Crash Into You

by Ellison, Cara

  “And the cad you left in Idaho?”

  She glanced away, unable to look him in the eye with that lie between them.

  The guilt she carried in her heart was acute. He had been so kind to her and she’d repaid his generosity by lying to his face. She hadn’t even told him her real name. Instead, she hedged and told him her middle name. Since she had been at Spanner Ranch, every morning when she awoke, she would tell herself that today would be different, today she would tell him the truth. My name is Aimee, Mark. I have never been to Idaho. I was on Flight 134.

  She rehearsed the words often enough. But when she came to speak them, she lost her courage and held back. Her lies had trapped her. Mark would be hurt by them, or angered. She would have to explain why she lied, and once she began, she would have to tell him everything: the shame she felt about Seth, his overbearing control, the money. Would he change toward her if he knew? It seemed at that moment as if he might.

  “I find it hard to believe I let myself get entangled with him,” she said at last.

  “So why did you?”

  She considered the question, trying to decide how much to say. “He was charming. And I was… I guess I was just desperate to be loved.”

  The words felt like a lash across the face. They were embarrassing to admit, but they were true.

  Thankfully, a waitress, interrupted, saying a bright hello to Mark. Aimee was thankful for the disruption.

  “How long are you staying?” the waitress asked him.

  “Not sure yet,” Mark replied. “Maybe through Christmas.”

  “I heard you were re-doing the cabins at Starlight Lake. If that happens, let me know. I’ll be the first person to put in a reservation.”

  Mark smiled charmingly. “I will do that.”

  “So what are you having, hon?”

  Mark and Aimee gave their orders and the waitress said she’d be back in a jiff with their drinks.

  Aimee sat back, admiring the saloon for its authenticity.

  “So what do you do?”

  The question took her off guard. “What?”

  “For work? What do you do?”

  “Oh. I design websites.”

  “Do you enjoy it?”

  She shrugged. “I used to. But it started to feel rather pointless.”

  “What would you like to do instead?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied, a little reluctantly.

  His granite eyes lit on her like x-rays. She felt that weird sensation that he could see through her and her lies. But now she wasn’t lying. It was pathetic, but she had no real answer for his question.

  She shrugged. “I’m kind of… stunted in the… ah… vocation area.”

  He smiled. “Well what do you enjoy?”

  “Like I said, I used to teach pilates and yoga in college. I really enjoyed that. I stopped because Seth didn’t like me out of the house. He thought I was doing it because I was vain. That I just loved to look at myself in the mirror. It is a silly pursuit, I guess. I just feel so good when I do it. I enjoyed teaching others.”

  “Are you going to teach pilates and yoga in Portland?”

  “I thought I’d stick with the web design stuff at first. I need to make some money. Yoga is great for the soul and the body, but there is no money in it.”

  “There is if you own the studio.”

  Aimee blinked. She’d never thought of herself as the type to own anything, much less a business. It did have a certain appeal.

  The waitress delivered the food, which smelled delicious. Aimee had ordered a tortilla soup, which was spicy and done just right. “The food here is great,” she said after a taste.

  “Ed, the cook, worked at one of the fancy resorts in Aspen, Colorado. He returned to Spanner and is kind enough to grace us with his great food.”

  “Do you know everyone in town?”

  “Just about.”

  “And you’ve known John and Larissa your whole life? It must be so nice to have that history.”

  “It has its pros and cons,” he replied. “Actually that isn’t true. The grievances I have are very minor. Like the ladies who bring me brownies and remind me that I should be married by now.”

  “So why aren’t you?” Aimee asked. Her skin blanched; she felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment. Sometimes she really was too direct.

  He shrugged. “I haven’t found the right girl, I suppose.”

  She peeped up, horrified to see the amused, teasing expression on his face. She busied herself by taking a long swallow of her iced tea. “Why did you become a doctor?” she asked to change the subject.

  A fleeting look of regret or sadness flickered over his face. It vanished so quickly she wondered if she imagined it.

  “The usual reasons. I wanted to help people.” He shrugged negligently.

  “Where did you work in D.C.?”

  “George Washington University Hospital,” he said. Something about the tightness of his voice indicated he didn’t really want to discuss his job history. She felt a little taken aback to bump against one of his boundaries.

  “So why aren’t you a doctor here? Like at the clinic with McKinsey?”

  “He’s been asking me to stay in Spanner and take over his practice. He’s getting old and is worried the folks around here won’t have access to good health care.”

  “And?” She prompted.

  “I gave it up two years ago.”

  “You’re still licensed, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So… do you still enjoy practicing medicine?”

  He seemed to study the pattern of the wood grain on the table for a while, considering the question. When he shrugged. “I used to enjoy practicing medicine. I suspect I’d enjoy it again if the circumstances were right.”

  “So what’s stopping you?”

  “I haven’t decided for sure that I’m staying in Spanner, though I suspect I will. I guess I want to feel more sure of what the future holds.”

  “Don’t we all,” Aimee said.

  When they arrived back at the ranch, Aimee went upstairs for a nap; today had been her first foray outside since her surgery and she’d been surprised how tired she felt.

