“Yes, you did.” I agreed with a nod, using a cloth wad to apply pressure on her knee. “How did this happen? Does it hurt anywhere else?”
“Well…” She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “It was all because of a rock. I was a minute’s walk from the forest when I stumbled over a tree root. I thought I was going to land on the snow, but…”
“You landed on a rock instead.” I finished her sentence, wrapping her wound in a clean bandage. “You’re not the first it’s happened to. Anyway…” I exhaled, rolling my gaze up to meet hers. “Take your pants off. I’ll go get you a blanket.”
“Excuse me?!” For some reason, her voice turned into a high-pitched squeal.
“They’re soaking wet,” I emphasized, intensifying my stare.
“Right.” Michelle nodded, dropping her gaze down to the floor. “Sorry, I thought…”
“I’ll be right back,” I interrupted, unwilling to hear what she had to say.
“Women…” I thought to myself. “She knows how dangerous it is, but still, she thinks I want to see her legs. Believe me, Michelle. If I wanted to force you into anything, I wouldn’t have asked.”
“So, Burroughs range trail from the east?” I posed one more question, throwing her a blue blanket.
“Nope.” She gave an amused snort. “I’ve been hiking for eight years. I’m not crazy. Burroughs range trail from the west. It’s much easier.”
“I don’t understand you hikers.” I shook my head in disapproval. “The mountain is a dangerous place to be.”
“It’s a hobby, Jake. Just like your guitar over there,” Michelle declared, throwing a swift glance over at the instrument on her right. “And just like your piano down the hall.”
“Guitars and pianos cannot kill you,” I assumed a sarcastic tone, my hands on my waist. “The mountain can.”
“Look, if you and I had met in a bar or something, I’d argue with you.” She put some force in her voice, her lips curling into a polite smile. “But, I’m not going to do that. I mean, you just saved my life. Anyway, I should call some…”
At that point, a huge crack of thunder tore through the night, forcing us both to look out my living room window. Moments later, the sound of rain lashing against the glass wiped the smile right off her face.
“I don’t know about your friends, but I’d think twice about driving up here in this weather,” I attempted a firm tone. “Where do you live?”
She heaved a deep, heavy sigh. “Manhattan.”
“That’s almost three hours away,” I told her, clenching my jaw.
“Well, I can’t stay here!” Michelle exclaimed, her gaze shooting up to meet mine.
“Why not?” I shrugged my shoulders, puzzled by her remark.
“I don’t think your wife would appreciate that,” she stated, the stiffness in her voice satisfying my curiosity.
“My what?” I laughed in amusement, padding closer to her.
“Your girlfriend, maybe?” She squinted up at me, lowering her voice.
“No girlfriend, either,” I responded. “It’s just you and me up here.”
“You are…” She faltered. “On a holiday, all by yourself?”
“Who said that?” I wondered, my tone calm.
“Crap,” Michelle whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m sorry. You’re just too clean-cut to be a mountain man. You don’t look like one. This cabin doesn’t look like it belongs to one, either. It’s clean; it smells good.”
“I’m old-fashioned, Michelle,” I said to her, my voice coming out lazier than usual. “Beards are not my thing, and I’m not a fan of tattoos.”
“What do you do?” Curiosity lingered in her own voice. “I mean, you’re clearly not a builder or a lumberjack.”
A wave of anger washed over me. This brunette was much too inquisitive.
Other hikers had asked me the same thing in the past, and I hadn’t given them a straight answer. Just like it had been the case with them, I had done what I had to do. I had no intention of answering another stranger’s question, just because she had been stranded in my cabin.
“Get some rest,” I urged, averting my gaze from her. “You’ve been through a nightmare.”
“That’s true.” Michelle nodded in agreement. “I crossed the line there, didn’t I?”
“No more apologies, all right?” I requested, moving around the couch. I wrapped my fingers around the neck of my guitar and picked it up. Music had been an ideal remedy for jangling nerves for decades, and that instance was no exception. Still, the moment my fingers made contact with the strings, I caught Michelle staring at me, out of the corner of my eye.
“The word ‘beautiful’ isn’t enough to describe that thing.” For some reason I couldn’t fathom, her words sent a tingling sensation down my spine. “Taylor 616 CE. She’s just gorgeous.”
“You play?” I asked, shifting my attention to her.
“No, not yet,” she shook her head in denial. “I’ve just been thinking about it these days. The cheapest Taylor I’ve been able to find costs a little over nine-hundred dollars. It’s not what you’d call a starter’s guitar. I play the piano.”
“You do?” My eyes opened wide in disbelief.
“Yeah,” Michelle chirped. “I’ve been playing since I was nine years old. Could you please help me up? I’d love to get my hands on that baby of yours.”
