A Moment of Bliss (19 page)

Madison straightened at the challenge. “It's not that I don't want to talk to you. I do want to talk to you, but I don't like that I told you all that stuff yesterday. The stuff about me.”

Roark's expression remained neutral. He was giving her silence in case she didn't want to say any more, but he was also waiting, his pupils wide with the hope she'd open up a little bit more.

“Dammit. And I hate that you can get to me.”

“I'm not trying to get to . . .” He tilted his head to the side. “Okay, maybe I am.”

She hit him with a loaded look. “I know! You sit there looking so patient and accepting and I just
blah
.” She opened her mouth in imitation of spewing out all her feelings.

He leaned an elbow on his thigh, and angled forward so he could face her. So she'd have to look at him. “I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. Anything is better than you stonewalling me with ‘I'm fine.' I'm sure you're aware, but you're kind of hard to get through to sometimes. I'm glad I can.”

But why did he want to get through? What was the point? She didn't have anything to get through to.

“Do you want to tell me
why
you don't like that you told me about your folks?” he asked, his expression suddenly full of concern.

His attempt at pushing through didn't concern her as much as how well it worked. “It—It's that I . . . I don't talk about my mother, or my father, to anyone. The fact that I did, to you, freaks me out. A lot.” She couldn't believe she was telling him that either.

“Okay.”

“And . . . I know I've been sullen, but now you know why. Personal chitchat and sharing my past, that isn't my thing. It makes me uncomfortable.” She took a deep breath and smoothed her hair over her chignon. “But we need to move on. We have a lot to do today and tomorrow. So let's go get it done.”

She pushed herself off the stone hearth, but Roark still sat, his pale gaze piercing her with a look that went straight through. He didn't say anything; he didn't have to. That look said plenty. He didn't buy her moving-on speech, and he didn't look thrilled that opening up about personal details screwed with her head enough to make her shut down and then act like a manic workaholic.

Maybe now he'd understand that the effort of trying to get through to her wasn't worth it. She wasn't that great to be around and her head was a big mess. She was a freak; a highly functioning, successful freak. He might as well learn that now.

Roark stood, his gaze icy. “As long as you're
fine
, then I guess I worried for nothing.” He turned and walked away from the fireplace, leaving her behind.

It stung, but she deserved it. Roark was better off walking away from her.

Everybody did, and she didn't know how to deal with anything else.

H
e waited one more day before showing up at Madison's room. She'd spoken to him yesterday, a little, some of the casual camaraderie back between them, but she'd been
fine
all day yesterday too. She kept insisting she was so okay that he wanted to bang his head against the stone fireplace.

Things were not fine. They had less than three days until the wedding party arrived; that meant only five more days together. Madison would go back to the city, and Roark would get back to running a resort. Their time together would come to an end and there'd be no reason for them to see each other again unless they chose to. Nothing about that was okay, and Madison knew it, but hell would freeze over before she'd ever say as much.

If one of his siblings acted this bullheaded, he would've called them on it immediately. Problem was, he had called Madison out. She'd told him why she was acting odd, but he didn't like her logic. Or lack of it. Maybe she'd spoken the truth. Maybe opening up to him was all that bothered her and she really was
fine
that she'd be leaving in a few days. Possibly, Roark was the only one becoming invested in what they had—

Regardless, the fact remained that Madison was freezing him out. Withdrawing and shutting herself off. And he wasn't having it.

Pressuring someone like Madison or holding on too tight would only guarantee her hightailing it in the opposite direction. A heavy-handed approach wouldn't work, and if her inevitable exit from Honeywilde really didn't bother her, then all they had were a few days.

Days. The thought of it knotted his stomach. No way could she be satisfied with wrapping up this thing between them, within days. He damn sure wouldn't be. Their remaining time together had to count; he'd see to it. Then he'd see to somehow dragging it out a little longer.

If she didn't want to overshare or open up emotionally in the meantime, fine.

Damn, he hated that word.

A new plan was necessary. He wouldn't ask too many questions, prod too hard, or ask too much of her. He was capable of being smooth, somewhat, of hanging back and being the opposite of proactive. There were plenty of other things to talk about. They could chat about work or the weather . . . or work.

He knocked on her door, and the realization struck him that he'd never been in her room, or her in his. She'd been here for almost two weeks, but never once had they been in each other's room.

On the other hand, they weren't
a thing
, as she called it, and when you weren't a thing, you didn't stay over at each other's place. This wasn't even Madison's place. She had a room at Honeywilde. A temporary location while she planned an event that quickly approached and would be over faster than that.

