Rescue My Heart Read online

  himself. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  She managed to roll her eyes, so she couldn’t be too far gone. “Okay,” she said. “So maybe I’m a little anxious.”

  “Breathe deeper,” he said, and then, as had been done for him while in the midst of a knockout, drag-down anxiety attack of his own, he showed by example, inhaling deeply.

  She attempted to do the same, the air catching in her lungs.

  “Again,” he said.

  She was cold and shivering. Fuck distance, he thought, and slipped an arm around her to impart some of his body heat.

  She made a soft sound that he couldn’t even begin to interpret. Gratitude? Relief? Sorrow? He was completely out of practice in translating women sounds. “More deep breathing,” he said, and set a hand on her stomach. “Let your belly go soft and relaxed, and breathe from your lower abs.”

  The wind picked up. She shivered again and he tightened his arm on her. Surprising him, she turned to face him and burrowed in.

  Well, hell. He opened his jacket and pulled her in even closer. They were silent for long moments, until finally, he felt her relax.

  “How did you learn that breathing thing?” she murmured.

  “The hard way.” He paused. “In therapy, after I got back.”

  “What else did you learn?”

  He let out a mirthless laugh. “Patience.”

  “Patience?” She gave him a wry grin. “I think I’m speechless.”

  His mouth quirked. “I know. Miracles never cease.”

  She stared into the fire and sighed, the sound filled with self-disgust. “I’m tougher than this.”

  He shook his head. “Somehow it doesn’t matter how tough you are. You can be tough as hell and still be leveled flat without warning.”

  She looked at him. “What do you do when you’re leveled flat?”

  “You make a plan, you move on that plan, and you keep breathing.”

  “I like the breathing part.” She drew in a couple of deep breaths. “Some sugar would be even better.”

  He pulled a candy bar from his pocket.

  She snatched it so fast he nearly lost his fingers.

  Taking two bites in quick succession, she moaned in sheer pleasure.

  Adam stared at her, knowing she had no idea how sensual the sound was or what it could do to a man.

  She glanced at him, then took a longer look and blushed. “Sorry. Guess I really needed a fix.”

  “I can see that,” he said, voice a little thick. “Good?”

  “Amazing,” she said, and licked her lips and then her fingers. When she caught him watching that with rapt attention, she stopped. Then the only sound, other than the crackling flames and whistling wind, was Holly swallowing hard.

  To give them both a badly needed moment, he ran a finger over the gold chain at her neck, lifting the small, dainty charm.

  “It’s the Chinese symbol for strength,” she said softly.

  “You don’t need a symbol for that. You’ve always been strong.”

  She shook her head. “Not always. It’s from Derek.”

  And she’d kept it. He absorbed the pang of…jealousy? That didn’t make much sense. Adam had left her. It was none of his business how much she’d loved someone else that she’d kept a piece of him around her neck.

  “He forgot my birthday,” she said. “My twenty-first. I guess I’d thought it would be a big deal…”

  It should have been a big fucking deal, he thought.

  “That’s when I first started to know it wasn’t going to work, that I wasn’t important enough. But he tried to make it up to me, gave me money to buy myself a present. I’d seen the necklace in an upscale jewelry store…” She shrugged as if embarrassed. “I keep it because it’s a reminder of what my life once was,” she said softly, “and why I should be glad that I moved on.”

  Adam could see the fire reflected in her eyes, and much more, and wondered at how much this one woman could make him feel. Letting out a breath, he laced his fingers in hers, squeezing her hand. “I’m proud of you, Holly.”

  “For what?”

  “For moving on. For being strong. For becoming a pretty damn incredible woman.”

  Her eyes never left his. “Not so incredible, really.”

  “You do what you think is right, always. Not what’s easy, but what’s right. You came out here after your father when no one else would.”

  She looked at him for a long moment. “You never talk much about your father.”

  No, he didn’t. He tried not to think about him too much, either. “Not much to tell.”

  “There’s got to be something,” she insisted.

  “He was Texan, and his first love was football. Women were his second love. He lived big and loud and was by all accounts a decent guy, up until he died in a car wreck.”

  “You were young,” she said.

  “Five.”

  “That must have destroyed your mom,” she said.

  “I don’t know, to be honest. She’s not big on emotions and feelings. Or at least on sharing them.” He slid her a look. “Yeah, yeah, I inherited that from her.”

