Take My Breath Away

by Christie Ridgway

  Denny had never touched her heart. Only her pride. “Ryan is not Denny.”

  Mac pinched the bridge of her nose. “Tell me you’re not in love with him.”

  “I’m not in love with him.” That was an impossibility, because he wouldn’t be able to deeply care about Mason, her number one requirement of a man in her life.

  Her sisters exchanged glances. “Look,” Mac began, “you’re...”

  “Too naive?” Poppy volunteered, her voice bitter. “Too foolish? Too soft-hearted? Do those really make me the family screwup?”

  “You’re a die-hard optimist,” Shay corrected gently. “We worry about those rose-colored glasses you wear.”

  “Fine.” Poppy mimed lifting a pair from her face and dashing them to the ground. “Happy now?”

  “We’re worried about you becoming unhappy,” Shay said. “Ryan Hamilton is...”

  A wounded man.

  And perhaps it was naive and foolish of her, but she thought she just might be good for him, like Linus had said. I care a lot about my brother, Poppy. I’m convinced you do him good. You and Mason.

  Could she walk away from him, from the possibility of that? He was a father who had lost his son. Couldn’t she remain at the lake house a few more days with the prospect of helping him heal?

  Mac made a sound of disgust. “Hell. We’re wasting our time. You’re at least half-gone already.”

  Poppy felt color rise up her neck. “I’m not.” Still, she thought of the desperate grasp of his hands on her body in the dark. And then the gentle play of his fingers through Mason’s hair.

  Linus’s voice again, those words he’d said to her nearly a week ago. You’re good for him. You’re a distraction.

  Maybe Ryan was her distraction, as well. Instead of wallowing in self-pity about what had gone wrong during that hailstorm, she was already coming up with better ideas and new plans. It seemed he was good for her, too.

  “You’re not in love with him,” Mac said, skepticism in her voice, “yet you won’t leave that house.”

  “Not until the end of the month,” Poppy replied, making her decision right then and there. And it wasn’t Linus’s words that persuaded her or even the wish to show her sisters she knew her own mind. She wanted to do this for Ryan.

  But what if you end up back in his bed?

  Poppy let herself contemplate that and in that moment she went from sunshine-warmed to sexual heat. Without thinking, she lifted the lemonade and pressed the cool glass against the side of her neck. “What if?” was feeling a lot more like “Why not?” to her libido.

  For a moment she was back in that shadowed room, her heart beating in her throat, her skin trembling with the fever only intense desire could bring. Ryan between her legs, his mouth insistent and ardent. Ryan over her, his chest’s heat burning her spine and his touches blowing her mind. Making her feel womanly and possessed and...wanted. God, being wanted had felt so good.

  Even single mothers are sexual beings. Oh, yes, they were.

  Mac made another small sound. “I don’t want to even know what you’re thinking about now.”

  Poppy could feel the slow smile curving her lips. Perhaps she was a cock-eyed optimist. A knucklehead. But this optimistic knucklehead just might be getting herself a lover until the end of the month, in the form of one gorgeous, experienced and talented hunk of man with the kind of sexual star power that a woman would risk getting singed to experience.

  She was going to quit trying to avoid the burn.

  “I’m thinking exactly what I want,” she told her sisters. “I’m doing exactly what I want.”

  And it felt good, steering her own course. She wouldn’t allow herself to spoil it by worrying she might be aiming straight for disaster.

  * * *

  FROM YOU SEND ME, a screenplay by Linus Hamilton:

  EXT. LOS ANGELES—DAY

  Sad music plays, and LINUS is in his convertible as September heat shimmers from the asphalt. He’s traversing L.A.’s famous streets, Mulholland Drive, Hollywood Boulevard, Sunset Boulevard, as if looking for something. His gaze lands on a post office and on impulse he pulls into the parking lot. For a moment he stares ahead, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. Then he pulls back out.

