Page 123 of Confessions

Ben was determined to find work, even if he had to swallow his pride and offer his services to Fitzpatrick Logging, though that particular thought stuck in hi

s gut. He locked the single-wide trailer behind him. In the army, he’d learned about construction and had taken enough college courses at different universities and through correspondence to graduate as a building engineer.

Now all he needed was a break or two. Hayden Monroe had given him his first. Dora Hunter had provided the second. It was just a matter of time, then maybe he’d settle down in this town, find himself a wife and... Thoughts of Carlie crashed through his cozy little dreams and he threw a dark look at the sky. Why couldn’t he get her out of his mind? Ever since the day of Nadine’s wedding, when he’d first spied her through the binoculars, he hadn’t been able to quit thinking about her. She was on his mind morning, noon and night.

And, as before, nights were definitely the worst, he thought, grimacing as he strode across the gravel to his pickup. He’d spent the past week tossing and sweating in his bed or under the spray of an ice-cold shower. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Carlie Surrett had gotten into his blood again.

But not for long. She definitely wasn’t the kind of woman he intended to spend the rest of his life with. A hot-tempered New York model, a sophisticated photographer—an artiste, for God’s sake. No, the woman he’d finally ask to marry him would be a simple girl, born and raised in this small town with no ambitions other than to have a couple of kids and enjoy life. He knew it was an antiquated picture of the American family, but it was exactly the kind of family he’d wanted ever since he’d left the army.

He had no room for Carlie in his life.

Besides, she was the last woman he should want. He had only to remember back to that horror-riddled night of Kevin’s death....

“Don’t!” he told himself as he noticed the first fat drops of rain fall from the sky.

Muttering under his breath, he threw his briefcase onto the seat of the old truck and had started the engine when he saw the dog—a dusty black German shepherd—lying near the side of the trailer. He hesitated, knowing he was taking on more than he’d bargained for, then let the truck idle.

Whistling softly, he climbed out of the cab. The shepherd’s ears pricked forward for a second and he snarled.

Ben lowered himself to one knee and began talking softly.

The dog growled.

“This is not a way to make friends and influence people,” he told the animal.

They didn’t move for a while, each staring the other down, before Ben whistled again.

The dog didn’t respond.

“Come on, boy.” Ben inched closer and watched the shepherd. Balanced on the balls of his feet, Ben was ready to spring backward if the dog decided to lunge. “Okay, now what’s going on here?” he asked as the animal issued a low warning. The shepherd tried to get up, stumbled and Ben saw the blood, a sticky purple pool, beneath the animal’s belly. With surprising speed, the dog attacked, snapping, and Ben jumped back. Now what? He couldn’t leave the animal there to die.

Knowing he was probably making a mistake, he climbed into the truck, found his leather gloves, a shank of rope and a thick rawhide jacket. After spreading a tattered blanket in the bed of the truck, he approached the dog calmly as he worked the rope into a slipknot.

“Okay, boy, let’s see what you’ve got,” he said.

The animal lunged again, but Ben was ready for him, avoiding the sharp teeth as he slipped the noose over the dog’s head and barked out his own command. “No!”

The animal froze.

“Down!”

Still no movement.

“That’s better.” Ben fashioned a muzzle with some hemp and braved the snarling jaws to quiet the animal. For his efforts he was nipped on the sleeve. “You are a bastard,” Ben ground out, enjoying the fight a little. “I’m gonna win, you know. Whether you like it or not, I’m taking you to the nearest vet and you’re going to be stitched up so you can bite the next idiot who tries to take care of you.”

Carefully Ben carried the writhing dog to the truck and laid him, snarling and frustrated, on the tattered blanket. “Stay!” Ben commanded, knowing the dog was too weak to stand or leap from the vehicle. He climbed in the front, snapped on the wipers, threw the rig into gear and headed into town, hoping that Dr. Vance and the veterinary clinic were still on the west end of town.

What was wrong with him? Ever since he’d landed in Gold Creek, he seemed destined on some sort of collision course with fate. First his battle with Hayden Monroe, then Carlie—hell, what a mess that was—and now the dog. The damned dog. One more problem that he didn’t need.

* * *

CARLIE RUBBED THE kinks out of her neck. She’d spent a long day in the darkroom and couldn’t wait to get home to a hot shower, a glass of wine and a good book.

Just before leaving the studio, she’d called Thomas Fitzpatrick, agreed to take the photographs for the logging company’s annual report, and wondered why she felt as if she’d sold her soul to the devil. The man was just offering her work, after all; it wasn’t as if he’d committed a major sin. He’d visited her father, as promised, and broken the news to Weldon that his job couldn’t be held. Her father, always a prideful man, hadn’t fallen apart. In fact he’d been grateful that Fitzpatrick had promised to find another position for him as soon as Weldon was fit enough to spend four or five hours at the logging company. “You can work as many hours as you want, kind of ease into the job again,” Thomas had told Weldon as he’d clapped him on the back. “The logging company’s just not the same without you.”

Her father had eaten it up, but Carlie had been unsettled by Fitzpatrick’s practiced smile and easy charm. She remembered that he’d once planned a career in politics and she didn’t trust him any more than she would a king cobra. He was too smooth to be real. And then there was all that trouble and scandal concerning Jackson.

So why are you planning to do business with him? her tired mind demanded. For the money. Pure and simple. Just in case the bastard had lied to her father.