A Fall from Yesterday: A Hearts of Harkness Romance (The Standish Clan Book 1)

by Norah Wilson

  “Just keeping old Axl company in the kitchen. Want breakfast?” Arden offered. “I can rustle something up.”

  The wind shook against the window. The storm wasn’t showing any signs of abating.

  “No?” Arden said, reading Scott’s reaction to the gusting wind. “I imagine you’ll want to get back. How about a quick coffee, then?”

  He did want to get back. Yeah, he knew neither Titus nor Ember would stir from shelter in this weather, and if for some unfathomable reason they did set out, they’d call to let him know. But listening to that driving rain made him want to be out there in that parking lot anyway, positioned to help if help was needed. And were it not for the look in the old guy’s eyes, he’d leave right now. Titus had said there was nothing wrong with his father, but something wasn’t right.

  “I’d love a coffee.”

  He followed his uncle through the living room around the corner and into the kitchen.

  The coffee was already perked, probably some time ago, since he hadn’t smelled it when he’d come in. Arden pulled two mugs off the hook below the cupboard, one a Minnesota Vikings mug—the one Scott always used when he was home. Steam rose from the cups as he poured.

  Axl rested under the table. When Scott took a seat, the dog lifted his head and cast him a long-suffering look for the interruption to his sleep. With a deep sigh, he lay his head back down again.

  “Have you been to bed at all?” Scott asked.

  “Got a couple hours.” He handed Scott his coffee.

  “Something keeping you awake that—” The words he’d intended to say evaporated as something caught his eye. Half of Margaret Standish’s Christmas dishes were missing. The whole left side of the cabinet was emptied of every neatly stacked, gilt and holly trimmed plate, cup and saucer. “Mom’s dishes—”

  “They’re your sister’s now,” Arden said, his voice tired. “Just packing them up for her.”

  Scott felt a frigid coldness slide up his spine. “Did Ember take a position somewhere?” he asked. “Is that why the sudden packing?”

  Arden sat. He looked down at his hands and hesitated long enough that Scott knew that wasn’t the case.

  “No, Son, that’s not it.”

  “Jesus H. Christ. You’re moving? You’re selling the place, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “So that’s what’s been going on—why Titus has been so secretive.” He set his cup down. “Why, Uncle Arden? You’ve lived here all your life. Hell, you were born right upstairs.”

  “I know.”

  “I thought you loved this place.”

  “I do. But I can’t run it by myself. And I don’t want to. I’ve got a nice little place lined up at Blue Breezes.”

  Blue Breezes? What the hell was Blue Breezes? He took a breath, exhaled. “Oh, man. That’s why you wanted us home this weekend, to break the bad news.”

  “I wanted you home because it is your home and I love you. I wanted to see all my children—here—one last time. But, yes, I also wanted to tell you and your sister…” He pulled a deep breath. “That we’re pulling up stakes.”

  “When?”

  “Sale goes through on Tuesday.”

  “Tuesday? This Tuesday?”

  Arden nodded.

  “How the hell were you planning on packing everything up by then?”

  “We’ve got till the end of the month to clear out.”

  Scott couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How long had this been in the works? Why was he just hearing about it now? But there was one question that trumped all others now. “Who bought the place?”

  Arden’s lips thinned. He wrapped his hands tightly around his mug. When he finally answered, Scott felt even colder than he had before. “You’re not going to like it.”

  Scott’s thoughts raced. Who could be buying it? Obviously it must be someone they knew if Arden thought he wouldn’t like it. But who had enough money? Oh, shit. “The Picards?”

  “Yeah.”

  He would have words for his cousin. That was for certain.

  Chapter 22

  OCEAN WOKE to the sound of birds. Blackbirds, from the din they were making.

  This wasn’t her first fresh-air wakening. She’d camped out on Harkness Mountain at least a dozen times with her family. And even a few times with Lacey when they were in high school, usually when Lacey scored a bottle of Boone’s Farm wine. But never before had she camped so high up on the mountain.

