Chapter 9
Dan
I stood and stared at the bathroom door until I heard the water turn off, then turned back to the fire. Lorraine’s discarded clothes still lay by the hearth. I poked at the logs. They didn’t need moving, but I needed something to do.
Lorraine hadn’t slammed the door. Hadn’t snapped or sighed or rolled her eyes like my ex-wife would have done. I hadn’t felt frustration or anger rolling off her. Instead, I’d felt resignation or maybe sadness.
Shit. What had I done? Had I stuffed this up before we’d even got a chance to start it?
I didn’t know exactly what the problem was, but I knew I was the root cause of it. If we couldn’t move past this, I could lose the only future I’d ever dreamed of. For so long it had been just me and the hospital. This weekend I wanted to prove to her that we were great together.
But great didn’t include her walking away from me.
It just reminded me that she didn’t really need me. She could do more than just walk away from me in this cabin without a second thought—she could walk away from me altogether.
I blew out a breath. There was no point overthinking this. I needed to be patient and wait for her to come out so we could talk. She needed space to think, and I needed to give that to her instead of charging in there demanding that she tell me what was wrong.
I put on some fresh clothes, then went to the kitchen and reached for the cocoa.
Hot chocolate solved everything, right? We’d soon find out.
I spooned the cocoa in and filled the cups with hot water, stirring.
The spoon clinked against the side. I stood there stirring for a minute, maybe two.
Lucky it wasn’t bread because if it was, I’d have overworked it.
I carried the mugs to the coffee table, adjusted the cushions and blankets on the couch, and waited. When the doorknob turned, I almost jumped out of my seat. Lorraine came into the room and approached me. Her hair was damp, and the resort robe was pulled tightly around her, almost like a shield.
She no longer wore her blissful expression.
“I made hot chocolate,” I said.
“Thank you.”
She took the mug and sat on the couch. Unlike last night, there was a gap between us, like a ditch palisade I’d have to jump a horse over.
We both stared into the fire. The answers sure weren’t there.
I waited.
She set the mug down and faced me. “I don’t want to be second again. I was second through my marriage and I can’t do it again.”
She had told me that last night. I never thought she would feel that way with me.
“You’re not.”
“I know the hospital’s still yours for now. I know you’re still responsible.”
“Curtis needed my help.”
“I know.” Her voice was muted. “And I told myself not to be upset. But it made me feel like I did when I was married.” She gritted her teeth. “That’s not your fault. And I’m not saying you’re like that. I’m trying to explain how it made me feel.”
I reached for her hand. She let me take it.
“I never wanted to make you feel like that,” I said.
“I know,” she whispered.
But did she? Or did she just hope?
“I thought coming here, us spending time together, would show you what you mean to me,” I said. “Obviously, it wasn’t enough.”
She stared at me, not saying a word. Those scars of hers ran deeper than I’d imagined.
I cupped her face and ran my thumb across her cheekbone. “I don’t want you to feel like the hospital is more important than you.”
She gave a small shrug. “You have always been married to it.”
The heaviness in my gut deepened. Last night, she’d admitted that was one of the reasons she’d never said yes before.
“Yes, but things have changed. I’m retiring now. I have other things that are important. I have you.”
Shit, did I just say that? It was the truth but even so, it could be a make-or-break comment. Three dates, one half a weekend away didn’t mean I had her. But I wanted to. I wanted to see where our relationship could go.
“I know that my work affected my marriage.” I met her eyes.
Her gaze didn’t waver. Good. She needed to hear this.
“I could have done many things differently, including spending more time at home. I don’t think it would have changed the outcome.
Pat and I weren’t suited to each other; we both knew that.
It didn’t help that I was still in love with you. ”
Lorraine’s eyes widened as she sucked a breath in.
It was the first time I’d admitted it out loud.
“I’ve always loved you. It wasn’t the right time for us back then. I could dwell on the time wasted. Instead, I think about how I enjoyed watching you flourish and become even stronger and more independent than you already were.”
I hoped that didn’t backfire on me now. I hoped she wasn’t so independent that she couldn’t see us spending our lives together.
Even if we hadn’t dated, we were still close.
I was the main vet that serviced her farm, I’d made sure of it.
That meant I was able to steal time with her.
We shared jokes and laughter. We talked about our hopes and dreams for each of our businesses.
We argued freely when we didn’t agree but still remained staunch friends.
She was still watching me, and I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. But since I had her attention, I had more to say. “There are so many things I admire about you, Lorraine—your strength, courage, determination, kindness, beauty.”
“Thank you.” She squeezed my hand. “The list of things I admire about you would probably take us all day.”
“Would the highlights include our little frolic last night?”
She laughed. “It would be in the top five.”
I grinned. Pretty good for a man out of practice.
Her lips lifted in a smile. “The way you have always been there for me would rank higher.”
Well, OK. I wouldn’t complain about that.
For the past thirty years I’d seen her nearly five days a week during breeding season, and two days a week in the off season, and had never tired of it.
Of course, they weren’t full days. Maybe if we spent twenty-four hours a day together, we’d run out of things to say.
Maybe we wouldn’t enjoy each other as much. Maybe we couldn’t go beyond friendship.
We’d gone beyond friendship last night, and it was damn good. Did she want more? Or did she just want to be friends with benefits? I needed to stop doubting and simply ask.
I held her gaze. “I don’t want us to stop at this weekend. I don’t want to waste any more time.”
Her eyes softened. “Me either.”
Holy shit. My insides quivered like a kid going to their first horse show.
I leant forward and pressed my lips against hers. She caressed my cheek as she returned the kiss. I sat back and let out a long breath.
“Are we venturing outside today?” Lorraine asked, breaking into my thoughts.
“I don’t think we’ll make it far. Not until they clear the roads. Certainly not without skis.”
She giggled. I glanced at her.
“So, you spoke to the snow gods to request a storm. And then what? You called the resort and asked them not to plough the roads?” She laughed even harder.
I shook my head and chuckled. “Yeah, sure. I stopped the operations of a whole resort just to trap you in here with me.”
“How romantic.” And that’s when she laughed so hard that she cried. “And when they plough the roads, and I can sense freedom, then what?”
“It’s OK, by then you’ll be happy to stay.”
“Going to convince me with your sexual prowess?” She could hardly get the words out.
“I’m wounded. I feel you’re insinuating I don’t have any.” I shuffled backwards holding my hand to my chest and hiding my smile. “I thought waiting on you hand and foot, having some deep conversations, and telling you how amazing you are might do the trick.”
She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Maybe.”
And just like that, we moved past what had happened earlier—no resentment, no residue anger.