  She smiled. “You do okay when you want to. You ever see her? Your mom?”

  He shrugged. “Some.”

  “She lives about an hour outside of Sunshine, right?”

  “Yeah.” In a double-wide, which was all she’d let Dell and Adam do for her. It was no secret that Nila had given up custody of her boys, leaving them to face the foster system. Guilt kept her from accepting their help now. “Dell sees her more than I do,” he said. “He drives out there every other week and works a few hours, giving vet care to those who need it.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  “That’s Dell. I don’t go out there unless I have to.”

  “Have to?”

  “Once in a while something on her trailer breaks and I go fix it.”

  “When you have to,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  “How’s that not as sweet as what Dell does?”

  Jesus. “Didn’t we do this already? I’m not sweet, Holly.”

  “No, you said you weren’t cute.”

  He wasn’t either of those things, and she knew it.

  “When’s the last time you saw her?” she asked.

  “A while ago. We had a disagreement.”

  “About?”

  “Water.” He and Dell had wanted to put some money into her well, to get her better-quality water, but she absolutely refused their help. Adam had done it, anyway, started the process to make the improvements, and Nila had called off the job. She’d made a rare appearance in town, at the animal center in fact, to tell him that his money wasn’t welcome. He’d looked into her dark eyes and known it was nothing less than one hundred percent pride. That she regretted not ever spending money on her sons, and in light of how things had gone down, she didn’t have a right to their money now. Adam didn’t give a shit about any of that. He liked to think he didn’t give a shit about her at all.

  But he did. And all he’d wanted was to make sure she had some clean water, dammit.

  But there was one thing Nila could do better than her sons. She could out-stubborn them. Adam told Holly the story in as few words as possible and she snuggled in a little bit more. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “Sounds to me like you have a little sweet in you, after all.”

  He tilted his head down to give her a look.

  “You do,” she insisted.

  “I don’t.”

  “You’re here with me,” she reminded him. “Because I asked.”

  His arms tightened. “I’m here because I want to be.”

  She ducked her face into the crook of his neck, but not before he saw the sheen in her eyes. He gave her a moment because the last thing he wanted was tears. He felt helpless against her tears.

  “Adam?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Tell me again that we’re going to find him.” Her lips brushed his skin wi
th each word, so that he barely was able to suppress a full body shiver.

  “We’re going to find him,” he said.

  She nodded, her frozen nose bumping into his ear. Snowflakes dusted her hair and shoulders. He found his hands sliding beneath the jacket, moving slowly up and down her back, warming, soothing.

  Wanting…

  She lifted her head and looked at him, then his mouth.

  And like Pavlov’s dog, his body stirred.

  “Adam?” she whispered.

  The sound of his name in her low, sensuous voice was doing him in. This time he had to clear his throat. “Yeah?”

  She licked her dry lips, just a quick dart of her tongue, and he nearly groaned. “We’re a bad idea. Right?”

  “The worst.” But here was the thing. Some of his worst ideas had turned into really great ones. Sure, he’d been burned by most of them, but there was something in the way she was looking at him.

  It was an invite that he couldn’t refuse. Cupping her jaw, he leaned in and covered her mouth with his. When she gasped in pleasure, he took full advantage, stroking her tongue with his in a deep, hot, wet kiss. No niceties. It had been a damn long time since he’d kissed her. Years. Something in him reared up and itched to remind her that once upon a time they’d been damn good together.

  She murmured his name in the sexiest, softest murmur and dug her fingers into his biceps, squirming to get closer. Closer worked for him, and he let himself do what he’d been thinking about doing for hours—he touched. He touched whatever he could reach, letting his hands roam her glorious body, losing himself in her soft warmth.

  She moaned into his mouth but slowly pulled back. Breathing unevenly, she shook her head. “That’s not the bad-idea part.”

  “No?” Good. He leaned in to kiss her again but she put a hand to his chest. “I meant, the last time, it took…it took me a long time to get over you leaving like you did. No looking back. No letters. Nothing.” She paused. “I got that you had to go, that the judge made you, but…”

  The judge hadn’t made him. That had been a necessary lie, so she wouldn’t realize he was walking away from her by choice. He hadn’t been able to make himself do that to her. Not loving this little walk down Guilt Row, he drew a deep breath. The way he’d left—no loose ends—had been the only way he’d known to handle the situation. It had been hell. His own doing, of course. He’d always been his own worst enemy. But even back then he’d owned up to his mistakes. He’d made a plan—get out of Sunshine and make something of himself—and he’d executed the plan.

