Oregon Outback (7 page)

The longing he’d seen in her eyes sent him over the edge. The moment had finally arrived. With her soft body against him, her arms pulling him closer, Jonas teetered on the brink of passion, the love he thought he’d buried gushing from all the hidden places in his heart.

He kissed her thoroughly, completely.

Remember what we had …

He breathed in the honey-vanilla scent of her. How many years had he longed for this? To wrap his arms around her? To kiss her once again.

Never again would he let her go.

He had to control the flood of emotions, or he’d overwhelm her. Though he feared releasing her—would she ever be in his arms again?

He eased back. “Darcy …”

She pressed her lips against his again. He gripped her arms and gently untangled her from him. “We have to stop.”

Hurt flooded her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

He gripped her wrists before she could step away. “Nothing. I … didn’t want to get carried away.”

Not until I’ve made you my wife
.

Darcy freed herself from his grip. “What are you doing here, Jonas? What do you want from me?”

Her question was loaded with years of hurt and resentment. She’d waited for the right moment to stab him.

And this was it?

He’d rushed her—she needed more time after her father’s death, whether she thought so or not. And he had rushed her.

“I wanted to give you time and space. Time to get used to me here. Space to grieve for your father. But the truth is … I want you back. I want what we had back then but lost.”

There. He’d said it.

She pulled in a breath. “Why’d you leave in the first place without so much as a good-bye? Ten years and not a word. How can you expect us to pick up where we left off”—she snapped her fingers—“just like that?”

“Your father wouldn’t let you see me, you know that.” Jonas raised his voice to meet her tone, then regretted it. Softer now, “I got into trouble, after losing you, I just didn’t care anymore. All I had for a father figure was Carver. He was too busy with the ranch.”

Darcy sank into the sofa. “I’m listening.”

That was all he wanted. But it was so complicated. He wasn’t sure he could explain. “I got into trouble and landed in jail. I wasn’t charged with anything. The sheriff just wanted to teach me and my friends a lesson. Your father visited me there and at the time, I thought he’d bailed me out. Maybe he did. From that moment forward, though, I had to agree to meet with him for counseling.”

Darcy looked at her hands.

“I hated that at first. But the man knew how to talk to me. Over time, he made me realize I would never be good enough for you. Not until I turned my life around. Until I made something out of myself. I left town, got a degree … you know the rest.”

“And the reason you never contacted me in all this time?” Darcy twisted her knife.

She had him there. Everything he could think of sounded like pathetic excuses. “Because by that time, it had been years, Darcy. Years. I thought you found someone else, or you’d forgotten about me.”

“Nice try, but you hurt me. Really hurt me.”

“I never stopped thinking about you.” Jonas heard the desperation in his voice, hating that it had come to this. But he was willing to beg.

“You picked a crazy time to walk back into my life. This time, I’m the one who’s leaving. Tonight, I’m meeting with someone who wants to buy my business.”

She punched him with that. The room tilted a little and her drive to pack up the house made more sense. “You’re … leaving?”

“Sure. Are you the only one in town who hasn’t noticed the F
OR
S
ALE
sign on the store? As soon as I get that squared away, I’m putting this house on the market.”

“Why?” His voice cracked like he was thirteen again.

Why was she doing this to him? What a jerk he was to even ask. The love of his life was slipping away. There was nothing he could do about it.

She’d slipped away a long time ago. He’d let her. Making something of himself for her father, for her, had taken too much of a toll on them.

“It’s my turn to make something of myself. Maybe we can get together in oh, say, another ten years.”

S
he wasn’t sure how it happened. Or why.

She’d wanted the kiss. He’d given her that and much more. Told her everything she wanted to hear. How then, did she end up throwing it all back in his face? More like smearing it.

Despite the deep ache in her heart, after Jonas had left earlier, Darcy worked on digging through the junk she found in boxes in case she found something important or valuable. Other stuff, she packed away. Memories—some good and others not so much—taunted her much of the day.

That wasn’t even counting her emotional battle with Jonas. She’d started the day wary of spending time with him, then Mrs. Olson’s appearance had prompted her to invite him over. At least now she knew what he wanted. Never mind that she’d sent him away.

Resentment long buried had boiled to the surface, heated by her passion for him, by his kiss. For a decade, she’d held on to it with fervor. If only she’d known.

Treating him like that had been wrong, but it had felt good to hurt him back. She’d lashed out in anger; she saw that now. Multiple aftershocks of deep regret shook her to the core. The only thing keeping her grounded was the fact he couldn’t be too devastated—she hadn’t gone anywhere yet.

He said he wanted her back. But that would take careful consideration. Time and space, like Jonas said. The kiss had been a huge indiscretion, but she wanted to know if his kiss would still make her knees weak.

Was that so wrong?

She rubbed her temples, remembering the passion. And Jonas had actually backed off. There was more between them now than before. If she decided to throw down the drawbridge to her heart, allowing Jonas to cross over, this time she couldn’t blame the hurt she incurred on her father.

The blame would be Darcy’s alone.

And finally, she had this chance to do what she wanted with her life. Her father’s passing had lifted all expectations that she remain in town, run her little store, and type up his sermons. Freedom came with a price—she was alone and forgotten. The thought corded around her that if she entangled herself with Jonas she would no longer be free.

Enough of the mental wrangling
.

Darcy headed for a quick shower. The day had left her drained. She needed to be sharp when she met with the potential buyer. After showering, she changed into business slacks and a nice, professional-looking, collared blouse. She could at least hear what the man had to say. He’d perused the store today, her day off, and wanted to hear more about the business over dinner.

