Love for Beginners: An Under the Hood Novella (8 page)

“You owe it to yourself to live your life. Your mother isn’t old or infirm. She has to take responsibility for herself.”

“She’s not…robust. Since she lost her job, she’s been depressed.”

“With medication, she can conquer that. And you’re doing her no favors by being so strong.”

Defensiveness sprung to life. Mel crossed her arms. “What about you? You have responsibilities, too—I don’t see you brushing them off.” Her mouth tightened.

Heath stepped forward, picked up a stone from the forest floor, and tossed it into the water. “You’re right. I’ve spent far too long living the life someone else wants me to. My father expects me to take over the reins of the business. He’d like to retire.” A frown creased his forehead. “He wants me to take his place because I’m the oldest, when, in fact, the perfect candidate is right in front of him. My brother Ben would be perfect for the job, and what’s more, he wants it.”

“So why don’t you just tell your father this?”

“He thinks of Ben as a kid. And as long as I’m in the picture, he relies on me.”

Mel could see why his father depended on Heath. His easy way of doing things was mixed with a steady capability and matched by a dedication to getting the job done that made it darned difficult not to rely on him. Alice did. And the tasks he’d completed since he arrived in Meadowsweet, working all hours to ensure that the backlog was cleared, had been way above what she and Betty might have hoped for from a temporary mechanic.

“So you took yourself out of the picture.” It all made sense now. Heath was showing his father that in his absence, his brother was more than capable of taking his place. It sort of made Mel jealous that she had no siblings.

“By not being there, Dad has to consider other options. If you’re not there for your mother every minute of the day, she’ll have to find other options, too.”

Be cruel to be kind? Could it be that easy? Doubt ate at Mel’s guts. “I do baby her,” she admitted slowly. It had been years since her mother had been the adult. Maybe without the prospect of Mel to bail her out she wouldn’t have ignored the letters from the bank. Would have had to make sure there was no possibility of losing her house.

Heath lifted his camera. “Photograph time.”

…

Being with Mel was easy. He’d snapped a couple of shots as she skimmed flat stones over the river’s surface. Now, she perched on an outcropping of bare rock, jotting notes in her notebook as he worked. There was so much to photograph. A bird dipping low over the clear brown river, the pattern of stones glimpsed through the water’s crystal depths. The photo journal he would finally distill from his pictures had no real form yet—he’d build a portfolio over the days and weeks—but already an affinity with his surroundings sparked to nascent life, filling him with creative inspiration.

He glanced over. Mel’s hair tumbled in front of her face in a chestnut waterfall as she bent over her book. A beam of sunlight bathed her in its glow, as if the heavens were illuminating her just for him. Unable to resist, he snapped off a few shots.

She looked up—and as their eyes met, her mouth curved into a smile stunning in its intimacy. A shutter click recorded it for posterity, then he strode over.

The notebook was filled with her looped script. She snapped the book closed and rested her hands on it.

“Ready to move on?”

Her eyes were the exact same shade as the foliage beyond.

“I want to take one more picture.” He framed the shot, bringing her face into sharp focus, blurring the background. Snapped. “Done.”

He reached for her hand, pulled her to standing. “Let’s go back to the cabin, catch the sunset.” Her fingers curved around his; her thumb rubbed the triangle between thumb and index finger. Attraction with others had been a fast and furious affair. Quick and urgent, burning out rapidly in the heat of desire. With Mel, it was very different. Every moment spent in her company added another layer, built on the bedrock of passion that simmered under the surface. With every word that passed between them, every shared moment, he tumbled further and further, liking the person she was. Admiring the dedication and selflessness that was so much a part of her.

“I like being here with you,” she whispered as the cabin came into sight. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About my mother. About my dreams.”

“And?”

“You’re right. I am a bit of a control freak; maybe I’ve stolen her self-reliance by not trusting her to do things for herself.”

“That’s easily changed. You just have to be willing to step back, let her find her own way.” He’d set out two battered wicker chairs in the clearing outside the cabin before they left and led her over to them. “Sit. Do you want a glass of wine?”

