Page 13 of I'm Not Yours
“Yes, I do.”
“And I remember that you also like swimming at night, biking for hours, and crime thrillers. Not so hot on Jane Austen. I remember that you like reading medical textbooks for fun, hiking, and photography—especially of wild animals in Yellowstone that you got too close to.”
He laughed, low and rumbly. “Remember that grizzly bear . . .”
And we were off and chatting, all about the summer we worked at Yellowstone. The animals, geysers, waterfalls, hiking trails, Mammoth Hot Springs, camping. Darn. Why was he so charming?
While we were talking he examined both my legs again, then made us scrambled eggs and toast. “Have you spent a lot of time outdoors in the last years?” he asked.
“No. Mainly I’ve worked. I do bike.” I could never give up biking. Biking leaves my problems in the dust, at least temporarily.
“That’s funny. It’s the one thing I do still, too.”
“It’s traveling on two wheels,” I said.
“A mini vacation.”
“The way to see details in nature. You can’t get that in a car.”
“The air smells better when you’re on a bike.”
I tried not to stare at him, but he was all man. Huggable shoulders, lean but not skinny, rangy and muscled. It was almost surreal that he was here. Before all of the other stuff happened, we never would have sat apart on a couch. We would have been together, close, soon naked. Loving and laughing. We would have been threading our fingers together. Kissing all the time, a roll here and there, Jace’s muscular arms picking me up and putting me exactly where he wanted.
I felt old all of a sudden. Old, as if joy had passed me by, love had passed me by, chance and luck had passed me by.
“So, this is your dad’s place.”
“Yes. I recently cleared out a houseful of junk.”
“What are your plans for the house, then?”
“I’ll sell it. But currently I have no job. I had a condo in the city, but my agent listed it, we had a cash offer, and everything went really fast. I sold the furniture to the new owners and packed up.” I hadn’t liked the furniture. It was cold, modern, and hard edged. I think I used it to hide behind, too, as I did with my fancy-schmancy clothes. The better the furniture, the farther I would be from our trailer.
“I thought I would come here until I get my life figured out, and get a new job. Plus, there are animals all over that I have apparently inherited. Two dogs, as you can see”—Bob and Margaret were at our feet, snoring—“two cats, two horses, and a rooster that is stubborn and fearless.”
“It’s beautiful out here.”
“It is. It’s serenity and peace, all mixed up between the hills and mountains. I even have a little stream out back that runs behind my apple orchard. I can hear birds. I can hear the horses neigh. I can hear the wind and the raindrops. I can hear silence.”
“It rests my brain.”
I laughed. “Yes, it rests my brain, too. You moved from New York, then?” I knew he had.
“Yes.”
“How do you like living here in Oregon?”
“I love it.”
“Are you planning on staying?”
“Yes.”
I nodded my head. “Have you found a place to live?”
“Yes.”
“A house?”
