“Then I lost you because I gave up.” He shrugged. “No one likes a quitter.”
Bree placed her camera on the coffee table and settled next to him on the couch. She took both his hands and covered them in her own. “No. Not even close. I loved you, Ian. You happened to play guitar. But that wasn’t all that you were any more than me taking photographs was all that I was or am. I loved your spirit. Your thoughtfulness. I loved that you always held the door for me and would help me haul my camera equipment no matter how far off into the middle of nowhere I wanted to go. I loved your smile. I loved the way you loved animals and how excited you would get about the idea of getting a dog once you graduated. I remember you had the breed already picked out and the name to go with it.”
“Gibson,” he said, the surprised expression on his face making it clear that he’d forgotten until that moment.
“There were a million things I loved about you that had nothing to do with your music.”
His green eyes were nearly boring into her by the time she finished. It made her chest feel tight, like he was squeezing her rib cage in his fists. “Then why did you leave me?”
Bree swallowed hard. “I didn’t leave you, Ian. You left me. You didn’t do it on purpose, but losing your music changed you. Day by day, the Ian I knew disappeared and there was nothing I could say or do to get you back.”
“I’m still here, Bree. I always have been.”
“Then prove it to me. Show me that inside the CEO of SpinTrax is the man I used to love. The one who would do anything to make me smile.” Bree pulled away from him, walking over to the closet where the guitar was stored. She carried it back to him, holding it out.
Ian hesitated. His jaw was tight, the muscles in his neck and shoulders like stone. His gaze flicked over the guitar, but he didn’t reach for it. She could tell he wanted to, but it was an internal struggle she couldn’t understand.
“Then don’t do it for me, Ian. We haven’t been in love for a long time and you don’t owe me anything. But you owe yourself a lot. Do it for yourself. Play your guitar. Write some new songs. You might find that keeping your music alive isn’t nearly as painful as holding it inside.”
That was what it took for him to reach out and take the guitar from her. He slipped the strap over his head and held it for a moment. “What do you want me to play?”
“Play whatever you want to, Ian. I just want to capture the moment.” Bree took a few steps back and picked her camera back up from the table. As she turned it on and adjusted some of the settings, she heard the familiar notes of a Kansas song begin. This had been one of his staples.
As he began to sing, his heavenly baritone filled the large room.
Bree moved back, crouching down to take her first shot. Framing Ian perfectly, she stopped short of hitting the button. Instead, she just watched. His eyes were closed, his fingers moving deftly across the strings. He sang with such emotion, the melancholy lyrics touched her as strongly as if he’d written those words himself.
She only took a couple pictures. Four at the most. She couldn’t bear for the sound of the camera interrupting his song. Ironic, considering her desire to photograph him playing had driven this entire, emotional discussion. About halfway through the song, she dropped the camera into her lap and just listened to him sing.
The final notes carried through the room, followed by a resounding silence. The house suddenly felt empty without his music filling it. Bree expected him to immediately set the guitar aside, having appeased her, but he continued to hold it. His fingers flexed around the neck, his palm caressing the smooth wood.
“Thank you,” he said at last.
Eight
Bree awoke the next morning to a familiar sound. At first she thought she was dreaming it, then she heard it again and knew it was real. Lying facedown on the mattress, she rolled over and tentatively opened one eye to see Ian standing beside the bed with her camera. Taking her picture.
She immediately shot up, feeling an unnerving cold breeze on her skin. She looked down and realized she was naked. She quickly tugged the sheets up to cover her bare breasts and prayed Ian hadn’t gotten a shot of that. They’d spent the night together and her clothes were currently scattered around the room. Ian, of course, was fully dressed, putting her at a distinct disadvantage. Last night it hadn’t seemed that important, but she hadn’t expected to be the subject of a photo shoot first thing in the morning.
“What are you doing?”
Ian twisted his lips in irritation and lowered the camera from his face. “I was taking pictures of a beautiful woman while she slept, but the moment has passed.”
Bree leaned over the side of the bed, scooping up her shirt from the floor. She pulled it on. “Why would you want to take pictures of me?”
“Why would you want to take pictures of other people?” he countered.
Bree frowned, an expression that brought the opposite reaction to Ian’s face. “You don’t like having your picture taken,” he said.
She wrinkled her nose. “No, I don’t.”
“A photographer who hates having her picture taken. How is that possible?” he wondered aloud.
Bree smoothed out the wild strands of her hair and tugged the blankets even higher under her arms. The fabric of the shirt was thin and did little to make her feel covered. “I prefer to be behind the camera, if you must know.”
Ian raised the camera again and snapped another picture before she could turn away. “Now that you mention it, I seem to remember you were always the one taking pictures in college. I didn’t think much of it at the time because that was your thing. But I remember going through old pictures after you transferred to UT and being frustrated because you weren’t in any of them. I guess this is a lifelong aversion. I just didn’t notice it before.”
