Creighton's Hideaway by LoRee Peery Read Free Book Online Page A

is, complete with the little windowless building covering a deep hole out back.”
    Shana grinned and rolled her eyes. “You said two cabins are used by hunters?”
    The mottled brown roof drew her attention. She could see how an animal might perceive the dwelling as part of the environment. The front door set off a porch facing west, but there were no other windows on that side.
    What a good place for someone to hide.
    What a crazy idea. She chased away the scary thought. “So, what do they hunt?”
    “Deer, of course. Wild turkey are near just to the north and west. Not really enough trees here for their cover. Some pheasant, but the population is dying out.”
    “The land is really something, isn’t it, Creighton? It almost breathes and grows on its own.”
    He placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a side hug. “Sounds like you could become a transplant, friend of my sis. The land does have a life of its own, one that’s God-breathed.”
    Why did he always spoil things with talk about God?
    Creighton squeezed her once more. “And I don’t want to live anywhere else.”
    She heaved a deep sigh and almost lost her footing in her rush to put space between her and this man who had her insides all atremble. She glanced back at the hidden cabin. She had no name for the disquiet that slithered through her.
     
     
     
     

5
     
    “Should we head back? Our water’s gone and you’re probably ready for lunch.” Creighton’s voice soothed like a soft breeze.
    Before long, the lowing of cattle drew Shana’s attention to the gathering herd near a stock tank at the base of a small hill. She glanced at Creighton when she caught sight of a man.
    “That’s Roger Mills, checking the float in the water tank and changing the mineral block for his cattle.”
    Surprised, she blurted, “The cows aren’t yours?”
    “Nah. I sold all ours after my dad died so I could pay off the mortgage at the bank. Rog rents the pasture for his cows and calves. Helps pay the taxes and keeps the ranch afloat.” Creighton waved.
    Roger lifted his hat and simultaneously opened his truck door. He gave a shout, then the sound was drowned out by the engine revving to life.
    Creighton led her to a narrow bend in the creek where he stepped across. He was just turning when she jumped over. She lost her balance and grabbed onto his waistband. His strength enfolded her during their awkward dance.
    Her nerve endings hummed at the contact with his strong body. Their laughter was interrupted.
    The rickety truck approached. The pickup jolted to a stop. Roger Mills jumped out of the cab and shook Creighton’s hand.
    Creighton introduced his friend, and Roger tipped his hat Shana’s way in the manner of someone who’d stepped off the movie set of an old western. His scruffy beard and hooded eyes had the look of a man who spent his life outdoors.
    Shana enjoyed watching the men joke back and forth. She paid more attention to their expressions and lively banter than to their actual words.
    What was the cliché about a New York minute? Time was endless here in the lazy sunshine. The moderate temperature and blue sky were perfect in her estimation—a different world. Had Shana’s drive to succeed, and her perfectionism, kept her from living in the moment? Here, and now, she smiled and drew a deep breath, standing tall. I am living in the moment.
    A shrill, grinding squawk yanked her gaze from the distant horizon.
    “Hey,” Creighton scrunched his nose and yelled. “When you gonna fix your truck? Sounds like a cricket with laryngitis.”
    Roger gave a good belly laugh, tipped his hat, and turned his pickup back towards the cows.
     
    ****
     
    The day had warmed up so much that Creighton was wet with sweat by the time they reached Shana’s cabin. He tried to jerk off his red flannel shirt, but the tail caught in his hip pack. The movement checked his desire to touch Shana. Was there a name for this push-pull thing? He was drawn to her.