  With the top now up on his convertible, LINUS is driving again, this time in the suburbs. As he passes by a school, there is a line of small children dressed as pilgrims and Indians. The teacher carries a turkey-filled platter. He turns a corner and a U.S. flag catches his eye. Another post office. He pulls in, and again doesn’t get out of the car before leaving.

  Christmas decorations are everywhere as LINUS is again driving. Carols are playing through his car stereo speakers. He’s dressed in a red sweater and there are packages to be mailed on the seat beside him. LINUS pulls into the parking lot of a post office, brakes, then goes inside.

  INT. LARGE, BUSY POST OFFICE—DAY

  With the packages in his arms, LINUS waits in line. More cheerful Christmas music plays, at contrast with his mournful expression. Appearing lost in thought, LINUS steps up to the counter, where a male postal worker is waiting. On top of the clerk’s head is a fuzzy Santa hat.

  The clerk smiles.

  CLERK

  Can I help you, sir?

  LINUS looks at him as if he’s speaking a strange language.

  CLERK

  (louder)

  Can I help you?

  LINUS’s head turns and he gazes about him. Clearly he doesn’t really know why he’s here.

  LINUS

  I’m lost...I’m lost without her.

  He wanders toward the exit, unmailed packages still in his arms.

  * * *

  CHARLIE WAS WELL aware of the disadvantages of life in small mountain resort communities. Beyond the guaranteed transience of tourist romances, there was also the fact that the locals watched over everybody at every moment. Today, though, she embraced that particular drawback. A mere ninety minutes after putting out the word she was on the hunt for someone, a text told her where to find him.

  Her stomach as tight as a fist, she walked along the sidewalk in the direction of the coffee bar. Spring had arrived with a vengeance, riding high on a heat wave. The shops were doing a brisk business and people were dressed in shorts and flip-flops, their sweatshirts tied at their waists. Charlie had opted for one of her favorite sundresses, a cherry-red knee-skimmer that wouldn’t allow her to fade into the woodwork in case she lost her courage. Instead of sandals, she wore it with a pair of cowboy boots.

  Another safeguard from cold feet.

  Still, though, they stuttered to a halt when she spied Linus seated on a small bench against the front wall of Oscar’s Coffee. His fingers were curled around a cardboard cup and his chin was tipped up, his head leaning against the shop’s white-painted siding. Behind his sunglasses, she imagined his eyes were closed.

  So she took some moments to simply look at him, in all his male glory. The planes and angles of his handsome features were only topped in appeal by the easygoing charm that he wore as close to the bone as his golden skin. The combination was such a powerful one that when he’d walked into her post office nearly seven months ago she’d waltzed into a romance with barely a qualm. After all, she’d thought, with that photo printed off the internet in her wallet, she had her fortifications in place.

  What a fool she’d been, to think a flimsy scrap of paper could keep her safe. Like Laurie, she’d gone straight over the cliff.

  A passerby bumped her shoulder, shoving her forward so she was forced to take a step. At his apology, she turned her head to half smile and wave a hand, and when she looked back at Linus’s bench, she saw he’d straightened. Even from behind his glasses she was aware he watched her every move.

  So there was nothing to do but continue
her approach. Charlie tightened her hold on her purse and stepped into the railed area designated for the sidewalk seating. Though the bench was large enough for two, she dragged a free wrought-iron chair closer and then dropped into it.

  She squirmed as the sun-heated metal touched the backs of her thighs. A literal hot seat.

  Linus looked on with polite inquiry on his face. “Can I get you something? Coffee? Iced tea?”

  Oh, so damn considerate, she thought, unsteadied by his insouciance. Maybe he was as disinterested as he sounded. But that wasn’t the point, was it? She’d come here to be honest with him. The sight of the hurt on his face during their confrontation at Blossom’s had scraped at her every hour of the four days that had passed since that time. Steven Parker had never been about causing Linus pain...only about protecting herself from it. So now it was time to come clean. Explain everything.

