The Art of Love (The Windswept Saga)

by Tommie Conrad

  His mouth fell open. “I’m only about five percent offended you think of me in that way.” His clasped hands rested against her hip. “The problem is I’m too easy to read, and always have been. They’d been there all of five minutes, Holmes and Watson, before they figured it out.”

  She lowered her head onto his shoulder. “I can’t imagine much sex talk passing between the three of you. Too uncomfortable, for obvious reasons.”

  He smiled at her confidence. “Exactly. We mostly talked about the kids and the house. A few ranching odds and ends.”

  “I think you’ll join them someday soon. This gallery will become your side project, and you’ll start ranching. And you’ll be happier than you’ve ever been in your life.”

  Too late, he thought. “Maybe.” His voice carried with it a strong current of hope. “But for now, this isn’t half-bad.” He leaned into her kiss, reveling in the sweet taste of her lips, the lingering flavor of warm tea on her tongue. Just as they were about to come up for air, a light knock interrupted them. Chandler gave her an amused look, his eyes saying Yeah, get used to being disrupted. “Come in,” he deadpanned.

  Alison stuck her head through the door, her eyes brightening as she saw Taylor held safely in Chandler’s arms. “Hey, you two—mixing business with pleasure?”

  “Staff meeting,” Chandler replied gently. “What can I do for you this morning?”

  “I just stopped by to see if Taylor wanted to have lunch with your sister and myself today. But I could see now how that might be a problem.”

  Chandler kissed the corner of Taylor’s eye. “We’re not inseparable—yet. I’ll shut up now and let her answer the question.”

  Taylor nodded. “I would love to join the two of you. Are we ordering in?”

  “We are,” Alison responded. She lifted her chin questioningly. “What about you, kid?”

  Chandler feigned confusion. “Me? Nah, I’d only be in the way, and I have some things to take care of. Order me a sandwich, though, and we’ll be square.”

  Alison nodded. “Deal. See you at 11:30, T.” And with a flourish of her long brown hair, she headed back to her store.

  Taylor nuzzled into his neck. “I could’ve said no.”

  He rested his head atop hers. “Don’t worry about it. You couldn’t ask for two better lunch companions.”

  Her thumb slid beneath his chin. “Then why did you say no?”

  Chandler laughed, the sound faint and restrained. “Because I’ve had an entire lifetime of meals with them. And it’ll give you a chance to talk about boys.”

  “You’re sweet,” she replied. “But I’d better get to work. Can’t have the boss thinking I’m a slacker.”

  He pulled her into an eager kiss. “Can’t have that, can we?” Chandler helped her to her feet. “The clock’s ticking.”

  He watched her saunter away, not feeling the least bit guilty about taking in the view. Their gazes had lingered over one another for much of Saturday morning, marveling at the shapes and contours, both hard and soft, lines and demarcations that had fit together exactly right in the darkness. They’d taken possession and ownership, staked their claim. He was falling hard and fast for her, and it wasn’t the first time. But this go round, he’d already promised himself, would be for good. For keeps.

  ***

  Christa looked her up and down before pulling her into a hug. “You look great,” she said. “And I’m so glad you could join us today.”

  Alison moved efficiently around the shop, straightening clothes, putting misplaced items back on the proper shelf, and making mental notes about what to order next. “You know what that look is about, Chris,” she called out from across the room.

  Taylor replied with an ironic stare. “Don’t listen to her,” Christa countered. “Look happy and be proud of it.”

  She met Christa with a skeptical gaze. “She did find me in your brother’s lap this morning.” She sighed. “I guess the bull is already out of the chute.”

  “It was inevitable,” Alison replied, stepping behind the counter and unwrapping their food. “He was either going to fire you and plaster a hangdog look on his face, or he was going to kiss you like he’d never kissed anyone in his life.”

  Taylor sipped from her soda, feeling confusion set in. “Would either of you say Chandler is wary of commitment?”

  “I would say the opposite is true,” Christa maintained. “I just think he’s been too freewheeling to ever let it happen.”

