See Jane Fall (35 page)

“What you said before. Yahg are…”

“
Jag är förälskad i dig
?”

“That one,” she whispered, nodding
slowly.

Her eyes said she was ready to hear it, even
though she’d said before that she wasn’t. Her eyes that were
painted with the same brush God had used on the greenest parts of
Yellowstone searched his, and he remembered his promise never to
lie to her. He put his arms around her waist, lacing his hands on
the small of her back, so she couldn’t run away after he said the
words.

“It means I’m falling in love with you,
Jane.”

She didn’t look surprised or shocked, or
like she wanted to cry or like she wanted to run. Her lips tilted
up the barest bit, and she stared at him, nodding slowly, almost
imperceptibly.

“Is that right?” she rasped, placing her
hands on either side of his face, searching his eyes before closing
hers and lowering her lips to his.

***

Jane rested her head over his heart, her palm
flat over the damp, cooling skin of his chest, studying the way the
moonlight filtered in through the slats of his venetian blinds, in
stripes of light across the dark blue wall behind the leather
chair. Her leg lay wedged between his, and her breasts were
flattened against the hardness of his chest. One powerful arm lay
draped over her back and his other hand lazily brushed back the
hair from her face in slow, gentle strokes, grazing the shell of
her ear with every caress. His heart pumped under her ear—it
sounded like life, if life could be simplified to one single
perfect sound.

She closed her eyes, reliving the gentleness
and control of his powerful body hovering over hers as he searched
her eyes, making sure that she wanted him, that she was ready for
him. She had pulled his head down to kiss her, and he had let go,
inching forward to bury himself inside of her. She still didn’t
know how he was able to pace himself, control himself, when his
body was so obviously ready for her from the moment they walked
through his door. He was slow and patient with every heartbreaking
step of their lovemaking, and in the end, he ensured that she was
on her way to bliss before meeting her there. They had climaxed at
the same time— something Jane had never experienced before—and the
sweetness of it, the completeness of it, made her eyes flood with
overwhelmed tears, trailing silently into her hair as he held
her.

For almost as long as Jane could remember,
loneliness had been her constant companion. And now suddenly, for
one blistering, beautiful moment in his arms, Lars had given Jane
something heretofore unknown in her adult life; a taste of what it
would feel like to be cherished and wanted, to belong to someone
else. If being with Lars like this—her body moving rhythmically
with his, her heart beating in tandem—could be distilled to a drug,
she’d be an instant addict. But they hadn’t made each other any
promises, and the heartbreaking certainty of her impending
departure made the miracle of their connection almost too much to
bear.

“You asleep, Jane?” he whispered.

She pressed her lips to his skin before
returning her cheek to the warmth of his chest. “Nope.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yep.”

“That was…intense.”

She couldn’t answer. Her eyes welled with
tears again.

“Your hair’s wet,” he said gently, tenderly
moving his fingers through the curls behind her ears. “Why are you
crying?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, owning
the reality that one weekend with Lars Lindstrom wouldn’t possibly
be enough for her, even though it was all she had. She would be
ruined for anyone else. For the rest of her life, she was
ruined.

“It surprised me,” she murmured, blinking
rapidly as she touched her lips to the skin of his chest again.

“You’ve never…?”

“Not like that. Not at the same time.
Not…”

His hand reached out gently for her chin,
tipping it up so she was looking into his eyes.

“Jane, I
want
—”

She couldn’t read the expression of his eyes
in the dim light, but she could tell they were glistening with
emotion as he bit his bottom lip then released it, taking a deep
breath and sighing.

“What?” she asked, softly. “What do you
want?”

Lars put his hands under her arms and
dragged her slowly up the length of his body until they were nose
to nose, and she could feel him, hard against the apex of her
thighs where longing pooled to feel him inside of her again.

“You.”

“Again? Already?” she whispered, her face
breaking into a smile.

“A million times again,” he murmured. Then
he reached up and placed his hands on either side of her face,
pulling her lips down to his.