  And never before had she woken up in the arms of Titus Standish. Never had she felt so safe, so warm, or so incredibly, thoroughly satisfied. And never ever had she been so much in love.

  Crazy in love.

  If she’d thought sleeping with him was going to get him out of her system, she’d been dead wrong. She’d always feared Titus was the one she couldn’t shake, and now she knew that beyond the shadow of a doubt.

  She just couldn’t tell him.

  Last night had been everything she’d ever imagined it could be. She’d thought those first two orgasms couldn’t be topped, but sometime during the night, she’d woken in a state of full arousal. Outside, the wind strafed the tarp with rain, but inside, they spooned together in Titus’s sleeping bag, his erection nudging her buttocks and his hand cupping her breast. When she’d thrust her ass into him, he’d reached for one of the condoms he’d left on the rock ledge and covered himself. Then she arched her back and lifted her leg and he entered her from behind. She’d been so ready that it was over quickly, especially after he tangled a hand in her hair and pulled her head back so he could whisper shocking things in her ear.

  The next time she’d woken before him. Turning in his arms, she’d burrowed close, kissing the hair-roughened skin of his chest, inhaling his scent, memorizing every detail. He’d woken and returned the unhurried exploration—her curved belly, her breasts, her face, her hair... When finally he moved atop her, the lovemaking was deliciously slow. Gentle. If there was one piece of her she’d thought to hold back, it was game over. She could do nothing but surrender to the wave of tenderness. To him.

  Not the smartest move, considering he was leaving. Soon they’d pack up and head back down the mountain.

  She would have to go home to her mother and face a zillion questions she didn’t want to answer. But she would answer them all so her mother wouldn’t ask again. She would answer them truthfully. Sort of. Maybe. And she would bite back on the tears until she was done.

  Titus breathed deeply, his breath warming her forehead as he exhaled. He had been sleeping with his arm draped around her. She moved as carefully as she could, trying to slide out from under the weight of his muscular arm without waking him. But as she moved away, his arm tightened around her, rolled her gently back into his embrace.

  “Hey.” He kissed her forehead.

  “Hey yourself.”

  She raised a hand to his scruffy, whiskered face. She liked this look. Masculine. Ruffled. Uncivilized. His hair was a total mess. And his eyes had the look of a man who’d been well-sated. As she drank in the look in those eyes, she realized he was studying her too.

  She smiled widely.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  She shrugged against the makeshift pillow beneath her head “Just...stuff.”

  His brow furrowed. “Tell me. Penny for your thoughts.”

  “A penny? You don’t want to know very badly, do you?”

  “Ten bucks then.”

  “Hmm, still not convinced.”

  “Tell me.” He kissed the tip of her nose. Even though his touch was teasing, there was a seriousness in his voice. “What were you thinking about?”

  She bit her lip. “What if you don’t want to know?”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I was thinking how of all the moments in your world, Titus Standish, this one is all mine. Even after today. I get this memory.”

  There. She’d told him.

  Would he laugh,
snicker, roll his eyes?

  He did none of those things. He didn’t say a single word, just looked back at her solemnly, which gave her the courage to continue.

  “I know I’m not the first woman to wake up in your arms. But at this moment, with you looking so perfectly imperfect...this is mine.”

  And God, he did look perfect. Perfect for her. Sleepy and strong. Rough and gentle. Wild. Titus the Titan…with his guard down.

  “I’ve never been with a woman here,” he said, his voice gruff. “And I swear to God, never like this. I’ve never had a night like I just had with you.”

  She ducked her head and blinked rapidly, her heart full at the thought that Titus had claimed a few moments—a few memories—of his own.

  After a silent, aching moment, she lifted her gaze to his again. “I’ll get up and start a fire in the pit.” This time she was determined to crawl out of the sleeping bag, and he didn’t move to stop her when she unzipped it. “I know you’re packing coffee,” she said. “Don’t even try to hold out on me.”

