by Sable Hunter
He laughed at her sense of humor and marveled at her insight. She wrote of places she’d been and people she’d met, always tying in what she discovered to some meaningful lesson one could apply to their life. He read of things she hoped to do, things she’d let slip through her fingers, and the consequences of deciding which was which. Clint garnered from her writing that her heart was far more tender than she let on. Jensen liked to appear indomitable, but deep inside she was vulnerable and longed to have someone to share her life with. Just like him.
By the time he’d inhaled her creation, Clint’s heart was pounding.
How could he let her go?
Putting the laptop aside, he bent forward, resting his head in his hands. Yes, he’d enjoyed seeing Jensen today. She’d looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful. As soon as the thought registered, he couldn’t help but imagine what she looked like undressed – then he hated himself for wondering. Was that wrong?
He didn’t know if it was or not, all he knew was that he missed her. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He thought about all the times he’d kissed her, how she was perfect in every way. He thought about the way they were together this last time, how he’d made love to her – not knowing anything was different. The absence of the breast hadn’t decreased his pleasure one iota, hadn’t diminished the thrill – hadn’t tarnished the way he felt about the woman who slept in his arms. Of course – he hadn’t known it was missing either.
He also thought about what she’d said to him, how she’d confessed to feeling something for him – a connection. In a perfect world, he’d be begging to strengthen that connection, to build on what she felt for him until she loved him as much as he loved her.
Yet, his own fears and shortcomings might be keeping them apart.
Lastly, he tortured himself with what she went through alone. Facing surgery and an uncertain future without the support of a man who loved her. If he’d been in that position as a fiancé or husband, could he have stepped up? What kind of man was he? If someone had asked him these questions at any point in the recent past, he would’ve answered them unequivocally. Yes, he was strong enough to stand by the woman he loved when she needed him the most. So, why was he hesitating? Why was he so unsure?
All of his life Clint had prided himself on the fact he was there for his family. To be the broad shoulder they knew they could lean on. He considered himself to have strength of character, integrity, and an ability to be empathic to another’s needs. Yet, when the woman he possessed deep feelings for faced an interminable enemy – his first instinct was to run away.
Rising, he rubbed the back of his neck, then picked up the laptop. Rose stood at the screen door, chirping and chattering for attention. “What do you want, girl? Is your food bowl empty?” He let himself in and followed the scampering ball of black and white fluff to the kitchen. “We’re having company tomorrow night, what do you think of that? Do you remember Jensen?” More chirping and chattering. “Yes, I know you do. She’s coming to see us. Isn’t that great?” Rose seemed to agree as he filled her bowl with mixed vegetables and boiled chicken. “Dig in, little lady.”
As he made his way upstairs, Clint admitted he couldn’t wait for her visit. Even though he was nervous as heck, he still craved her presence. “Get it together, Wilder.” Making his way into the bathroom, he stripped, and turned on the shower. As he puttered around, finding a new bottle of body wash, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.
Rarely did he examine his appearance, he wasn’t the type of guy who couldn’t pass a mirror without looking at himself. He supposed he was good-looking, well-built – women tended to think so.
What if something happened to mar his appearance? What if he were burned? Or scarred? He lifted one leg, noting a jagged raised ridge left over from a football injury. Hmmm, he’d forgotten about that one. Face it, things were different for men. Scars made a man more rugged, in most cases more appealing – or so they said.
He continued to stare, rubbing a hand over his chest. Men came down with breast cancer. What if that happened to him? Still…it was different for a woman. Society mistakenly bound their intrinsic value into their appearance. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
What if he lost an arm? A leg? Yea, that could be a deal-breaker for some. He knew Jaxson struggled when he lost a leg. In fact, the support group Jensen and Libby attended was born out of Jaxson’s internal battle to come to terms with his loss.
He kept staring at himself, mulling the variables. What did Jensen think when she looked in her mirror? He tried to imagine how she saw herself. Did she mourn her loss when she studied her appearance? Did she turn and check every angle to make sure no one could tell she was wearing a prothesis? Once she was dressed up for the day, did she see a woman who looked like a million dollars or just a pretender trying to cover up the fact she was one breast short?
What did he see when he looked at her? Shaking his head, he was still unsure. Would he ever come to the point where he could focus on her beauty and not what was missing inside her bra?
Turning away from the mirror, he crawled into the shower. Needing release, he brought himself to a quick climax. As was his long-standing habit, the woman he fantasized about was Jensen. A perfect Jensen.
Once he was toweled himself dry, Clint went to bed, but not to sleep.
* * *
Jensen was up early baking a chocolate pie to take to Clint’s. She was so nervous; she burned the filling the first time and had to start over. The second time she managed to keep it together, relieved when the creamy chocolate concoction turned out luscious and fluffy. Now, she sat with her second cup of coffee on the sunporch to watch the sun come up. The gentle rays bathed her orange Pride of Barbados in a magical glow. With a near contented sigh, she admitted life would be perfect if she had two breasts and didn’t have to face a guilt-ridden man who was struggling to find a way to apologize and bow gracefully out of her life.
