Yours, With Love: A Sweet Contemporary Romance (Finding Love Book 5)

by Delaney Cameron

  “Which explains the hoop in the yard. I know how to play ‘Horse’ and that’s about it.”

  Once they disembarked from the ferry, Quinn removed his camera from the bag and adjusted the heavy strap over his head. Her request to carry her backpack was again denied.

  “I’m not the only stubborn person here,” she told him and received a teasing grin in return.

  They set off down the dirt road into a setting that seemed untouched by time. Ellen refrained from saying anything. She wanted Quinn to form his own impressions. In such surroundings, conversation almost seemed out of place. They passed under a canopy of live oaks, walked through pine forests, glimpsed winding creeks and stepped around shallow wetlands. From time to time, Quinn took pictures, but unlike herself and others that she’d come here with, he didn’t try to capture everything. He was very selective about what he photographed.

  When Ellen next glanced at her watch, several hours had passed, and they had arrived at Plum Orchard Mansion, a 20,000 square foot Georgian revival mansion built by the Carnegie family. The house wasn’t open for tours on this particular day, but they explored the grounds and discussed the merits of the architecture as well as the pros and cons of living in the 1800s. When they returned to the front of the house, she walked up the shallow set of stairs to the porch and leaned against one of the four tall columns.

  “This reminds me of that scene in Gone with the Wind when Scarlett is entertaining her beaus. I’m not sure I would have liked wearing all those clothes in these temperatures.” She glanced back at Quinn in time to see him lift his camera and take a picture of her. “Hey, now, I’m not part of the essence of Cumberland Island.”

  “That picture isn’t for my photography class. It’s for me. Whenever I look at it, I can remember our day together.”

  “In that case, I’d like to have one, too. Can I take a picture of you?” His withdrawal was immediate, as if a cold wind had blown over them.

  “I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.”

  Ellen could have ripped out her tongue. Asking a man with facial scars to have his picture taken was similar to asking a blind man for his opinion on a new outfit. It bordered on insensitive and made everyone uncomfortable.

  * * * * *

  Quinn had seen the disappointment in Ellen’s face. His actions must seem unreasonable and childish to her. How did he explain that he couldn’t stand the thought of his likeness being recorded? It was bad enough dealing with the original. He didn’t want to think there were other copies lying around somewhere for people to look at. At any rate, the damage was done. He just had to hope she would understand.

  “Are you ready for lunch?” he asked as he put away his camera.

  She chuckled. “Yes. My stomach has been growling for the last half hour.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “You were in a zone taking pictures. I didn’t want to spoil the artistic ambience by mentioning something as unimportant as hunger.”

  “I wasn’t painting a masterpiece, Ellen. There was no mood to spoil. Where would you like to eat?”

  “They’ve got picnic tables at the campground, but I usually eat on the beach.”

  “Then let’s eat on the beach.”

  When they reached the shore, there wasn’t another person in sight. It was just white sand, greenish-blue water, and a seemingly endless line of sky. Quinn removed a blanket from his backpack and spread it on the ground.

  “I’ve got one, too, if you think we need it.”

  “This should be big enough.” He waved a hand in her direction. “After you, milady.”

  She curtsied before sitting down. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “I can see why you like coming here,” he said as he sat down opposite her. “It’s a vacation for the soul.”

  “If you want a place to come and think, this is it.”

  He delved into his backpack and removed several containers. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I brought a little of everything. There’s egg salad, turkey, and peanut butter sandwiches. I’ve also got carrot sticks, oranges, cashews, and because I have a sweet tooth and can’t resist indulging it, I included some chocolate chip cookies. For our liquid refreshment pleasure, there’s the always popular water, apple juice and green tea.”

  “You are clearly better at packing a picnic lunch than I am. I usually bring a few bottles of water and a huge pouch of trail mix.”

  “That’s because you’re just a little thing. There’s a lot of me to fill up.”

