Joy Avery - Soaring On Love

“A couple of hours. Come on, Sleeping Beauty.”

She took Roth’s outstretched hand, the spark giving her the jolt of energy she needed. Gravel crunched under her feet as she stepped out of the vehicle. One of the first things she noticed—excluding the bone-chilling cold—was the quiet. No horns. No traffic. No bustling.

Yeah, this was the perfect place to rejuvenate her soul. Being here would be good for her. It would give her the time she needed to think and clear her cluttered thoughts. Inhaling a deep breath, she blew it out slowly. Already she felt...free.

The only light radiated from the full moon. She tilted her head and scrutinized a sky so clear it could have been a flawless oil painting. And the stars... Had she ever seen them twinkle more brightly?

And then there were the oversize trees. She performed a slow turn. Trees, trees and more trees surrounded them. Roth hadn’t exaggerated about the privacy of this location. Not a single soul would be able to hear them scream if they were attacked.

The quaint cabin caught her eye. What it lacked in size, it made up for in charm. Built completely of logs, seven steps led to a nicely sized wraparound porch. A cobblestone chimney protruded from the roof. Several hours ago she would have tingled at the idea of her and Roth cuddled intimately in front of a wood-burning fireplace. Not now.

Roth startled her when he draped his coat over her shoulders. He’d obviously changed out of his suit at The Underground because now he wore a thick black sweater, jeans and a pair of black mountain boots. Despite her current state of mind, she could still appreciate how devastatingly attractive he was. “Thank you. I’m freezing.” She shivered for effect.

“We can go into town in the morning and grab you some clothes. I’m sure you don’t want to wear this the entire weekend.” He fingered the thin fabric of her jumpsuit. “Regardless of how beautiful you look in it.”

Disappointment flashed on Roth’s face that suggested he regretted saying the words. Regardless, the compliment brought a lazy smile to her face. “It’s gorgeous. Your cabin. Thank you again for bringing me here with you. I won’t get in the way.”

What she really wanted to say—ask actually—was why had he seemed so reluctant to bring her here at first, and what had changed his mind? But she decided against it. She was just happy she wouldn’t have to be alone.

“Thanks. Like I said, it’s not much, but I love it.”

Tressa opened and closed her mouth several times.

“Ears popping?” Roth said.

“Yes.”

“It’s the altitude. You’ll get used to it.”

Moving to the back of the vehicle, Roth removed a bag and a large black case she assumed was his saxophone—Juliette—before they made their way inside, out of the cold. Or so she’d thought. It was as cold inside the cabin as it had been outside. Possibly a degree or two colder. She pulled the wool coat tighter around her shoulders.

“I believe it’s warmer outside.”

“I’ll build a fire,” Roth said. “It shouldn’t take it long to warm up in here.”

The interior wasn’t at all what Tressa had expected. A mocha-colored leather sofa and a matching chair sat in the living area. Several pictures of airplanes hung throughout the room. A flat-screen television was mounted on the wall above the fireplace. A bookcase packed with books sat in one corner. Was it for decoration, or did Roth enjoy reading?

Her eyes trailed to the kitchen outfitted with all stainless steel appliances. A small dining area seamlessly melted the space together. A set of stairs led to what she assumed were the bedrooms. This was nice. Really nice.

The sound of the fire crackling curled Tressa’s lips. It took her back to when she was a child and winters spent at her grandparents’ house. Good times. Roth’s voice faded Tressa’s memories.

“Unfortunately, there’s only one bed, but it’s yours. I’ll camp out on the sofa.” He patted the plush-looking piece. “We’re highly acquainted. I’ve fallen asleep in her warm arms many nights.”

“No, Roth. I can’t let you do that. I’ll take the sofa. No argument,” she said when protest danced in Roth’s mesmerizing eyes. “Truly, it’s fine.” No way would she inconvenience him after he’d been so kind as to bring her here.

After a few seconds of scrutiny Roth shrugged. “Okay, but you’re going to hate me in the morning.”

As if that was possible. The perplexed look he gave her rattled her a bit. What was he attempting to decipher? How she was holding up? Why she’d wanted to come here with him? Would she be okay? She didn’t know the answer to any of it.

To end his exhausting scrutiny, she said, “Please tell me you have food in this place. I’m starving.”

“Yes, we do. I have someone who looks in on the place for me. When I let her know I’m coming, she always stocks the fridge.”

She?

Jealousy was the last emotion Tressa expected, but a hint of it crept in. Could this have been the mystery woman he’d intended to spend the weekend with before she’d come along and derailed his plans? Was it selfish that she didn’t regret spoiling his rendezvous? Yes.

“Well, let’s just see what she brought, shall we?” If nothing else could, cooking relaxed her. It’d always been her first love, with nursing a close second, of course.

“In a minute. But first—” he captured her hand and angled his head toward the sofa “—let’s sit a second.”

Tressa studied their joined hands as they moved across the room. A simple act of kindness should not have felt so damn good. A soothing sensation tingled in her palm. At the sofa, Roth released her hand and guided her down, taking the spot next to her. The way he eyed her made her feel as if she’d sneaked the last piece of key lime pie, and he was simply waiting for her to confess before he had to accuse her.

Tressa straightened her back to give some semblance of strength. “Is everything okay?”

He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his thighs and intertwined his fingers. “You tell me.”

Tressa arched a brow. “I...don’t...know what you want me to say.” Though she had a good idea he wanted her to mention something about what had taken place at The Underground. She’d hoped to avoid discussing her disastrous engagement party, but it seemed she wouldn’t get off that easily. Couldn’t he have waited until morning when she’d got a decent night’s sleep before he approached the thorny subject?

“You’ve had a rough evening. If you—”

“I’m fine, Roth,” she said, pushing to her feet. Subtlety obviously didn’t work with him.

Before she could stalk away, he captured her hand again. This time he didn’t let it go when she sat. His large hand completely swallowed hers, but she loved the feel of his warm flesh caressing hers.

“You keep saying you’re fine, but I don’t believe you.”

“And I’m not trying to convince you.” Instantly, she regretted being so callous. But dammit, she didn’t want to discuss what had happened between her and Cyrus. Especially with Roth, of all people. She was hurt, embarrassed and still processing it all.

Her cruel tone appeared to have little effect on him. That same sympathetic expression remained on his attractive face. They stared at one another for a long time. Roth refused to turn away, and so did she. It felt as if he were trying to peer into her soul, but it was too dark for him to see inside. Beyond his strict and unwavering gaze lingered compassion. Mounds and mounds of compassion. And a hint of pity.

Tressa bent to the idea and turned away. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Roth.”

“I don’t. I feel sorry for the bastard who didn’t recognize what he had.”