  “Until now,” Alison contended. “But don’t let that fool you into thinking he’s the carefree, easygoing type—that’s CJ’s racket. Chandler has enough caring and concern in him for three people. He just has trouble verbalizing it.”

  “I’ve noticed that it’s a lot easier for him when he’s with family. He can share anything with you.”

  Christa nodded. “He worries more about our happiness than his own, sometimes to his detriment. And you can’t fault him for caring, for loving you and wanting you to be safe and sound.”

  They ate in silence for several minutes, as Taylor contemplated their words. She didn’t doubt Chandler’s feelings for her, nor the attachment she felt for him. She simply wondered if it was all happening too fast, like a rush of quicksilver. He’d been honest and upfront with her about his romantic history. He wasn’t a cad, but had spent nearly as much time alone and unaccompanied as she had over the past two years. He was fortunate to have his family, a luxury she knew many would take for granted. And now he’d added her back into his life. Losing Riley had felt like the end of her existence. Now she felt like it was beginning anew, memories of sorrow tempered with shards of bright sunlight. There was an inherent risk, a sense of danger that came from placing all of her trust in Chandler—but then again faith was almost always, by definition, blind.

  “I have to get back home,” Christa said when they’d finished eating. “I wanted to spend as much of the school holiday with the boys as possible, but I couldn’t resist Alison’s invitation, and I had to come into town anyway.” She smiled brightly. “It’s always wonderful to see you, Taylor. I hope you won’t be a stranger around the ranch.”

  Taylor smiled at her. Even with her blonde hair pulled tightly into a simple ponytail, Christa was nothing less than radiant. “I’ll try to come out there again, very soon.”

  “Great.” Christa hugged both of them goodbye and left after checking on Chandler. No matter how old he got or how busy she was, she’d always take the extra second just to make sure he was in one piece.

  “You remind me of her.” Alison’s admission, offered a few seconds later, startled Taylor.

  “What do you mean?”

  She penciled several items onto an impromptu list before answering. “Christa isn’t just my best friend—she’s someone I admire.” Alison looked at her, those brown eyes carrying the weight of something serious. “She has a lot of inner strength. Listen, she and Mark are solid as Gibraltar now, but this time last year they were headed for divorce court. Neither of them mentioned it aloud to me, but I think they were five minutes away from calling the lawyers. Anyway, you’ve been apprised of it so there’s no need to rehash the past. I’m just saying that you remind me of her. You’ve got a quiet strength that keeps you upright when times are tough.”

  Taylor blushed, finding herself at a loss for words. “I’ve never really thought about myself like that. Are you sure you don’t have me confused with someone else?”

  Alison laid down her notepad and laughed heartily. “Believe me, you’ve got fortitude. Chandler needs someone who can challenge him, knock his world off its axis a few degrees. I think you’re the one to do just that.”

  ***

  Those words echoed in Taylor’s head long after she’d left Alison’s shop and went back to work at the gallery. She loved Chandler, but wasn’t sure she could be the one to “challenge” him. That didn’t feel like the right word for their relationship—it had always been more egalitarian than all of that, free of mind games and
unmet desires. He bolstered her confidence, and she encouraged his talents. They’d loved madly and ultimately flamed out when she clipped the wick without enough foresight. Even if Alison had misjudged their relationship on a fundamental level, perhaps she’d been right in pushing Taylor to see her own inner compass. Maybe it was that magnetic north that led her back into Chandler’s arms. Regardless of all that, the workday was done, her tasks complete, and it was time to be at his side again. She locked up, flipped off the lights, and walked to his office, where she found him filing paperwork.

  “Hey, pretty girl.” Chandler stood, shut down the computer, and shoved his chair under the desk. She went to him, found comfort in his arms. “How’d you like to go out for an early supper?”

  “I’d love to.” He kissed her with surprising intensity, raptly tracing his tongue along her lips. “Did you miss me?” she asked jokingly.

