The Art of Love (The Windswept Saga)

by Tommie Conrad

  “Thank you for watching the kids today,” Alison said, her eyes on the oven. She switched on the self-cleaning feature and turned her gaze to him. “You’re a Godsend.”

  He leaned back against the cabinets, braced his hands on either side of himself atop the counter. “It was no trouble, you know that. Never is.”

  Her brown eyes studied his face, her gaze far more maternal than he expected. “Did you and Taylor have a fight on the way over here?” Her eyebrows arched questioningly. “You barely looked at her during dinner and you seemed to have no problem when I banished her and CJ to the living room.”

  He cast his eyes downward for a contemplative stretch of time before answering. “I feel a little weird about her these days. I want to commit to her fully but it feels way too fast. And…I feel like if I lost her, I’d never be right again. I’ve never felt this way about another person or thing. I love this ranch and I love my work but those are just things. Do you get that?”

  She smiled compassionately. “As a wife and mother, yeah, I get it. You don’t have to spell out your love in skywriting, though. Just be there for her, support her, let her have some time to herself if you think she needs it. Most importantly, communicate. That’s a very important word you need to remember. Communicate,” she repeated drawing out the syllables. She crossed the room, walking with purpose, and rested her hands on either shoulder. “The absolute worst thing you can display is indifference. I know you understand what I’m saying.”

  He nodded in comprehension; he’d seen both his brother and sister display that emotion in relationships, and while the outcomes were ultimately positive, there’d been a lot of pain in the process. He looked her square in the eyes. “I love her, you know. There’s not a plan for the future that doesn’t include her. I’ve already reordered it, and living without her now…I don’t know. I’d be half a man.”

  Alison responded with a brittle smile. “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, kid. Plans for the future have a way of changing. Ultimately, it’s all out of our hands.”

  He knew that she was right, but was too happy in his blissful ignorance to consider another possibility. And the weight of what he carried in his mind—only Mark knew about it so far, and he’d vowed to keep a lid on it. “I thought you wanted to talk shop,” he inquired, changing the subject. “Or was that just a ruse, a diversion, to prod me about my love life?”

  She dropped her hands and headed toward the kitchen counter, which she proceeded to clean. “My intentions were pure. I was thinking about having an Open House at the store leading up to the 4 of July. We’ll all be here for the holiday, of course, but the days preceding it brings a lot of extra traffic in town—family members coming home for visits, people off of work. It could be a boon to us. Thoughts?” She quizzed him with her eyes.

  “Sounds great,” he said, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. “I’ll make sure Taylor is okay to work those days.”

  “Speaking of…could you have her come in here?” she asked, drying off the counter now. “I think she wanted my potato recipe.”

  He held his hand out, palm up, in confusion. “I thought you said…”

  “It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, Chandler. You should know that.”

  He didn’t say another word—he just smiled at her before taking his leave.

  ***

  The tour never made it past the living room, which didn’t bother Taylor—she had glanced in the study upon entering, already knew it as the place where Alison created the occasional book and CJ filed paperwork away each month. She’d seen the dining room and kitchen. The only thing left was the upstairs, and she certainly wasn’t going to chance waking two sleeping children. CJ had long since run out of interest in trophies and instead showed her a photo album. She perched on the arm of a chair and flipped through the pages—lots of smiles, lots of happy times. It was kind of funny, and a little sad, that Alison didn’t seem to match her husband or kids, with their fair hair and bright eyes.

  “Do you ever miss it?” she asked out of sheer curiosity. “The rodeo, I mean.”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes. But I take a lot of pride now in teaching my kids how to ride, knowing I’ll pass along those skills to another generation. As nice as it was to be adored by all those fans, it’s a lot nicer to be adored by one woman every day and night. It also hurts a lot less,” he added with a laugh.

  “I can certainly respect that,” she said with a nod. Chandler appeared in the doorway, his face locked into an unreadable expression.

