Temptation Ridge (Virgin River #6)(32)

A couple of days later, Shelby rode Chico into the clearing that fronted Luke’s cabins and stopped before getting too close. She had saddled and pulled Plenty along. The September afternoon was pleasant and sunny and she could see that Luke was crouched atop one of the cabins tearing off rotting shingles. Although it was cool enough for her to need a jacket, his broad sunburned bare back was facing her—it was a very enjoyable sight and she drank it in, silent. Then Plenty whinnied and Luke glanced over his shoulder. He stood and carefully turned toward her, balanced on the sloping roof. A smile found its way to her lips. What a sight he was, bare-chested, whiskers on his cheeks and chin, wearing jeans and a tool belt. She briefly wondered what it was about a tool belt… What was it she had said about the guy she had in mind? Clean-shaven, starched and pressed, polo shirt…? Nah….

“Looks like you lost a rider,” he called down to her.

“I’m looking for a rider,” she said. “Want to take a break? See if you can sit a horse?”

“Is this a test of some kind?” he asked.

“No.” She laughed. “I’ll still like you if you fall off.”

He came down the ladder, grabbing his shirt off the lower rung and shrugging into it. It hung open and her eyes stayed riveted on that tool belt. His hands were on the buckle to remove it, but they didn’t move. When she lifted her eyes to his, she found him grinning. Caught. What the hell? she thought, smiling back.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her.

“I haven’t seen you in a couple of days. Are you avoiding me again?”

“I should, but I haven’t been. I’ve had stuff going on. Does the general know you’re doing this?” he asked.

“Of course. They’re his horses.”

“Aw, Shelby,” he said, sounding a little miserable. He took off the tool belt and buttoned up his shirt. “What did he say?”

“He said, ‘You be careful of that Black Hawk pilot. They have a reputation for abusing women.’”

He shoved his shirt into his pants. “God,” he moaned. “Why don’t you go away and leave me alone before you get me shot.”

She laughed. “He didn’t say that. He said, ‘Be sure to tell Luke that Plenty nips and bolts.’ So—Plenty, short for Plenty of Trouble, nips and bolts. You’ll have to pay attention.”

“Bolts?” he asked a little nervously.

“Not usually with a rider. But if you get off, keep the reins. She can be a handful when she acts up, but she’s a pretty good ride.”

“Aw, man. I have a feeling this is going to be humiliating. Where are we going?”

“How about upriver a ways to check out the turning leaves?” she asked. “Think you can handle that?”

“I’ll give it a go,” he said. “Be with you in a minute.” He walked down to the first cabin and stuck his head inside. Art was doing exactly as he’d been asked, sweeping debris into a nice neat pile in the middle of the cabin that had been emptied of furniture. “Hey, Art,” Luke said. “I’m going to be gone a little while. You’ll be okay, right?”

“Right,” Art said, not looking up from his job.

“I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

“Okay. Luke,” he said.

Luke went back to Shelby and the horses, cautiously giving Plenty’s neck a slow stroke. She pulled her lips back as if she’d like to bite him, but she managed to control herself. “You have anything with you? Like a gun?” he asked Shelby.

“What for?”

“Bear. They’re still out. Fishing.”

“Oh, I have some repellent. Plus, I’m really fast.”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “I saw that the last time you were here. I’m not. I’m just hoping I can stay in the saddle.” He went to his truck and pulled his Remington .338 rifle out of the rack. “I’ll feel a little better if I don’t have to rely on you to protect me.”

“Ninny,” she said, smiling. “That’s pretty, but way more gun than you need.”

“It makes me feel manly,” he said.

By the time he was tying his rifle onto the saddle straps, Art was standing in the doorway of the cabin, watching them, broom in hand. “Who’s that?” Shelby asked.

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” he answered, swinging into the saddle. “Lead the way.”

He followed her to the river and as they rode away from the cabins, Luke said, “That guy, his name’s Art. I found him camped out in one of the cabins—filthy, hurt and on the run. So he’s working for me in exchange for food and a decent place to sleep.”

“He’s staying with you?” she asked.

“No. I put him in the camper while we get one of the cabins fixed up enough for him, which is why I haven’t been at the bar in a couple of days—I wanted to make sure he was all right on his own. All he needs is hot water, cereal in the morning, bologna-and-cheese sandwiches for lunch, dinner and something soft to lie on. The guy’s pretty incredible. He’s not fast, but he’s careful and he tries real hard. Turns out to be a good helper, but let’s keep it quiet that he’s here until I figure out what he’s up against. Okay? I don’t know exactly who he’s running from, but he doesn’t want to go back. Someone gave him a black eye. He doesn’t have family anymore.”