  She reached for a turkey sandwich. “I’ll say. You’re taller and broader than I remember.”

  “I’m not the only one who matured anatomically.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Phillips.”

  He laughed as he opened the container of orange sections and held it out to her. She took one and bit into it. Juice ran down her chin. As he handed her a napkin, Quinn was reminded of the time he went camping with her family. Ellen’s mother had sliced a watermelon after dinner. He challenged Bethany to a seed-spitting contest. Of course she refused. Such a thing would have ruined her makeup. Ellen didn’t hesitate. She’d jumped in to take her sister’s place. By the time they finished, she was covered in watermelon juice.

  “These are really juicy oranges,” she said, wiping her face.

  Quinn found that out for himself a few seconds later. Ellen leaned forward and dabbed at his chin with her napkin.

  “See what I mean?” she asked.

  He nodded, but it was a purely mechanical response. Even such an innocent touch as that was enough to turn his emotions inside out.

  She pointed to his arm. “You didn’t have that before.”

  He laughed, relieved to have something else to think about. “You’re right. My parents would have locked me in my room and thrown away the key if I’d come home with a tattoo. They aren’t too happy that I have one now, but I didn’t get it for me. It’s for someone else.”

  “This sounds like a good story. Can I hear it?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I like long stories.”

  “When I was in South Sudan, I met a doctor from England. You think I’m not a typical doctor; Roland Rinehart was even more atypical. He had long hair, rode a Harley, wore leather, and was covered in tattoos. He was also the most dedicated, hardworking physician I’ve ever run across.

  “He inherited a fortune from his grandfather. He said it was indecent how much money he had at his disposal. Instead of spending it like the rest of us would have, he used it to build hospitals, nursing homes, and daycare centers while he continued to live in a modest flat in London. He was a veteran of ten trips with Doctors without Borders.

  “Of all his tattoos, there was only one that included words. I suppose that’s why it caught my eye. ‘In the absence of light, darkness prevails.’ Roland said it was something he read in a book and was never able to forget. I think it was much more. I believe it was what motivated him to do all those things. He saw himself as being on a mission to help drive out the darkness in the world.

  “When the bombs hit the hospital, it was chaos. I didn’t find out for days that Roland was killed. I couldn’t stand the thought of his light being extinguished. A few weeks after I got home, I walked into a tattoo parlor and had this done. It’s my way of honoring a man I respected; a man who was trying to make a difference.”

  “I think your way of remembering your friend is wonderful. Every time someone asks about the tattoo, you can share Roland’s story. In that way, his memory lives on through you.”

  “As we just demonstrated. Do you want another sandwich?”

  “I’d rather have a cookie.”

  He handed her one and then took one for himself. “Did you ever think all those years ago that we’d be sitting together on a beach eating cookies?”

  “No, but I did daydream about us doing other things.”

  “That sounds like a story I’d like to hear.”

  “You already know the stor
y. It couldn’t have escaped your notice that I had a bigtime crush on you back then. You achieved hero status fairly quickly because you were the first boy to actually notice me. I think that’s what made me so upset when I saw Bethany kissing Dalton. I couldn’t figure out why she would want his kisses when she could have yours.” Ellen made a face. “Why can’t people be faithful? Why do they always want more? It’s like love is just a word to them. They have no concept of its meaning.”

  Quinn wondered if anyone really understood love. He certainly didn’t. “We’ll talk about the meaning of love another time. I want to hear more about this crush of yours. Like most eighteen year olds, I didn’t notice much of anything except what pertained to me. What did your fertile imagination have us doing?”

  She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Some of them were silly things. You have to remember I was only thirteen.”

  He stretched out on the blanket and put his hands behind his head. “I realize that, and I promise not to laugh or post them on social media.”

  “I dreamed about us holding hands in the movies, going for a ride on one of those tandem bikes, and sharing a huge hot fudge sundae at Tastee-Freeze.”