“Love one. I’ll get them while you scout the perfect spot to capture the sunset.” She reached up and kissed him quickly on the mouth, then with rapid steps ran into the cabin.

Like a painting, nature lay before him, beauty beyond words. The foreground was full of the pines’ verdant green branches reaching to the sky. Beyond, the green darkened, shadows painting the trunks black. The dips and sloping curves of hills farther away were no longer blue, but instead shades of mauve that intensified into purple in the distance. The sky was swept with orange and apricot—the sun, behind its cloak of pearly clouds, shone warm yellow, its glow catching the edges of the clouds before it, painting them golden.

He heard footsteps on the ground behind him, the scrape of a chair as she sat, but didn’t turn, too consumed by capturing the rapidly changing view to be deflected. Breathing in the scent of pines, melding with nature, satisfaction and wonder wove their spell around and through him.

If life were a painting, this would be its ultimate masterpiece, the blending of color too magnificent, too unreal to be believed in an artist’s imagining.

In a perfect world, a world inaccessible and unachievable, he’d live out here, feast his eyes and his soul with the beauty of this vista every night. Instead, he was just a traveler passing through. Capturing the memory would be a pale shade of perfection. But it would have to do.

Chapter Eight

In another couple of months it would be too cold to sit outside without a sweater, but now the air was warm against her skin. Mel sipped her wine, enjoying the flavor of blackberries melding with the grape. She breathed in long and deep, felt her shoulders fall as relaxation stole the last vestige of tension from her limbs.

Heath was consumed with the view. His gaze never wavered from the viewfinder as the steady click of the shutter worked in the silence. She couldn’t blame him—the sunset was beyond beautiful. Today had been just about perfect. Being with him, seeing him in action, had been a revelation. He brought focus to his work in the garage, but out here, his concentration was absolute. Photography was an all-consuming love, evident in the half smile on his face as he honed in on a subject. The care as he set up the tripod, took light readings. When he’d turned the camera on her on the riverbank, she’d felt special, included.

His dedication and love of his craft were incredibly seductive, unbelievable sexy. She hadn’t thought it would be possible to desire him any more than she already did, but as she was beginning to find out, where Heath was concerned, there were no limits.

As the light faded from the sky, Heath detached the camera and folded up the tripod. He took the glass of wine she proffered and drank.

A knot formed in Mel’s stomach. Awareness skittered over her nerve endings. He’d said a man and a woman should be able to talk about what they wanted. She wanted him. Being nervous was natural—to be expected. She’d met many men in the past few years, but hadn’t had a relationship with any of them like she had with Heath. There was honesty between them. For the first time, there was the opportunity to clearly state what she wanted, and listen to what he wanted without the risk of jeopardizing a future relationship. She didn’t want one, and neither did he.

“I guess we should make dinner.” Heath smiled. “You hungry?”

She twisted the hem of her shirt between her finger and thumb. “I want to talk.”

Heath’s smile faded. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight.

In the silence, he cradled the goblet of scarlet liquid between his large hands.

Mel took a large gulp of her wine, needing Dutch courage for what was to come. “You have a future planned out full of travel and new experiences, and I…well, I want to be a different woman.”

“There’s nothing wrong with…”

She held up a hand, stilling his words. “I don’t want to be lonely. I want to have companionship with a suitable man, who will respect and stay with me. To build a life with him. But every time I find myself in a sexual situation, nerves get in the way. I freeze up. I want a man who wants what I want—doesn’t care about the sex side of things, but such a man is impossible to find, so I need to be able to at least give the impression that I’m enjoying his touch.” She traced the top of her wineglass with her index finger.

“You want me to have sex with you so you can move on to someone else?” Heath frowned.

“Yes. I admit it. I’m attracted to you, and I think going to bed could help me overcome my nerves. Could teach me how to act when having sex.”

Heath looked sort of stunned.

“I don’t want a relationship with you,” she added quickly. “That would never work—we want such different things.”

“After Cindy, I promised myself that I’d never break anyone’s heart ever again.”