Stunned by her words, I glanced at the piano first and then back at her. For the first time in more than a decade, I had an opportunity to play with somebody.
Nonetheless, there was something that discouraged me from doing so. It was none other than her mangled leg. Michelle’s injury might have been much worse than just the flesh wound I had taken care of. Moving her would increase the risk of aggravating that injury, and I didn’t want to take any chances.
“Bad idea,” I scolded her. “Get some sleep, will you?”
“Please!” She begged, making her voice sound sweeter. “Come on, Jake. Just one song.”
“I insist,” I grumbled, tossing a fierce glare down at her. “See you in the morning.”
Chapter 3
Michelle
“Sexy as hell, but stubborn as a mule.”
The same thought had been swirling in my mind since Jake’s initial refusal.
6’4”, black hair, sky-blue eyes, chiseled jaw, massive chest…
What more could a woman ask for? A pair of wings?
No. He might have looked fantastic, but he was no angel.
His stubbornness could attest to that. Part of me wanted to persist, but, after being shot down twice already, I knew what was going to follow. Another rejection and maybe even a fight. And I wouldn’t pick up a fight with the man who had just saved me from a pack of wolves, regardless of my frustration.
I focused my gaze on the fireplace, grateful that I was still alive. I watched the leaping flames, recalling the sound of his shotgun.
In truth, I had settled in for a quiet, cozy night by the fire. Still, when another sound rose above the crackling of the wood, I had to admit I was intrigued. I found it very strange indeed, but Jake had slid open a door. The storm was still raging outside.
Why would anyone in their right mind want to go out in this weather? One thing was certain. I wasn’t going to find out on his couch.
I rose back up to my feet, waves of pain coursing through my system. Tucking the blanket around my waist, I half-tiptoed half-hopped down the hall, wondering what I would lay my eyes on. I halted just before his bedroom and snuck a peek.
Jake was out on his balcony, peering skyward as he ran his fingers through his hair. He might have been out there for a couple of minutes, but the torrent had drenched his white shirt. I was at least seven or eight yards away, and I could see it sticking to his skin.
“Talk about sexy. And talk about a perfect setting for a kiss. Snap out of it, Michelle. The guy’s way too unpredictable. Besides, his piano is just behind you.”
The thought of playing so
mething was most welcome.
Music would take my mind off of him.
Perhaps using his piano would infuriate him, but I couldn’t care any less. I was in his home, but I meant to show him that there was no harm in having some fun. I sat down on the stool and lifted the cover, eager to see for myself just how good this Yamaha was.
Melodic notes filled the air and made my heart flutter in my chest.
I let my fingers dance across the keys, but soon, I concentrated on my favorite song. Guns ‘n’ Roses, ‘November Rain’. I closed my eyes and plunged into its magic, the gentle sound of the rain serving as my companion in this trip to musical heaven. The first lyrics flowed out of my mouth, turning the flutter into a wild heartbeat.
I wasn’t expecting anything less. I fell in love with this ballad a lifetime ago. Any different reaction to it would surprise me.
I tapped my foot down rhythmically, reaching the chorus. I opened my eyes to slits, not sure about the sequence of keys I had to use. With their view, however, came the sight of Jake’s imposing stature. There he was, leaning against the doorframe, humming along.
In the blink of an eye, my heart sank. I thought he was going to yank me up and drag me back to the couch like a naughty schoolgirl.
Amazingly, he did no such thing. On the contrary, he walked back into his bedroom, without uttering a word.
Happy that I had his permission, I kept on playing. All the same, I had yet to finish the song, when I spotted him striding towards me, with a black electric guitar around his neck and an amplifier in his grasp. He plugged it in the socket behind the piano in silence, and then stood next to me.
One power chord later, I was left wondering why he had been so stubborn about playing with me.
It was clear that he knew his way around a guitar. And once played the solo, he proved that point beyond the shadow of a doubt. His fingers moved with precision across the fretboard, hitting the right notes, passion pouring out of him like lava pouring out of a volcano. He banged his head to the rhythm, completing the wonderful ballad with the style it demanded.
No squeaky notes, no attempts to show off his skills, nothing but pure love for the music he had just played.
The echoes of power chords and keys alike were still lingering in the air when I looked up at him. Tiny drops of sweat had formed across his forehead. The façade of the grumpy man I had met had vanished altogether. He was glowing, as if a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders.
“Less staring, more playing,” he stated, saving me the trouble of having to verbalize.
“From the top. Three, two, one…”
I didn’t speak. After all, I didn’t have anything to say. My savior had decided to turn into my playmate, and I couldn’t be happier. Once again, my fingers played the soft introduction. Jake joined in within seconds. This time, however, he wasn’t content with accompanying me. Just as I opened my mouth, his deep baritone sent shivers down my spine. Of course, it was nothing like Axel Rose’s voice, but that was a minor detail. My own voice was filled with passion and conviction as a sea of emotion stormed into my heart. Jake was even more passionate than before, singing along, caressing the strings while we delved once more into the magic of Guns ‘n’ Roses’ masterpiece.
