by Donna Fasano
“Well, it has my mouth watering.”
He watched as she swiveled around just enough to set her wine glass on the counter and then she approached him. Her chin dipped slightly and her green eyes turned darker with each step she took. She didn’t stop until she was mere inches from him. He could smell the warm, flowery scent of her hair, and the muscles in his belly contracted.
“Then again,” she whispered, “could be that it’s not the sauce at all.”
Landon offered her a languid smile.
They hadn’t made love since the wild ride they’d both thoroughly enjoyed, but each time they were together, there was an acute underlying tension that tugged and toyed with them both. They liked it. Relished it. Savored it. He knew he did, anyway. Oh, hell, he knew she did too. Sara was attracted to him, and she let him know it with each enticing smile she offered him when she knew no one else was looking. The way she would gaze at him through her thick, lowered lashes completely bewitched him. But he hadn’t acted on the attraction beyond hand-holding and a bit of kissing. He hadn’t felt he could until he’d been completely honest with her.
She splayed both palms at the base of his ribs and slowly slid them up his chest. Something purely animalistic stirred to life inside him.
“Could be—”
Her wine-sweet breath brushed his jaw as she leaned even closer.
“—what’s making me salivate has nothing at all to do with food.”
Landon refused to look away from her beautiful face, blindly reaching out to set his glass on the table behind him and hoping it didn’t crash to the floor.
“Let’s say we turn off the sauce and have dessert first.”
The sensuous drawl in her tone when she uttered the word dessert made his breath hitch in his throat. She slid her tongue across her luscious lips, and Landon’s gaze became transfixed on her mouth. He wanted to taste her. Touch her.
She was so close, all it would take was for him to lower his head and he’d become consumed. But, no. They had to talk first.
His fingers slid over the backs of her hands and he forced himself to look into her eyes.
“Sara.” His voice sounded ragged.
Her mouth curled at the corners, and she told him, “I’m not normally this shameless. But there’s something about you, Landon, that puts me at ease. Something about the way you say my name that makes me want to…”
She leaned in to kiss him, but he quickly brought his hand up between them and gently touched her lips with his index finger.
“I know what you mean. I really do.” He took her hands in his and roved over the hills and valleys of her knuckles with his thumbs. “And there’s nothing I’d like more than getting completely lost in some long, slow—” his lips quirked “—dessert.”
“Good. I’m glad you like my idea.” She kissed his thumb, then took it into her mouth, laved it with her tongue, gave it a gentle suck.
Landon grew rock hard, and for one, short moment, he considered putting off what he wanted to say; the thought of making hot, sweet love to Sara nearly overwhelmed his need to tell her what she so needed to know.
A soft groan erupted from his throat, a mixture of deep desire and even deeper regret.
“Wait, Sara,” he said. She smelled like warm sunshine. Passion shadowed her eyes to a rich, mossy green. Her skin felt like hot silk, and all he wanted to do was strip her naked and smooth his hands over her body. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t allow himself to surrender to his wants.
She began unbuttoning his shirt and kissed the vee of exposed skin on his chest.
He drew in a sharp breath; she’d drive him crazy before she was through.
Before he realized it, all the buttons were unfastened and her hands were on him, sliding on his waist and up his chest and… over his scar.
Sara jerked her hands away as if she’d touched a live wire.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Did I hurt you?”
He dragged his eyes open and saw that she had backed up several inches, and although he’d lived with the remnants of his surgery for two years now, he felt his face grow hot as he straightened.
“No. Oh, God, no. I’m fine,” he assured her, but even as he said the words, his gaze slid from hers.
What the hell? He’d never been self-conscious of his body before. In fact, he’d thought of his scar as a badge of honor. The operation hadn’t just changed his life, it had given him a life.
However, no one other than his doctors had seen it over all these months. Sara was a woman he cared about. And the welted skin that ran nearly the length of his torso wasn’t pretty. Her reaction mattered.
He forced himself to meet her gaze. “I’m all healed up. It just looks bad.” Tension knotted in his gut tight as a boxer’s fist.
Her shoulders rounded. “Oh, Landon. I’ve embarrassed you. I’m sorry. It doesn’t look bad. Honestly. I was just… startled.”
Her green eyes expressed her contrition; he wanted to let her know he was okay, but until he was certain she wasn’t repulsed by the sight of him, all he could muster was a half-hearted smile.
“It’s okay. Really.” He began to button his shirt. “In fact, this is probably good. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about… some things. I want to tell you about… well… everything I’ve been through and…”
He let the rest of his disjointed, hacked up thoughts trail away. He felt suddenly enveloped in thick, dark clouds, like something bad was about to happen.
Even if she ended up thinking he was a lunatic, he had to tell her what was on his mind.
He heaved a sigh. “Can we go into the living room and relax? I really need to talk.”
“Sure,” she told him. “I’ll turn down the sauce. Grab your glass and let’s go sit on the couch.”
“Just turn it off.” Picking up both his glass and the bottle of wine. “It’ll stay hot until we’re ready to eat.”
She turned toward the stove, but not before he caught a quick glimpse of her expression. Something bit into her brow and he couldn’t say if it was mere curiosity or concern.