Temporary.

The word ran through his mind again, and he let it. He mouthed the word because he needed the reminder. She would leave in a few days, without hesitation, and he'd have to let her. In the meantime, he needed to get his shit together and accept what she offered at face value.

Madison opened the door, already in her running gear and shoes. “Hi.” She scanned him from the skull cap on his head to the Mizunos on his feet. “Great minds think alike?”

Keep it light and keep it simple, he reminded himself. Unimportant chitchat. Like trying not to scare off a damn deer.

“Figured the rest of the week will be hectic as hell. I need to get out before it starts, wondered if you might as well.”

She smiled, her green eyes bright, but something else reflected in their shine.

“There's another trail, with a steeper incline, if you're willing to go up the mountain a little ways.” And little chance of talking while running. The trail was a killer. “Hell of a view too.”

Madison closed her door, sliding the room key into the tiny pocket of her running pants. “I could do some uphill. Is the view even better than the one from the veranda? Don't say yes, because I don't have time to move this ceremony.”

“It's not that good and it is no place for a wedding. You'll see.”

She followed him down the quiet hall of empty rooms. Downstairs, the smell of coffee drifted through the great room, the sound of laughter from the restaurant. It had to be Sophie and Wright because Dev was nowhere near up at this hour.

“You want coffee or anything?” Roark asked Madison.

“No, I had some in my room. Made it with the teeny tiny coffeepot.”

“We're lucky we even have those. The red tape it took to get four-cup coffeepots in a room was unbelievable.”

They walked outside, the crisp fall morning making him come alive more than any caffeine ever could. Roark took a deep breath in, the faint scent of wood smoke overlaid by the smell of dry leaves and grass filling his senses.

“That is such a great smell,” Madison said beside him.

“Addictive.”

They walked and stretched on their way down the path and driveway, starting out barely jogging as they headed up the mountain. After a couple of bends, it steepened, the burn already starting in the backs of his legs. The trail cut off to the right and he pointed to it, up ahead.

“You lead the way,” Madison panted out.

“You sure? You're not going to race me this time?”

She shook her head. “Might be some spiderwebs. You get to go first. Take them all down with your face.”

He managed to breathe out a laugh and turned onto the path. “Should've known there was a catch.”

“Just getting you back for the spider crack last time we ran.”

“That was over a week ago,” he joked, but inside he fist pumped that she'd lightened up enough to tease him.

As they made their way to the path, she commented on the oncoming fall color, her tone lighter than yesterday, her face less stony and tight. If he could get her to relax again and joke with him, he'd take her running every day, and use his face to take down every spiderweb he could find.

Madison jogged up beside him. “How many did you hit?”

“Two or three webs, no spiders. That I know of. But thanks for asking.”

This time she didn't push to run past him, so he didn't ramp up his speed. Instead they matched their pace, both of them falling into a rhythm, not saying a word for miles.

Once they neared the vista, Roark pointed up ahead. “We got about another quarter mile, if you want to slow down.”

Madison slowed her pace and he did the same, until they were down to a swift walk, panting for air.

“Hey,” she called for his attention. “Thanks for . . .” She gestured toward the path.

“For what?”

“Inviting me to run with you.”

“Why wouldn't I?” His words came out in short puffs.

She flung her hands up. “Because I was a moody pain in the ass the last couple of days?”

“You were?” He turned to her, his eyes wide.

“I was.” She bumped her arm against him.

“You were our pita guest yesterday.”

She rolled her eyes but didn't argue.

Regardless, she ought to know he enjoyed spending time with her, whether they were planning a wedding or jogging or sleeping together, or even dealing with her poor mood. What was he going to do,
not
run with her? Not spend time with her? Ignore the issue so they couldn't enjoy what little time was left?

Not an option.

They followed the path around a few bends, jumping the occasional hole or thick root.

Madison took a quick breath in, but then stopped. A moment later she flung her hand out as though tossing away a thought. “It's just that . . . a lot of people find me . . . difficult. This isn't news to me. I'm not the sort of person who relaxes well. Doesn't make me much fun to hang out with.”

Roark looked over at her, watching until she glanced back at him. “You call this relaxing?”

“You know what I mean. I'm not great at hanging out or whatever. I work, I talk about work, and I make plans, for work. That's what I'm good at. It gets beyond that and I . . . I don't know.”

But she was talking to him again, and about more than work. Whether she realized it or not, she was sharing.

“You're also great at sex. Don't sell yourself short there.”