  He didn’t crack a smile. “I can make it.”

  “I’ll do it. I want to.” She crawled out. Gathering her clothes, she dressed quickly. A glance at Titus revealed that he lay flat on his back now, his eyes turned toward the ceiling as if to give her privacy. Right, as if he hadn’t explored every bit of her body mere hours ago.

  Even as she zipped her coat, he kept his gaze averted. “It’s all in my rucksack,” he said. “Inside back compartment. A couple packs of instant coffee and two tin cups. You can heat the water in them. Just place them close to the fire. Not on it. Don’t burn yourself.”

  “Got it,” she said. “But give me a minute. I have to answer nature’s call first.”

  It had stopped raining in the night, but the grass and vegetation were still wet. She took care of business quickly, using the rest of the water in her collapsible bottle to wash her hands and splash her face. There were still a couple of bottles of water back at the cave. Plenty to last the easier, uncomplicated trek back down the mountain.

  Yes, back down. At some point in the early morning hours, she realized she no longer felt the burning need to challenge White Crow Cliff. Maybe figuring out what must have happened with Lacey had helped her let it go. Or maybe it was the epiphany about why she was struggling so hard in her own life and with the writing. Having already come face-to-face with the fear that was holding her back, she wouldn’t feel like a complete failure if she relented and went back down the mountain. Titus would be happy to hear that. Of course, he might already have figured that out for himself. He’d been way ahead of her on understanding what she was really afraid of.

  When she re-entered the cave a few moments later, she stopped up short in front of the fire pit. The fire was already laid. Had he done that in the few minutes she’d been gone? She glanced toward the bedroll to see that he was still lying there. Then she remembered he’d crept out before dawn to answer his own call. She’d been so blissfully exhausted, she’d drifted easily back to sleep, not even stirring when he’d slipped back in beside her. He had to have laid the fire then.

  All she needed was a little tinder to kindle the fire. And that she had in spades.

  Her manuscript.

  She went to his pack and pulled it out, along with the tin cups and the instant coffee. Putting the coffee makings aside, she turned her attention to the manuscript. The pages were dog-eared, even more so than before. She flipped through them as she stood by the fire pit. But this time she didn’t cringe as Roz’s red-inked critiques jumped out at her—More emotion. Go deeper. Where’s the heart? Where’s the life?

  She reread just a few pages—pivotal ones. And she saw two things clearly.

  First, she was a damned good playwright. She really was. Judging Kate was original. Clever as hell.

  Second, Roz was utterly, completely right. She had been holding back on emotion. All because she was afraid to fail. Not so much herself, but Lacey. Titus had helped her see how deeply afraid she’d been to live the life she and Lacey had dreamed about, without her friend. Now it was time to let her words live. Time to let her dream live on.

  She flipped through the pages to the bottom of Act One. O, you can do much better! Roz had written.

  Finally, Ocean believed her.

  She heard the sound of ripping paper behind her and turned. Titus stood there fully dressed, yet still looking on the wild side.

  Her gaze fell to the shredded papers in his hand. The map!

  “What’d you do that for?”

  “We need tinder.”

  Ocean cocked an eyebrow. “I already have some. Lots of it.” She held up a sheaf of pages.

  “Ah, but this is already shredded.” He ripped the old map into several more strips and bent to tuck them around the kindling wood. He rolled up the last bit of paper into a tight twist, then offered it to her along with his lighter. “Want to do the honors?”

  She took the paper from him, lit it, and used it to set fire to the other shreds. The small branches caught fire instantly, and the flames began to lick the larger branches. Soon the fire was going in earnest.

  “Okay, I have to admit I couldn’t have laid a fire nearly as well. Thanks.”

  “No problem. Now where are those tin cups?”

  She gestured to where she’d deposited the coffee fixings. He fetched a bottle of water, poured some in each cup, and showed her where to place them so the new flames barely licked them.