  Swallowing hard, Charlie brought her purse to her lap and told herself to be brave. “I have something for you.”

  “Oh?” One of his eyebrows winged over the frame of his sunglasses and his voice sounded so very, very cool. “Is this where you hand over a cardboard box filled with my books you borrowed, the mix tape I made you and the pair of shoes I forgot at your place?”

  When he’d returned to L.A., Linus had left nothing of his behind. Not even an old T-shirt to keep her company or a discarded toothbrush that she could stick in a glass on her counter to pretend he might return. She curled her fingers into fists and when she felt the pressure building behind her eyes, she told herself it was temper, not tears.

  Because Linus had gone off for six months and then had the gall, the utter gall, to walk back into her life and criticize her for doing what she could to protect her heart. Annoyance added an edge to her nerves.

  “Look,” she said, staring him down, “what you don’t understand is stories like ours happen all the time around here.”

  He set his cup on the ground and crossed his arms over his chest. “Our story is not like anyone else’s.”

  “Like hell,” Charlie muttered. “You’ve been in the bars. You’ve been with me at Blossom and Mr. Frank’s. Tell me you haven’t noticed the flirting, tell me you haven’t witnessed the first stages of numerous hookups.”

  “That happens everywhere, Charlie, not just here in Blue Arrow.” He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, still such a cool customer. “People meet, explore their chemistry. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.”

  She leaned forward. “But here it never works—not long-term, not when it’s between a local and a visitor. You see that, right? For men like you, it’s always a vacation romance, over when you go home. But for those of us from here, this is home. If we’re not careful, what you considered a short fling, for us gets...rooted.”

  “So you dreamed up Steven Parker.” Linus said the name like a curse, some of his seeming indifference falling away. “You dreamed up a dishonest ploy to prevent any of these flings from having a chance at turning serious.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a good reason? Because hurt happens here all the time. My aunt was shredded by a short-term affair. My cousin Poppy fell for a guy who walked away when he learned she was pregnant.” Her eyes were stinging now, but she went on. “And then there was Laurie. My Laurie.”

  Charlie’s chest was so heavy no air could make it to her lungs. Maybe she couldn’t do this, after all. She started to rise but Linus’s hands were on her shoulders, pushing her back down.

  They were knee-to-knee now and he held her in her seat. “What about her?” he asked, his voice as soft as his hands were unyielding. “What about your Laurie?”

  Closing her eyes, Charlie saw it in her mind. That little sedan her friend had received for her sweet sixteen. Laurie had loved that car, but not as much as the man who’d come to Blue Arrow Lake five years later. Still, it was what she’d taken with her over that cliff.

  “Laurie...Laurie fell for one of the Summer Beaus. What she didn’t know was he’d come for a few weeks of bachelor fun before returning to his fiancée and their autumn wedding. When Laurie realized it was over, and why, she...went for a drive.”

  And in her mind, Charlie saw it all, her best friend’s desperate unhappiness, the likely tears on her face, the broken shards of her heart, the speedometer needle edging higher and higher and then that little car sailing over the rail and flying into space before dropping down...down...down. Burying her face in her hands, Charlie curled into herself.

  “Oh, God.” Linus stroked her shoulders, her arms. “Are you saying she killed herself?”

  “I don’t know,” Charlie said, her face still covered. “We’ll never know.”

  “Let’s get out of here. Let me—”

  “No.” She lifted her head and rubbed the heels of her hands across her cheeks. “I came to do this. To give you something.”

  Inhaling a shuddering breath, she dug into her purse and pulled out a sheaf of letters. Staring down at them, she hesitated once again. “A few months after Laurie was...gone, we were at a girls’ night and I came up with Steven Parker. I thought he could be the defender of our souls, the strong warrior to guard our hearts.”

  “That’s why he’s a soldier in your photo.”

  She nodded. “Other people imagine him differently.”

  “Grace has got herself a surfer.”