She laughed, shoving at his shoulder, making him step out wide. “True. Sex I'm pretty great at too. But this is . . . This is okay.”

Which meant they should stick with this type of activity. Running and small talk, sex and work. That was all on the table. Intimate reveals about her past while cuddled naked together under some quilts: too much for her to handle.

Too bad the time with her by the campfire was also one of the best moments of his life. A moment when he'd shared a part of himself he never spoke about. Roark didn't off-load on people, but he'd opened up to Madison. She'd opened up to him about her past. Something he couldn't heal, but a similarity they shared. Neither of them was used to relying on someone else, laying their weaknesses and hurts bare, but they had.

They'd been honest and vulnerable, and the moment connected them like the threads of those quilts. He was stronger as a result, but it'd scared the shit out of her.

He slowed down, seeing the curve in the trail ahead, the way it swung wide, rock meeting dirt and opening up so hikers could see the valley below. “Up there. That's us.”

Madison peered over at him. “We don't have to climb out on some rock or something, do we?”

“No. Come on. Have a little faith.” Roark found the trail, overgrown by some evergreen branches. He held them back so Madison could follow.

“Why does it seem like you're always leading me out into perilous territory? Dead-end paths, secluded lakesides. It'd be like a horror movie if this place wasn't so freaking charming.”

Roark stopped and Madison collided with his back.

“It's not a horror movie.” He turned to her. “You'll see, and then you're going to feel very bad for saying that. All we have to do is pick our way through some trees and walk out on this rock, which is about a half mile wide, and you can see the valley below. It isn't dangerous, it's gorgeous.”

He began walking again, with Madison jerking on the back of his shirt. “I specifically asked if I had to climb out on some rock and you said no.”

“We're not climbing. We're walking.”

They ducked under and around a few more tree branches until several feet in front of them, the rock widened up to a long, slightly sloping surface, perfect for sitting or lying down on at night and stargazing. During the day though, it provided a spot to enjoy the beautiful view of the valley and town below.

“Come see.” Roark held on to her arm, helping her forward. “I want you to be in awe, so I can say I told you so.”

Madison elbowed him with the arm he held, but her smile was worth it.

“You can see the steeple of the Lutheran church.” He pointed to the left. “And a few of the buildings right outside of town. That's Stewart Farms. The post office.”

Madison rocked up onto her toes, quietly taking in the panorama. Roark didn't let go of her arm. He slowly, and slyly, tucked it under, until she was holding his arm.

The longest minute went by and she didn't pull away, or speak.

“This is an incredible view,” she finally said, looking up at him. “It's adorable. Have you ever come up here when it snows?”

He took a second to answer, first soaking up this small victory. “Yes, but not since I was a kid. The grown-up in me isn't interested in hiking uphill, over four miles, in a foot of snow.”

“I bet it looks like a Christmas postcard though. A real Currier and Ives come to life.”

Roark turned to her. He wasn't really shocked, but he knew an opening when he saw one. “What do you know about Currier and Ives?”

“Come on. I know picturesque romanticism. It's my job to know. One of these days, someone is going to want a winter-wonderland wedding, and
I
will have to be the queen of snow.”

“I think I'd rather deal with horses than snow.” He grimaced. “No, I
know
I'd rather deal with horses.”

Madison walked farther out on the rock and he went with her. Their breath was barely visible in the early morning chill. She looked like a snow bunny, pale pink hat pulled down over her ears, blond braid trailing down to brush her shoulder, gray and pink running gear and shoes.

She was a snow bunny liable to bite him, but he liked that about her.

“It's so quiet up here,” she said. “We aren't far from the inn and I can see the town, but it feels so secluded. Serene and . . .”

“Insulated.”

“Yes.” She glanced up at him. “Insulated.”

“That's why they call it being nestled in the mountains. You might be thousands of feet above sea level, but you're surrounded by some of the oldest mountains on the planet. It's a pretty secure feeling, whether it's physical or psychological.”

Her expression was incomprehensible, to the point he had to say something else or risk her shutting down on him again. “The leaves are starting to change too, but in a few weeks? Now
that
is a sight. Like a patchwork of golds and reds and orange, laid over the mountains.”

“You love it here, don't you?” she asked, her gaze never wavering.

“Yeah. Of course.”

“And you've never lived anywhere else? Never wanted to?”

He shrugged. “Why would I? Even when I went to college and grad school, I was right down the road at App State. The resort is here, my family. This.” He spread his free arm out at the view before them. “Don't get me wrong, I love to travel and get away when I can, but nowhere else can compare to this.”