Brian reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her down onto the couch next to him. When she tried to tug free, his grip tightened. Heart pounding hard, she slowly raised her gaze to meet his.
“Been reminiscing, Sara?”
“I...I found them when I was packing,” she said, feeling trapped by the intensity of his green eyes.
Brian released her wrist, but took her hand in his. His fingers felt warm and firm wrapped around hers. With his thumb, he lightly traced patterns on her skin. “We need to talk.”
“About what?” she asked stupidly.
The doorbell rang. Brian groaned. He stood up and thrust the letters at her. “I’ll get the door.”
He waited until Sara left the room before yanking the door open. A well-dressed man stood on the other side of the threshold.
“Can I help you?” Brian said gruffly.
“Is Sara here? She said she’d be home if I dropped by.”
“Who are you?” he asked, not allowing him to enter.
The man smiled equably. “A friend. Tell her it’s Daryl.”
Brian crossed his arms. “What kind of friend?”
“I could ask the same thing of you.”
Brian heard Sara coming back into the living room. “Sorry, she’s unavailable right now.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you two are—?”
He edged the door closed. “That’s right. I’ll tell her you said hello.”
Daryl smirked. “So you’re the new opportunity.”
Brian shut the door in his face, cutting the man’s speech short.
“Who was at the door?”
He started guiltily at the sound of Sara’s voice. “Um, just someone who made a mistake.” He crossed the room to her side. “Sara—”
Sara put up her hands in a defensive gesture and took a step backward. “Really, Brian, there’s nothing to talk about. I merely found some old correspondence, and I needed to look over it to decide whether or not to throw it away.”
Brian moved closer. “And did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Throw those letters away.”
She lifted her chin and glared at him with a particularly mulish expression. “It’s none of your business.”
Which hopefully means she didn’t toss them. If she kept them, it might be a sign she still viewed him with some warmth.
He looked down at her, noticing she stood bathed in an ethereal light from the stained glass windows. She’d been born in the wrong century, he decided. She looked like some melancholy princess out of a fairy tale, a picture of wary innocence with her large gray eyes fringed by thick lashes.
Sara felt she should move, but remained fixed to the spot. The tender verses and words from Brian’s letters coiled seductively through her brain. With a little shock, she realized a part of her still longed to hear him say those words to her, to experience that feeling of being cherished once again. She searched his gaze, wondering if she imagined the tenderness there. Moisture burned her eyes. I can’t still be in love with him. I just can’t.
Sara bit back an anguished sob, despising her weakness. Brian seemed to hesitate for a moment, then slid a hand against the small of her back, pressing her toward him. She didn’t resist. With his other hand, he nudged up her chin and lightly touched his lips against hers. His kiss was everything and more than she remembered, warm and sweet. Sara gave herself up to the embrace, relishing the familiar feel of being held in his arms. As his kiss deepened, she felt her resistance slip away. Her arms stole around his neck and she touched his hair the way she used to.
For this moment her world was made right again.
Brian silently exulted in Sara’s pliant response. Her trust, her sweetness, intoxicated him. He thought of the man on her doorstep moments before. Was the guy a boyfriend? Did she still care for the jerk?
A black wave of jealousy obliterated the feel of Sara’s kiss. Brian needed to know. He lifted his lips a breath away, tightening his hold on her. “Do you ever kiss Daryl like this?”
Sara went rigid. Then she gave him an almighty shove, sending him stumbling backwards toward the couch.
“Don’t ever touch me again! Gah!” She disappeared into her room, slamming the door behind her.
Brian blinked at the sudden turn of events. When he regained a modicum of reason, he gave his hair a fierce tug, calling himself every kind of idiot for blowing the moment. How could he say something so stupid?
But when Sara responded to him so passionately, the thought of her in Daryl’s arms made him choke. All logic had flown away.
Brian harshly rubbed his face. He didn't hear any sound from Sara’s room. There’d be no talking to her tonight—especially when there wasn’t much he could say in his defense. Glancing around the room, he saw all the waiting boxes and furniture. What else could he do but continue packing?
Brian worked into the night with the help of the landlady’s son, expending his frustration through physical labor. Soon everything was packed into the trailer and ready for the trip out in the morning. He made his way back to the studio apartment and fell into an exhausted sleep.
The next morning, Brian awoke more fatigued than ever. As the events of the previous evening filtered into his groggy mind, he wondered what in the world he could say to Sara to fix the situation.
Next door, he found her putting away the vacuum cleaner. The apartment, empty of décor, fairly shone from the cleaning.
“Everything’s done here,” she said, her voice resigned and her features drawn.
Yes, it is, he thought dismally.
With a suitcase in hand, Sara swept past him, presumably to turn in her keys to the landlady. Brian made one last check around the apartment to be sure nothing was left behind. In her bedroom, he noticed the smell of burnt paper. He found ashes in a metal wastebasket. No mystery as to what had burned there.
