Old Wounds: (A Havenwood Falls Novella)

by Susan Burdorf

She stared at him with the calmest of expressions, as if she was innocent in all of this. And she was. She was very innocent. And yet, she was totally captivating and alluring.

  So he said the only thing he could think of to say.

  “I wrote it for someone I haven’t met yet.”

  The disappointment in her face almost made him change his mind.

  Almost.

  Chapter 9

  Sherry knew he was lying. She couldn’t have said why she knew it, but she was certain he had written that song for someone who mattered a great deal to him. She respected his right to privacy, but she felt oddly disappointed that he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her who it was.

  And then she mentally kicked herself. Who was she, after all, to demand he bare his soul? They’d only just met. Of course, their meeting had been a bit unusual, and in a way, she felt strangely drawn to this taciturn man with so many layers. But in a few days, she would be on her way back to her old life far away, so why should she expect him to tell her anything that mattered as much as the woman he’d written such a beautiful song for?

  The air in the room seemed charged with secrets, and it made her uncomfortable. Yawning, she decided it was time for her to go to bed.

  “Um . . . where shall I sleep?” she asked, not sure he wanted her in his bed, but not seeing any other options in the small cabin. She supposed she could sleep in one of the chairs. They were big and comfortable, and she was fairly small. She hated the thought of Rusty, with his long legs and body, having to try to sleep in the chair, when it was her unexpected arrival that would put him out of his bed.

  “Oh, you can have the bed,” he assured her. “Let me just change the sheets. I’m afraid I wasn’t comfortable changing you out of your clothes when you arrived, and there’s some mud on the sheets.”

  Sherry blushed at the idea of this man removing her clothes and was relieved he had remained a gentleman. Then she remembered she’d accused him of intending her harm when she’d awoken and blushed even deeper.

  Her eyes met his, and she saw a twinkle in their brown depths and a dimple in his cheek from a barely suppressed smile, letting her know he’d read her thoughts. Turning away, she said, “I can do that.”

  “It’s no trouble, but we can get it done in no time if you help.”

  Nodding, Sherry followed him into the bedroom. He removed a set of sheets from the chest at the foot of the bed and set them aside as he began removing the quilts. Sherry took the top quilt from him and folded it, setting it on top of the chest. She did the same with the second quilt. Running her hand over them, she admired the tight stitching and beautiful patterns on each of them. She could tell they’d been hand-stitched by someone who took pride in their work, and she remarked on it in a voice full of admiration.

  “These are beautiful. Who made them?”

  Rusty hesitated, then finally said, “A friend from town. She was worried I might be cold out here all on my own.”

  “She did a wonderful job on these. I would love to get one. Does she sell them?”

  Rusty paused again before answering. “She passed away.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . .”

  “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known. She was a dear friend. The wife of a dear friend. She had cancer.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Sherry hated repeating herself, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. It was obvious this person had been someone dear to him, and she wanted to console Rusty.

  Without realizing she was doing it, Sherry reached out and touched Rusty on the arm. His muscle tightened under her hand, sending tingles under her skin. What was it about him that excited her so? Sherry was confused, removing her hand almost immediately, and she stepped away. There was something deep in his eyes, something that drew her back to him.

  Standing next to him, she looked up, reaching out to touch his arm again. Ignoring the tingling, she watched her hand slide up his arm as if her hand wasn’t attached to her body. She felt him tense up. She looked at him as she moved closer until her body was almost pressed against his.

  She saw a muscle twitch in his jaw, and her fingers touched the spot, warmth traveling up her body as his heat enveloped her. He smelled of musk and wood smoke, and she was suddenly aware of how little space separated them.

  “I’m sorry . . .” She cursed herself again for saying that over and over. What did she have to be sorry about? She kept apologizing, not knowing why.

  “Can you move slightly to the left so I can get the old sheets off?” His voice sounded so calm, but she had a feeling he was anything but. She smiled nervously and stepped away to give him more room, moving to the right instead of the left in her nervousness, bringing her up against his rock hard chest.