  Chandler laughed hoarsely. “Of course. It’s been, what, two hours since I last saw your beautiful face.” He kissed her again. “Your soft lips.” His thumb slid along her pulse, felt it throb. “The way your chest lifts when…”

  “Okay,” she said, squeezing his arm. “Take me to dinner before I change my mind.” He released her long enough to place her coat over her shoulders and slip into his. Then, arm curved around her back, he guided them to the chilly streets of their hometown. People were headed home from work and the lanes of traffic moved slowly. Dirty snow was packed into the shaded places formed by sidewalks. Stores were closing, leaving streetlights to illuminate their faces. And for the two of them, the hustle and bustle of the world might as well have been white noise. From the corner of his eye, Chandler kept a close watch on her, the happy way her cheeks lifted when he told a silly joke, the easy way her lips would curve into a smile afterward.

  They were seated at a cozy booth, the restaurant fairly quiet on that Monday evening. Chandler entwined his fingers through hers, only removed them when it was time to eat.

  “If I keep eating all of this rich food,” Taylor alleged, “I’m going to really pack on the pounds.”

  Chandler laughed without opening his mouth. “I’ve got the perfect way to work off the extra calories.”

  “Do you now?”

  “Oh yeah.” His smile gleamed in the candlelight. “Put you on a horse, show you how to round up a few strays.”

  Her brow furrowed, as though she was seriously considering the offer. “Will I get paid overtime?”

  A sparer smile this time. “There are definitely some fringe benefits.”

  When the bill had been paid he knotted her hand-knit scarf securely around her neck, pulled on his gloves, and walked her through the town square until he couldn’t feel his nose. The fountain was shut off for winter’s duration, the coins cleaned out, its vessel full of snow. The quickest way to warm up, he assured her, was a prolonged kiss. She couldn’t find any reason to dispute him.

  Afterward they went back to his apartment and straight to the bedroom. Clothes were removed in an unhurried manner. Hands and mouths lingered, tracing the pathways to desire. With the blinds open and the curtains pulled closed, they made love by filtered twilight. They moved together slowly, each touch precise and measured. They wrung themselves dry, giving and taking, neither willing to admit fatigue or satiety. Two bodies were pushed to the limit, and then further, past the breaking point, where neither yearned for anything greater than one more moment of pleasure.

  When the sky collapsed down upon them, he held their still shuddering bodies in the middle of the bed, caressing her face with his parched lips. Her lids fluttered closed, and his quickly followed.

  “Taylor?”

  “Hmm?” They’d just gotten out of the shower, and he was toweling her hair dry. He pulled her close, the soft cloth of her robe brushing against his bare skin.

  “I think you might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispered.

  She nestled her face against his pounding heart, felt the warmth of skin, of life, wrapping her tightly. “I love you, Chandler.”

  Exhausted as he was, it was hard for him to settle down that night. For a long time after she went home, Chandler lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, letting his emotions run the gamut from brazen lust to bracing fear. To need someone that much, to want them back when they’d already broken your heart once—it was just about the scariest thing he could imagine. He’d been caught on airplanes over the ocean, faltering with turbulence. He’d nearly been gored by a bull at the age of ten when he was goofing around outside its pen; to this day, only CJ knew about that, having pulled him from the jaws of death at the last second, and the two of them had sworn to carry the secret to their graves. He’d been tossed from horses, gotten his wrists and ankles caught in ropes and stirrups, leaving them bruised and raw for what seemed like weeks. And still, his love for Taylor was more frightening than all of that. He chided himself for being such a wimp, just before dreams of her overtook him for good.

  Chapter 16

  Over the next few weeks, Chandler refilled the walls of the gallery with a variety of works, large and small, his inspiration flourishing thanks to his new-found happiness. Taylor worked side-by-side with him, selling and promoting, pushing his gallery to anyone who would listen. In his spare time he worked on his house and helped Mark some on the ranch, but most of his private moments were devoted to Taylor. They had settled into a familiar rhythm, learning new things, relearning some others. He surprised himself by how deeply he felt for her, literally feeling an aching desire in his stomach whenever she wasn’t around, and striving to be the perfect partner when she was in his crosshairs. It felt like every segment of his life was now falling into place, her love willing him to seek the same contentment his siblings had already achieved.

