeling surly. He hoped she wouldn’t ask to use his bathroom again. He’d been unforgivably rude last night, and she hadn’t batted an eyelash. She wasn’t intimidated by his bad attitude.
How did you get injured?
He wasn’t sure how she’d known. Maybe he moved stiffly, with unnatural gestures.
He’d come here on strict orders to lay low and recuperate.
He didn’t need any scrutiny from Deputy Nava or his friends in law enforcement.
Paul also couldn’t afford to have his nerves shredded by a stunning brunette and her kid.
These stray females had to go. He drank his coffee, paced the living room, and waited for her to clear out.
She didn’t clear out. About an hour into his surveillance, she exited the back of her vehicle and stretched her arms over her head.
She was wearing the same clothes she’d arrived in last night—a basic tank top and black leggings.
She did some yoga poses, bending sideways and forward.
He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her curvy body.
She was a knockout, to be sure, but he’d seen beautiful women before.
He’d dated a few of them, and this one wasn’t his type.
She had a ton of baggage, literally. Her SUV was packed full of stuff.
Maybe she was planning to stay all summer.
While he watched, his jaw clenched, her daughter climbed from the cab and joined her.
The little girl stood barefoot on the grass with a doll clutched under one arm and two fingers thrust in her mouth.
When the mother gave her an instruction, she shook her head in refusal.
Vanessa crossed her arms over her chest, her expression stern.
After a brief exchange, the girl sat down on the ground.
She allowed shoes to be placed on her restless feet.
Then she rose and took her mother’s hand.
Paul braced himself for another knock at his door and request to use the bathroom. Instead they walked away from the cabin, toward the campground.
They were leaving. Finally.
He drained his coffee cup and rinsed it in the sink, feeling oddly empty. She hadn’t taken her car, which meant she planned to return to the area, but at least they hadn’t darkened his doorstep again. He made a grumbling sound, like a harrumph, and wondered when he’d turned into his grandpa.
This situation was his own fault. He shouldn’t have lied to her about the Wi-Fi.
He’d assumed she would go away if inconvenienced.
He hadn’t wanted to call the owner of the duplex at such a late hour.
He paced the living room, frowning. She’d denied having car trouble.
She could be out of gas, or out of funds.
Annoyed by the thought, he waited for her to reappear.
Twenty minutes later, she returned with her daughter.
Go, he silently implored them. Drive away.
But they didn’t drive away, or even get inside her vehicle. They skirted around his cabin and took the path toward the lake.
Paul grabbed his cell phone and cowboy hat.
It was time to end this farce. He exited out the back door, which faced the lakeshore.
The cabin had a wraparound porch with Adirondack chairs and a stunning view.
It was a prime vacation spot, peaceful and secluded.
He spotted Vanessa sitting at his private picnic table while her little girl tossed pebbles into the water.
Her spine stiffened as he approached. In the full light of day, her beauty struck him like a gut punch.
He scanned her features, absorbing the details.
Her dark hair was gathered in a messy ponytail.
There were circles of fatigue beneath her lovely brown eyes, and smudges of mascara around them.
She had an oval-shaped face, honey-smooth skin, and finely arched brows.
“Morning,” he said.
“Mornin’,” she replied coolly.
He glanced at the little girl. She was cute, like her mother, with dark, curly hair. Paul guessed she was about three or four. He didn’t think she should be playing so close to the shore. He’d heard that kids could drown in a few inches of water.
“When are you leaving?” he asked.
Vanessa’s lips parted in a huff of breath. Then she closed her mouth and lifted her chin. “We’re not leaving.”
“Why not?”
“I have a reservation. I’m going to talk to the cabin’s new owner.”
Paul didn’t react to the announcement, because he’d expected it.
Vanessa Nava had a stubborn streak. Last night she’d ordered him around, demanded the owner’s phone number, and cast aspersions on his work truck.
She also seemed desperate. He wondered how she’d arrived at this low point.
She didn’t have the run-down appearance of a woman who’d struggled for years.
No, this was a new development. Her clothes, while wrinkled, were designer quality.
Her dark brown hair appeared healthy and lustrous, if a bit tangled from the long night.
She held her spine straight and her shoulders forward.
She exuded confidence, despite her circumstances.
A faint line on her ring finger hinted at a recent change in marital status, and her eyes glittered with emotions held firmly in check.
Paul had to force himself to look away. He had a soft spot for beautiful women—what red-blooded man didn’t?—but he couldn’t help her. He was basically under house arrest. He had his own problems to deal with.
“There’s a better cell phone signal if we go uphill,” he said. He pointed at a spot between the cabin and the campground.
She nodded her agreement and rose to collect her daughter.
The little girl chattered on about frogs and lily pads, unaware of the tension between the two adult strangers.
She didn’t try to interact with Paul, to his relief.
He wasn’t in the mood to put on a happy face for a child’s benefit.
He ascended the hill in silence. It was a short distance with a stair-like incline that led to a small plateau and a sheer drop-off at the water’s edge.
Teenagers frequented the location to jump from a large boulder into the water below.
When they reached the summit, Vanessa walked to the edge and peered over it.
The distance was about fifteen feet, with loose pebbles underfoot.
He’d suggested this spot because it was private and he had to avoid public places, but their proximity to danger made him uneasy.
His fingers itched with the urge to pull them back.
Vanessa held her daughter’s hand in a firm grip and studied the vast panorama.
Paul had seen the view several times, and he’d felt a mild appreciation.
Her enjoyment of the scene seemed more intense.
Her lips curved and her eyes brightened with pleasure.
The breeze ruffled her ponytail. She breathed it in, content.
He looked across the sparkling surface of the water.
Lost Lake was a desert oasis and a fisherman’s delight.
Surrounded by stark, rocky hills peppered with mesquite brush and barrel cactus, it reminded him of the scene of a Western movie.
Big Bend National Park stretched for a hundred miles on the east side. To the south, there was only Mexico.
“What a lovely view,” she said, glancing at him.
Paul grunted in response, purposefully indifferent, and took his phone out of his pocket. He had to steel himself against her charms. He scrolled through his list of contacts, which was currently two people. He’d surrendered his old phone before he left Houston.
She finally directed the little girl away from the cliff, toward a cluster of wild flowers atop the plateau. After she gave the area a quick inspection, she pointed at the flowers. “Make a crown for Penelope.”
The girl sat down with her doll and began picking flowers.
Paul pressed the call button and put it on speaker. “The owner is Frank Wilson,” he said. “He hired me last month.”
She waited, listening to the phone ring.
Frank’s voicemail picked up, with a message that indicated he was on a family trip to Jamaica and would be out of reach for the next ten days.
Her hopeful expression soured. When he ended the call, she contacted Frank herself.
Paul stared across the lake while she sent a text with flying thumbs.
“Did you know he was unavailable?” she asked.
“I knew he was going on vacation,” Paul replied.