she was out and about, anyway—it wouldn’t hurt to make a dry run past his house so she could find it easily tomorrow.
But, though a sliver of moonlight reflected off a new dusting of snow, it was hard to see into the wooded landscape where leafless trees were interspersed with towering hemlocks and pines.
Two miles outside of town on the left side of the bumpy, unpaved road, she spotted the first sap bucket just inside the tree line. In a moment, several others glinted in the car’s headlights and a rural mailbox appeared.
Rolling to a stop beside his driveway, Abbie lowered her window and peered down the sloping lane. The faint odor of exhaust mingled with the fresh scents of pine and winter, and a faint breeze carried it inside.
Situated in a carved-out section of the woods, his log home stood, its peaked, glass-walled frontage and wide wraparound porch impressive in the glow of roof-and pole-mounted spotlights. Inside, a lamp burned dimly beyond the open drapes, and behind the house and to the right, several outbuildings melted into the trees.
Gripped by curiosity, Abbie continued to stare. They’d gotten a dusting of snow around four o’clock, and Jace’s long, plowed driveway was smooth and white, devoid of tire tracks. Obviously, he hadn’t returned yet. And now that she’d located his home…she had to turn around somewhere, didn’t she?
Shushing the tiny voice that said she was just being nosy, she made a sharp left turn and drove down to the property.
She’d barely reached the wide plowed area around the garage when headlights appeared at the top of the drive and adrenaline jolted through her.
Dammit, dammit, dammit! Couldn’t he have waited five more minutes to come home?
Quickly, Abbie pulled up to the garage door, backed around, straightened her dad’s SUV and shoved it into Park. Then she waited, because there was nothing else she could do.
In a moment, he’d pulled in beside her, their vehicles pointing east and west, driver’s-side windows parallel to each other’s. Jace lowered his window.
Feeling like the intruder she was, Abbie met his gaze across three feet of cool air.
“You’re twenty-two hours early,” he said.
“I know. I had to take my dad’s fiancée home, and as long as I was out, I thought I’d try to locate your house. I was just turning around.”
His brow lined. “Your dad’s fiancée lives on this road?”
Abbie understood his confusion. She’d only seen three houses on the way, and they were all at the far end of Maxwell. Except for the dilapidated barn she’d passed a quarter mile down the road, Jace’s home was the only building on this stretch of road. “No, she lives in town, but it was a pretty night, and I was at loose ends.”
“Why is that?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m still on Pacific time. Everyone else’s night is winding down, but it feels like mine’s just beginning.” She paused as the realization that there wasn’t another car, home or person in sight made her feel weightless—made her nerve endings dance. Again, she wondered why she’d never felt this way with Collin.
“Your home’s lovely,” she said when he didn’t move to fill the silence. “Living out this far, I’m surprised that you don’t have a gate or a chain across the drive.”
“Why?” he asked, faintly amused. “To keep nosy people from invading my space? Gates and chains only make thieves think there’s something worth stealing inside.”
“Is there?”
“I don’t know. What do you consider valuable?”
Life without fear, Abbie thought instantly, recalling why she was a continent away from her life and her friends. “I think the things we consider valuable change from day to day.”
“I think you’re right.” Then he smiled a little and nodded toward the house. “Would you like to come inside? It’s a little warmer and more comfortable if we’re going to have a philosophical conversation.”
Abbie shook her head. “Thanks, but I can’t. I told Dad I’d be right back. He’ll start thinking I buried his car in a snowdrift if I’m late.”
The mention of her father made Jace’s smile fade, and suddenly Abbie needed to tell him that she knew about her dad’s financial blackballing. “I asked him what he’d done to you.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. The night of the gala, you said there was more between the two of you than the gazebo incident.”
“It wasn’t an incident, Abbie, we had sex.”
“All right, we had sex. I just want you to know that I asked, and he admitted that he’d turned down your application for a loan—and the rest of it.” She felt a sharp twinge. He hadn’t deserved any of the humiliation her father had dished out. “I’m so sorry for that, Jace. But I really don’t understand why you’d go to him for money. You had to know how he’d react.”
“His bank was advertising low interest on business loans, and I assumed he was a businessman first and a father second. I also assumed I wouldn’t be requesting a loan from the bank president, but from a loan officer.”
Abbie filled in the rest. As soon as her father saw the name on the loan application, he’d called Jace in and put him in his place. Again.
“I’m glad he didn’t derail your plans. The changes I saw when I came by the other day were amazing.”
“We’re growing. With the kilns we put in two years ago, we employ thirty-five people now. I oversee the lumber end of it and Ty handles the logging. He’s turned into a savvy businessman.”
“I suspect Ty’s big brother knows what he’s doing, too,” she returned quietly. “I’m happy for both of you.”
“Thanks. We’re happy for us, too.”
Another uneasy silence stretched between them then, and Abbie dropped her father’s Ford Expedition into gear. When conversation deteriorated into stock replies, it was time to go. But, hopefully, addressing a bit of the past tonight would make tomorrow night easier on both of them.
She glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard, then back at him. “See you in twenty-one hours and forty-five minutes.”
“Yeah. See you then.”
Twenty-one hours and forty-five minutes, she thought, following her tracks back up to the road. That was something lovers might say to each other, lovers eager to relive warm, liquid kisses and shivery touches in the dark. Lovers who knew how to smile at each other and never ran out of things to say.
Abbie pressed down harder on the gas pedal as an old longing welled up inside of her, surprising her with its poignancy. Obviously, some lovers were better at those things than others.
Jace unlocked the front door and stepped inside the house, then shrugged out of his leather jacket, kicked off his boots and wandered into his home office. The light on his answering machine was flashing. The first message was from Ty, saying that he was headed to a local watering hole for a beer and a burger and he’d be at Candy’s Bar if Jace wanted to join him. The second was from their foster mom and dad who were wintering in Florida.
Betty Parrish’s musical laughter spilled from his machine. “Hi, Jacey.”
Jace smiled. He’d been Jacey to her ever since he and Ty had gone to live with Betty and Carl after Jillie Rae cut out.
“I just called to give you a weather update,” she went on. “It’s seventy-four and sunny.” She laughed again. “You know, you and Ty could be enjoying some warmer temps, too, if you’d scoot down here for a few days. Now, the campground’s having a luau next Friday night and I need a head count. Call me back if you can make it, but do it before eight o’clock.” Another