A Mountain Leads Home, page 6
“I appreciate what you’re trying to say.”
“Sarah, I’m picky when it comes to the opposite sex. I’m single. I’ve been searching, but I’ve never found a like-minded partner. But you… You don’t seem like the type of woman who’d bring strange men into your life or into your home.”
Sarah shook her head. “You might be from Australia but you’re not unlike Canadian men. I certainly would never label you as strange.”
“It’s the accent you’re attracted to.” Taylor grinned, winking. “I’d never hurt you and I suspect you’d never hurt me.” Nope. She’d never hurt him, and he was right. The accent appealed to her in indescribable ways.
“I’m a nurse. Hurting patients goes against the job description.” Sarah snickered under her breath while making a turn. “Hurt you? Not after nursing you back to health.”
“Thank you for your care,” Taylor said, his tone soft and grateful.
Sarah glanced at Taylor. “Whatever you’re trying to say, it’s working. I’m more comfortable with my decision. I appreciate your honesty.”
“You’re welcome.”
Sarah was a nurse, but with her busy, hectic life, some days she wondered why she still worked in the profession. She had higher plans, furtive goals. Someday she wanted to pursue health systems, assisting organizations, people and actions, with a primary intent to promote, restore and maintain health. Maybe take further education to manage health-improving activities.
“Can I ask you a question?” Sarah asked.
“Ask me anything.”
Sarah took a deep breath while approaching the Trans-Canada Highway, the last leg of the journey home. “Are you attracted to me?” She gritted her teeth, waiting for his response, wondering why she raised the subject.
“Sarah…”
“No, seriously, I want to know.”
He blushed. “Yes, of course, what healthy male wouldn’t be attracted to your charm?” Taylor asked, his tone subdued. “Honestly, from the moment you first touched me.”
She glanced at him, curious for an explanation. “How so?”
“How do I explain that first sighting? The first touch?” He looked through the car window as if remembering. “You were gentle. You may have rushed from room to room and patient to patient, but when you were with me, you gave me your complete attention.” He looked at her again. “You were kind.”
“That’s my job, my responsibility as a nurse. I try to deliver the best healthcare to my patients.”
“You’re modest. I haven’t been around a lot of nurses, but I have a good rapport with people. My previous job as a mortgage broker put me in contact with many clients. Some of them astute, and others too business savvy and not worth the investment of my time.” He touched her hand, her fingers, stroking in a sensual way. “But you, you’re a kind, considerate person. I’m aware of this because…”
“Because why? Finish what you were going to say.”
“You touched me. In ways difficult to describe. You not only nursed me but also gave me a place to stay. Who offers that kind of hope?” The sudden silence in the car urged a response, but Sarah waited patiently for Taylor to speak. “You’re a woman and I’m a man, brass tacks and sweet perfume. Not every woman opens her heart, giving a guy a place to stay. We’re new. We’re strangers, but here I am, in your car and in your life.”
“I can’t believe you’re here.” It was like she’d willed it to happen, willed Taylor into her life and somehow, he was here.
“Sarah, you’re special.”
She’d heard such praise from her parents, but never from someone of the opposite sex. She’d been waiting her entire life for a man to recognize her special traits. The comment gave her pleasant feelings of happiness. She blushed. “Thank you. That’s kind of you.”
“I mean it.” He touched her thigh, a skimming touch that sent vibrations from her thigh to her heart.
“I believe you.” Sarah exited the highway and drove onto Bowfort Road. “What’s happening between us, Taylor?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m keen to find out.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“You have a beautiful home,” Taylor said, his tone subdued, his posture unyielding. He stood near the picture window with his hands dangling near his thighs, his fingers fidgety while studying the mountains in the distance. “That’s one spectacular view.”
“Many of my friends have stood where you’re standing, watching the sun as it sets behind the mountain range. I knew you’d appreciate it.”