  “Nothing on that list is silly. When I was nine, I had a crush on my babysitter. I saved my lunch money to buy her a box of Godiva chocolates. Turned out she was allergic to chocolate. That’s when I realized that dealing with women wasn’t going to be smooth sailing.” A yawn escaped him before he could stop it. “Excuse me for that. The combination of a full stomach and a late night has made me sleepy.”

  She waved a hand at their surroundings. “You couldn’t ask for better place to take a nap. I’ll walk to the campground and fill up our water bottles while you catch up on your sleep.”

  Quinn watched her until she disappeared and then closed his eyes. The whisper of the water kissing the shore and the occasional squawk of a seagull soon lulled him to sleep. How long he remained that way he didn’t know, but he was fairly certain that the fingers moving through his hair weren’t part of a dream. He also knew that some stranger hadn’t suddenly decided to join him on the blanket. Ellen’s touch was gentle and light, but it sent tiny shivers down his spine. He should stop her or at the very least let her know he was awake, but he couldn’t make himself say the words. A starving man will take whatever crumbs he can get.

  When her fingers left his hair and began to caress his face, he couldn’t breathe or move as a thousand sensations exploded in his body. The desires that had long been dormant inside him rose to the surface. It was now or never. If he let her continue, she might get more than she bargained for. He opened his eyes, and her hand fell away.

  “Hi, sleepyhead,” she said with a shy smile that had his heart galloping in his chest like the feral horses he’d caught on film earlier. “I didn’t want to wake you, but it’s been almost two hours.”

  Two hours! He hoped she was kidding. “Wow! I must have been more tired than I thought. I’m sorry for bailing on you like that, Ellen.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’ve always wanted to have a man at my mercy. Did you know that your hair is as soft as the down in a pillow?”

  He’d never thought about his hair at all, but he wouldn’t mind running his fingers through hers and feel it slide across his skin. “No, I didn’t. We should probably get going.”

  She leaned over him, blocking his view of the sky. “Is that what you really want to do right now?”

  His eyes stared right into hers before dropping to the freckles on her cheeks and then finally to her lips. “No,” he admitted. “I want to kiss you.” As soon as he said the words, he wanted to take them back. Not because they weren’t true, but because he didn’t want to see the disgust in her eyes when she refused.

  “I’d like for you to kiss me.”

  Had she really said that? Every rational thought left his mind as Quinn obeyed an instinct as old as time. The softness of Ellen’s lips stole his strength and sent his world spinning. A shudder pulsed through him as he slowly explored the contours of her mouth. She was purity and light, tasting of honey and sunshine; a delicate flower whose beauty teased his senses; a clear spring from which he longed to quench his thirst; and a vivid reminder of all he couldn’t have.

  He slowly let his head drop back to the ground, moved beyond words and at the same time appalled at his lack of self-control. He forced himself to meet her eyes. She smiled so sweetly his heart actually hurt. Again his thought processes came to a standstill. Was this really happening? In a daze of confusion, he watched her lay her head on his chest. Shouldn’t she be upset or something? She’d agreed to one kiss; not a marathon.

  “I knew your kisses would be dreamy,” he heard her say.

  Her mouth was dreamy. He could kiss it all day long. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, and that’s a compliment by the way. Not many men can achieve dreamy.”

  Here his sense of humor finally exerted itself. “Which begs the question. How many men have you kissed?”

  She sat up and started counting on her fingers. “At least seven. Not a scientific sample, but good enough for our purposes.”

  He sat up, too, wondering what to say to her. “Ellen, I want you to know that…”

  She held up her hand. “Never apologize for kissing a girl; especially when it was as nice as that.”

  “But I don’t want you to think that I…” This was going from bad to worse. “What I mean is, I don’t want what happened to ruin our friendship.”

  “I doubt a few kisses are capable of that.”