  “Taylor, sweetheart,” he said dispassionately, “Alison wants to see you about something or other in the kitchen.” She closed the album and stood, handing it to CJ. He stood respectfully, fixed his eyes on the floor. “Did he treat you okay?” he asked when she drew close. She nodded.

  “He was a complete gentleman, same as always.” Chandler met her eyes briefly, responded with a brittle smile as he watched her go.

  CJ cleared his throat when she was out of earshot. “What’s wrong with you, bro? You’re pulled tighter than a bull rope at a million-dollar rodeo.”

  Chandler rubbed his temples and joined his brother on the couch. CJ was so relaxed, so comfortable in his own skin that it sometimes made his brother uncomfortable by comparison. “Have I been acting like a jerk tonight?” he asked, his eyes shut tight in frustration.

  “Little bit,” CJ replied, lazily tossing a mint in his mouth. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about commitment lately. And every time I consider it, I feel like we’re moving too fast. What if Taylor doesn’t feel the same way about me that I do about her?”

  “Man,” CJ said, that one word full of chastisement. “You can see it in her eyes, dimwit. And I can see it in yours—you’re ready to take the leap.”

  “It’s a leap of faith, isn’t it?” Chandler looked into his eyes, waiting for guidance and wisdom.

  “It is,” CJ agreed with a nod of his head. “Look, I was only with Alison for about two months before I decided to pop the question.”

  “And you were engaged for nearly two years before you married.”

  “The longest two years of my life,” CJ countered. “I should’ve married her that first summer and moved to be with her while she finished school.”

  “She was worth the wait, though. You both grew as people, as friends and,” he said, swallowing hard, “lovers. If Taylor and I got engaged now, we’d have to dive into the wedding planning immediately. Stress City.”

  Unbeknownst to either of them, Taylor had excused herself to the powder room and overheard that thread of conversation. She ducked behind the door quickly, heart racing, embarrassed at even an accidental case of eavesdropping. Then she felt humiliated, like some sort of obligation Chandler merely tolerated. Her mother had warned her many, many times over the years—at least a hundred thousand—to be careful when it came to others’ conversations. It was all too easy, Alice cautioned her, to hear remarks out of context and subsequently blow them out of proportion.

  CJ raised a hand like he planned to slap his brother hard across the face—and truthfully, the thought crossed his mind for a split second. Ultimately he pointed his index finger out, in a valiant attempt to make a point. “How many times have I told you, bro, that there is no timetable for love? You marry when it feels right to you, not when someone else proclaims it. It ain’t the Ten Commandments—it ain’t carved in stone.”

  Chandler laughed in spite of himself. “God, CJ, your metaphors. They’re always dead-on.”

  “Hey,” he said defensively, “I went to college, too. Anyway, have you bought a ring?”

  He was stunned by his brother’s pointed question, but had no idea why. CJ was adept at cutting through bullshit—probably because he was an expert in it. “I…”

  “What? You can tell your big brother anything.”

  “Uh-huh.” He shot CJ his deadliest glare, but he failed miserably. Once again, he’d been undermined by
his greatest flaw—he just couldn’t keep his damned emotions from parading across his face. “Lower your voice,” he prompted.

  “Okay,” CJ whispered. “It’s like we’re back on the roof again.” Chandler smiled at the memory—from the time they were old enough, with few breaks and until CJ moved across the range into his own house, they’d climbed onto the porch roof outside CJ’s window at night, counting the stars, sharing secrets, and generally becoming friends. He’d been closer to Mark throughout the years, in part because of their age gap and a marked difference in personalities; he and Mark simply had more in common. But on that porch roof, on many a summer night, they’d put aside judgments, resentments, hostilities, shared minutes and hours, worried about the future and whether they’d amount to much of anything. Chandler was glad to say that they’d turned out fine, in spite of a few missteps along the way.

  “I looked at a ring.”

  CJ’s mouth fell open in surprise—the good kind. “Did you buy it?”

  “I…”

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “I put a hold on it,” he said, looking sickly as the words left his mouth. “Does that make me sound like a jerk?”