Beyond the condo, the extraordinary light show accentuated wonder. Spectacular shades of orange and flowery pink streaked across the twilight sky, but the man standing in front of the window with the last vestiges of light softening his eyes, appealed to Sarah more than the distant panorama. She concentrated on Taylor, not believing she’d had the courage to invite him into her home. Taylor Quinn was her secret. She hadn’t told her parents about bringing him into her life and into her home, hadn’t told her friends. They’d judge her. Opposing opinions might be necessary in some situations, but in this case, Sarah wasn’t ready to face reality.
This decision rationalized what could be. Taylor might be the one.
While waiting for the kettle to boil, Sarah glanced at Taylor frequently, feeling this pull, this desire to lessen the distance between them. In this moment, his fragile medical needs were not apparent, but rather his misery; the accident, the loss, the regret, the mountains: the place where he had chosen to pursue a sporting activity. He likely aspired to return to an adventurous life, perhaps wanting more than collecting belongings from the ski hill, but snowboarding wasn’t possible with his injury. He hadn’t said much about the season being cut short, but the disappointment shadowed his eyes, stiff posture, and tight lips.
I want to touch those lips.
She wanted to help him relax, to take him for a drive, to the mountains he admired, to complete unfinished goals, to return his smile by exploring uncharted options.
Sometimes, life didn’t play fair, but the simple act of living made possible each person’s turning points. Sarah suspected unknown adventures lay ahead. How could she help Taylor see this?
* * *
“I’ve always admired the mountain view,” Sarah finally said, choosing to focus on the positive. “Besides the proximity to the hospital, I bought this condo because of the mountains in the distance.” She paused, struggling with what to say. “There’s another benefit to living in this community…the proximity to the Bow River and its walking paths. When I’m in a bad mood, I go to the river’s edge.”
“I understand, Sarah, but please don’t worry. I’m fine.” He sighed, rubbing his neck. “Do you like the paths, the water?”
Sarah did not comment on his grief. “I love the water. There’s a park near the river. Sometimes when I’m stressed, I grab a coffee from Tim Hortons. It’s a popular restaurant in Canada, all the locals go there. I sit on a bench. I watch rolling water, the current flowing downstream.”
He faced her, placing his hands in his pant pockets. “Sounds beautiful.”
“You’d love it,” Sarah said. “I can’t compare the river to an ocean. Though the sunlight sparkles on the water’s surface like millions of tiny diamonds. And the sound of running water, or the effervescence in the air…I breathe deeply, filling my lungs with peace.”
“Peace. I could use some of that.” Sarah closed her eyes. “I wish it was summer, everything’s better when the sun warms my skin.”
Sarah imagined herself near the shoreline. I need the river. I need peace. Love—
Taylor reached for a chair and sat at the table. When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her, studying her in a curious manner while stroking the table. He seemed calmer. “Do you only stare at the water? Life is more exciting when experiencing it.”
“Not at this time of year,” Sarah said. “I’m grateful the condo came with a garage so I could escape the weather at the end of the day. Winter can be harsh, driving through snow difficult, and the water’s bloody cold right now. The shoreline is frozen. But in the heat of summer, I’ve dipped my toes in the water.”
Taylor raised his hand. “No judgment here, but do you ever wade into the water? Can you swim? Reminds me of the ocean and my surfboard. Nothing compares to riding the waves. Before the ocean’s upsurge there’s the pull of the water, the lure of the sea. The swell boosts me upward, and then hopefully, takes me for a long-drawn-out ride.”
“Sounds scary.”
“There’s no better feeling. The momentum captures your breath.” Taylor breathed deeply. “Rain or shine, it’s a peaceful place. When I’m surfing, I have no worries. No conversation to frustrate me or cause upset, nothing distracts from the vibe when I’m a lone surfer floating on the water.”
“A place where worries have no hold.”
Taylor smiled. “Yes, that’s right. There’s a reason Aussies coined the phrase: ‘No Worries.’ I’m certain whoever put the saying into words said it because of the ocean.”
