Dane's Storm(17)

Coffee made, I went to my studio, sat at my desk and logged in to my computer. Pulling out my cell phone, I double-checked to see if I’d missed a call from Dane while I’d been out of the office for five minutes. A fresh wave of indignation washed over me and I set my phone down, logging on to the Internet.

“Jay, how do I book a flight online?”

“What airline do you usually fly?”

“I never have.”

He looked confused. “You’ve never flown before?”

I shook my head.

“Didn’t you go on a honeymoon?”

“No . . . circumstances didn’t allow for a honeymoon. I know it’s pitiful, but I’ve never been out of Colorado.”

Jay stood and walked to my desk. “Well then, it’s about time. I just wish this was under better circumstances.” He typed in a website and showed me where to put in the dates of travel. I chose Wednesday, because I figured Dane would be at his office. I couldn’t go on a weekend as he’d probably be at home and I had no clue where he lived—or with whom—or how to find out. At the thought of Dane living with another woman, my stomach cramped, but I pushed the feeling aside as best as I could, determined not to think about that. Why shouldn’t he? The boy I’d loved so desperately all those years ago deserved to have happiness. The options for flights came up, and I cringed.

“Yikes,” Jay said. “Booking short notice is going to cost you. I still think it’s worth it.”

“What if he’s out of town or something?” I murmured, thinking aloud. I couldn’t really afford to spend the money on this ticket in general, but what if I got there and it was all for nothing?

“Get travel insurance,” Jay said. “That way, if there’s any sort of issue, you can rearrange your flight.”

I nodded, and before I could talk myself out of it, I took a deep breath and hit purchase.

I was going to California. I was going to see Dane Townsend after seven long, and at times, desolate years. And despite how long it had been, I still didn’t think I was anywhere near ready.





CHAPTER EIGHT


Then . . .



Audra laughed, pulling the blanket around her more tightly. “God, it’s freezing. This is sorta crazy.”

She and Dane were sitting on an old quilt under a tree on the side of a frozen pond on Dane’s family estate. There was a small, rickety-looking dock and an old wooden oar boat trapped in the frozen water next to it. It was mid-winter and though the temperatures were in the forties, the air was fresh and crisp and there was virtually no wind.

Dane grinned, sliding closer, opening the blanket he had wrapped around his own shoulders to envelop her so they were pressed together, sharing the warmth. She inhaled his clean masculine scent, feeling the same buzz of electricity his smell always elicited. “Perfect for cuddling with my girl,” he said, and her heart leapt with joy at his words. His. Dane Townsend’s. She still felt a thrill of disbelief every time she thought of it, even though it’d been a couple of months since that day in his car when he’d asked her to be his. “Winter’s always been my favorite season.”

She smiled softly, staring at the frozen pond. “Does anyone use that boat in the summer?”

“No, not anymore. My grandfather used to fish, and he came out here when he was alive. My grandmother never liked it. Said he came home smelling like mackerel and she couldn’t stand it. She’d go to her room and slam the door.” He chuckled. “But it hadn’t been used in years when Dustin, Dalila, and I discovered it. We used to sneak away and come here to swim when we were kids. We’d race each other to the other side.”

The pond wasn’t huge, but Audra had to practically squint to see the other side from where they were. She pictured a small boy moving through the water, no one to save him if he needed help, and she couldn’t help the shiver of fear that moved down her spine. “What if you had gotten a cramp or tired somewhere in the middle?” she asked on a frown.

Dane shook his head. “One of us would row the boat containing life preservers next to the two racing. We had a signal. If we were ever in trouble, we’d hold up two fingers in the air like this”—he brought one hand out of the blanket and held his arm in the air, two fingers forming a V—“which meant we needed help, but couldn’t form the words to ask for it.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. She felt irrationally upset. What if something had happened to him all those years ago? What if he hadn’t walked into her art classroom that day? What if she’d never met him at all? “Well, at least you were prepared, I guess.” Even she could hear the note of displeasure in her voice.

He chuckled softly and pulled her closer. “It’s sweet that you’re worried about me for something that happened years and years ago.”

She glanced at him, his eyes twinkling with laughter and she let out a small breathy laugh. “You’re impossible.” But her heart warmed and she nuzzled into him, soaking up his warmth. He was here now. She had met him. No act of fate had stolen him from her before she’d had a chance to love him. Before he’d filled her life with color.

“What about you? What sneaky things did you do as a kid?”

She gave a small shake of her head. “Nothing very exciting. I used to draw butterflies in the attic and then dance and twirl beneath them. Silly.” A small, self-conscious laugh ghosted from her mouth but he didn’t smile back, simply tilted his head, his eyes filled with some sort of gravity she didn’t know how to read.