Stirred Up (26 page)

Except that she’d lost him for good.

Her hands trembled as she fumbled for her
keys, finally getting them into the ignition. Just minutes ago
she’d been exhausted, but now she felt wide-awake, the adrenaline
coursing through her veins fueled by fear. She had to make this
right, had to explain and apologize until he forgave her for
throwing his love back in his face.

She drove straight to his house, barely
slowing down for traffic lights and stop signs, only to find the
Jeep gone from the driveway.

Instantly she imagined him taking solace in
some woman’s bed. What if right now he was with that bartender who
was still so hot for him? Her stomach heaved and she pressed her
forehead to the steering wheel, trying to breathe. She was too
late. She’d never get him back. Never be kissed by him again, or
hear his laugh. He’d take some other woman camping…

Camping. He was probably camping somewhere.
She sat up straight, her hands gripping the wheel. That was exactly
the sort of thing he’d do if he were miserable and needed to get
away. Galvanized, heart racing, she pulled away from the curb and
reversed direction.

A half hour later she was crawling through
Red Rock’s campsite, hunting for Jason’s Jeep. A few campsites in
she thought she found it, but after creeping closer, she realized
it was brown rather than green. Back in the car she started a
mantra. “Please let me find him. Please let me find him…”

She was starting to think she’d totally
miscalculated when she spotted the second jeep. Killing the engine
and lights, she picked her way in for a closer look. Her heart
knocked against her chest and her breath came light and uneven as
she made out the Hawaiian dancer she’d given Jason sitting on the
dashboard. It was his car, his tent, his gorgeous face hidden from
her.

Back in the car, she kept the headlights off
and pulled into the packed dirt spot beside his car. Then she shut
the engine and sat there, peering out at his tent expectantly. Only
nothing happened. Apparently the noise hadn’t woken him up, but
then he’d slept through a pack of coyotes practically at his
door.

What now? She’d driven out here like every
second counted, but now that she was here, she had no plan
whatsoever. Waking him up in the middle of the night probably
wasn’t the best way to say she was sorry. She sat there, getting
colder, with nothing to do but sit in the dark and listen to the
silence, her mind drifting from one memory of him to another.
Roasting marshmallows on sticks he’d brought from home, their rides
down the highway, the way he looked at her in the morning when he
woke up. The way he’d looked at her yesterday, when she told him
she’d never trusted him.

She let her head fall back against the seat
and closed her eyes. She was here now, with him. Morning would come
soon.

***

Two hours after leaving Cheryl’s apartment
Jason arrived home, his turmoil undiminished by the miles he’d
burned up driving too fast down the highway. But no matter where he
went, or how fast he went there, he couldn’t escape memories of her
laughter, her constant desire to do better, the sounds she made
when he was inside her. And the fact that none of it meant
anything, because she’d never trusted him.

He peeled off his jacket and went to the
bathroom, his haggard reflection staring back at him as he washed
his hands.

Sucker.

The nausea that had been with him since their
fight kicked up a notch. But he wasn’t going to let himself waste
away because he had the bad luck to fall for the wrong woman. He
needed to get out of the house and act like a human.

He felt better as soon as the decision was
made. He had a goal, something to work toward besides drinking
himself into a stupor. So he gathered his equipment and clothes,
ate something nourishing to fuel his body, drank water to move the
sludge out of his veins. An hour later he was climbing in Red Rock,
his whole body and mind focused on moving up the wall. Find a
foothold, a handhold, move a few inches. That was as far as he
needed to think.

He reached the top and collapsed, exhausted
and spent, forty-five minutes later. As soon as he did, he
remembered the look on Cheryl’s face the last time they’d come, how
jubilant she’d been about getting to the top of the wall.

As soon as the thought formed, he cursed it.
He’d let her back into his brain, and now there was no getting her
out. Coming to Red Rock had always cleared his mind and soothed his
spirit, but that was before he’d brought Cheryl. They’d been here
together so many times, he couldn’t help seeing her everywhere. He
should have gone to Mount Wilson. He’d never been there with her.
Then again, maybe he’d come here because he wasn’t ready to let her
go.

He got back to the campsite and set up,
thinking back over every detail of the one time he and Cheryl had
camped together. Then he built a fire and stared into it, unable to
keep from remembering how happy she’d been when he made pancakes.
She expected so little, he’d wanted to give her everything he
could. Now he was left with nothing.