  “It’s the biggest commitment of your life, Chandler,” he argued, his face softening into the perfect image of empathy. “It’s okay if you want to put some thought into it.” Chandler was amazed at how much CJ looked like their father—eye color aside, he was a damned good approximation. He even had the calm, reassuring demeanor down pat, which was no small accomplishment—“calm” had never been an adjective meant for his older brother. Now, though, it suited him. They were all growing older—where had the time gone?

  “It’s a beautiful ring,” he said absently, more to himself than CJ. “I went down there on a whim, just to check out their selection, and it caught my eye straight off.”

  “No small feat,” CJ complimented. “You’ve got a great eye.”

  “Thanks,” Chandler responded, smiling at his brother’s admission. “The diamond reminds me of her. Clear and bright, beautiful, unfettered with triviality.”

  “Triviality?” CJ’s words were matched by a skeptical expression on his face.

  “I know who she is, CJ. I know her hurts, her loves, her wants, needs, desires.”

  “TMI, baby brother.” But as he said that, Chandler noted the twinkle in his eye.

  “You know what I mean. That’s part of the problem, though—I feel like I know her inside and out but I have no clue what she wants out of the future.”

  “She wants you, dipshit.” Chandler’s eyes narrowed and his lips opened, but no words escaped. “She wants Chandler Adams and everything that comes with him. I know that those other women you dated may have loved you, but they had no interest in this ranch and your role in it. The thought of you opening a gallery in some small town, running it yourself, making your own name as an artist, probably didn’t merit much in their minds. Taylor, on the other hand, is one-hundred-and-ten-percent different. She loves you faults and all, knows where you’re headed and is very likely hoping to wind up there with you. The real problem here,” he said lazily, “is you, cowboy. You’re head over heels for that girl and it scares the hell out of you. I’ve watched you risk your life, your financial well-being, even your standing in this family, and always land on your feet. This is the first time I’ve ever seen you risk your heart, kid, and I’m hoping to God you won’t pull back and miss your shot at happiness.”

  Chandler was taken aback at his brother’s sheer verbosity—if he strung together a group of words that lengthy, there were usually expletives galore and no small measure of hyperbole. This time, however, he’d outdone himself, laying out something that made so much sense Chandler found himself unable to ignore it. “What do you think I should do?” he finally asked, albeit stupidly. He cringed at his own voice.

  CJ slapped him hard on the shoulder. “I think you should buy the damned ring, hide it under your pillow, and keep that girl in your sights every hour of the day.”

  ***

  Taylor examined the handwritten recipe, her mind reeling. She shouldn’t have listened to that snippet of conversation. She should have listened to more. She should confront Chandler. She should put it out of her mind and pretend it never happened. She should stop being so indecisive.

  “You’re welcome.”

  She looked up and into Alison’s eyes. “What?”

  “You thanked me for the recipe, and I said ‘you’re welcome’.” Alison smiled. “You okay, T? You’ve seemed more than a little preoccupied tonight, and I could barely squeeze two words out of Chandler. Not exactly what I was expecting tonight,” she said, raising her eyebrows for emphasis.

  “I’m sorry,” Taylor said. “Can I tell you something in confidence?”

  “Always.” Alison took the stool closest to her. “And if it’s too heavy, I keep a shovel under the porch.”

  Taylor stifled a laugh with her hand. “Chandler and I have gotten to that ‘weird’ place in our relationship. You know what I mean?”

  “Absolutely.” She knotted her fingers together and shook her head. “He’s a man, just like all the rest. They can require a lot of finessing. Truth is, I think he’s scared.”

  “Scared?” she asked, bordering on incredulous.

  “Yes, T, scared out of his ever-loving mind. He looks at you like he’s a dehydrated man and you’re an oasis. Not hard to figure that one out. He’s scared to lose you.”

  “I don’t want to leave him,” she said defensively. Then she softened her tone and said, “I also want him to commit to me, but I don’t want to force the issue.”