  Taylor felt a sense of joy, one that was missing from her life in those days of her son’s illness and passing. When Chandler brought her to his house for the first time, she couldn’t help the pervasive feeling of enchantment. That curving staircase looked like something from an old movie, the kind that always had a romantic thread running toward a happy ending. He explained to her how much time and money he’d spent painting the downstairs, with an entire floor yet to be done.

  “This kitchen’ll be great for Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter and every holiday you can imagine.” Chandler grasped her hand in anticipation of an answer. “What do you think?”

  She nodded. “It’s great, but where are the appliances?” Her eyes had drifted across the solid wood cabinets, clearly high-quality and sturdy, but paling in comparison to the accompanying breakfast area with sweeping views of the mountains.

  His smiled at her attentively. “I donated them, because they were still useful but not my style. I’ve ordered new ones, delivery to be determined.”

  “It’s a great house,” she agreed. So far she’d only seen the first floor.

  “It’ll be a great place to raise a family.” It wasn’t the first time he’d mention that particular f-word, but each time she blanched, and subsequently worried that he had noticed. She didn’t hate the idea of having his children, growing old with him, but she also had that gnawing remembrance of a lost family at the forefront every time the subject arose. It wasn’t like he was slipping a ring on her finger, but he was definitely committed. She’d known before they made love that this could never be platonic—he’d shown her the winning hand, and she had left herself without any bargaining chips. “What’re you thinking about, sweetheart?” He lifted her from the floor, set her atop the island so he could look into her eyes without stooping over.

  “You,” she replied succinctly.

  He grinned at her. “Me? I’m right here.”

  She hooked her index fingers through his belt loops. “That’s what I know. You’ve got a lot of grit and drive. You’re…unexpected. Unplanned. Not what I was counting on.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  She ran both hands under his collar, around his neck. “No. I think you�
��re just what I needed.”

  His warm breath set her face ablaze. “I need this.” He kissed her passionately, hands braced against the counter on either side of her. Her tongue wrapped around his and he hummed in response. He broke away from her reluctantly, taking in a few deep breaths.

  “It’s nice to kiss without being interrupted,” she joked. He laughed at her observation.

  “Mom and Dad want us to come over for dinner tomorrow. Are you up to it?”

  Taylor nodded. “I’d love to have dinner with them. I’ve barely had a chance to see Chase and Bryn since I came back to town.”

  “They’ve been trying not to hover,” Chandler explained. “And they keep busy with the ranch, their personal projects, the grandkids…I’d encourage them to slow down, but they’d both look at me and say ‘pot, meet kettle’.” They had a good laugh over that one—Chandler multitasked like no other person Taylor had met.

  “I’d like to have a marriage like them when I’m their age,” she revealed.

  He smiled warmly at her declaration. “Me too.”

  They walked hand-in-hand up the curved staircase, stopping at the landing to look back at the entryway. “How many bedrooms up here?” she asked after a moment.

  “Five. Enough for a big family.”

  “Where’s your room going to be?” He led her to the master suite—it was bright and spacious, but not ostentatious, graced with views of the grazing land and foothills.

  “The bed will go along the wall,” he said, motioning with their clasped hands. “When you wake up in the morning, first thing you’ll see is the new day.” He pulled her into a tight embrace. “But it’ll be even better if there’s a beautiful woman by my side.”

  She brushed her cheek against his, felt the tug of fresh-shaved skin. “It’s a shame, you know?”

  He smiled so broadly the corners of his eyes crinkled. “What’s that?”

  “That the bed isn’t here already.”

  His mouth moved close to her ear, his voice lowered to a whisper. “We’re two creative individuals. I’m sure we can figure out something.”