Carried Away

“Second-best, huh?” There’s a spark in his eyes tonight I haven’t seen before. It makes him ten times more attractive. This is bad news for me.

“Hard to believe you’re even on the list at all––I know. Then again, I haven’t gotten out much lately.”

He shuts the door and the dark chuckle tails him to the driver’s side. He gets in and starts the engine. In the quiet of the dark cab, the smell of fresh oil paint and turpentine hits me. It reminds me of the farmhouse. It seems like an eternity ago instead of two month.

Glancing at the back seat, I spot three canvases covered in cheese cloth.

“When did you learn how to paint? I mean, I know you’re a pretty good hockey player, but you’re an amazing artist.”

The booze is hitting me hard, my eyelids getting heavy, my lips loose. Add to it the cozy comfort of the SUV, and the familiar scent of the man seated next to me and I’m super relaxed. For the first time since we’ve met we are on a level playing field. “I mean it, Turner. Your paintings are…they take my breath away.”

Every time I pass by the ones hanging in the main house I have to stop and stare. There’s something about them that feeds the soul, soothes it in the same way a great piece of music does. It’s more than skill. It’s the emotion he pours into them. And if Jake Turner does everything else with as much passion and attention, I shudder to think.

Smoothly, he pulls the Expedition onto the mostly deserted road and drives up the hill that leads to the Cottages.

He clears his throat, and I glance over. One hand is on the steering wheel, the other strokes his chin. “My therapist. She wanted me to journal or something––after the accident.”

I twist in my seat to watch him, to see if there’s an actual crack in the ice, but he’s stoic as always.

“I used to draw when I was a kid…One thing led to another. I taught myself how to use oils…”

He shrugs, a tight sheepish smile shaping his lips. Warmth spreads in my chest. It’s really kind of pathetic how high I feel simply because he chose to share this piece of himself with me.

“You’re incredibly talented.”

The veins in his neck pop. His chest rises and falls. His body reacting while his mouth stays still. He doesn’t know what to do with the compliment.

“It’s okay, Turner. Don’t worry. I won’t think highly of you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It’s enough to set him at ease, his big body sinking into the leather set.

A few minutes later, he parks the SUV in front of the cottages and turns off the engine. I’m too tired to do anything else other than breathe. Jake opens my door, unbuckles the seat belt, and picks me up. Scoops me into his arms again like he did the fateful night at the farmhouse when he saved my life. Good old Jake is always there when you need him.

Every instinct in my body forces me to wrap my arms around his neck and place my head where it meets his shoulder. I take a deep breath, inhaling his skin, scratch my fingers through the hair at the back of his head. I can’t stop touching him.

He makes a sound, and I do it again. I’m so tired I can’t even be bothered to care that I’m being inappropriate.

Pushing my door open, he carries me inside and gently places me on the bed. Only I don’t let go. Nope. I hang onto his neck like a baby monkey.

“Thanks, Turner. That…that was nice of you.”

He studies me closely. His intense gaze flicking between my lips and my eyes. For a second, I get the impression he’s going to do it, he’s finally going to kiss me, and my body comes awake, prepared for anything. It’s been so long I’ll probably screw it up, but at least I’ll have fun trying. But right before I take a victory lap, he pulls back and breaks the weak hold I have on him.

“Night, Carebear.”

And then he’s gone, locking the door as he leaves.

Chapter 11

“Where are the flowers?” Dad shouts over the din of nearly two dozen people working furiously to set up the main dining room for a wedding party of seventy-five people.

It’s the day of the Azzeritti Comofort wedding and every single person on staff is working today.

May weddings are notoriously unpredictable around here. We’ve learned over the years to have both indoor and outdoor seating available should a freak snowstorm or spring shower roll in, but it looks like the bride is in luck today. I’d like to believe that the clear blue sky spotted with white puffs of clouds up above is a good omen for the rest of her marriage.