“You can’t break my heart if I don’t give it to you.” It made perfect sense; why couldn’t he see it? “You’re the first man I’ve been able to be honest with. To admit that there is absolutely no possibility of falling in love with you. I’ll be choosing someone to spend my life with based on different, more logical criteria than physical attraction. I won’t fall in love with you, Heath, but I’ve fallen into lust. You’ve had relationships with women before based on the physical, why not with me?”

“You’re different,” Heath said. “I like you. I like you a lot, Mel.”

“In that case, you’ll be the perfect lover.” He’d gazed at her mouth as she spoke in a way that made her heart flip, and now, hearing her words, his eyes darkened.

She held her breath.

Then with one word, her plans fell apart.

“No.”

…

“No?” Her voice was disbelieving. “Every person you’ve ever wanted has lain down for you, and you’re turning me down? How many times have you said no to someone before, Heath?” She hugged her arms around herself. “Am I the first?”

“Mel…” He reached for her but it was too late. She twisted away from his touch—hurt blazing in her eyes. “You’re not the first.”

“Well, that makes me feel
so
much better.” She stepped back. “What was all that talk we had before about sex only being right when both people want it? God, I feel so humiliated.” She snatched up her glass of wine and drained it in one gulp, then turned to go.

“I like you, Mel,” Heath said. “But I’m not a robot, I’m a man. I can’t have sex with you and it mean nothing…”

“Does it always mean something?” She stared into his eyes. “Don’t lie to me.”

“No, it damn well doesn’t. But the women I’ve slept with, they’ve been different. It hasn’t been like you and me. You’re not experienced—you’re not…”

She held up a hand palm out. “Don’t say anything else. Don’t tell me I’m not woman enough for you. Make your own dinner. I’m going to bed.”

“Mel…”

Anger flashed from her eyes. “Enough.” With that, she stalked across the grass to the front door, back straight and head high.

He’d told Cindy no—back when she’d thought that climbing back into bed might stop him from leaving. There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted Mel, but all day he’d thought about the repercussions of sex with her. She liked him, trusted him. If they went to bed it would only strengthen that bond. But he couldn’t give her what she wanted, what she needed. He couldn’t give her more. In a few weeks, Alice would be back to work and at that point he’d be moving on. She was already screwed up by her father walking away; she didn’t need another man walking out on her. She thought she could control everything—that they could have sex without changing the relationship between them, but she was wrong. Even having this conversation had changed things, had hammered a wedge between them.

He drank some wine. Leaned back in the chair and tilted his head up to the star-strewn sky. When she’d made her offer, he’d wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her mouth. Had wanted to drag her down onto the soft ferns and make love to her. To show her that in his arms, her clearheaded logic would dissolve and mean nothing. Instead, he’d croaked out “no” and alienated her forever.

It was the right thing to do. But damn, he regretted it.

Chapter Nine

Mel woke early the following morning. She climbed out of bed, dressed, and went into the kitchen. Outside, the air was fresh and clean. She perched on the top step, pulled her knees in to her torso, and hugged them tight.

Last night had been a complete disaster. Heath’s rejection had hit hard, so hard she’d been driven by hurt feelings rather than logic. She’d lain awake for hours after storming out, wondering what was so wrong with her that even the Ladyslayer refused to take her to bed. Eventually, she’d remembered the regret in his eyes.

Heath had his reasons—he’d told her about Cindy, and she’d told him about her father’s desertion. He’d said she was different from the women he usually bedded, had suspected that she wouldn’t be able to just do it without getting her emotions involved.

And the way she’d acted…Mel rubbed her hands over her eyes. Well, she’d proved him right, hadn’t she?

Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since lunchtime the previous day. With a sigh, she stood and walked back into the cabin. Last night’s steak was in the fridge, and a steak sandwich sounded pretty appealing for breakfast.

…

Heath woke to the smell of coffee in the air. Mel must be up. For a moment he just lay there, thinking back over the night before. She’d been angry and hurt and he’d warred with himself for hours, wanting to go after her but knowing that it wasn’t the right thing to do.

He wanted her. She wanted him. But the price for a night of sex was too high. He couldn’t risk her falling in love with him. He groaned. He’d gone about the whole thing clumsily, but the result would be what it needed to be.

This morning, she probably hated him.

