Rebecca Zanetti - Against the Wall

“My mother is. My father died in a snowmobile accident when I was eight and Quinn was six.” Jake’s eyes darkened with pain.

Sophie reached out to pat Jake’s chest. “I wondered about Colton and Dawn. They look so different from you and Quinn.”

Jake’s eyes crinkled. “Yeah. Mom married Tom a couple of years later and then they had Colt and Dawnie.”

“Were you upset she remarried?”

“Not really. I mean, he isn’t Kooskia, so I wasn’t so sure for a while. But Tom’s great, and he makes Mom happy. Though Dawn…” Jake grinned. “She has been a handful. For all of us.”

“Three older brothers? Poor Dawn.” Sophie grinned back. “Is it important to you? I mean, was Leila’s mother a member of the tribe?”

“Yes. She was full Kooskia.”

For some unknown reason, his admission deflated her.

Then he frowned. “I thought being a tribe member was important—that we’d want the same things.”

“But you didn’t?”

“No.” The color of Jake’s eyes deepened, and his hand slid to the back of Sophie’s head.

“No,” she said as she placed both hands against his chest and pushed to a seated position. “No way. Not that.”

“Why not?” Jake sat up, his eyes intent on her mouth.

Despite her resolve, heat flared in her abdomen. “Because this is business. We’re on opposite sides.”

“We don’t have to be.”

“Yeah, we do.” Her brain told her body to get a grip. “Unless you’re going to support my design?”

“No.” Regret colored his words.

They were on opposite sides, no matter how sexy he was or how much she wanted to kiss him again. “We should get back.” Sophie shivered as the wind caught a chill.

His gaze ran over her face. Then, with a nod, Jake rolled to his feet and held a broad hand to help her up. “Yeah, we should. The spring storm season should be arriving any day, and while impressive, you don’t want to be caught outside.”

“Spring storm season?” She moved to help him repack.

“Yes. Probably not until next week, though the breeze coming off the lake has more of a chill than it should.” He turned and lifted her onto the mare, helping her insert her new boots in the worn stirrups.

Sophie felt slightly more at home on the pretty horse, but while her body relaxed, her thoughts spun. What had he meant that his wife had run away from him? How had she died? What would it be like to kiss Jake again? Maybe the first time was just a fluke. And it didn’t matter that she wasn’t Kooskia—one silly kiss didn’t mean anything.

What she needed to concentrate on was how Sophie could convince Jake to change his mind and help her get the tribe to support her proposal.

They arrived back at the paddock before she knew it. Jake’s indulgent sigh as they drew closer should have provided warning to who obviously awaited them.

“Hello, Sophie.” Chief Lodge strolled out the big double door.

“Afternoon, Chief Lodge.” Sophie gratefully took his offered hand and swung down from the horse. Her leg muscles protested in spasm, and she stumbled.

“Did you talk to the land?” The chief steadied her until she could stand on her own.

“I sure tried.” She put both hands on her hips and stretched her back, ignoring the loud pop from her spine.

“And?”

“I think the land wants a golf course there.” She grinned at the elder.

The chief threw back his head and guffawed. “Oh, Sophie, you’re a pip.” He wiped his eyes with one gnarled hand. “That settles it, then.”

“Settles what?” She shrugged tense shoulder muscles. Her entire body revolted from her earlier ride.

“You have to come to the branding picnic tomorrow, out at Rain’s.”

“Grandpa…” Jake swung from his horse to stand at her side.

She threw a disgruntled look his way. His muscles seemed fine.

“There now, Jake agrees. We have to be there early, but I can give you directions.” The chief patted her on the back. “Besides, the entire tribal council will be there, so you can talk to all of them about your proposal.”

“Well…” She chewed her bottom lip while flicking another glance toward Jake. It would be nice to talk to the entire council, so maybe she should go. Though the frown on his tanned face didn’t warm her heart any.

“Good. Saturdays are meant for fun.” The chief offered her an arm. “Now, why don’t we let Jake take care of the horses, and I’ll give you a ride back to Shiller’s B & B.”

“Oh, er, okay.” She’d grab any opportunity to sell him on her plan. Taking his proffered arm, she gave Jake a small smile over her shoulder. “Thanks for the picnic.”

“No problem, Sophie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Why did that sound like a threat?

After a quick ride to the general store, Sophie spent the rest of the day fine-tuning her proposal. She ignored the new note on her Jeep. This time the note had been more explicit: Your development will destroy the land—please rethink your plan.

She placed it with the first one, wondering if she should file a police report. But the last thing she wanted was to appear like a hysterical female—and the notes weren’t exactly threats. They were more like pleas. Nice, polite pleas. She could handle this. The tribe was certainly against the development. But she couldn’t imagine Jake leaving a cowardly note for her. He was more likely to beat down her door to challenge the proposal.

She ate a quiet dinner with Mrs. Shiller, the sole proprietor of the B&B. After helping clear the dishes, she escaped to her room and the purchases she’d been thrilled to find in the general store. She pulled out the sketchpad and new charcoals from the brown bag. They were beautiful, untouched, ready to be used. The charcoal felt warm and solid in her hand as it vibrated with possibilities. The blank sheet before her called for something. With a sigh, she reached out to create.

Her first drawing captured the clearing with its amazing view of Mineral Lake, tall pine trees, and bouncing robins. Flecks in the rocks sparkled light back to the hazy sun as clouds dropped toward the ground. The movement of charcoal against paper calmed her; even the smell of charcoal dust inspired her to continue.

Her second drawing took hours as she lost herself in every line and shadow. About midnight, she stretched her aching neck and scrutinized her work while spraying a light coat of fixative. Her nerves hummed as Jake stared unapologetically back at her from the paper, his eyes warm and serious, his cheekbones sharp angles over dark hollows, and his mouth full and slightly tipped. Black hair cascaded back from a broad forehead—strength and power flowed through every line across his face.

He was perfect.

And he wasn’t hers to draw.

Her cell phone shattered the peace and she jumped, then dropped the sketchpad and checked the number. Preston. She thought about it. With a sigh, she turned the phone on mute and went to bed.

The hours spent drawing had calmed her to the point that she fell asleep easily. She dreamed a dark, dreamless sleep until the early morning hours. Then, it was no surprise to find herself on her rock near the cliff with robins hopping nearby.

“Bob?” She swung her pretty new boots back and forth, feeling warm in faded jeans and a red sweatshirt.

“Nice boots, Sophie.” In a blink, Bob appeared on his rock.

“Thanks. I like yours, too.” Bob wore deep green lizard cowboy boots under dark jeans and a bright purple cowboy shirt. She probably shouldn’t be so blasé, considering she was meeting with some spirit guide in her dreams; perhaps she was going crazy. But she didn’t feel crazy…she felt content. “Your shirt looks like something Roy Rogers would’ve worn.”