Brian clenched his jaw and walked out of the apartment, shutting the door behind him with a snap.
Chapter Eight
Outside the sun shone in an azure sky and Sara heard a bird chirp from a nearby tree. Dark thunderclouds and lashing rain would’ve better suited her mood. After castigating herself last night for her foolish behavior, she worked with a will to clean her apartment, hoping to put the whole sorry episode with Brian out of her mind. Now, she just felt jaded and tired.
Sara climbed into her little Honda Accord, accompanied by her small suitcase and pillow, the former of which she shoved into the backseat. Brian insisted on driving, so she planned to sleep all the way to Buell Creek. The less interaction with him, the better. She had nothing to say to him and swore never to let him know how deeply he hurt her.
The notion he considered her free and easy with her affections burned deep. Brian was the first and only man she ever allowed to kiss her with any measure of passion. Though he couldn’t possibly know that, it rankled that he thought otherwise. Just because he probably kissed scores of women didn’t mean she treated men the same way.
Sara mashed the pillow up against the window and squirmed to get comfortable. Brian got in the opposite side, only affording her a quick glance before starting the car and pulling away from the curb. She refused his offer of coffee when he stopped at an espresso shop on the way out of town. Squeezing her eyes shut, she was thankful when he no longer attempted to engage her in conversation.
Brian watched Sara leave the car and head in the direction of the gas station restroom. He ground his teeth in aggravation. Over the last several hundred miles, he'd wracked his brain to think of a way to open up dialogue with her. Her freezing attitude daunted him to say the least. He sent up a prayer for wisdom and took a deep breath when she came back into view.
Once he paid the gas station attendant, Brian eased his frame back into the car. Sara, already inside, punched her pillow and pointedly ignored him. He drove some distance on the freeway before taking the plunge. He cleared his throat. “Sara?”
She responded with somethi
ng that sounded like, “Grummph.”
“We need to talk about last night.”
Silence. Then, “There’s nothing to say.”
“I disagree.”
Straightening in her seat, she narrowed her eyes at him. “What happened was just a pathetic moment of weakness best to be forgotten.”
“That’s not the way it was!”
“Would you mind staying in the lane please?” she said with saccharine sweetness.
Brian turned his attention back to the road, stifling the urge to give Sara a good shake. “I need to explain why I said what I did.”
“Trust me, Brian, I have no desire to hear your excuses.”
“If you don’t listen to me, I’ll...I’ll pull over and kiss you again.”
She gave him a haughty stare. “You like using a kiss as a threat.”
“Be reasonable,” he said, exasperated. “We need to work this out.”
“Work what out?”
“You and me,” he grated.
Sara scooted closer to the passenger door and crossed her arms.
Brian flicked on his turn indicator and took an exit leading to a rest stop.
“Where are we going?” she asked, sitting up in alarm.
“We are going to talk, like it or not.”
Sara’s hands began to sweat when Brian pulled into the rest area. He parked away from most of the other vehicles and shut off the engine. Couples and families taking a break from their travels milled to and from the bathroom. Two kids played Frisbee in the grass while a dog ran around their legs.
It looked sunny and happy out there. Sara suppressed a sudden desire to escape from the car. Away from the uncomfortable presence of Brian Farris and his searching gaze.
He turned to her. “What I said last night was terrible. But when I saw Daryl I became jealous and—”
“So that’s who was at the door! Why didn’t you let him in?”
“He’s not the kind of guy you should be seeing.”
She raised a supercilious brow. “And I suppose you’re an expert at identifying those types?”
“As a matter of fact I used to be one of those types, so I should know.”
“Used to be?”
“Used to be.”
Sara lowered her gaze, vaguely aware of the pinging sound of the cooling engine and the muffled noises from outside. “So what’s this about ‘you and me’?” Through her lashes, she watched Brian toy with the steering wheel.
“We have a history together, Sara. And the way it ended two years ago really bothers me.”
She bit back a sarcastic comment.
“You never gave me a real explanation,” he continued.
“I wrote you a letter!”
“It was a nasty letter and not worthy of you. Why did you really leave?”
Sara flushed angrily. The letter had been horrid, but certainly no worse than the way he’d treated her. “I heard what you said about me to your roommate.”
Brian maintained a blank expression. “Refresh my memory.”
Sara’s heart thudded dully in her chest. She swallowed. “You...let him know that you were using religion as a means to an end with me.” Sara pinned him with her gaze, daring him to deny it.
A dull red mounted his cheeks. “Sara...ah…I know it must have sounded terrible.”
“So you do remember.”
He sighed. “Now I do. He was being very nosy about our relationship and I just agreed with whatever he said to get him off my back.”
Sara remembered that day in Technicolor, could still feel the lump in her throat, the pain of being unable to cry. “Is that the best you can do?”
“It’s the truth!”
She slumped against the seat and looked out the window. What a pointless conversation.
Brian leaned toward her. “At the time I have to admit I had hoped for...things to continue in the direction they were heading. But you have to believe I really cared for you.”
