Page 48 of Runaway
This time, Stella pulled away a few years too soon. Her fingertips played with the hair at the edge of my neck, sending shivers down my back. Then she pressed her forehead to mine, closed her eyes, and drew in a deep breath.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled her close with a shaky breath. She burrowed into my neck with a little sigh as I tightened my arms around her. As Lizbeth would say,sweet baby pineapple.
We were inbigtrouble now.
19
Stella
Mark left twenty minutes later.
The moment the door closed behind him, I let my head drop to the desk with a groan. Silence answered back, and I was grateful for it. The solitude gave me the chance to pull myself back together in the whirlwind that had become my life.
Joshua possibly here, possibly not.
A sort-of argument with Mark.
Dealing with hard truths from the past.
Kissing Mark.
And then again.
And again.
Another groan escaped me. Not that I regretted the kiss—no one could regret a kiss (or all twelve) likethat—but what it meant. The force I'd put behind it. The abandon with which I'd thrown myself into his arms.
Deciding to let go of false beliefs from my past and be happy was one thing. Jumping into a pool of happy-kissing the next moment was another one entirely.
With that thought bright in my mind, I threw my hair in a high ponytail, changed into a comfortable pair of sweats, an old race t-shirt, and a jacket. I shoved aside the paperwork and my computer. Mark had faith that Seiko would help us iron out this idea, and we waited for official word from Lizbeth on licensing anyway. We needed to find our next booking, but I couldn't do that without him or more information.
So I would trust him.
Work could be stopped to do something else this time, which was, sadly, a difficult concept to wrap my mind around. But I did it anyway.
I needed a run but didn't have the guts to go on my own. My brain still felt like scattered butterflies. I wouldn't be paying attention the way I should in order to be safe from the overly-adventurous mountain lion. No new prints appeared this morning, thankfully, and no protest barking from Atticus in the night.
Instead, I set to work on this cabin. Mark wasn't a slob, but he wasn't tidy either. It needed a little . . . touch. Not too much. Not back to the sterility of my former apartment. But enough that it didn't feel messy. The work gave my mind space to unfold. To wrap around the tingly feeling that Mark's kiss had left behind. The way my lips still burned and the giddy fireworks thrilled in my stomach with each recollection.
I grabbed a laundry basket tucked near the back door, where a stacked washer and dryer stood in the wall. Then I walked around, plucking free his clothes, his socks, his jackets, and shoved them all inside. His random bits of paper went with it, as well as a weight lifting book and an old DVD case that didn't have a DVD in it. Then I shoved it under the desk where he could find it.
Once that was done, I finished with a few other warm touches. A blanket across the back of the couch. Magazines on top of the coffee table. My favorite coffee mug hung next to his over the sink. The sight of the two of them together gave me a moment of wry irony.
“This is going to be great,” I whispered, still hearing echoes of grandma's optimism in my ears from our call earlier. “This is going to be great.”
It would be.
I felt that.
But I also felt that same twinge of fear—albeit much quieter—that worried it would all go away. The heat of his arms replayed through my head. The bracing smell of pine and man and sweat. My skin prickled with goosebumps when I remembered his eagerness to touch me again, like a drowning man.
Mark, I felt in my core, was the best of men.
Resolve filled me again. Allowing myself to be happy wouldn't be easy, but it could be simple. Joshua still hung over my head. My utter lack of plans and steady accounting work followed next. Setting those aside to let myself be in the moment would take some practice, but at least I'd do it this time. Years lay behind me where Ididn'tlet myself be happy. No more of that.
I'd pulled myself from the hamster wheel and now I stood in the vast, big world. The openness could swamp me, but I wouldn't let it.
