Fear of Falling

by Catherine Lanigan

  Rather than let him say anything further, she rushed on. “I realized I’d made the wrong choice going to Louisville, but it wasn’t irrevocable. I could make other choices. I only just sent out my résumé and photographs. I jumped at the first offer. I don’t know why I never considered freelance work before, but I think it’s the right move. Working freelance would allow me to have that personal connection with the animals that I’ve always had. I miss that. I have to have that, Rafe.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I quit that job yesterday.”

  “Quit—”

  “And there’s something else.” She hesitated, then took a deep breath. “You see, I forgot something when I left, Rafe. I forgot to tell you that I love you.”

  Rafe’s heart jump-started back to life, the shock was so intense. “You...you never told me that...”

  She moved so close to him their lips nearly touched. “I was scared.”

  “You were?” He inhaled the fragrance of wildflowers and orchids. His hands were shaking, but he didn’t dare touch her for fear he’d make the wrong move.

  Her brown eyes plumbed his and he felt as if he’d levitated. He was anything but grounded.

  She continued, “I didn’t have to move out of state to find what I’ve always wanted, Rafe. It was right here in my own backyard in Indian Lake. It was you. When you didn’t contact me, I thought I’d lose my mind. Each day without you was interminable. The nights were unbearable, wondering if I’d ever see you again. Everything about me changed—and not for the better. I didn’t know it was possible to miss someone as much as I missed you. I couldn’t take it.”

  “So you’re not just visiting, then?”

  “No, Rafe.” She smiled. “I’ve quit the job and come back home. Back to you, if you want me.”

  “Want you?”

  “Do you, Rafe?”

  Her eyes were filled with the promise he’d dreamed about. For the first time, those raw edges of fear were gone, smoothed into pure love.

  He gathered her into his arms. “You’re not afraid of me.”

  “I’m not,” she whispered, sliding her arms around his strong back and putting her cheek against his chest. “Never again. I love you, Rafe. I want every minute you can give me. The only thing that frightens me now is being without you.” She looked up at him. “I want to make dreams with you, Rafe.”

  He pulled her face toward his. “Olivia, since you left, I’ve been thinking about what I really want, as well. If the racing bothers you at all, then I can make changes, too.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve come to grips with my father’s addiction. It was his disease. Not mine. I had nothing to do with it, though I felt guilty all my life. And I was angry,” she said sheepishly.

  “I know that,” he replied, feeling the pain his anger must have caused her when they parted. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, Olivia.”

  She put two fingers over his lips. “Shh. Don’t. You have to know that I’m not all the way there yet, with my fears about gambling, but I’m so much better than I was. And I have you to thank for that. I can talk to you about anything.”

  “Anything?”

  “Yes. Anything.”

  “Then I want you to think about this, because I’ve done a lot of soul-searching since you left. I’ve realized that I don’t want to leave the farm. This land is so much a part of me, Olivia, I can hardly describe how much I love it. I also love my horses, as you do. I can’t imagine a life without them in it. But I’m willing to give up racing because it causes you so much heartache. That’s something I can’t bear to see—even a glimmer of it hurts me, too. So I was thinking that I might start a dressage school. Right here at the farm.”

  “A school?”

  “You said I was a good instructor,” he countered defensively.

  “The best, Rafe.” She kissed his cheek. “I was terrified of riding a horse, and you made it magical. This is a wonderful idea. But are you really sure it would be enough for you? To give up racing Rowan? Because I don’t want you to do it just for me.”

  He kissed her lips sweetly. “One thing I’ve always admired about you is your honesty, Olivia. And now I’m being honest with you. It’s not just for you. It is what I want.” He tapped his heart. “In here. I am this farm and my horses. And you.”

  “Oh, Rafe—”

  “I love you, Olivia.”

  Then he kissed her, and his lips met hers with passion and wonderment. He couldn’t get enough of her sweetness and her surrender. Her lips were pliant, soft and yet demanding. Enticing and promising him worlds he couldn’t wait to explore. He knew as she kissed him back that she was truly his.

  And that was all he needed to know.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE SWEETHEART DEAL by Syndi Powell.

