Windswept Way (Hope Harbor #9)(47)
Author: Irene Hannon

 

“Jon, I’m sorry.” Ashley’s apology was subdued and contrite. “That was out of line. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

 

He shifted gears and refocused. “No offense taken. But your question isn’t one I’ve considered. To be honest, I’m not certain about the answer. I’d like to say yes, but in hindsight I don’t know. The life she would have had was nothing like the one I’d promised her.”

 

“What happened wasn’t your fault, though. And your life was altered forever too. It seems to me that once you commit to someone, you have to be ready to adapt to changed circumstances.”

 

“In my case, that also included a changed appearance.”

 

“But you healed.”

 

“Not without scars. I’ll never again look like that picture Laura showed you.”

 

“I don’t mean to be trite, but the old saying is true. Beauty is only skin deep.”

 

“Tell that to a model who relies on her face to put bread on the table. I can’t honestly say I blame her for her repulsed reaction at our first meeting after the accident. I was horror-movie worthy.”

 

“You’ve hinted on more than one occasion that you still are.”

 

Yeah, he had. But according to Laura, that perception was off base.

 

“I may have exaggerated. The doctors did a remarkable job patching me back up, considering what they had to work with, and the scars have faded somewhat. But I’ll never be a model again.”

 

“Most of us aren’t to begin with. And those who never met you pre-accident won’t have anything to compare to. Why not give people a chance?”

 

Same message Laura and Kyle had sent. Even Charley had intimated that he should stop hiding behind masks and scarves and sunglasses and caps.

 

Was there a secret plot to push him to reenter society?

 

The last notes of an unfamiliar melody died away, and a few moments later the light went out in the room on the left, giving him an excuse to change the subject. “I think our concert is over.”

 

“I guess so.” But she remained seated, as if reluctant for this interlude to end.

 

He could relate.

 

With the fog thickening, however, it could be dangerous to linger. Despite his assurance to Ashley that he could manage the walk home without a problem, it was easy to get lost when the road ahead was unclear.

 

The time had come to leave.

 

Calling up every ounce of his self-discipline, he pushed himself to his feet. “I should go.”

 

“I suppose it is getting late.” She stood too. “Thanks for listening tonight. It was a treat to have someone to talk to. I love what I’m doing at Edgecliff, but sometimes it gets kind of lonely. I mean, Rose is here, but she keeps to herself.”

 

Pressure built in his throat at her melancholy tone. “I hear you. It gets lonely at my place too. Daisy’s fine company, but her conversational skills are limited.”

 

She took two tentative steps toward him, putting herself almost within touching distance if he stretched out his arm. “Maybe sometime, if you have a few spare minutes, we could do this again.”

 

“Maybe we could.” He dipped his chin to hide his features in case her night vision was sharper than his.

 

“Friends?” She extended her hand.

 

Fingertips tingling, he regarded it.

 

How could he resist the offer of friendship with this woman, who radiated energy and enthusiasm and caring? Who brightened the world with her presence?

 

Slowly he lifted his hand. Stretched it out. Captured her delicate fingers in his. “Yes.”

 

And perhaps, if God deigned to grant this wayward son of his a favor, it might become more down the road. After Ashley put her failed romance with Jason to rest. After they got to know each other. After he found the courage to let her see him in daylight. Assuming she didn’t turn tail and run, as Melinda had.

 

A big assumption.

 

Because while his appearance these days was less shocking and scary, it would take a miracle for a beautiful woman like Ashley to be able to see past his scars and—

 

She squeezed his fingers, and a powerful yearning swept over him. So strong it was impossible to resist the urge to squeeze back . . . and ease closer.

 

Under the cloak of fog and darkness, it was hard to see her features. But his other senses more than compensated. Her faint, fresh scent, with a hint of floral that spoke of warm summer days, soaked into his pores. Her skin was soft and silky against his calloused palm. Her respiration was as rapid as his own.

 

After five years on the sidelines of the relationship game, it was possible his instincts were rusty. But if he was reading her signals right, she was receptive to a kiss.

 

It was too soon for that, though.

 

Or was it?

 

Why not give her a sweet memory to mitigate her reaction when she saw him in daylight and remind her that underneath his scars, his heart had an immense capacity for passion and tenderness?

 

Pulse thundering, he tugged ever-so-slightly on her hand, urging her toward him. If she resisted, he’d back off.

 

If she didn’t?

 

Tonight could launch a whole new chapter in his life—and mark the end of the solitary confinement he’d consigned himself to during his lonely tenure in a town with a name that promised so much more.

 

 

 

 

 

17

 

 

Good heavens.

 

Was that a man and woman holding hands on her front porch, or was the mist playing tricks on her eyes?

 

As Rose pulled the front door wider and peered into the darkness, her question was answered.

 

The two people jerked apart and swung toward her.

 

They were real.

 

And while it was impossible to read the woman’s expression in the dim light and fog, there was no question about her identity.

 

“Gracious, Ashley. You startled me.” Rose stared at her while the man melted back into the shadows at the base of the porch.

 

“I could say the same.” Her hand flew to her chest, and she offered a laugh that sounded forced.

 

“I don’t often find people on the front porch at this hour of the night—except one Halloween a few years back. But a call to the police chief took care of that problem. I don’t think such drastic action is necessary tonight, though.”