Once they were settled on the sofa, Sara shifted, bringing her bent knee up onto the cushion so she was facing him.
“So,” he began, then he paused as he leaned forward and set his glass on the coffee table. He didn’t need time to collect his thoughts. He’d lived with this story his whole life. Well, he’d lived with most of the story all his life.
He’d explained his health situation to every teacher, every youth fellowship leader, every friend he’d ever had. The newer parts, his most recent experiences since the operation—the oddest bits—he was not so used to verbalizing.
“What is it, Landon?” she finally asked. “Have you decided to go home? Are you leaving Ocean City?”
Her questions took him completely off guard. “No. Absolutely not. I like it here. I’m enjoying myself. Very much.”
Relief had the tension in her face relaxing. She exhaled a little sigh.
“Oh, thank heavens. I thought that you might be feeling a little taken advantage of. I know working on all those old pipes and plumbing fixtures can’t be easy.”
“I don’t feel the least bit taken advantage of,” he assured her.
She nodded, and then pressed her lips together for a second before adding, “Have I been too… forward? Are you uncomfortable with—”
The small squeeze he gave her knee sheared off her sentence as cleanly as tin snips. “God, no, Sara. That’s not what I wanted to talk about at all.” He straightened and looked her square in the eye. “But it is why I want to talk. I like Ocean City.” He pursed his mouth, then stressed, “I like you. A lot. It seems that we…” He licked his lips. “My feelings for you…”
Again, he stopped. Damn. He hated this uncertainty, this awkward hesitancy, but he was determined to get this out. If he had it wrong, she would straighten out his understanding quickly, he was sure.
“I meant what I said,” he told her. “I like you, Sa
ra. I like how you’re always smiling. I like how you treat your friends, your mom, your customers. I like your ambition. I like who you are. I like that you enjoy everything you do, from baking all those delicious pies and cakes and cookies, to rolling up your pant legs on the spur of the moment and going crabbing in the bay.”
She smiled at the reference. One day when they’d been out delivering desserts to a local restaurant, they’d made a quick stop at North Side Park so she could show him one of the town’s many public docks. Somehow, conversation had turned to the bay’s sea life, and when he’d teased her about her crab-catching abilities, she’d slipped off her shoes, rolled up the legs of her jeans, and waded in. When her hunt for a crab had ended unsuccessfully, she’d lured him closer to the shore with feigned, “ooo’s and ah’s” over something in the water he just had to see, only to splash him when he’d gotten into range. They’d both ended up laughing.
“I like that you’re able to balance work and fun,” he continued. “Not a lot of people know how to do that. Not where I come from, anyway.” He inhaled fully; time for the honest confession. “I enjoy being with you. Very much. And I think you enjoy being with me.”
Her smile widened, telling him unmistakably that what he said not only pleased her, but she also agreed with him. And it was as if the sun rose and warm, brilliant light chased away every nuance of darkness and doubt that had filled his chest.
“That’s why I need to tell you,” he said softly. “I need you to know a little more about me.”
Her gaze gleamed and she leaned toward him just a bit closer.
“Okay,” she told him, nodding her anticipation. “I’d like that.”
Landon took a sip from his glass and then set it back down. “I was born with several different congenital heart defects. The hole was easily repaired, I was told. But I had a valve that didn’t work properly. My right ventricle was ill-formed, and my entire heart was weak… well, let’s just say it was a mess.”
As he listed off the anomalies, Sara’s brows slowly drew together and she pressed the pads of her fingers to her lips.
“I grew up a skinny, runt of a kid,” he told her. “I was allowed no heavy lifting, few outside activity, which is bad for a boy whose family operates a farm. Once I started school, there was no playground time for me, no sports. It was miserable.”
“I’ll bet.” She actually looked pained at the thought.
“I did have a couple operations that I remember. The specialists were trying to make my heart work better.” He chuckled. “Of course, I don’t remember the operations, but I was old enough to remember the hospitalizations. And the pain. After I went into cardiac arrest on the table, though, my mother vowed there would be no more surgery. My symptoms were managed with pills after that, and I took a lot of them.”
“How awful for you,” Sara whispered. “So, no baseball? No football? No racing around the yard, playing tag.”
He flattened his mouth and shook his head. “All of that was off limits. But my parents offered me as many non-physical activities as they could. We went to the library often, and there were always plenty of books around the house. I experienced a lot of fun and adventure right here—” he tapped his temple with his index finger “–in my imagination, thanks to some great authors. And there were video games to master and movies to watch.”
“Still, though, it had to be hard.”
He grinned, “I made out okay.”
She lifted one shoulder in an if-you-say-so manner which made him laugh.
“Luckily, I enjoyed numbers,” he told her. “Math was a favorite subject. My dad died before I graduated college, but before he passed away, he suggested that accounting might be a good way for me to help in the family business. By doing the books. So that’s what I focused on during high school and that was my major in college. I was relieved to be able to finally earn my keep on the farm.”
“I’m sorry about your dad.”
