Conflicting Hearts (6 page)

Another couple passes on the right. They’re climbing at an
insane speed, but they both look buff and in shape.

“Do you work out?” I huff, trying to regain my strength. No
doubt, he’s got six-pack abs underneath his tee shirt.

“Yeah, sometimes. Here, let me get you some water.”

He swings his backpack off his shoulder, unzips it, and
pulls out a bottled water. Like the gentleman he is, he doesn’t just hand it to
me. Instead, he untwists the white top and then places it in my outstretched
hand.

I bring it to my lips and gulp a few times to let the fresh
water run down my throat. “Thanks a lot. I needed that.” I put the cap back on,
and he takes it back.

“I’ll put it in the pack so you don’t have to carry it. Just
let me know when you want some.”

Why does he think of everything? I’m beginning to wonder
what woman in her right mind would let a guy like this go. I feel ashamed that
I’m not as thoughtful to others as he is.

After another half hour of a grueling climb, we reach the
top. The view is spectacular, and we stand on the platform and peer over the
side at the long drop. The air is crisp and clean. I let out a contented sigh
over how much I miss precious moments like these. All I do is stay within my
apartment like a hermit, and it’s beginning to take its toll on my life. I’ve
got to get out more.

Ian is quiet, as if he’s pondering life too. I don’t say
much of anything, because frankly I’m afraid to speak. It’s better to be
relaxed, enjoy the sight, and let things progress naturally—whatever that
means.

“Yeah, it’s been way too long since I’ve been up here,” he
says broodingly. I wonder if his own memories are swirling around his head.

“Me too.”

“I like to hike some of the other trails down the gorge.
Hopefully, we can do this again some time.” His tone changes as he appears to
shrug off the private musings.

“I’d like that, but I think I better get in shape first.” I
stretch my aching back with a moan.

Suddenly, he turns and looks at me with his warm blue eyes,
studying every aspect of my face. The attention makes me feel uncomfortable, so
I turn my head forward and stare down at the cascading water.

“You’re very pretty.” He gives me a little shoulder-to-shoulder
nudge.

“It’s the altitude,” I reply. “The oxygen depletion is
affecting your thought process.” He looks displeased that I can’t take the
compliment.

“So, you want to hike up farther to the next falls or have
you had enough?”

“Wow, that’s another half hour or so, isn’t it?” The thought
makes my feet pound.

“Yeah, about that.”

“I don’t know.” I grimace. “I’m spent right now. Do you mind
if we try that on another day?”

“No, not at all.”

After a few more silent minutes of taking in the scenery, I
breathe a deep sigh.

“Want to go?” he asks, probably sensing my fatigue.

“Sure, but let’s take it slow.”

We turn around and start heading back down the steep trail.
While we’re descending the mountain, I’m really starting to hurt. My legs have
turned into marshmallow, and one of my knees wants to buckle every tenth step.

Ian is being patient—more than patient with me, actually.
Finally, the klutz in me rules, and my right foot slips on a rock in the path.
The next I know, I’m falling backward about to land on my butt. I let out a
harrowing shriek of terror, thinking I’m going to fall off the edge and splat
on the rocks three hundred feet below. Ian quickly rises to the challenge and
grabs me on my way down.

“Whoa! I got you,” he says, grabbing my upper arms and
holding onto me tight. He sets me back up on my feet, and I’m trembling from
the near splat.

“You okay?” He genuinely sounds concerned.

Ian slowly turns me around so that I’m facing him. We’re nose
to nose. Our bodies are touching front to front. This is not good, or maybe it
is good
.
He doesn’t say a thing, except to look at me with a smoldering
gaze. A second later, he lazily moves his eyes toward my lips.

I’m frozen. I look at him with half anticipation and half
panic. He’s going to kiss me; I know it. His intentions are clearly expressed
in his blue eyes, which have turned a shade darker. I’m losing it. Hurriedly, I
remind him of his words to fend off the advance.

“Uh, I thought you wanted to be
just
friends?”

A look of admiration sweeps across his face. He gently
brings his hand up to my forehead and brushes a few strands of hair out of my
eyes. Ian is silent, but it’s obvious he is thinking this through. It’s driving
me crazy being close to his body.