  “Sorry . . .” she started to say again and then bit back the words.

  He didn’t move.

  She didn’t move.

  They stared at each other, and she felt herself leaning into him even more, craving the warmth of his body. There was something primal in this need, something she didn’t understand. Something she needed, wanted, and yet feared was about to happen. She knew she should step away, leave that room—that cabin—or she would never leave.

  She couldn’t move, though. Her feet felt rooted to the floor. She waited.

  Finally, he groaned, and leaning down, he took her mouth with his, pushing into her with his tongue in a way she’d never been kissed before. She slipped her arms up around his neck, welcoming him into her embrace.

  He ended the kiss after a blissful minute that she wanted to go on forever.

  Looking at her, his eyes boring into hers, he said in a strangled voice filled with repressed emotion, “Are you sure this is what you want? You don’t know what you are asking of me.”

  Sherry, eyes locked with his, nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  He lowered his head to hers, pushing her back onto the bed as he did so, his long form hot against her own.

  Before she lost herself in his kisses, Sherry felt they had rather satisfactorily solved the dilemma of who would be sleeping in the bed.

  Chapter 10

  Later, as the night lightened into day, Rusty woke to find his arm asleep under the still form of the woman he’d just marked as his own. He traced a finger along her jaw and down her throat, careful not to wake her. He wanted to remember her like this always. She was beautiful.

  But her beauty was more than skin deep. Her dark hair was spread out on the pillow like a fan, framing her tiny face with its delicate cheekbones. He was amazed at how fragile she appeared, for her lovemaking had been fierce.

  In spite of his wanting not to hurt her, she’d become ferocious in bed, begging him to love her with every fiber of his being. He tried to hold back, tried to keep from marking her as his own, but he couldn’t. Her touch had set him afire, and her kisses had seared him to his soul.

  While there was no outward change in either of them, he knew that she was marked now and would always be his, even if they never made love again. If he couldn’t convince her to stay with him and accept his transformation into the wolf, he would never love another woman.

  She was his.

  More importantly, he was hers.

  Forever.

  There would never be another who could take him to the heights of love that the two of them had experienced last night. Their bodies, both naked and glowing from lovemaking, were cooling. He feared she might catch ill, so he started to move from the embrace of their bodies to get a blanket. That slight movement caused Sherry to rouse.

  “Don’t leave me,” she murmured in a soft whisper, pulling his body back to hers with a possessiveness he found endearing.

  She ran her fingers along his bare hip, her leg sliding between his, her body rising to meet his desire as she pulled him tighter to her.

  He kissed her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “I need to get a quilt before we both freeze.”

  She laughed, her eyes still closed, her breath rai
sing goose bumps on his skin that had nothing to do with the cold.

  “Hurry, lover,” she said as she caressed his chest with a finger. Her body promised more, and he quickly jerked a quilt over them, pulling her into its warmth as his mouth reached hers.

  He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the moon goddess, because he had a feeling that all their tomorrows would bring nothing to match this night, and that all the nights that followed would pale in comparison.

  Rusty woke later to the glare of sunlight through the window, an empty bed, and the smell of coffee. For just a minute, he was disoriented.

  “Hello, sleepyhead,” said a voice from the doorway.

  Rusty turned over to see Sherry, wearing nothing but his overlarge sweater and carrying a tray on which she had placed two plates heaped high with eggs and toast, and two cups of steaming coffee.

  He wasn’t sure which he was happier to see.

  He smiled seductively at her. “What’s all this?”

  “This,” Sherry said, setting the tray down carefully on the chest at the foot of the bed, “is a thank you breakfast for my rescuer.”

  “Oh?” Rusty took the coffee cup she offered him. The sweater lifted up slightly as she leaned over, revealing her very pert backside. He admired the view without apology. He remembered the feel of that flesh as he’d cupped it in his hand the night before, his lips curling in a satisfied smile.

