Dane's Storm

“Don’t you miss the snow, though? You always loved it.”

“Yeah, I do, which is why I do as many weekend trips to Tahoe in the winter as possible. My brother and I went in on a ski lodge there.”

“Ah. Nice. How is Dustin?” The last time I’d seen his brother, he’d been a kid. He was a man now, though it was difficult to picture him any differently than the way I’d known him.

“He’s good.” Dane smiled. “Still the annoying little brother who likes to get on my case as often as possible.”

I laughed. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” We walked for a couple of minutes in silence as I people-watched, smiling at an older couple who walked past us. I felt mostly relaxed at the moment, though dinner had been a roller coaster of emotions. I’d expected it, somewhat, though not to the degree reality had proven the experience to be. As much as spending time with Dane made me feel high-strung and off-balance, so did it offer this surreal feeling. It was almost like I was in one of those dreams where you wake up crying very real tears or with your throat full of laughter. Like fantasy and reality colliding. This night would be over soon, though, and then we’d fly to Colorado and that would be it. I’d probably never see Dane again. That was good, of course, and yet the thought resulted in indescribable distress.

“What did you think of the miniature industrial park you saw in my office?”

“It looks like it’s going to be beautiful. I was surprised. When I first heard ‘industrial park,’ I pictured something square and gray. It somehow manages to look quaint and upscale at the same time.”

He smiled, seeming pleased by my impression. “Thanks. That’s exactly what we were going for. We want it not only to bring in tech jobs, but to bring in new shops, restaurants. I think it’s going to be a really great thing for your business, Audra.”

“I thought the same thing actually—if everything works out with your grandmother.”

“I told you. It will. She’ll come around. I’ll make sure of it.”

I nodded. He did seem sure, and I wanted so much to believe him, but when it came to me, Luella had never “come around.” Why would she now? I decided that worrying any more than I already had was pointless, though. I would trust Dane for now and hope to God he was right.

We talked a little more about the specifics of the park as we bought a gelato, stepping back outside where we took a seat at one of the outdoor tables, covered by an awning and warmed with heat lamps. There were twinkle lights on the awning and though it was warm and charming, apparently the other customers either preferred to sit inside or had taken their treats to go, as we were the only people out there. Things felt easier than they had at dinner—maybe because I was getting used to his company, and maybe because we’d covered the topics we’d agreed to talk about. I was also more relaxed, because even though Dane had brought a few things up I hadn’t wanted to discuss with him, he hadn’t pushed me, and I felt relieved. There was no point resurrecting subjects that did nothing but bring hurt and cause us both to relive painful memories. No, some things were better left in the past.

I smiled around a cold bite of the lemon gelato that was both sweet and tart, as a white poodle pranced by on the sidewalk, looking as if it was grinning. When I looked back at Dane, he was watching me with a small smile as he used his thumb to rub along his bottom lip. Oh. My belly clenched, and I blinked, the familiarity of that expression suddenly gripping me and making me feel warm but also slightly panicked. I swallowed but somehow couldn’t find it in myself to look away. I felt caught in his gaze, the same way I had earlier in the restaurant. The world seemed to disappear around us and it was only him and those beautiful green eyes I’d gotten so lost in long ago. So lost in it’d taken me seven years to claw my way back to a place where I could finally catch my breath. With effort, I dragged my eyes away, knowing I had to. Knowing it was the only choice.

“It’s still there between us, isn’t it?” Dane asked softly.

“W-what?” I asked, and my voice sounded to

o breathy, filled with the fear suddenly trickling through my veins.

He leaned forward, putting his forearms on the table so we were face to face, eye to eye. “That damn attraction that never went away even when we were drowning in grief, even now after so long of being apart. It’s still there as strong as it ever was, isn’t it, Audra?”

I stood, my chair scraping the cement. “We should go. I”—I shook my head—“I mean, you said we’re leaving early tomorrow morning—”

“Audra.” Dane stood, taking one step so he was in front of me. He took my upper arms in his hands and even as he steadied me, his touch also caused me to feel more off kilter.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, pulling away. “Attraction doesn’t matter. It never solved anything. It didn’t help us when times got . . . hard. It’s just . . . it’s just chemistry and lots of people have it, Dane.” And the truth was, all it did was hurt now because it wasn’t enough. Not then and not now.

He stared at me for a few heartbeats then let go of my arms.

A couple came through the door from the shop, cups of gelato in hand, laughing. Their appearance broke the spell I was under, and the world around us burst forth in sudden movement and noise, along with a jolt of indignation. I turned and began making my way through the tables to the low gate with an opening to the sidewalk.

I heard Dane following, and then he caught up with me as I turned, heading toward his car. “Audra, slow down.”

“No. I want to get back to my room. I need to pack.”

“Okay, fine, we’ll change the subject.”

“Thank you.”

“Just slow down. I’m not wearing my running shoes.”

I took in a deep breath through my nose and slowed my pace. I came to a stop in the doorway of a closed shop and turned to Dane. He seemed surprised but stopped as well, looking at me expectantly. “Listen, Dane. This is hard enough as it is, seeing you again. I think it’s natural that some old feelings surface, but . . . we obviously both know that nothing can happen between us again, and so even to acknowledge some remnants of chemistry just feels . . . pointless and uncomfortable.”

His eyes narrowed, and he stared at me for a few moments before finally breathing out and running a hand through his dark hair. “Fine. You make the rules, Audra. You always did.”

He turned to start walking toward the car again and I instinctively followed, joining him on the sidewalk. “What does that mean?”