  Mark went into his office to check email, and amid a stream of messages from Shelby Sloan, he was surprised to see a name he had never expected to see again. His old boss, Adam Fraller. Mark stared at the subject line: Off The Record.

  They had never been off the record; that was the problem. But the fact that Adam was attempting to make it appear that this was a friendly ping made him curious. He clicked. “Hey Mark, just wanted to see how you’ve been. Give me a call sometime.”

  Bullshit. Adam had never been a friend, even when they were on the same team. Adam wanted something from him. Whatever he was angling for, Mark wasn’t going to give it. He was done with that life.

  Mark deleted the email, then glanced at the messages from Shelby. There were thirty of them, each one becoming more hysterical, then alternating between conciliatory and indignant. He deleted them, most of them remaining unread.

  His email account was proof positive that he was much better off out here in the hinterlands of Montana than the nation’s capital.

  He then checked Facebook. He rarely used it but it was an easy way to keep in touch with his sister Maggie. Her life in Boston never failed to cause him to worry. Her dates with various men were usually reported on Facebook, with her many female friends chiming in on what they thought of the man. Sometimes she discussed her career, defending mob bosses. More often, her stream was full of hippy boho sayings that sounded like New Age gobbledygook to Mark but evidently meant something significant to Maggie.

  He read her latest update:

  There are billions of little stories - small but powerful moments day after day that brought us to the place we are presently.

  Her friends had written “So True” and “thanks for the reminder!” and other such inanity. Mark wrote: Just checking on you. Glad you’re li
ving every moment to the fullest.

  That is pretty good advice for anyone, he thought, then shut down the computer.

  Aimee awoke feeling refreshed, then noting the time, took a shower and dressed for diner with John and Larissa Jenkins. She chose the cute vintage skirt, the silver blouse and granny boots that she bought at Flowers Vintage. The skirt felt flouncy; she experimentally spun around, and the dress twirled around her.

  After applying makeup and doing her hair, she walked downstairs, to find Mark on the sofa watching a football game on tv.

  He glanced up and something stilled in his face. “Wow,” he said, standing up.

  Aimee tried to suppress a smile of pleasure, but failed.

  “You did something different with your hair.”

  “I just curled it a little…”

  “You look amazing,” Mark said.

  “Thank you. I’m glad we went to Jane’s vintage shop.”

  “Me too,” he replied.

  Mark looked down at his cargo pants and shirt. “I guess I better get cleaned up.”

  Aimee watched him walk upstairs and waited , listening for the shower stream. When she heard it blast on, she took May outside. May immediately trotted off, and Aimee walked as fast as she could to the barn. The horses were in the paddock, which she was thankful for. It was crazy but she didn’t want those big, trusting eyes witnessing her.

  In the corner where she had secreted the money, she grabbed the canvas bag, then fluffed the hay so it looked undisturbed.

  In the darkness, she hurried across the grass to the house and stole inside, with May right beside her. She paused in the entryway, listening for Mark. Still in the shower. She walked quickly but quietly up the steps and into her room.

  Shutting the door, she looked around. She had to find a new hiding place – a place where she could watch over it. It was, after all, the thing that would carry her to her new stage of life.

  The garage? Linen closets? Both were used too often to be good hiding places. Aimee looked at May’s sweet face and felt shame. Even the puppy knew she was up to no good. It was a dirty feeling, using Mark’s home as a place to stash her stolen money. In a way, she felt like she was stealing from him; she was bringing something unsavory to his house.

  The old cedar chest at the foot of the bed? Stuff it under the bed?

  She was considering her options when she heard the shower turn off.

  Suddenly panicked, she opened the lid of the cedar chest and saw it was stuffed full of winter blankets. “Damn it,” she muttered.

  The bed had no skirt so that was out of the question. She opened the chest of drawers and began trying to stuff the large bag inside. It was a very tight fit. She shut the drawer just as she heard his bedroom door open.

  Unthinking, Aimee flung open her door. And there, in the hallway, was the most beautiful half-naked man she’d ever seen in her life. His hair was mussed and wet. He held a white towel wrapped around his narrow hips. His chest, was broad and defined. He had abs. Actual abs.

  A slow smile spread over his lips as he watched her checking him out. A hot blush crept up her neck as she realized she’d been caught.

  “Hi,” she said stupidly.

  “Hi.”

  “I was…” Her hand lifted awkwardly, the dropped. “Are you okay? Do you need something?”

  He opened a linen closet in the hallway, and pulled out a fresh set of bedsheets.

  “Oh…” Aimee felt ridiculous. She sounded like an idiot, blathering on. Just shut up, she scolded herself. “Well, see you downstairs,” she stammered.

  She turned and hurried downstairs.

  By the time she got into the kitchen, her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking. Adrenaline poisoning, she thought. She was afraid of getting caught with stacks of stolen cash.

  But that was only partially the reason for her mindlessness. It was his gorgeous nakedness that had completely awed her, stirring the fantasies she’d been trying to suppress.

  When Mark emerged, he wore black pants and a blue button-down shirt. He smelled like heaven. Whatever his aftershave, he definitely should keep using it. It was light, a musk-citrus combination, and completely irresistible.