He reached across the seat and took her hand. Sara tried to ignore the calloused warmth of his touch against her skin.
“I can try to explain and give you a bunch of excuses, but I don’t have any. I was wrong to treat you that way, Sara and I’m truly sorry I hurt you. Is there any hope you can forgive me?” He tugged on her hand until she looked him full in the face.
Brian’s imploring gaze her made it difficult to think. Sara averted her eyes. What could she say to his appeal of forgiveness? She knew she couldn’t hold this against him forever. Scripture bound her to forgive. The problem was, she thought she had. His proximity the last few days stirred afresh all the old pain and bitterness, feelings she assumed long dead and buried.
Her face burned when she thought of that last night together. To be honest, she needed to acknowledge the fact she’d hardly resisted his advances those years ago. In some ways, she shared his guilt.
Sara saw only one option. She looked up at him, measuring her words, wanting to say one thing, but knowing she must say another. “Of course I forgive you.”
Brian pressed her hand. “Thank you, Sara. I know I don’t deserve it.”
She nibbled her lower lip. “You weren’t the only one in the wrong. Will…you forgive me as well?”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “Done.”
Sara found herself unable to look away. Her breathing became erratic. She attempted to tug her hand free. He refused to let go.
“Are we friends now? Can we put this behind us?”
She nodded, relieved when he released her. Sara swiveled her gaze out the window again, hoping to calm her scattered thoughts and pounding heart. She thought of Daryl. Although she felt emotionally spent, she wanted an explanation for Brian's conduct from the previous evening. She decided she must know or else worry over it forever.
She turned back to him and took a deep breath. “So...what about last night?”
Brian ran his finger along the dusty dash and took his time before answering. “What can I say, Sara. You’re infinitely kissable.”
“Oh!” She glared at him. “That’s ridiculous! I thought you said you’d changed!”
He had the grace to look chagrined. “I’m sorry I took advantage of the situation last night, and besides, I was jealous of that flaky Daryl. Forgive me?”
His tone sounded so insincere, she didn’t know whether to smile or get mad all over again. She decided to end the conversation before it descended any further. “Don’t you think we should get going?”
Brian’s gaze rested on her for a few seconds more before he started up the Honda. Sara didn’t relax until they traveled several more miles. She shot him a furtive look and thought of what he said about being jealous. Did he mean it? A little glow of pleasure spread within her.
They stopped at a fast food restaurant for lunch and after eating, Sara took over the driving to give Brian a break. He promptly went to sleep, which greatly annoyed her for some reason. Her glance slid over to where he slept. He looked so completely relaxed, with the hard angles of his face softened in repose. She’d always envied his air of insouciance. Oh, to be so unfettered by the concerns other mortals grappled with. Her thoughts turned to what he'd said about changing.
In some ways, Sara could admit he had changed.
While he retained the same easy-going nature she remembered of old, he did behave in a more sensitive and thoughtful manner. But was it just an act? She never could tell with him. Her emotions always confused the issue. It seemed he only had to look at her in that beguiling way and she forgot any affiliation with him was doomed to failure.
Reading all those letters the night before brought to the fore the more tender feelings she once experienced for Brian. Last night when he stood so close, she confessed a part of her hoped he’d kiss her.
Sara now realized her success at putting him out of her mind these last two years had depended solely on his absence. Brian’s physical presence threatened her emotional equilibrium now as much as it had then. Maybe more so.
Sara’s lips tugged into a smile. She was glad they talked. A weight had lifted from her shoulders and she felt she could view him without the haze of anguish clouding her vision. They’d become friends. Casual acquaintances, really.
He’d soon become bored with small town life and move on. She’d make cinnamon rolls as a thoughtful going-away gesture. The whole Brian Farris episode of her life would be a cautionary tale and she’d grow spiritually by leaps and bounds, amazing others with her sage wisdom and advice.
By the time they arrived in Oregon, Sara felt quite magnanimous and gave Brian an effusive smile when he awoke.
Chapter Nine
Sara let out a yawn. She felt bleary from arriving home so late the night before. Taking a sip of tea, she listened to her aunt describe some of the occurrences of her patients on her rounds.
Sara’s mind wandered back to the subject of Brian. Hattie mentioned earlier that Brian and a friend finished unloading the trailer, storing everything in the living room at the farmhouse. Very handy thing to have a man around.
“Dear, I wonder if I might borrow your grandfather’s truck for a while. My Corolla is acting up and I’ll need to have it looked at.”
Sara laughed at the thought of her delicate aunt trying to manage the beastly pickup. “Use my car, Hattie. The Ford isn’t terribly reliable.”
“I couldn’t impose—”
“Yes, you could.” She grabbed her purse that had been sitting on the table, and pulled out the keys. She pressed them into Hattie’s hand. “Not another word. The truck is fine for what little driving I’ll need to do.”
Restorations (Book One Oregon In Love) Page 7