  “Do you often make thank you breakfasts?” he said to distract himself from wanting her again.

  “Nope, this is the first one,” Sherry admitted as she tapped her coffee cup against his in a silent toast. Taking a sip, they looked at each other with unabashed hunger.

  “The storm has nearly stopped,” Rusty said, looking out the window. He tried to keep his voice light. “I think there might be reception on our phones now. I can call for someone to come for you, if you would like me to.”

  “In that much of a hurry to have me leave, are you?” Sherry quipped. She turned her face away, so he had to pull her around by the chin to regain her attention.

  “That’s not it at all. I just thought you might like to continue with your vacation. This,” he pointed around the room, “might be a part of your trip you might not want to remember in the light of day.” He kept his tone light, even though his heart was breaking. He couldn’t let her know. He’d decided that revealing his secret to her might not be the best idea right now.

  Sherry nodded. Handing him the rest of the breakfast she had prepared, she considered his comments. She had come here to get away from romantic entanglements, and what had she done the very first chance she’d had? Jumped in bed with a very sexy park ranger. In what way had that solved anything?

  She realized Rusty was just a rebound guy and that their encounter had no lasting consequences or expectations for either of them, but she felt oddly disappointed that he could dismiss her so easily. She touched her head. The wound was sore, but not too painful, and she’d had no headache to speak of, so thankfully she’d been spared a concussion, but Sherry found herself trying to think up excuses to stay here a little longer. She could pretend she was still too ill to travel, but her lovemaking last night made that lie a little thin. She blushed, remembering how enthusiastic she’d been in bed. She’d never been that free with Brad, and perhaps that was why he’d felt the need to seek comfort in the beds of other women. She immediately dismissed that self-deprecating thought. Brad’s infidelities were not her fault, and she would stop blaming herself.

  “I suppose I do need to call someone. At least to cancel the cabin up the mountain. I have a feeling the road will be impassable.”

  Rusty nodded, taking a sip of coffee. “With my truck out of commission, I have to call my friend Joshua, so I think he can give you a ride to town after picking up your car. He’s the town mechanic as well as the tow truck driver. He can take you to the Whisper Falls Inn, which I think would be the best place for you to stay in town. The inn has fallen on hard times, but is still a beautiful Victorian manor with a lot of character, and its new owner, Michaela, is working hard to put it back to its original condition. You’ll like it very much.”

  “Okay,” Sherry said, hating how flat her voice sounded. She was disappointed he wasn’t fighting to keep her here, but oddly understood. He was a man who liked living alone. She got that.

  “I’ll get my clothes if you’ll call your friend?”

  “Sure,” Rusty agreed. He seemed to want to say something else, and Sherry held her breath, hoping he’d say what she wanted to hear, but he didn’t. He offered her the shower first, slipping out of bed.

  His nakedness in the light of day caused Sherry to gasp. He was magnificent, an Adonis of the forest, and she would forever be comparing future boyfriends to his lean, muscular form and finding them lacking.

  If he felt her admiration, Rusty made no mention of it. He slipped on a pair of sweatpants and walked into the other room. She appreciated his kindness in giving her time to pull herself together. A minute later, he returned with her clothes, neatly folded, which he handed to her before taking the tray and cups to the other room.

  As the door closed behind him, Sherry let the tears fall that had been prickling at the back of her eyes. She sobbed in the shower, letting the warm water run over her body, hoping it would wash away her desire as easily as it washed away his touch.

  Chapter 11

  Rusty listened to the shower and tried to keep his emotions in check. All he could imagine was the feel of her body against his. He cursed the moon goddess for sending him the one woman he could never keep. Putting her in his bed had been the cruelest of jokes.

  He found his cell phone. Relieved to see several bars lit up, he called Joshua and in a few words, explained to his friend what was needed. Joshua agreed to attempt the trip to his cabin to help with the tire.