“I like that expression.”
“We could go to your river, wouldn’t matter to me if the sky hung heavy with rain or the banks glistened with snow. I want to experience what peace means to you.”
Sarah nodded, smiling slightly, appreciating that Taylor respected her point of view. Somewhere in this sadness and thought they’d made a connection. “You’ve given me a lot to consider.”
When the kettle boiled and steam spiraled into the air, Sarah grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and placed a tea bag in each. She poured boiling water into the mugs and handed Taylor the drink. She sat near him, holding her mug with both hands. “I’m not sure if I’d be brave enough to surf. Seeing patients with various injuries has made me cautious, and maybe too careful.”
“Aha…so that’s it.”
“Partly.” Sarah sipped her tea.
“Don’t let other people’s accidents prevent you from experiencing life.”
“Taylor, it’s one thing to stare at the ocean, quite another to wade through the waves and stand on a board. I’ve never surfed. What could happen to me while waiting for the curl?”
His eyebrows rose. He grinned. “Nothing happens until you face your fears. You could have an amazing ride while sitting on the board boogie style, or…you could wipe out. But at least you’re face-planting in the water, not the snow.” He looked at her in a tangible way.
“Point well taken.” Though it wasn’t water sports motivating Sarah to daydream. She imagined Taylor, his body lean, strong, wearing a wet suit and straddling or standing on a surfboard, floating on the waves. “Does the ocean ever frighten you?”
“It’s a crabby beast on stormy days,” Taylor said with a shrug. “Best to avoid the waves when the water’s rough, but on good days…I’m one with the water. Life surges through me in the best way possible when the wave comes.”
“Have you been hurt while pursuing this, surfing?”
“Huh.” Taylor gave a brief laugh. “Not like on my snowboard, that was traumatic, but you know,” Taylor said, massaging his side, “water is much easier to wipe out on and I’ve never been attacked by a shark.”
Sarah’s eyes widened while picturing massive jaws with razor-sharp teeth. She hadn’t considered dangerous sealife. “I was referring to the height of the waves,” she gasped, “not sharks. Oh. My. God. I’m never swimming in your ocean.”
Taylor laughed, downplaying her reaction. “It’s not that terrifying. I haven’t been eaten, not yet.”
“Don’t think it.” Sarah shook her head. “Once, I watched a surfing competition in Hawaii on the northern shore. The waves were monstrous. High. The curls amazed me. The surfing mind-blowing to watch, but it must have been scary for the riders.”
“It’s a sport. Surfers are trained professionals, but the waves can be heavy, gnarly in Hawaii. No one goes into the pipe without training.”
Sarah sipped her tea, amazed by his turn of phrase. “I couldn’t do it.”
He studied her in a contemplative way. He reached across the table but didn’t touch her. “Yes, you could. If you wanted to experience an activity more momentous than a hard bench.” His eyes brightened. “If you have not learned to swim, I could teach you.”
“I can swim.”
Sarah contemplated Taylor’s teaching skills, wondering if she’d be able to balance on a board let alone facing the unfamiliar motion of waves. “Surfing sounds like it would be a stimulating and terrifying experience. I’d probably be better suited to searching for shells on the beach.”
“Would you be willing to try?”
He leaned backward, reached for his mug, and took a sip of tea, all the while studying her, contemplating something she couldn’t name. What was he thinking? Feeling? He studied her in an inquisitive manner, expressing with one long stare needs that could not be defined. When he probed her like a potential cohort, ‘a friend or something more?’, no way was she giving a no answer.
“If you were the teacher offering lessons—yes, yes, I would.”
They talked for over an hour. Taylor told Sarah stories about his life in Australia; his previous job, his family, friends, and she did similar. They were vastly different in some ways and curiously similar in others. When the dinner hour drew near, Taylor wanted to experience a Canadian meal and offered to take her out for dinner, but since he was recently released from hospital, Sarah decided they should stay home. She made poutine and smothered the fries with mozzarella cheese and gravy. Cheese curds were an essential ingredient, but she didn’t have any in the fridge. They’d experience the authentic version on another occasion.