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  The Sweetheart Deal

  by Syndi Powell

  PROLOGUE

  MEGAN SWEET RAN down the sidewalk past the shops on Lincoln Street and opened the door to the Sweetheart bakery. Stepping inside, she took a deep breath and savored for a moment the scents of yeast and sugar that filled the air. Grammy stood behind the counter refilling the glass display case with cookies. She glanced up at Megs and paused in her work. “Honey, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  Megs shook her head, unable to put into words the mix of emotions that flooded her heart. “Kenny, he’s...” She hung her head and closed her eyes. “Grammy, he’s dead.”

  Grammy came around the counter and enveloped her in a tight hug. Megs rested her head against her grandmother’s ample chest and felt the first tears start to leak from her eyes.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d heard yet.” Grammy stroked her hair. “Are you okay?”

  Megs raised her head and stared into Grammy’s hazel-brown eyes, much like her own. “How can I be? He was my best friend. And now he’s gone. What am I going to do?”

  The front door opened, and two customers walke
d in. Grammy greeted them, then escorted Megs into the kitchen. She pulled out a stool and motioned to Megs to sit down. “I’ll help these ladies, then I’ll be right back.”

  Megs hopped up on the stool and stared at her hands folded in her lap. She should have kept her mouth shut. She should have let the bully say and do what he wanted. But no, she’d had to stand up to him, and now Kenny was dead.

  The swinging doors opened, and Grammy stepped into the kitchen. Megs expected her to talk, to assure her that everything would be okay. Instead, she pulled out an old recipe ledger and flipped through the pages. She finally settled on a page and pointed it out to Megs. “Here we are. This cookie helps to soothe a worried soul.” Grammy chose an apron from a shelf and tossed it at Megs. “Put it on. You’re going to make these on your own.”

  Megs raised an eyebrow at this. She’d helped her grandmother make cookies before, but it had never been suggested that she bake them solo. She slipped the apron over her head, then wound the strings around her waist before tying them in front. “But I don’t know this recipe.”

  “You can’t always rely on what you know.” Grammy nudged the ledger toward her. “Follow the recipe. Trust in yourself. It will guide you.”

  She started to gather the ingredients: flour, sugar, butter and eggs. And the tin of dark cocoa. Megs lifted the lid and took a deep breath. Ambrosia.

  As Grammy watched, she carefully measured and sifted, creamed and mixed. She referred back to the ledger when she doubted the next step, and later suppressed a smile when the dough formed into a ball exactly like it should. She glanced at her grandmother, who beamed at her. “You’re a natural, Megs. Like me.”

  The next step was to let the dough firm up in the refrigerator for a half hour, so Megs put the mixing bowl in the walk-in cooler and returned to the warm kitchen. Grammy held out a mug of tea to her. “I know that Kenny’s death doesn’t make sense. Suicide never does. But he’ll always have a special place in your heart. And as long as you hold on to that, at least he can live on in your memories.”

  Megs cupped her hands around the mug and let the warmth extend down her fingers toward her arms. “I’m afraid that I wasn’t a very good friend to him lately.”

  Grammy wrapped her arms around her and squeezed her tight. “I doubt that. You’re the best friend any person could ask for.” She tweaked the end of her nose. “After all, you’re the best granddaughter. One of them, at least.”

  When the half hour was over, Megs rolled out the dough, then used a knife to cut it into strips. She twisted them into shapes before placing them on a buttered cookie sheet, then slipped them into the oven. She leaned against the marble worktable and crossed her arms over her chest. “Will it ever stop hurting like this?”

  Grammy nodded. “One day, it won’t hurt as much. But you’ll always miss him.” She gave a soft smile. “I still miss your grandfather. And your dad.”

  “Me, too.”

  “But the pain’s gotten easier, isn’t that right?” She put a hand on Megs’s shoulder. “It will be the same with Kenny.”

  When the timer went off, Megs used a pot holder to bring out the sheet of twists and placed it on the counter. She grabbed a metal spatula to hold out one of the cookies. Grammy took it and bit into it. Megs watched as she chewed, then relaxed when she smiled.

  “You did good.” Grammy finished the cookie and peered at Megs. “One day, this place will belong to you. All my recipes and the business, too. And you will learn to feed people’s souls as well as their bodies. Just like me.”

  At that moment, there was nothing Megs wanted more.

  Copyright © 2016 by Cynthia Powell

  ISBN-13: 9781488008986

  Fear of Falling

  Copyright © 2016 by Catherine Lanigan

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