  “The roads are still a bit treacherous,” Joshua said cautiously, “but I’ll set out in about an hour.”

  Rusty hung up and was just finishing the call to Melissa Richter when Sherry came into the kitchen. Dressed, she looked less like the woman who’d warmed his bed and more like the stranger he’d met in the woods. He felt their separation keenly. But outwardly, Rusty gave no sign of his broken heart.

  He supposed it was a good thing she’d changed back into her own clothes, because if he’d had to send her out in his sweater, he wasn’t sure he could control his actions. He was already fighting to keep his desires in check.

  “I’m ready. When will your friend arrive?” She played with the strap of her purse in her nervousness.

  “Joshua said it would be about an hour. He’ll come here first, and we’ll fix the tire. After that, he’ll drive to your car, and then take you to town. I was just getting ready to call over to the inn to reserve you a room.”

  He picked up his phone and pulled up the inn’s number. In a few minutes, he’d secured Sherry a room. Nothing else needed to be said, and the silence between the two grew louder than a jet airplane. Sherry went to the living room and sat down while she waited.

  When Joshua pulled up, his truck loud in the stillness of a snow-blanketed world, Sherry nearly jumped up. At the sound of his footsteps on the porch, she met Rusty’s gaze and then lowered her eyes. She wasn’t sure what to say, so said nothing.

  Joshua knocked, entering when Rusty called out to come in. Stepping inside the room, the other man looked between the two, eyebrow raised, and stomped his boots to remove the snow.

  “Well, I reckon we can get that tire taken care of first. I brought a replacement. You got the jack?” He glanced over at Rusty, who nodded.

  “You must be Miss . . .?” Joshua said, extending a hand to Sherry.

  “Sherry Grimes,” she said, introducing herself to the mechanic.

  Sherry found his handshake firm and brief. He looked like a man who liked to keep things simple, and the silent exchanges between the two men were a little disconcerting. It was as if they had a secret language, one she had no clue how to speak,
let alone understand.

  “Okay, well, let’s get that tire fixed. Then I will take the little lady into town.”

  He was out the door as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

  Sherry looked at Rusty, who was shrugging into his coat. Pulling gloves from his pocket, he nodded toward the kitchen. “There’s fresh coffee if you want a cup before you go. This shouldn’t take long, and then you can be on the road.”

  Sherry raised her hand as if wanting to reach out to him, but nodded instead. Turning away, she walked toward the kitchen. Closing her eyes, she forced unshed tears back. Letting Rusty see her regret to be leaving would serve no good purpose.

  A short while later, both men returned to the house. Sherry offered Joshua a cup of coffee, which he declined.

  “Never touch the stuff,” he said gruffly, “but I thank you kindly for the offer. You ready to go? The storm’s coming back, I think. Best we get your car and get you to the inn.”

  Sherry nodded. Stepping past Rusty, she was careful not to touch him, but the urge to squeeze his arm was strong. A kiss in parting wouldn’t have been out of order, but he didn’t offer, and she wouldn’t beg.

  As she stepped up into the truck, she resisted the urge to look back.

  Joshua backed out the truck, his gears grinding as he moved the large truck down the rutted drive. The air was growing cold again. Just before they rounded the corner to turn onto the main road, Sherry caught sight of Rusty out of the corner of her eye.

  He stood on the porch, leaning against the post as he watched them disappear.

  “He’s a good . . . man, our Rusty,” Joshua said, glancing over at her. “You can trust him. You can always trust him with . . . whatever needs trusting.”

  Sherry shot him a quick glance. Was her broken heart that obvious?

  “My wife trusted him. She was dying of cancer when they met. They became instant friends. Best decision we ever made was to move to Havenwood Falls. Best decision I ever made was to marry my Evelyn in spite of…well, in spite of our differences, I guess you could say. I wouldn’t trade a minute of the time we had together to be with anyone else.”