Cutter Mountain Rendezvous (7 page)

Kate snickered. It made something he couldn’t define scamper through his heart. “I have to tell you. I thought I’d heard it all but that one went
way
over my head and straight out of the park. Care to explain since you’re as red as the casserole dish?”

She blew out a breath. “Long story. Trey and I had several fights over, uh, enhancement. Lindsay must have heard, and she questioned me about it. When I tried to explain I liked mine like God made them. Um, like nature, and in particular a tree—an obvious poor choice of words—oh, I don’t know. None of this is coming out right.” Fanning herself with her napkin, she pushed back from the table to clear away the dishes.

“Unique,” Colton said to her back. “Each person is different in their own special way. That’s what you were trying to say. That you like being unique.”

Setting the dishes in the sink, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “What a perceptive and correct way to say it. You surprise me.”

“Why? Because you think I’m a jock without a brain? You’d be surprised the range of useless information I can recite. So I take it Doc Crockett does cosmetic surgery.”

“Yes. Except his name is Doc Benson, and he’s in L.A., doing his best to make every woman who steps over his threshold look the same on their way out. You have no idea how much Botox and silicone implants there are out there.”

“Oh, I do.”

“Ego, ego.” She flashed him a teasing grin. “If you’d like dessert, there’s peanut butter cookies in the cat jar. Help yourself while I check on Lindsay.”

****

Glad to escape the uncomfortable conversation and image of how many women Colton had to feel up to make such a statement, Kate found Lindsay content in the living room.

When she heard the cookie jar rattle, she was glad he intended to stay. She wanted to tell him about her phone call. The kitchen table always provided the right spot to talk through anything that was bothersome. Seeing him comfortable in his seat, she took a chance and sat down. The dishes could wait a few minutes.

She took a big breath. “There’s something I’d like to ask you.”

“As long as it doesn’t include my confidence factor. That’s what makes
me
unique.”

“I’m beginning to believe you.” Kate took a sip of her iced tea. “I’m worried I’ve a problem with the property.”

“How’s that?”

“Late last night, I saw someone take discarded construction materials from that junk pile outside.”

“Is that why you were wearing the sidearm?”

“Partly. Bears are real this time of year. Then, after you arrived, I had a strange call about Tom Cutter.”

“The hermit on top of old Cutter.”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“No, ma’am. I’m a natural-born wiseass.”

“So I’m learning.” Kate went on to tell him about her strange call. “I’m not sure if it’s a prank or if the incidents are even related.”

“I’ll give my lawyer a call in Chicago. Have him check out this Bennett Field character.”

“I don’t want you to call your lawyer in Chicago. I’m handling it. Besides, I don’t know if it’s for real.”

“He’s the best damned lawyer in Chicago,” he said in such a way she envisioned him waving a carrot in front of her face.

“No, that’s not necessary. I’m not sure why I told you. I’ve probably blown things out of proportion.” Boy, she’d heard that told her more than once. Now grumpy with men in general, she snapped, “What’s with you men, anyway? Thinking a woman can’t think for herself.”

When she pushed up from the table, he joined her and helped with cleaning the kitchen. “Hey, I know women can think for themselves. My own mother made sure of it. And I know there are women who want to keep their maiden names these days. I get it. I’m trying to be helpful, so don’t get pissed.”

“Mouth,” she warned with a side glance. “I don’t want
you
to fix it. I wanted your opinion so
I
can fix it.”

“At least let me run it by him and see what he thinks. There might not even be a Bennett Field.”

“You don’t understand. This is my problem. You’re just like my ex. Control freaks with no mind to hear out the woman’s point of view. I can fix it myself but I need to talk it through. Male
fixing
is not listening.”

“Sure it is. It’s what we do best. Fix things. That’s not being a control freak,” he said and eyed the steak knife she waggled to make her point. “Really, Kate, you’re about as threatening with a knife or a gun as Bambi with a howitzer.”

“Don’t push me.”

“Okay. I’ve listened and here’s what I think. Granted, the call was unusual but I’d ignore it for now. Kids hang up the minute you ask for an adult or sooner. In the meantime, I’ll keep an eye on the construction pile. I’m guessing a kid sneaking building materials for a fort.”

No families lived closed enough to make that assumption. Nor would she believe a kid would steal late at night. Two kids maybe, but not one. But that wasn’t what made her stop in the middle of the kitchen with a dish in her hand. “That’s it. Ignore it? That’s your advice?”

“That’s what I’d do.”

“What? No lengthy dissertation or rebuttal with several plausible reasons for the call or why I brought this upon myself?”

“They’d be guesses at best.” Genuine confusion clouded his face. “I thought you wanted an opinion, not an argument.”

“I did.”

“Then you’ve got it. By the way, thanks for a great dinner. I really enjoyed yours and Lindsay’s company. It was a nice change of pace.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Tomorrow night’s my treat since I missed buying you lunch today.”

“We’ll see. I’m the innkeeper here.”

“You’re not officially open, and this isn’t exactly a normal stay at an inn experience for me. Why don’t you put the food away, and I’ll keep loading the dishwasher,” he suggested.

“Do you cook?”

“A little. I’m better with take-out. Better yet, eating out. Still I make dirty dishes. I’m not sure how.”

“Maybe you should get married.” She said it in a helpful manner, knowing she had sugarcoated her curiosity to uncover his relationship status.

“I’m not the marrying kind.”

“Surely, you have a steady girlfriend.”

“Nope.”

“So what you’re really saying is you prefer playing the field.”

“I’ve been around,” he said with a flash of white teeth.