  “A lot of women have flirted with him over the years—still do—but few of them ever wanted what lurks behind the handsome veneer. That meant a lot of isolation and even confusion on his part. You’re attracted to the outer shell, but you love the person within—and that’s what he needs. He may not be as quick to realize it as you, though. Like I said, he’s a man. They can toss a bale of hay over their head without breaking a sweat, but give them something abstract like love and they might as well be mining for gold with a fork and spoon.”

  ***

  The moon shone onto her shoulder, turning the normally bronzed skin into a pale dome. It was the only part of her body uncovered by the sheet, and he lowered his mouth to it, placing a kiss against the solid bone. He moved in closer, trailing kisses across her shoulder and up her neck, finally landing on her mouth. She parted her lips in invitation, but following a passionate kiss he pulled back. His blue eyes studied her in the soft patch of light.

  “Are you okay?” he asked hoarsely. “You were so quiet the whole way back here. I worried I’d stuck my foot in it and hurt your feelings.”

  She rested her hand flat against the smooth surface of his chest, felt the edge of his heartbeat. “Was I not enthusiastic enough just now?” she asked, ducking his question.

  “No,” he quickly replied, one corner of his mouth forming into a smirk. He could still feel the after-effects reverberating in every fiber of his being. “You were definitely responsive.” He inhaled deeply and watched her wet her lips. “Might I go ahead and make a preemptive apology for any half-assed thing I may do in the future? This,” he said, motioning his hand in the few inches of space between them, “is all I want. Me and you.”

  She smiled up at him, but it felt unfamiliar when he saw it with his own eyes. Her hands framed his face, pulling him even closer. “That’s what I want, too. And I don’t have to go home tonight.”

  Chapter 22

  Taylor did go home the next morning, telling Chandler she wasn’t feeling well. It was a half-truth, and she felt guilty about leaving him shorthanded at the store, but he didn’t force the issue. He told her to spend a relaxing day with her mother, and assured her the store would get along fine without her. “But make sure you’re here tomorrow,” he teased, “because two days without you might kill me.” The tension between them had evaporated—they’d made love until
midnight before finally passing out—and she’d only felt a shred of regret over asking for a day off. Truth be told, she was relieved. Their relationship may not have been on solid footing at that moment, but she also had no desire to deconstruct it with him. The idea of a brutal fight didn’t appeal to her, either. Alice would be curious enough, anyway, seeing her daughter come home in the same clothes she’d worn last night.

  After a shower she felt refreshed. She changed into clean clothes, pulled her hair up in a loose knot, and joined her mother in the living room. “I know I spend a lot of time apologizing, but I’m sorry for not being around more. I feel like I’m neglecting you at every turn.”

  “Nonsense,” Alice said, changing the yarn for the two-tone scarf she was knitting. “Those purses you sewed were a huge hit at the church sale. Completely upstaged my scarves,” she said with pride rather than resentment.

  Taylor leaned back in the chair, rolled her head atop the tufting. “I’ll start another one today.”

  Alice nodded. “So why are you playing hooky?” she asked softly. “Did the two of you have a lover’s quarrel?”

  “Not exactly.” She frowned and closed her eyes. “We click very well in some ways—but in others, we’re struggling to gain our foothold.”

  “That’s just the process of growing with someone,” Alice offered. “Love changes you on so many levels that it can be disconcerting. You begin to question your preconceptions, your likes and dislikes, even your own body.”

  “Hmm,” Taylor responded. “That’s one area where we’ve never had a problem.”

  “Consider yourself lucky.” Alice didn’t elaborate on that answer as her hands moved the needles with precision. “But you’re in luck,” she contended, shifting gears. “Today is the big day. Blade and Raven’s wedding.”

  Taylor’s head rolled toward her mother. “If I believed in gambling, I’d wager you a few dollars that someone stops that wedding before the minister can sign off on it. Be it Mitch, Tricia, or a back-from-the-dead villain, that marriage license won’t be signed.”