Picnic in Someday Valley (Honey Creek #2)(21)

The night was cold and the weekend crowd at the bar was smaller than usual because of the rain, but she played for Brand. He hadn’t made one advance toward her all day, but he’d held her when she cried and he’d covered her when it grew cold. In her book he ranked high.

She played for him tonight.

When she finished her set, he stood, leaving a full bottle on the table, and walked out on the steps with her. “You all right with me taking you home and showing you the locks?”

“Sure.” Her car hadn’t started in two weeks and the thought of walking home frightened her tonight more than she wanted to admit. But she didn’t want to tell Brand that. “My car has been sitting beside the bar long enough to collect a layer of dirt.” She pointed to the back of the lot. “It won’t start and I can’t afford to fix it. The good news is, I don’t live far from work.” She couldn’t manage a smile.

“You mind if I carry you to the truck? I might lose you in a pothole in this rain.” He grinned.

She hugged his neck as he lifted her. “And you said you didn’t want to pick me up.” Her cheek brushed his. An inch closer and she could have kissed him.

“Hold on tight.”

“I will.”

Brand didn’t say another word until he pulled up to her place. He cut the engine but didn’t open his door.

“Did you change your mind about coming in?”

He didn’t look at her. He just stared at the trailer. “I thought I left a light on inside.” He slowly opened his truck door. “Stay here.”

His low, hard tone chilled her worse than any wind. It hadn’t been a suggestion, but an order. She watched him walk toward her front door.

Something moved inside the trailer, like a light breeze that crumbled the thin curtains. Marcie opened her mouth to warn him just as he opened the door.

Something black flew out at his face as fast as a cannonball.

Marcie’s scream echoed in the cab as she watched Brand fall like a huge oak into the mud. She jumped out of the truck and ran toward his body, spread, arms out, and looking dead in the low light slicing out from inside the trailer.

“Brand!” she cried as she reached him, expecting to see blood everywhere.

But all she saw were two cut lines on his cheek, just deep enough to bleed. He opened one eye. “I’m going to kill that cat.”

Reality hit Marcie. What had shot out of the house was one of a half a dozen wild cats that lived around the park.

Laughter splashed away fear. Brand had been attacked by a wild cat.

Brand sat up. “It’s not funny,” he grumbled. “That cat ate my hamburger when I set it on the step, knocked over my coffee, and almost tripped me twice, getting under my feet while I was working. He’s a killer cat.”

She offered him a hand. “Come on inside, you poor man. Let me clean you up and treat that wound after your terrible fight with a kitten.”

He was grumbling something as he stood and shook off as much mud as he could, then followed her in.

“My brave hero fights off five men and gets taken down by a kitty.”

“I’m no hero. That cat is probably a baby mountain lion.”

Marcie tugged him to a stool and reached for the first aid kit. When she turned back, his knees were apart, so she moved in close to wipe the blood from his cheek.

Once the Band-Aids were on, she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed, rolling him a few feet to the small kitchen sink.

His dark coffee-colored eyes watched her as she covered his chest with a kitchen towel and began washing the mud out of his hair. “You’ll have to wait till you get home to shower. I don’t think you’ll fit in mine. My brother is six inches shorter than you and he barely fits. In the summer he showers out behind the trailer using rainwater stored in a fifty-five gallon tank.”

Brand closed his eyes as she plowed her fingers through his hair. “I could get used to this,” he said near her ear.

“Nope. This is a one-time thing. I’ve sworn off men for good, and much as I like you, Brand, you’re a man.”

“So can we be friends?”

“Friends. I can deal with that. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had a boy or a man for a friend. I thought I did once, in the sixth grade, but then he grabbed my developing breasts on a dare.”

Brand straightened and she backed away. “I’ll make you a promise, Marcie. I’ll never make a pass or grab any part of you. If you ever want more than friendship, you’ll have to come to me. If you do, there’ll be no flirting or pretending. I don’t play games.”

“Thanks for making it plain.” She shivered at his honesty. “But, Brand, I’ll never come to you. My heart, hell, my whole life, has been shattered one too many times.”

“Friends,” he said. “You’ll call me if you’re in trouble and you’ll always have a place to crash on my couch.”

“Thanks. Will you still come to hear me sing?”

“I will.”

She thought of hugging him, but he might think she was flirting. She’d never been offered friendship without strings. She wanted to treasure it awhile.

He showed her the huge locks, and she thanked him.

As he walked out and headed to his truck, she smiled. He veered toward the trees to pick up the half-grown cat.