Kate held up her hand. “Spare me the details.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t kiss and tell. And I don’t sleep around like I once did. I’m no saint, but I’m not a damned bum either. Listen, I think it’s time to call it a night. Thanks again for dinner.”

Their nice evening came to an abrupt end. Kate hadn’t meant to pry with directness but she had come to expect his retorts, sure he would bite on her baseball analogy and his playing the field. She slumped into a chair. Seemed his self-proclaimed natural-born wiseass persona had limits when questions dug too deep for comfort.

Chapter Seven

Moonlight shone a wide bar of light across Colton as he lay on his bed. He glanced at the blinds Kate bought for him to install. That and other thoughts crisscrossed his mind in every direction. His career, the death of his father, the barn he spent time wandering through after dinner against Kate’s wishes.

Kate’s harebrained idea the barn was about to fall on whoever’s head passed through its doors was ridiculous. He intended to convince her the barn was worth saving. He found the inner structure intact. Major support beams were dry and protected from the elements. Where the roof showed signs of deterioration, repairs could be made with the addition of a new roof. One thing was certain: the barn would stand long after he and Kate were gone.

The biggest surprise was finding two horse stalls, and a tack room with cracked leather harnesses and rusted bits. An old John Deere tractor and disc-wheel plow sat in the middle of the barn.

Since Kate’s land had never been tilled, he figured the equipment was dropped off either with or without permission. Much like the broken chairs with ripped caning, dishes. and odd pieces of furniture scattered around the barn with no design or order. Most was junk but a few pieces of furniture showed promise if refinished.

Kate’s call about Tom Cutter ran over these thoughts. No matter what he told her, Colton doubted his natural curiosity would allow him to ignore the call.

His mind too active to lay still another second, he swung his legs over the edge of the rollaway and phoned his lawyer. Seth Silberstine had left several messages, and he didn’t think he should ignore them with talk of a lawsuit heating up. “Seth. Colton. You trying to reach me?”

“In daytime hours, yes, but I’m going to ignore the fact it’s one in the morning and come to the point. Ted is going ballistic over your sudden disappearance,” Seth said of the Bullets General Manager, Ted Liggett.

“What’s the Piranha doing? He was supposed to run defense for me.”

“He did. The Bullet’s released a statement today before game time.”

“What kind of statement?”

“Ted told the press you’re away for special rehab and that they’re keeping your location secret to insure privacy and focus. That you’ll return well before your sixty-day disabled status ends and be back on the roster. Ted expects to hear from you. And soon. He wants you to know the Bullets won’t be held hostage by a prima donna.”

“Prima donna? Ted’s a prick. Hell, Seth. They’re threatening to withhold my bonus at contract end over a freak accident last fall. I took them to the playoffs last year and would have this year, if a hard hit hadn’t belted me in the shoulder.”

“It was negligence to get on that dirt bike.”

“My dad had just died. The season was over.”

The silence on the other end of the phone meant Seth didn’t like his excuses. His negligence was not debatable in anyone’s mind. Not the Bullet’s management, his agent, or his silent lawyer.

“Prima donna,” Colton spat and pictured Seth sitting on the edge of his bed in pinstriped pajamas, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was a slight man with a short-clipped thatch of salt-and-pepper hair. His sharp dark eyes could bore holes through his rimless glasses. Words were measured with care whether it was one in the morning or one in the afternoon.

“I
hate
being called a prima donna.” Colton walked to the side window and gripped the window frame. The weathered barn was ghostly white in the moonlight. He slapped his hand against the frame, impatient with the silence. “My entire career’s been played by the book. Then I have one slip in judgment that results in a freak off-season accident and I’m a prima donna? That’s bullshit. I’m the Bullets’ damned meal ticket, and you know it. Ted knows it and so do the owners. They’ve told me as much to my face.
Shit
, this fries my ass. Prima donna.”

“Are you done?”

“Shit.” Colton huffed out a breath.

“Attendance has fallen off with you away. I’ll let them know you agree to be back in Chicago a week before the sixty days are up. You need to be visible. Can I count on you?”

“I’ll do you one better. Tell them to count on me returning to the mound as a starter.”

“Good. That will settle the Bullets management down. They know with the media engaged with your return, the stadium seats will be full. Then we’ll have more leverage to make sure you get your bonus.”

“I’m sure as hell not sitting on the bench the rest of the season.”

“You will if you want your bonus. Are you worried the arm won’t heal?”

“I’m not sure. Things don’t feel right. I started the season gangbusters until that damned hit blasted into my shoulder. It hurts like hell. I’ll tell you one thing that’s certain. I intend to return to the mound this year no matter what the shoulder feels like. My contract ends this year.”

“Then let’s string it along. If you have to sit on the bench a few weeks, be smart and don’t complain. Why go to court with a breach of contract fight that freezes your wages
and
your bonus.”

“You can count on me.” Colton set his jaw while trying to loosen the stiff, aching shoulder. “There’s another matter I need you to look into.” When Seth balked upon hearing Kate’s situation, Colton bristled. “I don’t care what type of law you practice, I pay you top dollar. Pass it off to an intern. If Bennett Field is real, I want to know what he’s hiding up his sleeve.”

“In return, make sure you call me before eleven.” Another beat of silence. “Mason says you’re holed up in the Appalachian Mountains to think. Wrap your mind around what we’ve been talking about here.”

Colton knew he meant the negligence to get on a dirt bike and sitting on the bench until the season ended. “I’ll call Tony,” Colton said of his agent, Anthony Pirana.

“We’ve already talked. He’s in agreement.”

“You called him?”

“No. He called me. Seems you’re not returning phone calls to anyone.”

“I deserved that, but my cell’s open now.”