It was hard for Bree to imagine Ian poring through old pictures, looking for her after she was gone. She thought he’d already forgotten her, even before she’d left. “I’ve been avoiding photos of myself since my parents bought me a camera for my tenth birthday.”
“That’s a shame. You’re more beautiful than most of the women I see in magazines. You should spend more time in front of the camera for a change. For the benefit of society.”
She shook her head, ignoring his attempts at flattery. Instead, her thoughts drifted to last night’s discussion of nude portraits. “Before these pictures...benefit society...you didn’t take any shots of me naked, did you?”
“You were naked in all of them, but you were sleeping on your stomach. There’s nothing to see.”
Bree’s mouth tightened. “If I see so much as a nip slip when I go over those images, Ian...”
He held up his hands defensively. “You won’t, I promise. There’s nothing on this camera but images of a golden angel sleeping in my bed.”
She’d believe it when she saw it. Her glance shifted over to the bright streams of sunlight coming in the window. “What time is it?”
“About eight-thirty. I woke up at six today like I usually do. Yesterday was a fluke. I showered, dressed, made coffee and watched a little of the weather forecast. I’ve got some good news for you.”
Good news? “You’ve made me breakfast in bed?” she guessed.
“No,” he said, twisting his lips in thought, “but that isn’t a bad idea. I should’ve thought of that.”
Bree flopped back against the pillows. It was too early for a guessing game. “Then what is it?”
“The weather station is reporting it should get to almost fifty degrees today. I heard the snowplows going by this morning. They’re expecting most of the snow on the plowed roads to melt. With any luck, we should be able to head home tomorrow morning.”
Bree smiled because she knew she should, but for some reason, the news didn’t make her happy. Somehow, being trapped in the snow
was the ideal environment for the two of them. They’d spent so much time talking, getting to know one another again. It felt like old times, except that it wasn’t. And that fact would be crystal clear the moment they arrived back in Nashville.
“That’s great,” she said, feigning excitement. “I guess we should make the most of our last day here then.”
“You’re right,” he said, setting her camera on the nightstand. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”
Bree sat patiently waiting for Ian to return a few minutes later. He had a tray with some fruit, toast, jam and coffee. Ian carried it over to the bed, setting it down between them and kicking off his shoes before sliding under the covers.
“Breakfast in bed!” he announced.
Bree leaned in to kiss him and he captured her, pulling her closer. She wanted to melt into him, to make the most of these fleeting moments, but she knew she shouldn’t. The closer she let herself get to Ian, the more she would be disappointed when it all fell apart. “Be careful,” she said as she pulled away. “You don’t want to spill the coffee.”
Ian reluctantly sat back and they both started to eat. Bree slathered her toast with butter and strawberry jam before taking a bite. It was sourdough bread from the loaf they’d used to make grilled cheese the first night. It had a bite to it that mixed nicely with the creamy butter and sweet jam.
“Can I ask you something?”
Bree hesitated, her toast hanging midair. What could he ask that needed an introduction like that? She’d been awake less than ten minutes and had had two sips of coffee. “Sure. What?”
“Well, Thursday night I have this industry thing to go to. Cocktails, schmoozing, maybe a little dancing. It’s the kind of shindig that makes me completely miserable, but I’m expected to be there. I’m also expected to bring a date.”
Bree’s breath caught in her throat. Was he asking her to go on a date once they were back in Nashville? That was a big deal. It was as if he was acknowledging that the two of them might be viable outside of this cabin. He’d hinted at it with their talk about fantasy vacations, but this was real. Concrete plans. Bree wasn’t nearly as certain of their longevity as he was. Sure, he’d played the guitar a couple of times. He was trying, but he was still a far cry from being the carefree Ian she remembered. Right now, she was just a distraction from his laptop. Could there really be more? She both craved and feared finding out the answer.
“I RSVP’d last week to go to this thing with Missy,” he continued, unaware of the tension that had leaked into her muscles. “Obviously, that’s no longer an option. I could go by myself, but I really don’t want to face all those people on my own. Since I’ve unplugged, I have no idea how the fake pregnancy scandal is all going down, but I’m sure everyone will be whispering behind my back or feeling sorry for me. I thought if I showed up with a blonde bombshell on my arm, it might shut them up. It might also be a lot of fun having you there. What do you think? Would you like to go with me?”
Bree hesitated. She wanted to go, yet she was afraid to say yes. If Ian was trying to have a life outside work, she needed to support that, or she had no room to criticize. She didn’t have to work Thursday night. She could go. She wanted to go. She just didn’t know if she should go. A glamorous night out, champagne with important people, bodies pressed close together while dancing across polished marble floors... Was her heart strong enough to withstand a romantic assault of that caliber?
“Okay,” she said at last.
A wide smile broke out across Ian’s face. “Really? Awesome. I think you’ll enjoy yourself. I can introduce you to some musicians. Quite a few will be there. Do you like Jack Wheeler’s music?”