He climbed out of bed, dressed quickly, and followed the lure of coffee into the kitchen.

Mel turned from the oven at his approach. “Good morning.” Her back was straight, and a fixed smile was on her face.

“Hi.” He walked over. A steak sizzled in the frying pan, and she had cut thick slices of bread and arranged them on two plates.

“I’m making steak sandwiches for breakfast. I’m starving,” she said. “Would you like one?”

He always woke up hungry. “Sure. Sounds good.” He grabbed a cup from the cupboard and filled it with coffee from the jug perched on the stovetop.

She took in a deep breath. “I overreacted last night. Can we start again? Pretend last night never happened?”

Perversely, the fact that she was willing to move on irritated him, but he forced himself to nod in agreement. “That’s probably for the best. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” She turned back, took the steak from the pan, and started to carve it into thin slices. “Let’s eat, then head out to the shack. I still have my end of our bargain to fulfill.”

…

They set out for the shack in the pickup, determined to get as close as possible before abandoning the vehicle and going off-road. Mel was proud of herself for managing to act unaffected as they hiked. This morning, in a pair of worn jeans and a sweater that brought out the blue of his eyes, Heath was more attractive than ever.

Her body still craved his. Every time she looked at his hair, she wanted to feel its dark strands between her fingers. But now she wasn’t beating herself up about it. Men got erections all the time. Regular women probably felt attraction to men all the time, too—there’d been many times that she’d been with Betty or Alice and they’d remarked on how hot they found a passing stranger.

She found Heath attractive. Which meant she was just the same as the majority of women out there. She’d get over it.

“You’re quiet,” Heath said.

“Just enjoying the day.” She stumbled as the ground underfoot got rocky.

“Here.” Heath offered his hand, and she took it. A familiar jolt of electricity buzzed in her palm as his fingers curled around hers. Instead of shying away from the contact, feeling unsettled by the heat of him against her palm, she relaxed and accepted the feelings that touching him brought to life.

Heath wasn’t the one, but he’d taught her how to enjoy a man’s touch. The memory of opening her shirt to Heath the previous day, then having second thoughts haunted her. If she hadn’t hesitated, she was sure they would have ended up in bed. Now, she didn’t know if the same thing might happen in the future with someone else.

She wished she could persuade him to take her to bed…just so the last barrier to a future with another man would be well and truly broken.

They passed an ancient spruce that had been struck by lightning, then a familiar huge boulder with a distinctive shape…her uncle had called it the heartstone because a deep dip between the two matching curves atop it made it look like a giant heart half buried in the earth. Behind it…she pointed. “There’s the shack.”

Heath let go of her hand and brought his camera up to his eyes. “It looks as though no one has been up here for years.” His wide smile made her heart flip-flop in her chest. “I can’t wait to get in there.”

“Go.” She waved him on, watched as his steps quickened.

Heath would be with them for weeks yet; she still had time to make him change his mind.

…

The shack was everything Heath had hoped it would be. Long abandoned, its old tin roof was covered in moss, but the decorated walls inside were a revelation. The hermit had been an exceptional artist. She’d nailed flat boards against the walls and covered them with pictures of the trees of the forest. With paintings of bears and their young. A shadowy figure of a woman crouched before an open fire under a dusky night sky covered one entire wall.

“Isn’t it great?” Mel said from the open doorway.

“Spectacular.” Heath set up the battery-operated lights he’d carried in his backpack on the uneven worn floor. “Who was she, do you know?”

“I just remember my uncle telling me he’d grown up with stories of an old woman who lived up here alone. He said she rode into town on an old horse for supplies once every couple of months, and that the store used to bring in stocks of paint for her. Folks were curious as to what she needed them for, but no one questioned her about it. She wouldn’t answer them even if they asked. He saw her a couple of times when he was a kid—he said he never forgot her because the first time he saw her he thought she was an old mountain man, but his mother told him different.”

“I wonder how I could find out more about her.” He took a light reading. “Her paintings are really extraordinary—she must have trained somewhere, maybe even had an exhibition…”

“I can call my uncle and see if he remembers her name,” Mel suggested. “Mark’s family has been here for generations—maybe his parents or grandmother know more about her.”