If it had been a matter of just him wanting
her to stop stripping and her being angry about it, they could have
worked through it. But how did you get past a complete lack of
trust? The accusation had blindsided him. He’d thought they were
building something, when all along there was a hole where a heart
should be.

The sun sank and he stared into space a while
longer, listening to the bustle and laughter of the camps around
him. Before it was even ten he dowsed the fire and crawled into the
tent, more alone than he’d ever been. When the coyotes started
howling, they seemed to be voicing his pain.

He fell into an exhausted sleep and woke the
next morning knowing he’d dreamed about her all night. The sun was
just barely up as he staggered out of the tent and pulled on his
shoes. After a quick trip to the toilets he pulled out the coffee
and started water boiling.

Only then did he notice the gray sedan parked
on the other side of his Jeep.

“What the…?” he muttered, walking toward the
car, only to stop dead.

Cheryl.

Heart pounding in his chest like he’d
summited a mountain peak without enough oxygen, he walked slowly
toward the car, his eyes glued to her sleeping profile. This
slight, innocent-looking woman had knifed him in the heart and left
him for dead, and now she was back.

The new light lit her pale cheek and the
bright curtain of hair that partially hid her face. She shifted as
if trying to get comfortable, her lashes fluttering, and all the
love and fury he’d been fighting flooded through him. Hope rose in
his chest, wanting this to mean something, but he tamped it
down.

Taking a deep breath, he tapped lightly on
the window.

She frowned in her sleep as if fighting the
noise and burrowed into the seat. He’d teased her about doing this
very thing every morning when her alarm went off, and he could
barely stand seeing it. He tapped again, louder this time, and she
bolted upright, her eyes wide as she looked around. Then she saw
him standing there and her mouth turned up in an uncertain,
trembling smile.

He stepped back from the car and she swung
the door open and got out.

“What are you doing here?”

It came out harsher than he’d intended, and
she flinched and fell back a step. Even now he wanted to reach out
and comfort her, but he held himself rigid, afraid to move or give
anything away. His only defense against her was remembering she
meant pain.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have shown up like this,”
she said, looking more uncertain now. “But once I’d realized how
stupid I’d been, I had to see you.”

“What more is there to say?” he asked, even
though part of him wanted to fall at her feet. But he couldn’t go
back to what they’d been before, as tempting as that was. “I get
being angry that I went to the club without telling you. It’s your
life, and you should do whatever you need to do. But if you don’t
trust me–”

“I do trust you. With my life. I’ve just been
stupid and scared and convinced no one who knew what I’ve done
could want me.”

“I tried to show you–”

“I know,” she said, tears welling in her
eyes, tearing him apart. “When I think about you bringing those
branches from home just so I…I think I’ve loved you for a long time
now, but I’m only just figuring it out.”

He stared at her, afraid to believe what he
was hearing. But she came toward him, her face lifted to his, all
the fear and hope he was feeling reflected in her eyes. Her hands
came up and cupped his face, cool and soft against his hot
skin.

“You’re killing me, Cheryl.”

“Don’t say that. I can’t stand knowing I hurt
you.”

He looked down at her, all the pain fading
away, making room for something better.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Not if you
mean it.”

“Oh, I mean it.”

He threw his arms around her and pulled her
tight. “Do you believe I love you now?” he asked, kissing her lips,
her cheek, the corner of her eye.

“I believe you,” she said, her voice high and
breathy. “But I wouldn’t mind hearing it a few thousand more
times.”

“I’ll tell you every day for as long as
you’ll let me.”

“That’s going to be a lot of days,” she said,
slanting a look at him through her lashes.

“Is that right?”

“Let’s see, three hundred and sixty-five days
in a year, times, what, sixty years, is…” She frowned. “Never mind
that. I’m an English teacher, not a math teacher. But it’s a lot of
days.”

He laughed and pulled
her toward the tent. “I can’t wait.”

Isabel Morin started reading romance novels when she
was thirteen years old and she hasn't stopped since. Now she writes
them, too. She lives in New England with her husband, the
inspiration for many of her heroes. You can visit her at
http://www.isabelmorin.com
or
email her at: [email protected].

Other books by Isabel Morin:

No Other Love

Tempt Me

Set Loose
(Sin City, Book One)

Coming in 2014: Sin City, Book
Three, in which Beth and Evan have their shot at love, and we see
more of Cheryl, Jason, Cutter and Emily.