  Quinn didn’t have her confidence. She might be able to shake this off, but he knew he wouldn’t. He stood up and helped her to her feet. “We only have a few more hours before we have to catch the ferry. Time to get back to taking pictures.”

  Ellen picked up the blanket, folded it neatly and handed it to him. “I’m ready when you are.”

  As they returned to the trail, Quinn’s emotions were reeling. How was he supposed to walk back from this? He couldn’t just file it away in some remote part of his brain and pretend it never happened. His act of self-indulgence had made a difficult situation a hundred times worse. He’d traded his hard-won peace of mind for memories that would taunt him day and night.

  * * * * *

  Ellen sighed inwardly as she walked beside Quinn. He’d spoken maybe twenty words since they left the beach. The scars she had to worry about weren’t the ones she could see.

  When she’d returned from filling the water bottles and found him sleeping, nothing could have been further from her mind than kissing him. She resumed her place on the blanket and exchanged text messages with her sister, Faith and Frank while she waited for him to wake up. And then it happened: the trigger that set all the other events in motion. Quinn murmured in his sleep.

  Ellen hadn’t been able to make out all the words, but one had been clear enough. He’d spoken Avery’s name. She didn’t know exactly why the combination of those five letters acted so strongly on her, but something compelled her to put down the phone in her hand and move closer to him. From there, her actions defied any type of explanation.

  She’d been driven to answer that involuntary plea, which considering he was still asleep, didn’t even make sense. Her fingers had weaved their way through his hair before moving to trace the network of scarred skin on his face and neck. Ellen had hardly noticed the passing of time. When Quinn suddenly opened his eyes, she’d seen both passion and torment in those haunted gray depths. Those competing emotions had beckoned her more urgently than words. She wouldn’t turn her back on him as Avery had done.

  His kisses had been breathtakingly gentle, almost as if he expected her to push him away. Although he hadn’t touched her anywhere else, not a part of her was left unaffected; and whether he meant to or not, he made an indelible impression. Not only had he moved her emotionally, but he also removed any doubt that she was doing this solely for his benefit.

  Those unforgettable moments had ended t
oo soon, as if he suddenly realized how much he’d revealed and like a castle under attack, pulled up the drawbridge. As she watched his efforts to compose himself and listened to the gradual slowing of his heartbeats, she had the feeling he was making a silent vow never to repeat it. That couldn’t be allowed to happen. He couldn’t kiss her like that and expect her to believe it meant nothing. But that was a fight for another day. He wasn’t ready to listen yet. His convictions were too closely held and had been reinforced by the combination of a selfish woman and his own insecurities.

  As they passed by a smallish pond, he pointed to a pair of geese wading near the cattails. Just behind them were several goslings. “Ellen, look over there.”

  “Oh, how cute! You should get a picture.”

  “I agree,” he said, reaching for the camera around his neck. “The trick will be getting them all in one shot.”

  She sat down on a nearby stump to wait, smiling at his attempts to get close without startling his subjects. Not an easy task considering his size and lack of stealth.

  When he rejoined her, he said, “I hope one of those turns out. I’m still learning how to adjust the light and shutter speed settings.”

  “I watched a wildlife documentary the other night on Georgia Public Television. I didn’t realize that geese mate for life.”

  “Many animals do,” he said as he held out his hand to help her up. “It’s only humans who tend to think of monogamy as a social construct.”

  If she’d hoped he would maintain the contact, she was disappointed. “Maybe we’re not as advanced as we like to think.”

  “I had a professor in medical school who said that humans are at their best as babies.”

  “Meaning we don’t improve with age. That’s an interesting way to look at the world.”

  “An overly pessimistic one, but like most things, it holds a grain of truth.” The timer on his watch went off. “That’s our cue to head to the ferry.”

  “The next time I come here, it won’t be nearly as relaxing. I’ve got a wedding at the Greyfield Inn in August. I’m a little nervous about the logistics of transporting flowers to an island only accessible by ferry.”