Page 15 of Turbulent Fires

Silence hangs over us as we roll through the hills of the North Carolina countryside, the city fading into long stretches of pine trees and charmingly crooked fence lines. My tension begins to lessen as the miles roll by. I should be more irritated, not less. He had medetained. Who does that? Apparently, a man I’ve challenged.

Wolf starts telling me a story about his first time flying solo and how he accidentally tuned the radio to a country station instead of the control tower. My lips start twitching, making it impossible to hold my irritation.

“So, I’m trying to report to the tower, and instead of airspace clearance, I’m getting Brad Paisley telling me to check for ticks.”

I choke on laughter, unable to keep it back. “Really?” I’m failing to keep my vow of silence any longer.

“Dead serious. The instructor nearly had a heart attack as he listened in, thinking I was going to crash and burn on his watch.”

“How in the world did you get your license?”

“Because I’m the best.”

“In your own head you are,” I tell him, still chuckling. I guess I can’t stay mad at this man. He’s charismatic, and it doesn’t matter that he knows it, because I’m certainly charmed.

He briefly glances at me. “You have an incredible laugh. It fills any space you’re in with joy.”

“Well, don’t get used to it,” I warn, caught off guard by his compliment. He winks at me, once again not fazed by my attempt at keeping him at arm's length. He continues telling me stories, the miles getting eaten up rather quickly.

When we turn onto a narrow gravel road and a cottage comes into view, I gasp. The bed and breakfast looks like something straight out of a fairytale. Ivy clings to the stone walls, climbing toward a steeply pitched roof with little dormer windows peeking out like sleepy eyes. A wooden sign with swirling letters saysThe Wild Wisteria Inn, and yellow tulips line a cobblestone walkway.

“If Snow White and the Brothers Grimm collaborated on the perfect getaway home, this would be it for sure,” I whisper, instantly enchanted. I should put on a Disney dress and sing to the woodland animals.

“It’s pretty spectacular,” Wolf agrees.

“It’s perfect,” I say.

We park the vehicle and walk through the doors to the front desk. It doesn’t take long to check in. She hands us our room keys that happen to be side by side, then offers a late dinner for us in the garden courtyard. Wolf accepts before I have the slightest chance to turn her down. I am hungry, though, I tell myself. It’s not like it’s an official date or anything.

We walk away to freshen up in our separate rooms. “Did you arrange dinner as well?” I ask.

“I plead the fifth,” he says with a wink before he disappears inside his room. I let out a sigh as I enter my own. It’s absolutely wonderful. I’m going to enjoy my stay here, and then tell the world all about this secret little paradise.

I quickly freshen up as my stomach growls, then rush back downstairs to the back of the inn, where tables are set up beneath a pergola wrapped in fairy lights. Candles flicker on a white-clothed table set for two. I feel like I’m being wooed by a romantic getaway package from every chick flick I’ve ever watched. I don’t hate it. Nope, honestly, I like it.

Wolf’s waiting at the table as I approach, and he holds out my chair. I take a seat without any fuss. The waiter quickly appears with bread and takes our drink order. I sit back as Wolf and I talk while our food is quickly served.

Roasted chicken with lemon and rosemary, grilled asparagus, and a cheesy polenta make me reconsider my stance on low-calorie food.

I don’t want to admit it, but Wolf’s a perfect dinner companion, funny, clever, and a great listener, not trying to dominate the conversation by selling himself like so many men do. As the incredible wine loosens my tongue, I tell him about my old lighthouse and secret inn blogs, and he listens as if I’m the most interesting person in the world.

Light jazz filters through the garden, and when our meal’s finished, Wolf stands and holds out his hand. I only hesitate for a moment before accepting his offer. He pulls me into his arms and we sway beneath the stars and twinkling lights, our bodies brushing in the most intimate way. I’m quickly falling under a spell that I don’t want to wake from.

“I don’t ever do this,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

He leans back the slightest bit. “Dance?”

“Connect,” I admit, meeting his gaze. “I run away. It’s my thing.” I’m shocked to admit this to him. Wolf doesn’t look pleased as his jaw clenches slightly. He relaxes again so I wonder if I interpreted that wrong.

“I get it. I’ve done that a lot myself,” he finally says.

“Why? Do you like being a playboy?” It’s not an accusation. It’s clear he’s a bachelor and can probably have any woman he wants. He pauses for a moment as if thinking of his answer. He gives me a soft smile, the most genuine one he’s given so far.

“I’m used to women liking the idea of me, the image of me. I’m a pilot among other things. I’m flirty, confident, and not bad on the eyes. With you, though...” He trails off. He looks into my eyes as if searching for something. His gaze is intense, making my heart skip a few beats. “You haven’t fallen for any of that... and I like it.”

I don’t know what to say. These aren’t flippant words. We don’t know each other. We’ve only had two random meetings. This is only a fluke... right? I don’t want to lie so I choose to say nothing. He looks straight into my eyes as his head begins to lower. He’s moving slow, giving me a chance to turn, to stop this. But I don’t want to.

His lips brush mine, soft, coaxing, a promise for this and so much more... if I accept the offer. My breath catches, my heart thunders, those butterflies in my stomach take flight, and I don’t think they’ll ever land.

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