  Besides, she’d been made for better things than being with him. Far better. Life with him would’ve been a one-way ticket to Loser-ville.

  Getting out of Sunshine had been good for him. The military had taught him discipline, how to make things happen, in a good way, and she had to know that. He’d trained. He’d fought. He’d learned.

  What she didn’t know was that he’d done it all with a good part of his heart back in Sunshine. “How long could it have taken?” he heard himself ask. “You were married less than a year later.”

  Her gaze whipped to his, and she flattened her hands on his chest, giving a good shove.

  Still holding on to her, he didn’t budge.

  She made a noise of frustration and pushed again. “Let go.”

  He lifted his hands.

  She stood up, crossing her arms over herself as she turned away. “It was more than a year.”

  Not much.

  “Maybe we should try to get to Kaniksu right now,” she said quietly.

  Clearly, they were done with this conversation. Worked for him just fine—except now she wanted to try to get to caves. At night. His biggest nightmare, of course. “You want to move across twenty miles of rugged, isolated terrain in the dark.”

  “Fine. Stupid idea.” She looked around at the fire, at the dilapidated ranger station that was little more than a three-sided hut, at the million acres of remote, isolated, rugged forestland surrounding them. “Could really use some more sugar,” she said.

  He started to rise to go to his pack, but she put out her hand. “No!” She shook her head. “God, no. Don’t you dare bring out any more. My jeans are too tight as it is.”

  Not from where he was sitting…

  She yawned and then sighed. “Do you really have more candy bars?”

  “I’ve got a lot of things.”

  “Like?”

  “Spare clothes and gear, topo map, compass, water, knife, first-aid kit, rope, rations…” Condoms…

  “You’re practically a Boy Scout.”

  Yeah, not exactly. He watched her fight another yawn and gestured to the shelter. “Go to sleep, Holly.”

  She pulled her sleeping bag from her pack and headed inside the shelter.

  Adam gestured to Milo, and the dog followed her, sitting in the opened doorway where he would act as dubious guard dog. Adam stayed at the fire’s edge, figuring that was the safest place for him. The air was still now and very cold. There were no sounds except the crackle and pop of the fire, and his own thoughts. It was damn rare that he allowed himself the luxury of what-ifs, but he was slammed with them now. What if he’d not broken up with her? What if he’d kept in touch? What if he’d told her how he felt? Would she still feel the same about him now as she had then, or would she have eventually dumped his sorry ass?

  And the biggest question of them all—would they still be here, right here, caught up in the tangle of memories and emotions he no longer had the capacity for?

  From where he sat, he could hear her tossing and turning. He knew without looking over there that she was cold. He grabbed his sleeping bag, and moved to her. “Get up a second.”

  “I’m not taking your sleeping bag, too,” she said.

  “Not taking. Sharing.”

  She sat up slowly, warily, watching as he unzipped his bag and then pulled hers off her body. She’d kicked off her boots but other than that remained fully dressed. He unzipped her bag, too, and then laid his flat, with hers on top.

  Holly stared at the makeshift bed as if it were a poised rattlesnake, then unzipped her jacket—his, actually. He forgot to breathe, torn between wanting her to keep going and stopping her.

  She wriggled out of the jacket, then carefully rolled it up. She set it in the middle of the opened sleeping bag like it was the border crossing of Baghdad—except maybe even more guarded.

  “No crossing the line,” she said.

  He met her gaze. “Are you worried about me or you?”

  She crossed her arms. “I’m not that attracted to you.”

  He toed the jacket. “You don’t need this—you’ve already drawn the line in the sand. I think I can control myself.” He was ninety-nine percent sure.

  Okay, seventy-five.

  Pointedly leaving the jacket in place, she slid between the opened sleeping bags and lay down, facing away from him.

  He stared at her stiff spine and then found himself smiling. “I get it. You’re not worried about me. You’re worried about you. You can’t control yourself.”

  She let out a derisive snort that didn’t fool him for one moment. But the humor passed quickly because with neither of them trustworthy, he couldn’t lie down.

  “Where are you going?” she asked when he moved to the doorway again.

  “To bank the fire.” And to take a minute. A long one. He needed to think. It had taken her a while to get over him? Well, it had taken him a while, too. But he had gotten over her. He’d gotten over everything.