His determination to explain himself, express regret, and ask for forgiveness was admirable. She really did appreciate the thought, she just wished he realized this was just prolonging the agony. For a few minutes yesterday, she’d entertained the idea he might be interested in trying again. That his feelings for her might outweigh the discomfort he felt about her condition. Unfortunately, she was just dreaming. He was put-off by her mastectomy. What did she expect? Clint Wilder was a man who could have any woman he wanted. Why should he settle for her?
With a sigh, she reached for her laptop. She had just enough time to answer a few emails before she needed to get dressed for the day. As she logged in, the thought occurred to her that she’d never looked for the book Clint wrote. Curious, she went to Amazon to see if there might be an eBook copy for sale. To her surprise, she found it easily. In a few seconds, she’d pressed the one-click button and the manuscript was transferred to her Kindle app. Chewing on her bottom lip with a tiny smile on her lips, she opened the book and began to read.
To Jensen’s amazement, she found the book was not only well-written, but informative, interesting, and gave her a unique insight into Clint’s mindset.
There are some lessons only a storm can teach.
The words reverberated to the depths of her soul.
She read about his fascination with storms, how he admired their power and beauty, yet respected their strength. The account of his brush with death as a child during the F-5 tornado caused tears to come to her eyes. And now that she knew his father died in the same storm, the story was even more poignant in her mind.
But what fascinated her most was the genius he displayed in his vision. With obvious technical expertise, he discussed the possibility of controlling a storm, diminishing their destructive impact, and harnessing their energy for good. She’d heard him mention this, but wrapped up in her own life, she’d missed the amazing significance of his research. When she saw him again, she’d have to tell him so.
Closing her computer, she realized the time. “Good grie
f. I’m late!”
…With everything going on, the day passed swiftly. She performed four neuro evaluations and saw five other patients. With her hectic schedule she didn’t have a chance to worry about her dinner with Clint and perhaps that was a good thing.
As she hurried home to get ready, her hands trembled on the steering wheel. What should she wear? How about that new emerald green dress she’d bought for the last conference she’d attended? No, that was too dressy. Should she wear jeans? Heck – would it even matter? After all, he would never be able to look at her and see anything other than a victim of cancer who’d never be whole again. For a second or two, her hand hovered over her phone, as she considered calling Clint and canceling their dinner.
No, they needed to get this over with, to put this uncomfortable situation to bed.
With renewed resolve, she headed her car to Georgetown. Time to get ready to face the music.
Chapter Fourteen
About twenty miles west, Clint moved around his house, making last minute preparations to welcome his guest. He wanted everything to be perfect. “Okay, let’s see.” The steaks were marinating, big russet potatoes were on to bake. A variety of beers and wine were iced down to cool in a big metal tub. He’d even ventured out into the pasture to pick a bouquet of wildflowers for the table. Now, all he needed was for Jensen to arrive.
After checking the clock for the third time in as many minutes, he gave up all pretense of patience, and went to sit on the front porch to wait. His expectations for the evening were all over the place. In some ways he dreaded what might happen, but he couldn’t help but look forward to seeing her.
Soon, he saw a pair of headlights. There was a car approaching. Rising to his feet, he moved through the yard. By the time she parked, Clint was there to assist her. As soon as he opened the driver’s side door, he held out his hand. “Welcome, Jensen. I’m so glad you came.”
His plan to embrace her was thwarted when she handed him a pie. “Thanks, Clint. Here’s dessert. Chocolate fudge. I made it myself.”
“I’m sure it’s delicious.” He held the glass dish in one hand as he shut the car door with the other. “Did you have any trouble finding the place?”
“No. Not at all.” Jensen gave him a friendly smile, then turned her attention to his home. Even in the dim twilight, she could see the beauty of the white stone house. “This is marvelous, Clint.”
“I appreciate it.” When he saw Jensen wrap her arms around herself protectively, he hurried her inside. “You’re chilled. I’ve already put a fire in the fireplace and one out in the pavilion. I promise to keep you warm tonight.”
Jensen felt her face grow warm. She needed to refrain from reading too much into what he said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Well, come in.” He led her up on the porch, holding the door open for her to enter ahead of him.
“Where’s Rose?”
“She’s asleep on the screened in porch. I was happy to realize a pet door was already installed between the porch and the interior sunroom. She can go in and out as she pleases. Bowie and Beau were right, she’s been someone’s pet. She took to the sandbox without missing a beat.”
“Well, that’s good. I bet you’ll be the envy of the neighborhood. When other people have guard dogs to protect the property, you’ll have a guard skunk.”
“True. I’m sure she’ll startle the UPS man. Can I take your coat?” he asked once they were in the den.
“Yes, please.” She shed her outer jacket. “I hope I’m dressed okay. I went for casual.”
“Oh, absolutely. I thought we might go for a walk a littler later.” He couldn’t help but notice the way her blue jeans hugged her delectable bottom. “I think you look fantastic. You always do.”
Again, with the compliments. She wished he would stop. “You’re too kind.” She paused to look around his home. “This is a gorgeous house.”