  “You clean up nice,” she said.

  “And I’m charming,” he said with a grin, leaning into her. She began to tremble uncontrollably as his eyes met hers, his lips playfully smiling just inches from her own. Oh god. She was not ready for this. His killer closeness, his sexy lips teasing her, tempting her to just lift her face an inch to meet his mouth. She felt shivery excitement and awe, and aching desire for his contact.

  Then he abruptly pulled back, holding a bottle of wine that he’d fetched from the small wine rack behind her.

  She might have exhaled audibly. Blushing madly from embarrassment she turned away and busied herself with getting a treat for May and refreshing her water and food dishes.

  “You okay?” Mark asked, the smile still in his voice.

  “Yes, I just want to make sure May is taken care of. Is that good wine?”

  “It’s pretty good. It’s a Spanish dessert wine.”

  She nodded, trying to pay attention. Her hands were shaking. His closeness had really thrown her. She tried desperately to calm down.

  “You ready?” Mark asked after she finished with May.

  She nodded, not quite trusting her voice.

  “Good, come on,” he said, and grabbed her hand, then gently pulled her toward the door to the garage. His hand was soft and warm and sure. He held the door open and she climbed up on the running board and inside.

  As they drove, Aimee looked out at the dark streets, thinking about the kiss that almost happened. Her system was still jangled, still antsy.

  She heard Mark mutter under his breath and then glance in the rear view mirror. Aimee looked behind and saw the cherry red and blue lights of a police cruiser right behind them.

  Her heart stopped in her chest; her whole body broke out in a cold sweat. Aimee looked out the window to the black wilds. It looked so much like the night of the crash – all black, empty space. She wondered if she could run again. She looked up at Mark, who was slowing down and pulling to the edge of the road.

  “Don’t stop,” she said. Her voice sounded cold and small to her own ears.

  He met her eyes briefly, and some secret knowledge passed between them. Then, she would think later. That’s the exact moment he knew she had lied about everything. She was wrong, of course. He had known about her lies since almost the first moment. But it was the first open admission that she had a reason to avoid the police.

  Mark said nothing, but pulled over the shoulder. “We’ll be fine,” he said, and reached over to take her hand.

  The police car parked behind them and a few seconds later, the impossibly bright light of a Maglight shone through Mark’s open window.

  Aimee reminded herself to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. She tried to remain calm and focus on her breath, even as her body began to shake uncontrollably. Her mouth had gone dry.

  “Do you know how fast you were going?”

  “Yes,” Mark answered.

  When nothing else was forthcoming, the officer asked for Mark’s license and registration.

  He went back to his cruiser.

  “Stay calm,” Mark said softly. He was looking straight at her. Unable to meet his eyes, she looked at her hands in her lap. “This is routine. I was speeding or something.”

  Aimee said nothing. She imagined the connections between this police officer and Seth. Since he knew she was not dead, it was not possible that he simply put out an all-points bulletin on her. But how would Seth know to look for her with Mark Spanner?

  She was trying to figure that out when the officer returned. “You’re free to go. But please slow down through here. You were going eighty in a seventy mile an hour zone.”

  Mark took the paperwork and said thank you.

  Aimee held her breath, waiting for the officer
to notice her shaking hands or the way she refused to look at him. But he simply walked away.

  Mark buzzed up the window and watched the officer pull around the SUV and speed down the road.

  When the red tail lights looked very far away, Mark said, “Whatever you’re afraid of, we need to discuss it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Tonight, when we get back home. Deal?”

  Aimee nodded.

  He lifted her chin and forced her to look at him. “Deal?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Mark smiled and shook his head. He sat back in the seat and put the car in gear.

  “What are you laughing about?”

  “I’m not laughing,” Mark said.

  “You’re smirking.”

  He turned to look at her. He shrugged. “I guess I just have a thing about complicated women.”

  Aimee was so relieved that the cop didn’t drag her to jail on some trumped-up, Seth-invented charge that she would have agreed to anything – even telling Mark the whole truth. She tried to relax and look forward to dinner with Mark’s friends. They drove into the foothills, a residential area that wound up the mountain toward rocky cliffs that bordered the edge of town.

  “See that huge monster at the top?” Mark said, indicating a house that seemed to wrap around the entire top of a peak.

  “Hard to miss.”

  “That’s Robert Reid’s house.”

  “Really? I love his movies.”

  “He moved in just a few months ago.”

  “I wonder if he’s bringing other movie stars with him.”

  “That would be a mixed blessing, I think.”

  They arrived at a much smaller home, but one that, in Aimee’s opinion, was much more charming. In the darkness, it looked like a spacious ranch-style house, the kind that she associated with the Portland suburbs.

  Larissa greeted them with warm hugs and kisses on the cheek and invited them inside. The Jenkins had a lovely home; a fire was roaring in the grate; candles had been lit and jazz was playing.

  “The kids are with my mother so we can have a real adult conversation,” Larissa said. “And also I can have a glass of wine or four.”

  She set aside the Spanish dessert wine that Mark had given her and poured from an open bottle of white.