Bree’s eyes got big. Jack Wheeler had once been a member of one of the biggest bands in rock. He was an icon. A member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. He was also a photographer who had put out several books in addition to gallery showings and magazine spreads. Yeah, she wanted to meet him. That would be amazing. “Sure,” she said, trying not to sound too eager.
That just brought the worry back into her mind, this time of a more frivolous nature. She was going to a party with rock stars. What was she going to wear? She felt her chest tighten with panic. She didn’t dress up very often. For weddings where she was shooting, she wore black pants and a black blouse so she could move almost invisibly through the party. She wanted to get great shots but not at the expense of the people at the wedding. She might have a cocktail dress. Maybe. Perhaps Amelia did. They were close to the same size, although Amelia was doubly blessed when it came to “the girls.” She’d have to go shopping. She didn’t want to embarrass Ian in front of his peers.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You don’t look very enthused. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
“No, no,” she argued. “I want to go. I’m just not sure what I’m going to wear.”
“Judging by the women I’ve seen at events like this, something chic and sparkly. And if I can inject my personal preference into the equation, something on the shorter, tighter side so I can spend all night imagining you taking it off when we get home.”
That brought a smile to Bree’s lips. “I suppose I can manage that. I’ll go shopping when I get back to Nashville. Or I’ll raid Amelia’s closet. She will know just what to do. She’s the fashionista. I’m just the photographer.”
“Always behind the camera,” he noted, referencing their earlier conversation.
“That’s how I prefer it.”
“And I,” Ian began, “prefer you without that top on.” He lifted the empty breakfast tray and moved it to the nightstand before snuggling up beside her. “Here’s to making the most of our last day here,” he said before pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss.
The moment his lips touched hers, all her worries vanished. There were no parties, no rock stars, no fancy dresses and no painful past. Just him and her together, cherishing their last day in the safe haven of the cabin. Tomorrow, they would return to the real world. And despite how carefully she had tried to hold back with Ian, she knew she couldn’t last much longer. Soon she would give in and be his, no matter what the consequences. She’d tried to be strong, but his touch and his words made her weak.
Resistance was futile.
* * *
Ian stepped out onto the front porch the next morning and took one of his last lungfuls of fresh mountain air. The roads were clear and finally open. Their time here was at an end.
For some reason that bothered him. He didn’t know why. He should be happy to get home and return to work and life as usual, but suddenly his everyday life didn’t seem that appealing anymore. It felt empty, like he was just a robot going through the motions each day.
It was just like Bree to be able to sow seeds of doubt into his life in only a few short days. He’d gone nine years without playing a guitar or picking up a pen to write a song. As long as he kept those thoughts from his mind, he was okay. Now, his fingers were achy and restless to get back to playing. That wasn’t what he needed to be spending his time and energy on. He was a four-hour drive from Nashville and the personal and professional cluster that awaited him in the wake of the fake pregnancy scandal.
He wasn’t looking forward to dealing with any of that, most especially dealing with Missy. She might not be his fiancée any longer, but she was still one of his artists. Until the final terms of her contract were met, he’d have to work with her, but it would not be much longer. In maybe another month, he could cut ties with Missy and never have to think about her ever again.
Bree came out onto the porch behind him, her camera equipment slung over her arms to load into her SUV. There was the other woman that would plague his thoughts. If Ian was smart, he would cut ties and not think about Bree again, either, but that wasn’t going to happen. When it came to his college love, he was the dumbest man in the world.
“I can help you with that,” he said, stepping into the driveway and scooping a heavy bag off her shoulder.
“I’ve got it, but thank you,” she said with a smile. “I’m used to hauling all this stuff around on my own, you know.”
“Is there any more?”
“Just my backpack and the tripod. They’re in the living room.”
“I’ll go get them.” Ian went inside, climbing up the stairs two at a time. He found her bag and the tripod and picked them up. He gave a quick scan over the house and didn’t see anything else that belonged to her. He went back outside and handed her the last items to put in her car.
“I guess that’s it,” she said, stepping back to slam the hatch closed. Bree swayed nervously in her Converse, her hands buried in her back pockets.
Her hair was braided again today, the same way it had been when they’d played in the snow. He felt the memory threaten to ignite a fire in him, but now was not the time. He’d had all day yesterday to get his fill of Bree. Now, he would have to wait until Thursday, at least. Even if he wanted to see her, it would take days to manage the mess he’d been ignoring when he unplugged.
“It’s been a wild couple of days, hasn’t it?”
Ian stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her against him. “It’s certainly not what I expected when I came up here. My life is completely different driving down the mountain than it was driving up it.”
She looked at him with a smile that showcased her full pink lips and straight snow-white teeth. “Life doesn’t always turn out the way you plan. Sometimes, it turns out even better than you can imagine.”
“This is way, way better.” Ian leaned in to capture her lips with his own. Bree melted into him, every soft curve pressing against his hard angles. He wanted to pin her body to the SUV, strip off every inch of her clothing and make love to her one last time. “Can you stay just one more hour?” he murmured against her lips.
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