Pamela Hearon – Out of the Depths (страница 4)

An involuntary shudder shook her. How careless they’d been about unprotected sex that day in the cave. Jaci had her convinced she couldn’t get pregnant the first time. Some best friend. It was a miracle they didn’t end up like her mom and Mason. Or those kids in the store tonight. Where would they be but for a little bit of luck?

Probably back in Paducah, eating at Max’s Café instead of having ramen noodles. She scanned her spice rack for nothing particular.

Chance was back in Paducah, practicing law with his dad, according to Jaci. That news came as no surprise.

What would it be like to have a life like that? Being somebody from the day you were born? Having money for everything you needed? A ready-made career? Parents who were around?

There was the rub, of course. Repayment for Chance came in the form of having to put up with Bill Brennan’s constant presence.

Kyndal took a bite, but the noodles had lost their flavor. She gave the mixture a heavy dousing of pepper and took another bite.

Tomorrow will bring the perfect shot….

A warm tingle ran up her spine. She wasn’t sure if the cause was the pepper or the thought of going back to the cave. No way would she let it be because of Chance Brennan.

She would show him…and his dad…show them all.

She was going to be somebody.

CHAPTER TWO

“WHEREYOUHEADEDSOearly on a Saturday morning? The LBL?” Mrs. Crain set the large to-go cup on the counter.

Kyndal nodded as she counted out the exact change, feeling guilty she’d forgotten to include coffee on her grocery list. “I’m gonna take The Trace through the Land Between the Lakes and try to get some shots of the bison or elk. Then I’m going around to the Kentucky Lake side to a cave.”

Mrs. Crain’s eyebrows knitted in disapproval. “You taking anybody with you?”

“No, ma’am.” Kyndal shrugged sheepishly. She’d given up trying to make people understand that a photographer had to take chances sometimes. A male photographer was considered brave or adventuresome. A woman was just dumb.

“Caves can be dangerous, you know. Couple of boys disappeared in one around Carlisle a few years back. They was never seen again.” Mrs. Crain popped open a sack and slid a quiche-filled puff pastry inside. “A tiny thing like you hadn’t got any business traipsing alone around some cave.” She rolled the top down tightly and held it out. “Here. Take this.”

“Mrs. Crain, I don’t want you to—” Kyndal protested.

“Stick it in your knapsack. If you get lost in that cave, least you’ll have some sustenance.”

The hair on Kyndal’s neck prickled at the words. She hadn’t considered the cave would bring on anything more dangerous than a severe bout of oversentimentality. She gave a nervous laugh. “Don’t you be worrying about me. I’m not going exploring. Just getting some shots for my portfolio.”

She took the sack and held it to her nose, catching the warm scent of the rosemary Mrs. Crain used in her pastry. “Mmm. Thanks, Mrs. C., but this won’t make it to my backpack. I’ll have to gobble it up while it’s hot.” She lifted her coffee in salute as she backed out the door of the little bakery.

“White beans and corn bread if you’re back in time for lunch,” Mrs. Crain called as the door closed.

Kyndal climbed in the Jeep that was still running and flipped the heater off. She’d just wanted to take the chill off the October morning, but the coffee coupled with the down vest and thermal top left her toasty.

She shrugged out of the vest as she pulled from the parking lot onto The Trace, the road which cut through the heart of the Land Between the Lakes. The sleepy little Tennessee burg of Dover was ideally located five miles east of the southern entrance to the LBL. What better location for a photographer than a two-hundred-and-sixty-square-mile stretch of government wildlife preserve almost literally at her back door? With Kentucky and Barkley Lakes as its western and eastern boundaries, the LBL was an outdoorsman’s paradise.

She munched on the free quiche as she debated whether or not to spend the five bucks to drive through the Elk and Bison Prairie. Twenty-three dollars was all she had left of this week’s budget, but that should be enough if Mom didn’t call again needing to borrow some.

Twenty miles into the LBL, she threw a kiss at the sign telling her she was in Kentucky. By the time she reached the entrance of the prairie, she’d convinced herself it was not only worth the price but a necessity. How many photographers east of the Mississippi got a chance to shoot elk—and the chance to visit with her favorite ranger—for the bargain price of five dollars?