“You want more?” I whisper, trying to get him to say
something.

“Do you?”

He answers with a question. It’s annoying. “I asked you
first,” I reply, not cracking a smile or giving away my heart pounding in my
chest. I can’t look at him any longer. I close my eyes, and silently ask God,
who I’ve ignored for years, to help me.

Then I feel the warmth of his breath approach. He circles my
lips with his and gives me a long, tender kiss.
Sweet Jesus. He tastes so
delicious
! I hope the breath mint I popped in my mouth a half hour ago is
still working. Eventually, he pulls away, and I open my eyes.

“Does that answer your question?” His voice is deep and
sexy.

I nod my head. My ability to speak has vanished. What does
he expect? I haven’t been kissed in more years than I care to remember. The
closest I’ve come to a smooch is a lick from my cat and his sandpaper tongue.

“Now, what’s your answer, Rachel? Do you want to be more
than friends and see where this goes?”

I’m not ready for this, and I know it. Old fears shroud me
in doubt as he gently holds me. Yes, I want him. Who wouldn’t want him?
Handsome, strong, intelligent, kind, and the list goes on. I can’t believe,
though, that anyone like
him
would want
me.
Maybe he wants in my
pants, and he’s trying to figure out if I’m an easy lay. That’s it.

“It frightens me,” I whisper.

“Why?” His eyes narrow.

“Just does.”

“I like you, Rachel, a lot. You probably get that by now.”
He smiles. “The moment you lifted your head off that steering wheel and turned
and looked at me, something clicked inside. Can’t explain it.”

“I like you, too, Ian. Does this mean you want to date me or
something?”

He grins. “Yeah, something like that,” he says, giving me an
endearing look, which melts my heart. “Come on, let’s get back to the car.”

He turns me around, and I inhale a deep breath.
Yes! This
guy wants to date me
, I scream inside with glee
.
A silly grin
plasters across my face and stays there the entire way down the mountain until
my cheeks hurt. God, this really can’t be happening to me.

Even though I feel elated, my fears are standing by the
sidelines ready to snatch the emotion away. I wish they’d back off and take my
insecurities with them. My smile fades by the time we make it back to the SUV,
and a foreboding feeling grabs my tummy.

“You want to get a bite to eat in the lodge?” He’s standing
by the car door hesitating.

It’s the dine-with-him offer again. I glance at the lodge
and the memories inside. It’s been so long since I’ve sat inside the stone
walled and wooden beam restaurant.

“Okay, maybe a Coke and a bowl of soup.” If I don’t have
anything solid, I might make it home. Ian looks as if he’s won the lottery,
because I agreed to eat with him. We climb the stairs and a hostess greets us.

“Would you like a table by the window?”

I see there’s an empty table by my favorite spot, and
immediately I blurt out my preference. “How about the table by the fireplace?”

“Yes, of course,” she answers. We’re escorted there, and Ian
pulls out a chair for me. He waits for me to be seated before he takes his. The
menus are put in front of us, and I remember their good brewed coffee.

“Would you like anything to drink?” the hostess asks.

“Coffee.”

“Same for me,” Ian replies.

At last we’re alone and looking at each other across the table.
“Nice place. Too bad the weather is too warm for a fire,” he says, glancing
over at the empty hearth filled with ashes.

“I know. This used to be my favorite table when we drove
down here on fall and winter mornings for breakfast.” I let the word “we” slip
out of my mouth, and immediately I regret the personal leak.

“We who?” He gives me a curious glance.

He picked up on that slip fast. I look at him, and my heart
pounds in my chest. He kisses me, tells me that he wants to date me, and now I
have to start my true confessions. I might as well get it over with, because he
has some confessions of his own.

“My ex-husband,” I say in a low voice, while my eyes shift
over to the empty hearth so I don’t have to see the look on his face. Before he
can reply, the hostess pops back with our drinks. Thankfully, I have a few more
moments to collect my thoughts. 

After stirring in the cream and taking a sip of coffee, I
raise my eyes to look at his face. I’m surprised he’s staring into his own cup,
swirling the spoon around in aimless circles. He’s either digesting my
confession, or deciding whether to spill the beans about his past.