***

Later, as she slept soundly beside him, he
answered the question she had asked.
What? What do you
want?

What he
wanted
was to see her fall
for him as hard as he had fallen for her.

What he
wanted
was for her to
stay.

Nothing complicated. It would sound like
this:

His voice saying,
Jane, I want you to
stay with me, and not leave Gardiner, and move into my house with
me, and sleep in my bed every night, and let me make love to you
over and over and over again.
And her voice saying,
Okay.

Just like that. Simple. Straightforward.
Even obvious. The only right answer to a multiple-choice
question.

She was curled up beside him, and he could
feel the heat of her breath on his neck as she breathed deeply in
sleep. He cradled the back of her head in his hand, her curls
threaded through his fingers. He had almost lost her this week, but
she was somehow—miraculously—recovered to him. And now that he knew
what it meant, how it felt, to join his body with hers, to feel her
heart beating against his, her legs open to cradle him between
them, finding completeness so intense that he cried out from the
pleasure of it. He couldn’t lose her again. He couldn’t know what
it felt like to have her sleep beside him and then say,
Good-bye, Jane. Keep in touch
. It was impossible. It would,
as Samara had said about Jane, break him in half.

He intended to ask her to stay.
Indefinitely. But he feared two things: the first was timing. He
didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize their weekend together by
asking her too soon. The second was that he didn’t actually know
what her answer would be, and the possibility of her refusal
leveled him to the ground. She had only lived in big cities: San
Francisco, Boston and New York. Her life was full of exotic travel
and glamorous adventures…and even if she didn’t work for Samara
anymore, surely she wouldn’t be able to leave that life behind
completely. Surely Gardiner wouldn’t be enough.

If it would break Lars in half to lose Jane,
the other half of Lars would break if he left Yellowstone behind.
He believed that everything good about who he was and what he was,
in his life and in his heart, was because Yellowstone owned
something deep inside of him, which lost, like a compass without a
magnet, would leave him ungrounded.

He drew strength from the very earth in the
park, the music of its beckoning call in his ears at all moments
throughout the day. He had learned courage and prudence from his
awareness of everything wild and unpredictable that lived and
lurked in every corner and crevice, patience and faith from bearing
witness to the shifting seasons. He knew his personal definitions
of certainty, hope, respect, tolerance, mercy and dignity had come
into his life through days in the park, through lessons learned
there, and moments found there. His bond was strong and true,
tethering him to the sacred place that was Yellowstone.

He closed his eyes, sighing. They weren’t
mutually exclusive; Lars could have Jane, if Jane would stay. With
a leaden heart, he knew that if Jane wouldn’t stay, he would have
to say goodbye to her, and it twisted his heart to even imagine it.
For the first time in his life, the only time, he resented the hold
of his park on his heart, even as he couldn’t deny it and couldn’t
abjure it either.

He leaned back and looked at her sleeping
face, her red, swollen lips, and curls that fringed the delicate
shell of her ear. Overwhelmed by the intensity of his feelings for
her, the sheer force of his longing to have her remain in his life,
he felt a wave of deep emotion fill his heart like a tidal pool
until it overflowed. It was as simple and certain as the green of
her eyes, or the softness of her skin, or the heat of her smaller
body beside him right now, or anything else that was real and true
and wholly uncomplicated in his life:

Lars wasn’t
falling
in love with
Jane.

He was already irrevocably, terminally in
love with her.

CHAPTER 12

Lars drove Jane back to her motel room early
in the morning so she could shower and change, and he arranged for
his father to handle Ray, Margot and Shanelle’s ride up to Bozeman
for their flight back to New York. A park excursion trumped making
an airport transfer any day, and Lars seemed delighted to get out
of one in lieu of the other.

“Your Dad didn’t mind?” Jane asked, as they
pulled into the still-dark motel parking lot.

“Nah. Park comes first. Unwritten rule.”

“Even if I’m not a paying customer?”