“Thank you. Let me put the pie in the kitchen, throw the potatoes in the warmer, and I’ll show you around.”
“Of course. Take your time.”
When he rejoined her, she was waiting in the foyer, studying a painting on the wall. “How do you like my taste in art?”
“Different, but I like it. I’ve never thought of a tornado as a subject for a painting.”
“The artist has a whole series on tornados. I have two of his other works in the den.”
“It fits you.” Jensen looked at him over her shoulder and smiled. “I read your book.”
“You did?” This pleased him. “I read your blog.”
Her smile faded. “Now you know more than you wanted to know about me, I guess.”
“Not at all. The more we know, the better we can understand one another.”
To what purpose? she wanted to say. If this were to be goodbye, she didn’t see the use. “You were going to show me around?”
“Oh, yes. This way.” He took her hand in his to lead her through his home. With obvious pride of ownership, he pointed out the features of the house. Jensen admired the beautiful tile, the craftsmanship, and the many built-in features. “You’ve got lots of room here,” she noted after he’d shown her the fourth bedroom. “How many baths?”
“Five and half.” He led her up to the attic. “Wouldn’t this make a neat playroom?”
“Yes, it would.” She walked to the window to look out at the countryside illuminated by the light of the nearly full moon. “I have to admit, your home is nothing like I expected.”
Clint moved to stand close, tempted to bury his face in her hair. As usual, she smelled of the sweetest jasmine. “What did you think you’d find?”
Jensen shrugged, trembling at his nearness. “I don’t know. Something more fitting to a swinging bachelor, I suppose. Instead, this place is just crying out for a family.”
“I want a family.” He was surprised to notice she stiffened a bit. “Someday. Don’t you?”
Feeling slightly uncomfortable, she moved a few steps away. “I’m not sure.” She didn’t want to talk about a family or the future. “Anyway, congratulations are in order. You have a beautiful home. I’m sure you’ll be very happy here.”
“Yes. I know I will.” Clint led her downstairs. “There’s a ton more to see outside. We’ll check all of that out later. Are you hungry?”
“Starved.” Jensen followed him to the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”
“Oh, grab those tongs and we’ll go grill these steaks. You won’t need your big coat; the pavilion is sheltered on three sides and the fire is going.”
“Sounds good.” She picked up the tongs, falling into step with him as they left the main house. A covered walkway led to the pavilion where the BBQ pit was located. Next to it was a fireplace and a comfortable sitting area.
“I iced down some drinks, help yourself.”
“This is a great set-up.” Jensen admired the entertainment area. “How long have you lived here?”
“Just a few weeks. Other than family, you’re my first guest.”
“I’m honored.” Jensen gave him the tongs, then watched as he expertly seasoned the steaks and placed them over the white-hot charcoal briquets. “So, how’s your sister?”
“She’s out of the hospital and on the mend.”
“Such a tragedy. I don’t know what the answer is to such travesties, but I wish someone would find it. How about Judah and Pepper, how are they?”
“Good. Judah got right back on the horse, he and Ollie flew to Argentina this morning.”
“I spent some time with Ollie in the hospital, he’s a nice guy.”
Clint sobered. “I so wish I’d been there for you.”
“You were busy. Your family needed you.”
“You needed me.” Clint studied her face, trying to read her mood.
“I’ve learned to be self-sufficient.”
“We all need friends.”
His words hung in the air between them. She remembered he’d once rejected her offer of friendship, saying that w
asn’t what he wanted from her. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Too bad, Jensen wasn’t sure she could be friends with him now. The pain might prove to be unbearable. “I suppose that’s true.”
As Clint stood by the pit, ready to turn the meat when necessary, he tried to do something to alleviate the tension. “Like we did before, tell me something about yourself. Anything.”
Jensen hummed a bit, deciding to go along with whatever game he was playing. She couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to perpetuate the illusion they had some kind of future together. “Okay, I like to play board games. My favorite actor is Tommy Lee Jones. I know how to use a bullwhip and I enjoy walking on the beach at dusk. Someday, I’d love to take a cruise to the Maldives and stay in one of those bungalows built over the water. I love sycamore trees and I adore grand gestures. You know, rom com worthy grand gestures. The grander the better.”
“What?”
“A grand gesture is like proposing to your girlfriend from the fifty-yard line of a football game – although…that’s been done and redone too many times.”
“Good to know.” He’d file all of that info away for a later day. “But that’s not what caught my attention.” Clint waved the tongs. “I’m still stuck on the part about the bullwhip. How in the hell did that happen?”
Jensen laughed. “My father knew the guy who made the bullwhips for the Indiana Jones movies. He brought one home one day and I liked how it felt in my hand. When I grew up, I made a point to learn how to use it.”
“So…” Clint gave her a big grin. “No wonder you were into bondage.”
Jensen felt her cheeks bloom. “Don’t bring that up.”
“We need to talk, Jensen, that’s why we’re here.”
“I know.” She moved to pull a bottle of iced hard lemonade from the tub. “Let’s eat dinner first. Okay?” That she dreaded the prospect went without saying.