Heath turned. “These photographs are going to make a wonderful addition to my submission to the magazine.” He strode to her and cupped her face in his hands. “Thank you.” He brought his mouth down to hers in a quick, brief kiss.

She closed her eyes and gripped the front of his shirt.

“Mel?”

“I thought you weren’t going to kiss me again.” Her voice sounded husky. When she opened her eyes he was staring at her with indecision in his eyes.

“Friends kiss.”

She pulled in her bottom lip, and watched his gaze flicker to her mouth. Slid her hand up his chest and over the stubble of his jaw. “Yes, friends kiss.” She kissed him back, then took a step back. “You know, I was thinking—you’re going to be out here for hours. It’s only a half hour walk back to the pickup. It makes sense for me to leave you here and come back for you later.”

“Now that I know where it is, I can walk you back,” Heath said.

She shook her head. “No need. It’s an easy run.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “Walk down to where we left the truck at seven. I’ll pack up our stuff and pick you up there.”

Heath brought the camera to his eye and took a shot as she walked from the shack and disappeared from view. He’d been so entranced by the paintings in the shack, so grateful to Mel for finding them for him, that he’d been compelled to touch her. To kiss her.

Not as a friend, but as a lover would.

She hadn’t called him on it, but his actions had been totally at odds with his words earlier. And damn, just like last night, the urge to follow her out into the light was strong.
I really have to concentrate.
His photographs couldn’t just be good, they had to be brilliant. His friend Chris was a talented writer who’d worked for months on a project to submit to
National Geographic
. Heath had an editor’s interest, but needed to knock it out of the ballpark if he had any hope of being the photographer accompanying Chris into the Amazon.

He forced thoughts of Mel from his mind, set up his camera on a tripod, and crouched behind the viewfinder again.

…

The sun was setting when he met Mel on the path, hours later. The pickup was stacked with their belongings and she leaned over and pushed open the door when she saw his flashlight’s beam cut through the half light.

“Good day?” she asked as he climbed into the truck.

“Great.” He reached into the back and stowed his kit carefully behind his seat. “There should be a picture or two I can use out of the thousands I took. You drove here—do you want to switch places, and I’ll drive back?”

Even though she’d done nothing all afternoon but lounge around, the prospect of being driven was attractive. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Switch.” He climbed out and walked around the truck.

Heath turned the pickup around and drove down the path again to the main road.

“You’re going to have to tell your family, you know,” Mel said. “About this project.”

“I know.” He’d been thinking about it all day. He needed to come back out to the cabin again and try to capture some wildlife shots, and couldn’t keep hiding his intentions from Alice and Mark. Being a professional photographer was all he’d ever wanted, and there was no putting it off any longer. “If you guys can spare me, I’ll fly back in a couple of weeks and tell them.”

She covered a yawn with her hand. “Sorry, I’m exhausted. Must be the night air. That’s fine, we’ll be able to manage without you for a couple of days.” She’d have to get used to the fact that he was going to leave anyway. Next week could act as a trial run.

Mel’s eyes drooped closed as the steady hum of the engine lulled her into sleep.

…

“We’re here.”

Mel floated up from sleep at the sound of Heath’s voice. She’d been dreaming of him. About the brief kiss he’d planted on her lips outside the shack. She opened her eyes. Night swathed Meadowsweet in its dark embrace as the truck pulled up outside her house. Heath carried the boxes into the house. Their time alone was over.

He stood in the hallway.

He’d kissed her despite himself. She’d wanted to slide her fingers into his hair, to deepen the contact, but knew doing so would shatter the moment, would force him to justify his actions and pull away again. Her idea was still a good one—she hadn’t given up on it—but she needed to tread carefully, so she’d headed down the mountain and left him to his work.

She smoothed her palms over her sides. “Good night.”

His gaze settled on her mouth, considering.

For a longing moment she wished he’d give her one of those “friend kisses” again. He didn’t. His gaze flickered up to hers. “We’re good, then.”

Her head jerked up and down like a bobblehead toy.

Heath stepped back.

She stepped aside, pulled the door open wide, and watched him walk away.