A downward strum concluded the epic ballad. By the time we had finished, I was short of breath and my heart was pounding in my chest. Strands of hair were in my face and I was grinning from ear to ear.
“Oh, God…” I sighed, palming my forehead. “That was just amazing.”
“Somehow, I doubt your knee would agree with you,” Jake murmured. “You did great, but you should get some rest.”
“Please, stop trying to ruin this, okay?” I requested, attempting a mellower tone. “I’m sorry, I just can’t remember the last time I got my hands on such a fine instrument.”
“You’re not sorry.” He rejected that notion, a short smile spreading across his face. “Not this time. Here, take my hand, you need to…”
“Geez, you don’t let up, do you?” I spoke in frustrated tones. “I’m okay. Let’s do another one.”
“We’re done talking, Michelle,” he rebutted, the anger in his gaze returning. “Get back to the couch.”
“Jake…” I huffed in exasperation. “I take it you’ve played with someone before. Am I right?”
I had no idea why, but my question had a big impact on him. His eyes were darkened by sadness. He looked away from me, swallowing hard. Removing his hands from his guitar, he sucked in a deep breath.
“Jake, what’s wrong?” Tension crept into my tone. “What did I say?”
“You’re right,” he admitted, his voice a pain-ridden whisper. “Why do you ask?”
“I was raised Catholic,” I informed, a smile of bitterness forming on my face. “I could perform in recitals to my heart’s content, but join a band? Oh, no. That was ‘boy territory.’ My father didn’t approve. It’s kind of sad if you think about it. I’ve performed professionally for seven years, and tonight was my first time playing with someone.”
“That’s a shame,” he commented, pursing his lips. “It’s like learning how to make candy, and you don’t have access to any of the supplies you need.”
“Cute metaphor.” I praised. “Play with me tonight, Mr. Donovan. I think we both need it.”
“All right.” Jake tipped his head down. “I need a stool and my acoustic. I’ll be right back.”
“Yay!” I cheered, putting my hands together, a big smile bursting upon my lips.
For the next two hours, we turned that small living room into our playground. Genre, song, acoustic or electric, it didn’t matter. We gave each other our best in each and every song we played and sang together.
I was ecstatic, and, judging by his occasional glance, Jake loved the experience, too.
I was swelling with pride.
Why? Because I had managed to send that strict bastard away. In his stead was a handsome, passionate guitarist, focused on something other than the condition of my knee. He seemed determined to have some fun.
Things were not different with me. I was like a child with five new toys. Minute after minute, the idea of playing with someone for a change excited me more and more. I was desperate to suck the marrow out of this experience, not knowing when—or even if—I would get to do this again.
Twenty-seven songs later, my knuckles were sore, my head was buzzing, but a sense of satisfaction had engulfed me. I felt like I was in a bubble, floating above the ground.
It had been a wonderful night, full of vintage tunes, memory, and emotion. I stretched my arms and my back before speaking to him again.
“I would love to go on. It’s been better than I’ve ever dared to imagine,” I confessed as he set his acoustic guitar against the wall. “But…” I exhaled hard. “I’m exhausted.”
“So am I.” He gave a soft nod. “Let’s get you back to that couch. Take my hand.”
I couldn’t object to that.
The feel of his strong hand in my palm sent sparks up and down my body. It had me staring at him, waiting for him to pull me up. Yet, Jake remained still, his eyes taking in every bit of me.
He leaned in towards me, his gaze luring me, his fingers running across my wrist. I circled my arm around his neck as he clutched my palm. His full lips crashed against mine like a wave crashing around a rock. Feeling his hot breath on my skin, I could almost hear my racing heart. I held him closer, our kiss deepening. I swiped the tip of my tongue along his upper lip, willing to savor this as much as I could.
Jake used his free hand to push the blanket aside. I let out a soft whimper, sensing his fingers on my thigh. Still, much to my disappointment, this was all I was able to feel. He leaned back, putting an end to our kiss.
“No…” He whispered, tearing his gaze away from me, his eyes filled with worry. “We can’t. This is a mistake.”
“Why?” I wondered, confused, my voice raspy.
He didn’t dignify my question with a rebut
tal. Scratching his chin, he pressed his lips together, red heat rising up his cheeks.
“Take my bedroom,” he croaked, getting up from his stool. “I’ll take the couch. Goodnight.”
“Jake, what…?”
“Don’t!” He said sternly, raising his hand to silence me. “It’s complicated, and I don’t want to talk about it. Have a good night.”
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