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.That had to be proof that it was about time for him to head back for the real world.He was starting to think in terms of fairy tales, and that couldn’t be good for a man his age.So think of something else.He shifted his gaze away from the Shearling coat in front of him and shifted his mind back to the footprints he’d seen.She kept walking, and he let her get ahead of him.It gave him time to think in silence.It gave him a chance to study their surroundings, to look for anything out of place.Why would anyone want to follow Penelope Lear?Maybe it was someone who knew what she was worth.Or knew what her father was worth? Maybe someone bent on kidnapping an heiress for a hefty ransom?If she kept talking, kept getting under his skin, he might turn her over to whoever was after her.No, of course he wouldn’t.He wasn’t that kind of man.He’d spent last night pacing the floor after having nightmares about a young woman who had lost her life too soon.He didn’t want to have nightmares about Penelope being kidnapped.She might be a thorn in his side and the last woman he wanted to be stuck with out here, but he would keep her safe.And the less talking they did, the better.“Why are you walking so slowly?” She paused on the trail and waited for him to catch up.“Thinking.”She nodded and didn’t push.Instead she trudged on in front of him and left him with his thoughts, which now turned to his dad.They hadn’t talked much in the last few years.His dad should have told him that a bone marrow transplant might save his life.No matter how stubborn the two of them had been, Tucker would have been there for his father.He would have given his marrow and then some to save his dad’s life.It had been the two of them for so long.The two of them against the world, until Tucker had decided to go to Seattle and find his mother.That’s when his dad had dug in his heels.He claimed that Tucker had picked money and possessions over family, just like his mother had when she’d run off and left them.There hadn’t been a way to convince the old fisherman otherwise.Tucker walked next to Penelope and she reached with her free hand to touch his, not holding it just letting her fingers drift over his.He glanced down and she smiled up at him, as if they were old friends.For a second, a rare second, he considered that.The moment didn’t last, though.If he said a word, she’d have more questions.She’d dig deeper.That’s the kind of female she was, the kind who wanted to explore all of the touchy-feely emotions she thought everyone was hiding.“When we get to the house, I’ll clean the fish and you should go sit down and put your foot up.”She nodded a little.“Probably a good idea.”“What? No arguing?”“No arguing.”She had slowed.He had been so busy thinking about his dad, about the young woman, Anna, he hadn’t noticed.Now that he did, he also saw the tight line of pain around her mouth.But she hadn’t complained.He was having a difficult time shoving her into the box he thought she should fit into.He’d had her pegged as another silly socialite.But maybe there was more to Penelope than he’d given her credit for.Not that he was interested.He’d had enough of her kind.He figured she’d probably had enough of his.In her world, his kind were a dime a dozen.Penelope paused at the bottom of the steps that led to the back door and into the kitchen.Her ankle throbbed and her arm was sore from the crutch.She leaned on it and looked up and she didn’t want to walk up the three steps that would get her to the door.“You going to make it?” Tucker held the stringer of fish and her pole.She tried to tell herself this was the lawyer whose picture she’d seen in town.Today he looked like one of the tour guides that had women flocking to Treasure Creek.He was denim, flannel and all male.“Of course.” She managed a smile because she didn’t need his help.He had that detached look in his eyes.She knew his kind.He had other things on his mind.He probably didn’t realize they were having a conversation.She knew because she’d seen that look in her father’s eyes.All of her life she’d had conversations with men who didn’t really listen.“I’m going inside.” She made it up the first step and paused.With her hand on the rail she pushed herself forward, getting to step number two.“Oh, good grief.” From behind her he scooped her up and held her close.“I’ll carry you inside, you stubborn female.”Penelope closed her eyes and nodded, not to hide from the pain, but to hide from those eyes of his.Because he looked impatient, but he also looked as if he cared.And he was strong.He carried her down the hall of the darkened cabin, toward the glowing light of the kitchen and the warmth of the wood stove.She leaned into him, her hands on his shoulders.He had left the fishing pole and stringer of fish, but he smelled of the outdoors.Wilma Johnson was sitting at the kitchen table.She looked up when they walked through the door.Penelope focused her attention on the older woman, who moved from her chair, pushing another chair out.Tucker sat Penelope down.“What happened?” Wilma slid another chair out and pointed for Penelope to rest her foot.“Nothing, just too much walking.” Tucker was backing toward the door.“I have fish to clean.”“I’ll take care of her for you.” Wilma bustled around the kitchen.“She isn’t mine.” He walked out the door.“Such a grouch,” Wilma mumbled as she bustled around the room.“I have tea.Would you like hot tea?”“That would be great.I’m freezing.” Penelope wanted to get up, to get her own tea.“I don’t want to be waited on.”How could she find a new life if this was always going to be her story: people waiting on her, treating her like the heiress, the woman who couldn’t take care of herself.“I know you don’t want to be waited on.” Wilma lifted the teapot from the top of the stove and poured amber liquid into a tiny, porcelain cup.“Honey, you’re hurt.When you’re able, I know you’ll help out around here.And the more you rest, the sooner that will be.You’ll let the men go fishing tomorrow.”“Do you plan to stay here long?” Penelope hadn’t meant to push or to pry.But the simple question made Wilma turn away, wiping her hands on her apron.“I’m not sure yet.We’re still searching for…”Searching for what? The way back to Treasure Creek? No, she thought they all knew the way back.But she took Tucker’s advice and she didn’t push.Whatever the Johnsons were going through, it was obviously a difficult situation.It made Penelope’s situation look simple, easy.Her dad had picked a wealthy man as a suitable match for her.Most women would probably love to have her problems.It was hard for her to consider it a problem when she looked at what the people in Treasure Creek were going through.Amy had lost her husband.People’s businesses were struggling.Tucker hadn’t reached his father before he died
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