  Charlie smiled a little. “To navigate the rough seas of love.” She looked up. “That’s how you figured it out? I saw you talking to her the other night. She tossed out Steven Parker? We’re only supposed to use him one at a time, but...”

  “There’s all those rough seas out there.”

  There was understanding in his eyes, Charlie thought, the tightness in her chest easing a little. Still, what had to happen next wouldn’t be easy. So she did it like you ripped off a bandage. On a quick inhale, she shoved the bundle of letters at Linus.

  “What’s this?”

  “I wrote them, addressed them, hand-canceled each and every one. Picked out the pretty stamps, too.”

  He studied them in his hands. “You wrote me letters.”

  “After you left. But I never mailed them.” Charlie noted Linus’s fingers were trembling as he sifted through the envelopes. That very uncool, very undetached sign of emotion made her want to cry all over again...or twirl in circles like a delighted child. Oh, Linus.

  He looked up. “What do they say, Sal?”

  Sal. Oh, Linus. “Various things. Accounts of the weather, post office trivia—”

  “What do they say, Sal?” he repeated.

  It was time to tell the whole truth. “Between the lines...and sometimes right on the lines, they say...they say that last summer I fell in love with you, Linus.”

  He cocked his head, his gaze trained on her face. “And now?”

  Her hand slipped into her purse and pulled out one last missive. “This one I wrote yesterday. It...it says I still love you.” After a moment, she blinked. “Wow. I wasn’t sure I could do it. But I was honest. I took the risk.”

  Linus continued to stare at her. “Anything spectacular requires a bit of that.”

  Blood was rushing through her veins, hot and cold by turn as terror and gladness alternated through her. “Well?” she said, the only word she could manage now that her mouth had gone desert-dry.

  Now he blinked. “Well...what?”

  Okay, it was only icy terror now. “Is there something—”

  “I didn’t say it? I didn’t tell you that I love you back?”

  The sun came out from whatever cloud it had been hiding behind. “No,” she whispered.

  Linus smiled, so handsome, so charming...so sincere. The gladness that was pouring through her was reflected in his eyes. “Because I’ve thought it, Sal. Almost from the very first instant I saw you.”

 
And now Charlie let the pent-up tears free again as she launched herself to him. He took her into his arms, and kissed her with a passion that made her laugh with joy once he lifted his head.

  And laugh again, when the people surrounding them, at the tables and on the sidewalk, started up an appreciative applause. Standing, Linus took an elaborate bow—performer to the bone—then, drawing her up by the hand, indicated she should make her curtsy. Feeling silly and sentimental, goofy and girly, she did just that.

  And then everyone else fell away and it was just Charlie and Linus, staring into each other’s eyes. “What happens next?” she asked him.

  He rested his forehead against hers. “We go behind some closed doors and let me do that thing you really like best about me.”

  “That sounds—”

  “Excuse me,” a voice said, causing them to look up and realize they were blocking the entrance to Oscar’s. As one, Charlie and Linus stepped aside so another young couple could make their way inside. In a moment of sweet astonishment, she recognized the pair as none other than local boy Tom, arm in arm with his Summer Girl, the college coed who had driven away in tears six-plus months before.

  Charlie had been so sure that relationship was over.

  Linus leaned close. “Now what do you have to say?” he asked, his voice rich with good humor and smug satisfaction. Then Charlie’s rite of passage slid his arms around her and squeezed her very, very tight.

  That’s when she realized that even though she intended to keep Linus forever, he still represented her transition from one status to another. From risk-averse girl to brave woman. From guarded heart to open soul.

  From skeptic of love to daydream believer.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  IT WAS EARLY EVENING, and Ryan walked into the kitchen. Poppy, in jeans and stocking feet, stood near the counter pouring coffee into a mug, having returned from settling her son into bed. She glanced over at him, her hair coming a little loose from her usual side braid. Mussed, he decided, because she’d been propped against Mason’s pillows while she read him Where the Wild Things Are or Goodnight Moon.