“Tell me something your friends don’t know about you?” Sarah asked, shifting her fries around her plate.
“I can dance.”
Sarah’s brows lifted in surprise. “Like at a club, or have you taken professional lessons?”
His face wrinkled with amusement. “You don’t believe me.”
“I didn’t say that.” Sarah tried to swallow her humor. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to laugh.
He placed his fork on his plate and leaned backward. “Despite your surprise, some guys do take dance lessons.” His eyebrows shot upward. “My father…” He strained for patience, raising his hands. “I’m proud of him. I mean, he’s a brilliant man, a credit to the engineering profession and a real dance instructor. Although he’s retired, he teaches ballroom dancing in his spare time.”
“Really?” Now Sarah felt bad. “If I came off as rude…”
“It’s all right.”
“I’m sorry, Taylor,” Sarah said, meaning it. As much as the dancing revelation surprised her, it also heightened the pleasure. Men who could dance were rare and knowing he had this talent encouraged further scrutiny. “What dances are you familiar with?”
Taylor touched his chest and lifted his left arm upward as if his intention might be to escort her onto the dance floor. “The tango, the foxtrot, the Cha Cha Cha…” He winked, shifting his shoulders from side to side. “But for a couple, there’s no better dance than the waltz.”
A couple? Sarah tried to picture what it would be like to dance with Taylor, his hand holding hers, their fingers entwined, the two of them swaying to the rhythm and moving across the floor like dancers on So You Think You Can Dance. She spooned a fry smothered with cheese and gravy into her mouth, her tastebuds waters, desiring Taylor to embrace her. She didn’t acknowledge she had taken dance lessons as well.
“Sounds like you have the moves.” She flashed him a coy, playful look that gave the impression of teasing.
“Maybe,” Taylor said, smiling at first, then placing his fork on the table. “We could give it a go if you’re willing. I may not have my father’s skill, but I don’t mind giving a lesson, if you’re interested.”
Though Sarah shook her head, curiosity aroused her interest, encouraging her to take their relationship and dance lessons to the next step, but she focused on the obvious. “You’re still healing. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“Hey, waltzing isn’t difficult.” He shifted his chair away from the table and stood, then extended his left hand. “Will you be my partner?”
“Sure.” Why not agree to a lesson? It was too thought-provoking to say no to a dance lesson, so Sarah rose from her chair, came around the table and grasped his hand. His gorgeous blue eyes sparkled with mischief while holding her fingers. But the simple act of touching his skin awakened hidden desires and contributed to a fluttering heart. He stood near her, staring at her, as if he wasn’t acquainted with the steps, as if he’d never escorted a woman onto the dance floor let alone taken a lesson.
It was time to initiate the steps.
Should she reveal she knew the routine or let Taylor take the lead? “Now that you have your partner, what comes next?”
“I gather my girl.” His girl? Taylor pulled her closer to him and placed his right hand slightly above her waist. His touch and the proximity to her, even with her cotton shirt as a barrier, caused sensual awareness to flare to life. Sarah swallowed, reflecting on his curious expression and the way his breathing wisped from his mouth. Though his embrace was slight, his hand hardly touching her waist, she desired his touch, his embrace, and wanted to flirt in a real ballroom.
“Sarah…”
Did he recognize the need flaring between them? Taylor studied her as if he hungered for something more filling than a meal, but then released his handhold. “I’d like to escort you to the dance floor.”
“Okay,” she said, sighing, stepping backward, “but you’re healing, don’t move too fast. Be careful.”
When Taylor escorted Sarah to the space between the kitchen and the living room, she felt twenty years younger, like she had little experience, in relationships, in dance, like she’d never taken a turn across the floor, but once they were standing on the hardwood, holding hands, facing each other… passion flared to life in his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes.
