Page 70 of Traces Of You
One he couldn’t and she vanished from his life.
They’d come this far, and if she was going to stay in his life, she needed to know he wouldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t trap her the way others had. He’d leave the door open, again and again, and hope she trusted him enough to keep walking through it.
It was the only way he could have her, by letting her know she had a choice. In his mind, she’d had few choices in her life.
Her hand slid out from under his and he wondered if he’d pushed too far, too fast.
But she only ate her dinner.
“The barn is just about ready,” she said.
He’d let her change the subject. It was for the best.
“Clay is doing a great thing there. For him, the family, the community. I hope for everyone’s sake it’s a tremendous success.”
“I bet anything he touches is. Even if he doesn’t care for me much.”
He looked at her sharply. “Don’t think that. Clay is... harder than the rest of us. It has nothing to do with not liking you.”
She shrugged. “If you say so. As long as he doesn’t hate me.”
“Never,” he said. Because none of his siblings would hate someone that he was falling in love with.
Someone that he never fell out of love with.
They continued to eat dinner, a few words said here and there.
She appeared nervous to him and he couldn’t pinpoint why.
They cleaned up dinner together, and he eyed the cake.
“How about some coffee and cake on the back patio? The sun is going to set and I’d love to watch it. I sit out there alone at night to see it. It’s so peaceful and calming. I’d like to not do it alone tonight.”
She was making the coffee as they talked.
“I’d like that too.”
She sliced the cake and put it on plates. They filled their coffee mugs and he watched her grab one of his sweatshirts to slip on before they went out back. He saw another hanging by the door and snagged that to put on.
He could smell the fresh scent of the soap she used on it. The material might fit him better than her, but it was hers now. Something going full circle they shared.
They ate their dessert in silence, her nerves radiating off the concrete patio and raising the soles of his sneakers.
When it was dark, she stood up and reached for his plate. He handed it over, grabbed her empty mug out of her hand and followed her back into the cabin.
“Are you going to tell me what is going through your mind?” he asked.
“Will you think horribly of me if I told you I just need to feel like a woman tonight? That I have to put everything in my past behind me and feel for a moment in time.”
“No,” he said. “Because I need it too.”
“Then take me to bed and don’t think. Don’t talk. Nothing. Regrets can come later.”
They’d never come for him.
He closed the distance between them, his hands going to her cheeks, his mouth dropping to hers.
It wasn’t slow like he intended because the minute their lips touched, the heat in the cabin flared up and he crushed her to him.