He lays the spoon down and then looks at me. There is a
recognizable sadness in his eyes, which throws me for a loop.

“I have an ex too. An ex-wife, that is—Susan.” 

Susan
. I wish he would have never dropped her name
into my head. Nevertheless, Ian looks embarrassed as hell, as if he just
revealed the biggest failure of his life. The miserable look on his face makes
me feel sorry for him, so I make light of it.

“Yeah, I know. I saw your marital status on your social
media page.” I smirk, and then lower my lips to the coffee cup and take a
sip. 

“Boy, you’ve really done your homework.” He leans back in
his chair and crosses his arms. “Did you run a background check on me, too, to
make sure I have no outstanding warrants?” His eyes are gleaming at me, filled
with mischievous intent.

“Not yet, but the thought crossed my mind.”

He relaxes and sits forward. “Okay, that’s out of the way,”
he says. “What next?”

“That’s enough confessions for one day,” I say emphatically.
I have my own dark secrets stuffed behind a closed door, and I don’t know if
I’ll ever let them out to this perfect male specimen.

“Can I at least ask how long it’s been? I mean since
your divorce,” he inquires in a low voice.

He has the right to know if I’m on the rebound, so I tell
him the truth. “Five years.”

“Wow, that’s a long time. Have you dated since then?”

This is certainly going to sound like a lie, but it’s the
sad, awful truth. “Not really. Just once or twice for a few nights out here and
there.” His eyes widen in surprise. “I never found anybody I liked.”
Or
someone I could trust
, I honestly confess to myself
.

“Do you ever see your ex-husband?”

“No, thank God, nor do I want to. He lives out of state.” I
think to myself,
okay tit-for-tat
. “How about you?”

“Three and sometimes.”

“Define sometimes.”

He glances down at his coffee cup for a moment and then
looks back up at me. “Our paths cross in our jobs.”

“You mean she’s an attorney too?”

“Yes.”

Oh, great. His ex-wife probably looks classy, makes tons of
money, and is smart as hell. Maybe they met at Harvard. “Okay,” I mumble.

“Does that bother you?”

“You over her?” I pry.

“Yes.”

“You over him?” he quickly asks in return.

“Yes.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I don’t see any problem with us…”

“Can I take your order now?” The waitress stands by our
table with her pad in hand, and I haven’t even opened the menu yet.

“Not quite,” Ian replies. “Can we have a few more minutes?”

“Sure, I’ll come back later.” She leaves, and he reaches
over and touches my hand. “As I was saying, I don’t see any problem with us
dating. Do you?”

Only that my self-esteem is in the toilet, I have bizarre
needs, and I know you’ll leave me one day
, my mind quickly rants. 

“No.” I might as well enjoy it while it lasts. Maybe I’ll
get laid.

The menus get read, I order soup, and barely sip a fourth of
it. Ian doesn’t comment on my lack of appetite, thankfully. Since my hand
shakes every time I lift the spoon to my mouth, he’s probably picked up on the
fact I’m petrified to be eating in front of him. I hate my nerves and lack of
confidence.

We have superficial conversation about nothing substantial.
Before we leave, I make a quick visit to the ladies’ room to collect myself,
check my makeup, and go before the long ride home.

Ian takes the freeway back, rather than the scenic route,
and returns me home mid-afternoon. After he pulls into a parking spot, he turns
off the SUV and looks at me.

“When can I see you again?”

“Whenever you like. I think my calendar is wide open.” It’s
not exactly like I have dates penned in for every day.

“How about tomorrow? You go to church or anything in
the morning?”

“Who me? I used to, but not anymore.”

“Yeah, me too.” He hesitates and then offers a suggestion.
“Well, how about we take a drive to the coast tomorrow?”

Wow, gorge one day, coast the next? 
Now I’m
singing praises in my head. I’m starving for a chance to walk the beach.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” I reply in a perky tone.

“Cannon Beach okay?”

“Perfect.”

“Pick you up at nine a.m.?”

“Perfect.”

He’s smiling from ear to ear, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed
by the fact that I get to spend more time with him. Guess things turned out
okay, and I haven’t scared him off yet.