Rick Warren’s tall form, silhouetted against the early morning sun, brought a smile to her lips. A former marine, he still had that military look: straight posture, broad squared shoulders, blond crew cut…and a gentleman in every way.

Jaci saw it as an omen her husband’s friend from college had taken a job in western Kentucky. She was convinced Rick and Kyndal were a perfect match and had been relentlessly trying to hook them up.

Not that Kyndal would mind a hook-up with the handsome ranger. Under the guise of photographer, she’d become a regular on the hikes he led—The Snake Crawl, The Night Prowl, The Eagle Watch—but it wasn’t until The Owl Outing two weeks ago that she’d been certain he was interested in her…or anything other than deer droppings.

As the only person to show up in the drizzle, she’d shared two hours alone with the hot, but very mannerly, ranger. The evening had been quite chaste, but she and Jaci held out hope. Rick Warren definitely had potential—if she could break through that reserved exterior.

Rick’s smile spread as she approached the guardhouse and rolled her window down. The cool air brought a rosy glow to his cheeks, lending him an additional boyish charm.

“Morning, Ms. Rawlings.” His strong drawl warmed her twice as fast as the coffee had.

“Morning, Ranger Rick.” She watched his dimples deepen at the nickname.

He glanced at his watch. “You’re out early on a Saturday morning.”

“Living in Dover doesn’t give much reason to be out late on Friday night.” She shrugged and gave an overly dramatic sigh. “Getting up early on Saturday’s not too difficult.”

“I know what you mean. In Camden, they roll the sidewalks up at nine.”

Kyndal laughed. “At least Camden’s got sidewalks.”

Rick wiggled his eyebrows a couple of times as his blue-green eyes held hers. “I hear Clarksville leaves its sidewalks out all night on Saturday. Maybe we should have dinner together and check it out.”

“Why, Ranger Rick.” Kyndal tilted her head in question. “That sounds like you’re asking me out on a date.”

“Well, it’s only a date if you accept. If you decline, it was a humiliating attempt at humor.” He coughed, an awkward little sound that sent white puffs of breath into the morning air, and the color of his cheeks intensified.

Kyndal squinted, trying to look serious. “You know, Rick. In spite of our mutual friends and all those hikes we’ve been on, I hardly know you. You’re not an axe murderer, are you?”

“No, ma’am.” He shook his head.

“In that case, I accept. And it’s about time.”

His shoulders dropped into a more relaxed position. When he tipped his broad-brimmed hat back, she noticed the faint wisp of sweat on his brow. “The department’s got two more weeks of Saturday night Ghosts and Goblins Tours, so I won’t be free until November. Can I call you then?”

Kyndal fished her wallet out of her purse and found the stash of business cards tucked in the side pocket. “I didn’t make it into the phone book, so here’s my number.” She handed it to him, along with the five-dollar entrance fee. “I’ll look forward to dinner.”

He tucked the card into his shirt pocket but shook his head at the money. “Accepting a date with a ranger should have some perks.” He motioned toward the stretch of road leading into the prairie. “Now be careful in there. It’s mating season, you know.”

His wink sent a surge into areas of her body that had lain dormant far too long. She gave him a flirty wave as she pulled away.

The drive through the prairie turned out to be a lucrative venture. Within forty-five minutes, she photographed two bull elk with their antlers intertwined in a struggle for supremacy, an eagle perched on a massive stump, bison in various stages of leisure and another bull elk nuzzling a female about the ears and neck. He tried to mount her once, but she moved away.

“You’re gonna have to give her more foreplay, big guy,” Kyndal murmured as she clicked off her shots.

On her way out, she stopped at the guardhouse to show Rick the scenes she’d caught on her digital camera.

He gave a low whistle of approval. “You have that artist’s eye. My pictures always turn out terrible. Heads cut off or out of focus.”

“Well, maybe I can give you some lessons sometime.”

Rick handed the camera back through the window. “I’d like that.” A subtle nuance in his tone made her think he wasn’t talking about photography. The idea caused her hand to quiver under the weight of the camera. “So where you headed now?”

“I’m going to shoot a cave on the western side of the lake.”