“Even then.”

She grinned at him and purred,
“Grizzlies.”

“If we can find ’em.” He unbuckled his
seatbelt and slid over to her, putting his hands on her face and
kissing her gently. “Best night of my life, Minx.”

She beamed at him. “It wasn’t half bad.”

“Room for improvement?”

“Can’t see how…but practice
does
make
perfect.”

“You’re gonna get me all hot again.”

She pecked his lips and unbuckled her
seatbelt, looking back at him one more time. He was too gorgeous
with his blond bed-head and lazy, tired eyes. He was tired because
of her. The thought made her breath hitch as images of their night
together rushed in, surrounding her.

“I’ll be back in an hour. Six sharp,” he
said, sliding back to his seat and buckling up. “Coffee?”

“I’d love it. Thanks,” she said, grinning at
him, and closed the door behind her.

She slipped into her dark, quiet motel room
and stood with her back against the door for a moment, listening to
his truck drive away. Then she hugged herself and giggled, jumping
onto her bed with an elated shriek. The last time she’d been alone
in this room, she’d been curled up on the bed weeping after hearing
that horrible recorded conversation, sure that Lars was lost to
her.
What a difference a day makes.

And a night.

“Lars,” she breathed his name aloud, as she
had over and over again last night, and lowered her arm, taking a
deep breath. She didn’t want to shower yet. She could still smell
him on her body.

She stood up and looked at herself in the
large mirror that spanned the bureau across from the bed, and she
barely recognized herself. She was stunned by how pretty she
looked. Her lips were rosy and bee-stung from so much kissing, her
cheeks had a light tan, and her eyes were luminous in her face,
deep green, as if transformed by…by…what?

Staring at herself, she realized, with a
startling clarity, that at some point over the past week, she’d
probably had an opportunity to turn back, to walk away, to give up.
Whether she hadn’t recognized the opportunity at the time, or had
ignored it entirely, she hadn’t taken it. And now it was too
late.

Jane placed her fingers on her chest
gingerly and felt the strength of her pumping heart recklessly
declaring to whom it now belonged. She tilted her head and smiled
at her reflection, at the pretty girl in the mirror, because
despite having nothing in her life until now with which to compare
the depth and strength and ferocity of her feelings, she
instinctually knew.

She was falling in love with Lars
Lindstrom.

***

After a quick shower, she put on the slim-fit
jeans she’d bought at the boutique in Gardiner, and made a mental
note to go back there later today to see if they had anything she
could wear to church tomorrow. She couldn’t very well attend a
christening in jeans.

She threw on her cream t-shirt, making
another mental note to do a quick load of laundry at Sara’s
cottage, or she’d have nothing clean left to wear. She shrugged
into her brown suede jacket. It would be chilly in the park this
morning.

She pulled her damp curls back into another
cute ponytail, securing the loose ends with a few pins. Her lips
were still rocking a pretty rosy glow, so she swiped on some lip
gloss pilfered from Sara’s trailer leftovers. She was ready when he
knocked on the door. She picked up her backpack, which she had
loaded up with her camera, various lenses and filters and threw her
sunglasses on top of her head.

Lars was leaning up against the doorframe,
oozing so much raw masculinity she almost rolled her eyes. “Aw,
come on.
Really
?”

It was ridiculous that he was this hot. She
looked him up and down slowly, with unapologetic candor, finally
meeting his eyes with a grin.
Your bed, Cowboy. Later.

He smiled back at her, flashing straight
white teeth, the tan skin crinkling around his Arctic-blue eyes. He
was wearing cowboy boots and jeans again, of course, but instead of
his regular polo shirt that he wore for work, he had on a grey
t-shirt under a long-sleeved, button-down shirt in a navy and grey
plaid, which was open, unbuttoned. Over that, he wore a weathered,
tan, canvas barn jacket with a dark brown leather collar that just
grazed his neck, and a tan cowboy hat over his silvery-blond
hair.

“
Seriously
?”