  “We’ll have hot coffee in ten minutes, even if it is instant,” he said.

  “As long as it’s caffeinated, I’ll be in heaven.” Ocean shoved the manuscript into her backpack.

  Titus took a few minutes to reorganize his own backpack. She watched in fascination, amazed that he could get so much in there. It must weigh a freaking ton. And he didn’t even have his tenting gear. He must’ve left it back at the cabin when he’d realized she was gone and set out to catch up.

  When he stashed the first aid kit back in his pack, he looked up at her and grinned. She grinned right back, then turned toward the fire to check on the cups.

  “I think our water’s probably hot enough.”

  He got up and came over to the fire. “I think you’re right.”

  He put on a glove and lifted the cups out of the pit one at a time, placing them on the rock ledge.

  Ocean tore open two of the coffee packets and dumped one into each cup.

  “We’ll have to let it cool a few minutes,” he cautioned. “The lip of the cup will be too hot.”

  “Of course.” She looked at the sugar and artificial sweeteners and coffee whiteners in the bag. “Need any of this stuff?”

  “Nope. I just carry that for other folks.” He handed her a spoon which she used to stir her coffee to dissolve the granules and passed it back to him. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Thanks? You’re welcome? How weird was it that they were being so polite? It seemed incongruous after the dirty things he’d whispered in her ear last night and the demands she’d made of him. Heck, forget about what words had come out of their mouths. What about what they’d done with their mouths?

  At the same time, it felt good to be doing these little domestic things together, like helping Titus take down the tarp, shake it out and fold it for packing. And while he packed up the bedroll, squeezing the air out of the self-inflating pad, she dug through the rations to find something for breakfast. And yes, the video recorder in her mind was still running, making memories to be taken out later, played and replayed. How pitiful was that?

  Except she refused to be sad. Not yet.

  “Okay, I think our cups are cool enough now,” he announced.

  A moment later, they sat sharing coffee and a sparse breakfast and gazing over at White Crow Cliff.

  She sighed, deeply.

  “Coffee that bad?” Titus said.

  “That good. The food too.”

  “Well, I do pack a killer trail mix.”


  “Now for your next feat of wonder,” she said. “Find our way back down Harkness Mountain without a map.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “Because you know every inch of this mountain?”

  “I know every dip and bend of it,” he confirmed. “Every large bolder and sign along the way. I also know every road and street in the Prince Region. Every house and mailbox in Harkness. And now I know every inch of you, Ocean. Every wonderful inch.”

  His words surprised her, and there was a bittersweet, almost struggling look in his eyes. She sucked in a breath and wet her lips.

  She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t go back into those strong arms.

  Later, she’d be able to. She’d be stronger. But just at this moment, with the inevitability of their parting a freshly opened wound, she couldn’t do it. It would hurt too much.

  “We should get going,” she said.

  Titus nodded, finished his coffee. “Yeah.”

  Five minutes later, they’d broken camp and stood outside the cave—the fire out, sleeping bag and tarp strapped to Titus’s bag. There was nothing physical left behind at all to indicate they’d even been there.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “Absolutely. White Crow Cliff, here we come.”

  She took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about that. We can just head down the mountain, if you like.”

  “Down?”

  She shrugged. “After figuring that stuff out yesterday, I’ve decided it won’t crush me not to conquer White Crow. Yesterday, I couldn’t see a way forward until I’d faced that damned cliff and won, but today I know I can make it just as I am.”

  “Good.” His smile was gentle. “I’m glad to hear that. It means you’re healing.”

  “I think so too.” She smiled back. When he made no move, she added, “So…down?”

  He turned to look across at the crisscrossed rock shelves of White Crow. “I don’t think so.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Let’s do it, Ocean.” He turned back to her, his gaze pinning hers. “Let’s make the climb.”

  Her stomach dropped. “For Lacey?”