Page 33 of Edge of Desire

He laughed.

“I didn’t mean that as a joke,” I said harshly.

“I’m sorry. I laughed because I wish I could tell you how many times I prayed for the DEA to fire me. I can’t get a new job and I really want one!”

I sat up and looked at him. “I don’t understand. Why don’t you just walk away?”

He scraped his lower lip between his teeth. “I wish it were that simple. It’s difficult to explain and I’m not even sure I can.”

I was being dismissed. He probably wouldn’t entertain another question about it. I leaned back in my seat and pretended to sleep. Eventually, the pretense stopped, and I slept again. I have no idea how long the flight was because I slept the whole way.

We finally reached our destination and deplaned. If I never saw another plane, it would be fine by me. I happened to peek at Preston, and he wore a look of complete solitude.

Then it struck me. “You really love it here, don’t you?”

“You have no idea. This place relaxes me more than anything else. It takes me away from all the ugliness of my day-to-day world. Yes, I love it here. I can’t wait for you to see the cabin.”

We walked around to the side of the building where there was a parking lot. I wondered how we would be getting to his place when he unlocked a Jeep Wrangler.

“Is this yours?”

“Yeah. She’s always waiting on me,” he answered with a smile.

We left the airport and stopped at the grocery store to stock up on supplies. Preston bought tons of food and I was glad because I was not one of those girls who lived on one lettuce leaf and a celery stalk every day. Then we drove for about an hour. The views were something out of a picture book, snowcapped majestic mountains rising before us with an azure sky as a backdrop. We passed the Missouri Headwaters State Park and kept going for about another half hour and then he turned onto a one-lane road. After about five miles we came to a locked gate. He put his palm on a pad and the gate slid open. We went through two more of those and then came to a ten-foot gate that was attached to a ten-foot wall. It seemed to surround the entire place. The others had only been six feet with fences you see on ranches. I also noticed there were cameras positioned everywhere.

I commented on this. “What is this place? A fortress or something?”

“Yeah, something like that,” he answered. “You might say I don’t take chances with unwanted visitors.”

This was frightening. He took these threats seriously. After we drove through the final gate, we still had another half mile to travel until we arrived at his cabin. His version of a cabin and mine were vastly different. His was beautiful.

I shook my head, trying to absorb everything. “Preston, this is amazing.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, I do.”

Large timbers and huge rocks combined with stacked stone made the house look incredible. It was surrounded by magnificent views and was something you’d see in a magazine. My parents had taken us to one of those fancy resorts in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, when I was a teenager, and that’s what this reminded me of, but on a much smaller scale. It was breathtaking.

The afternoon air was crisp and sweetly scented with hints of wildflowers that bloomed as far as the eye could see.I spied a narrow trail right off the gravel driveway, and without even thinking, my feet carried me toward it. I soon found myself surrounded by those very flowers I had noticed earlier as I walked along the trail. Resplendent mountains rose before me, reclaiming their place in my heart. I had always been a mountain girl, ever since the first time my family went to Vail, Colorado, on a ski trip.I must’ve been four years old, and when we were leaving, I asked my mom if we could take one of the mountains home, because Charleston would look so much better if it had one of its very own. I begged my parents to take me there every year. Everyone else in the family wanted a beach vacation, but not me. I wanted the clean air and knock-your-socks-off views of the mountains. And I wanted to ski.

There was a large rock next to the trail, so I plopped my bottom on it and sat there, gazing at all the glory surrounding me. A sense of peace seeped into my bones, soothing my ragged emotions. As I took it all in, I rested my hand on my heart, feeling my pulse slowing as the beauty of everything settled into me.

I was tired, so tired of this emotional roller coaster. I’d gone from a normal life to an insane existence. One minute I made an ass out of myself as I mauled Just Miles. Or Preston, which was his real name. The refusal from him filled me with shame. Then he took me on a death ride as he drove that motorcycle like a psychotic maniac. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I discovered how wrong I’d been. I was forced to fly on two gigantic planes. The second flight was humiliating when I woke up to see I had drooled all over Preston’s crotch as I napped. I was forced to endure the jokes from the men surrounding us. Oh, I almost forgot about the anxiety attack and falling flat on my ass afterward.

My lungs filled with fresh mountain air as I drew in a long slow breath. The only bright star in all of this was the mountains that currently surrounded me. I couldn’t live in constant conflict like this. I either had to make some kind of truce with him or walk away. The second option wasn’t realistic. I was miles away from any town or city without a phone to contact anyone. And it was laughable to think Uber would pick me up out here, in the middle of nowhere.

Guess I was going to make friends with Preston. This would be difficult. Yes, I was attracted to him. Who in their right mind wouldn’t be? The man oozed sex appeal. And that kiss he gave me. I’d never had a man make me feel this helpless because he was irresistible. He sent my heart rate into the danger zone. Lust exploded in me when he was near. How could I have these physical responses to him when I was so angry? Because of him, the life I once knew, no longer existed.

The air began to turn chilly when I realized I must’ve been out here a long time. The sky was turning a variety of hues, from bright orange to pink to red as the sun made its way toward the horizon. Not really wanting to face reality, but knowing I must, I unwillingly rose and slowly walked toward the house. Most of the lights were on, giving it a warm and inviting feel. I looked in the Jeep and everything had been unloaded.

Maybe I could cook dinner for us. That way I could avoid conversation with him. I marched up to the house with that as my goal. When I walked inside, I gasped. Preston’s cabin was rustically elegant. Warm wood, stacked stone, cushy area rugs, and beautiful paintings welcomed this visitor as she entered. I briefly wondered how he could bear to be away from here. Then the aromas greeted me. It also clued me in that he had beat me to the punch on dinner. I nosed my way around, checking things out as I went. Preston certainly had good taste.

Soft music played in the background, and pans clanged in the distance. I wanted to stay right here, and not face him. I spied a large staircase and thought about going upstairs to avoid the inevitable confrontation. But then my stomach betrayed me and growled. I was starving. I tiptoed my way toward the kitchen, following the sounds coming from there. Preston stood over the stove cooking. I observed him for a few moments and admired the view. Then I cleared my throat.

Without turning, he asked, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“I did. This place is ...” My voice caught, and I found I couldn’t go on. I cleared my throat again and asked, “How do you ever leave?” I was curious about that.

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