If only she didn’t have that same feeling in the pit of her stomach that she’d gotten when going through the Noritake earlier today.
It was too soon …

She shouldn’t make any life-changing decisions now. With so much of herself poured into the store—her hang gliding photographs, sketches, and paintings—she couldn’t easily transfer the essence of what made High Desert Art special to someone else.

What am I doing?
Dread battled with hope for a future.

But she was already dressed and ready to meet Alberto Marino, the interested party. Darcy stepped outside and discovered she had a flat. She could change it, but she would be late and have to change her clothes as well, and … she could think of a thousand more excuses. But did she need one when the truth was staring at her?

She leaned against the car, thinking. The flat was the reason she could use to cancel the dinner, and canceling the dinner made her happy. It wasn’t the right time to sell her store.

She quickly dialed Mr. Marino.

“A phone call from you doesn’t bode well for me,” he said, his voice smooth like honey.

How perceptive. “I’m sorry. I’ve decided I don’t want to sell the business. At least, not yet.” The truth hadn’t been so hard, had it? And she didn’t even have to use her flat tire for an excuse.

“There is potential in the future? Then you should still dine with me. I want to hear what you can tell me about the tourist business and the town. I’m interested in moving to the area. And that way, should you decide to sell in the future, I’ll know if I’m interested.”

“I have a flat tire. Can we reschedule?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ll come over to your house, change your tire, and then take you to dinner. How can you pass up on that?”

Darcy started pacing, feeling a little trapped. She had to get over this anxiety brought on by the smallest pressure—almost like a panic attack. Almost like she was a kid again, stuck deep inside a crack in the earth and lost forever.

“Okay.”

She gave him her address. Half an hour later, she was sitting next to Marino in his car telling him about the small town where she’d grown up, about the scenic byway and the Oregon Outback. He seemed especially fascinated with her hang gliding, and that connected back to her photographs that she sold at High Desert Art.

At last, she realized he’d been driving for a while. “Where are we going?”

“I found a restaurant I liked in the next town over. I hope that’s all right.”

“Sure, but that’s a long drive.”

“Perfect. You and I have plenty to talk about.” When he glanced her way, she wasn’t sure she liked the look in his eyes.

“I’ve already told you a lot. What more do you want to know?” She made sure her tone was warm, despite her sudden unease.

“Actually, I’m interested to hear more about your boyfriend.”

Alarm sprang through her. “That’s an odd question. Especially since I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Marino laughed. “Ah, I’m sure that didn’t sound right. I want to make sure your boyfriend won’t be angry if he sees us together.”

“If I had a boyfriend, I would have invited him along.” She smiled, but she was getting odd vibes from the man. A stranger. She was in the car with a complete stranger. Yet business professionals did this every day. She was overreacting.

Still, the walls shifted closer, tighter. Suffocating. “I’m starting to feel sick. Why don’t we just call it a night? I think you’ve heard enough to make a decision. Can you take me home now?”

Marino kept driving, making no attempt to respond or turn around. Hadn’t he heard her?

Darcy leaned over and cupped her mouth. “There’s a rest stop a mile up the road. I need to use it.” She tried to sound like her only concern was the queasiness whirling in her stomach.

The place was located where she and Jonas had picnicked near the Crack-in-the-Ground. Thankfully, he pulled into the rest stop. Maybe she’d misunderstood him.

“Thanks.” She stepped from the car, planning to call Jonas in the restroom if she could get a signal.

Marino followed her to the women’s entrance. “I forgot my cell. Can I borrow yours? I need to make a call while you’re using the facilities.”

“Sure, why not?” She tugged her phone from her purse, handed it over, then fled into the restroom. Great. She couldn’t call for help if she needed it now, and the rest stop was empty of travelers.

Whatever was going on, she wanted to go home, and Marino wasn’t obliging. Why had he ignored her? She paced, her palms sweating.

On his Suzuki Hayabusa, Jonas raced up the highway, touching speeds far above the limit—but not nearly the speed the motorcycle was capable of going. Still, in this remote region and time of day, there wasn’t another vehicle for miles.

Jonas needed to blow off his frustration. He was a failure. If he weren’t a failure, he wouldn’t need to decompress. If he weren’t a failure, he’d be with Darcy right now, getting his second chance.

He’d kissed her, hadn’t he? She’d responded, hadn’t she? Then what went wrong? He’d rushed her, that’s what. Just like he’d rushed his team into the house during a raid. Though he’d followed the book, as it were, something in his gut told him to wait.

He hadn’t listened.

The only gas station for seventy-five miles sat lonesome and waiting on the right side of the road a tenth of a mile up. Jonas stopped at the station, knowing it might be another seventy-five or more before he found another place to buy gas. Though Lucas tried to talk him into staying, he needed to get out of town.

He didn’t consider where he was going, or when he’d be back. He just drove.

He handed his credit card to the attendant—amazed the station owner had brought the place into the twenty-first century—who filled the tank.

Despite the way Darcy had laid into him, he held on to hope. He’d told her he wanted back what they once had. She’d been angry, cutting him deep with her words. But her anger was born of hurt that she’d locked away for a long time. With all that she’d harbored against him, he wasn’t surprised at her outburst. But he had been surprised at her kiss—it was like she’d released the passion of a thousand kisses, bottled up for a decade.

Darcy didn’t know about his visit to her father while the man lay in the hospital, just before he died.

This time, he wouldn’t fail.

Jonas would listen to that sense in his gut, that sense that told him it wasn’t the right time to tell her. He couldn’t tell her what her father said until all was settled between them, if it ever was.