Chance Encounter(13)

IT TOOK LESS THAN five minutes in the lodge shop to realize every single staff member—the same who had looked at Ally with their polite, distant and disappointed smiles—absolutely revered one T. J. Chance.

They respected him, emulated him.

Loved him.

If she could accomplish a fraction of that in her time here, she’d be ecstatic. By the time she got outside, wearing her new boots, leggings and a T-shirt layered with a lightweight jacket, Chance was gone.

“He just left,” she was told when she asked about him.

Not a surprise. Determined, she took off on the trail pointed out to her, running, hoping to catch him.

Which she did, literally, only a moment later, when she came around a blind turn and plowed right into the back of six feet two inches of bad attitude.

“Sorry,” she said when he whipped around to glare at her. But she wasn’t sorry, not really. If anything, she was feeling that funny weak-knee thing again. And all because her hands had slid over his warm, solidly muscled back. Her nose twitched for another sniff of his skin. “You didn’t wait for me.”

He just looked at her.

“But I found you anyway.”

“Yippee.” He rolled his shoulders, as if just her presence brought him tension. “Now you can go back.”

“No.”

He sighed as if in great suffering. “Then stay out of the way.”

“But I’m going to help.”

A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth, and in response, she sent him a sweet but determined smile.

“Grab a shovel,” he growled, pointing to where there was a small clearing. There were tools lying in boxes. “On the other side of that is the first foot trail, which can’t be cleared by machine. There’s already a few guys there working, including Brian.”

“Okay.” But he was already moving away from her. So she purposely switched her attention from him to her surroundings. The flames had wrought destruction all around her, taking away lush, healthy mountain side, leaving a charred, blackened, silent mess. It made her feel a terrible sadness.

Grabbing a shovel, she started in silence, sobered by the sight and how much work was in front of all of them. She thought of Lucy, and how worried she was, and that worry became Ally’s, because she’d promised to help. She intended to keep that promise.

But after two minutes of lifting the shovel, her shoulders already hurt. She distracted herself by watching Chance attack his area.

She couldn’t help herself.

The way his arms worked, muscles straining, skin tanned and taut and damp, was distracting. Up and down, he wielded that shovel, clearing the trail with a single-minded determination, never hesitating. It was mesmerizing, the way he was in total command of himself and all around him. It fascinated her.

He fascinated her.

Then his broad shoulders straightened as if he’d drawn a deep breath. He paused, feet wide apart, his hair blowing about his shoulders, surveying the destroyed land before him. Burnt pines towered above, shading him, throwing him in shadow, but she had no trouble sensing his deep sorrow. Then he turned and looked right at her.

She didn’t look away, she couldn’t. They just stood there for a long, tense moment, connected in some strange way she didn’t understand. Then someone called him, and with one last unreadable glance, he walked away. His T-shirt clung to his back, and was shoved into those battered jeans so worn in all the right places. He could have been a model right off the pages of a glossy men’s magazine.

Then she realized he was leaving. “Where are you going?” she called out.

He didn’t so much as slow down.

So she dropped her shovel and ran after him. “Chance?”

He kept walking, forcing her to run to keep up with him. “To check on the higher portion of this trail.”

Higher portion…sounded interesting. Her sense of adventure soared, filled her with giddy joy. “Are we going to leap off any cliffs?” she asked hopefully.

Chance stopped, then turned around and sent her a baleful look.

“Because I saw this outdoor show on the Discovery Channel one time,” she told him eagerly. “And they showed how to—”

“We’re not hucking anyone off a cliff today.” He started walking again. “Especially not you.”

“But—”

He stopped short, and once again, she plowed into the back of him. Because it had felt so wonderful before, she made sure to touch his back with both hands.

It still felt wonderful.

He turned on her. “Look, I realize your cabin doesn’t get cable. Maybe you can buy a book and read about adventures instead.”

“I can handle this,” she said to his retreating back, wiping sweat from her brow because it was darn hot. “I could—” She stopped talking because he whipped off his shirt, apparently as hot as she was, and stuffed a corner of it into his back pocket.

She nearly stopped breathing. She’d known he was leanly muscled, perfectly defined. Magnificent. But she hadn’t been prepared for him half-naked. Her fingers actually itched to touch, and she wondered if she ran into him yet again, if he’d know what she was up to.

It had to be the altitude, she decided. All the fresh air was going directly to her head.

Thankfully, her cell phone rang, piercing the quiet and removing her attention from the sexiest, sleekest, most amazing male back she’d ever had the pleasure of running into. Knowing it was one of her sisters, she sighed. It was really time to cut the cord, but just as she grabbed the phone from her pocket to tell her sister that very thing, she lost reception and it went nice and silent.