Landon accepted her condolences with a slow nod. “He ran head-on into a cement abutment of a bridge near the farm. He was driving a new truck. Well, it was used, but it was new to him, so we don’t know if he was fiddling with the radio or the heater controls or what, but something took his attention from the road.”
Sara’s head tilted to the side. “Oh, that’s so horrible.”
He took a moment to sip from his glass, but instead of setting it back down, he simply held onto it.
“My dad was a great man,” he told her. “I looked up to him.”
Sara lifted her glass and stared at the wine inside. “I wish I’d had a father I looked up to.”
Landon questioned her with a silent gaze, but she shook her head.
She waved her free hand in the air. “That will wait for another time. You’re the star of this story hour.”
Her smile was excruciatingly sweet and her comment stirred his curiosity. He wouldn’t forget to ask her to expound on it later.
“Right after my dad died,” he continued, “my cardiologist suggested a heart transplant for the first time. He said I was a good candidate, and he reminded me that, being over eighteen, I could override my mother’s refusal. But I just couldn’t do it, Sara. My mom was still grieving for my dad, and I couldn’t add to her stress. She’d have been riddled with worry and anxiety if I had pressed the issue at the time. And if something bad were to happen during the operation…” He just shrugged.
“So, life went on. I graduated college and took over the books and the ordering and finding local buyers. My life became busy and deeply satisfying, now that I was contributing to the family business. Mom hired Henry to do the physical labor, and he started dating my sister right off. Henry’s a good man, and I always tried to respect him even if he didn’t always return the favor.”
His brother-in-law always saw Landon as weak, but he didn’t have to get into those demeaning details. “My nephews arrived.” He glossed over the intervening years; the story seemed to be taking forever. “Then Mom got sick. Really sick.”
“Oh, Landon.”
Sara’s beautiful face pinched with sorrow.
“We knew she was hiding something from us,” he said. “She began to look puffy and, well, just unhealthy. But we were shocked to learn that she’d gone into liver failure. From alcohol abuse.” He looked out the window, but all he saw was darkness. “I knew Mom had a cocktail before dinner. Vodka tonic with lots of lemon was her drink of choice, but none of us knew how much she drank.” He directed his gaze at Sara. “I can honestly say I never saw my mom drunk. She didn’t slur her words or stagger around the house. But she must have abused liquor for years.” He lowered his tone. “Death didn’t come easy for her.”
“How sad,” Sara said. “For her. For all of you.”
“Almost immediately,” Landon said, “my brother-in-law started talking about selling the farm. Needless to say, it churned up contention between us. My sister was on his side, of course. He made me feel… I don’t know… lesser… weaker… because I wasn’t able to help with the actual farm work. And I was, I guess. Lesser. And weaker.”
He stared at the floor. Admitting that out loud had a rock-like knot forming in the pit of his stomach.
“Then Dr. Shultz brought up the transplant again, and I decided to go for it. I was told the wait could take years, but by that point I was just glad to be focused on something that would give me a little hope for the future.”
“How long did you wait?” Sara asked.
“Only five months. Five months and five days to be exact. I couldn’t believe it when the phone rang.”
The memory had him smiling, and when he looked over at Sara, he saw that she was smiling too.
“That operation changed my life, Sara.”
She smoothed her hand over his forearm, and up his biceps, the heat of her skin seeping through the cotton sleeve of his shirt.
“I can see that,” she said. “A man doesn’t develop muscles like these without some heavy duty workouts.”
&
nbsp; He grinned. “I spent months recuperating, and then more months in physical therapy. The stress between Henry and me worsened. But I was determined not to allow it to hinder my progress. I kept arguing with Cindy to give me time, that I’d be able to help out more, but she and Henry pushed and pushed. I fought them as long and as hard as I could.” Quietly, he added, “We ended up selling, but you already knew that.”
Deep commiseration softened her green eyes.
He shifted on the sofa. “I know I’ve taken way too long to tell you all of this and that you’re probably starving but—”
“I’m fine,” she told him.
“I’m just getting to the part I think you need to hear.”
She set her glass on the end table and then directed every nuance of her attention on him.
“When I say the operation changed my life,” he said, “I mean that in so many ways. Physically, I felt so much better. I could lift bales of hay right just like every other laborer on the farm. Mentally and emotionally, I felt like a new person. It was as if I walked into that hospital one man and came out another. It wasn’t over night, of course, but it was utterly amazing.”
He rubbed his hand over his jaw before admitting, “There were other changes too.”
Landon fell silent, and he feared that Sara would rush him.
She didn’t.
“I started having these strange dreams,” he told her. “I heard ocean waves and the call of seagulls. I felt the heat of the sun baking the top of my head. I would wake up in the morning and feel as if I’d spent all night walking in the sand.”
He looked down and noticed that his fingers were curled tightly on the stem of the wine glass. He set it down, took a deep breath, and wiggled his fingers.
“I thought the angst dividing my family was causing it,” he said. “Like, you know, maybe my mind was looking for some sort of refuge at night. Some sort of release. An escape. But… well… then it started happening during the day. I was wide awake, involved in tallying a long list of numbers and I’d hear this faint sound. And I’d realize it was the surf. A steady, rhythmic sound of waves. I thought I was going crazy.”