Part of me truly wanted to believe that he was just a rare, good soul, but trust was very hard for me. Yet, when I looked into his brilliant, green eyes, deep in my soul something told me I could trust him. And even though he couldn’t speak a word to me, his body language communicated volumes. The pain behind his shy smile, the way his shoulders fought between tension and trying to relax. The way he’d catch my gaze, then quickly look away. All of these expressions felt familiar to me. They told me he was someone who’d seen unbelievable pain in his life, and he was just as scared to trust, as desperate for a friend as I was.
His shoulders tensed and lips pursed, as if he wasn’t sure how to answer my question, almost as if he didn’t know the reason himself. Again, he signed something, and I watched, mesmerized at his passionate, intense words, really wishing I could have understood them.
“It’s because I fell in your cabin, isn’t it? If you don’t turn me into the cops for breaking in, I promise I won’t sue you.” I offered him a meager, playful smile. “We’ll just call it even, okay?”
A wide grin split his chiseled features and his shoulders shook in silent laughter. Crinkles of laugh lines formed at the corners of his eyes and his cheeks dimpled as he revealed his row of perfectly straight, white teeth. It had been a very long time since I’d made a man laugh. Even before Angelo turned monstrous, in the early days of sweeping me off my feet with charm, good looks, money and his protective nature, he was still always so serious. He’d never really appreciated humor. I’d forgotten how attractive men were when they laughed.
And Tanner was beautiful when he was tickled.
What an unexpected delight my journey had turned out to be. Being around Tanner reminded me of my younger days when I’d first meet a handsome man, flirt, and hit it off. That wonderful, giddy feeling of butterflies in my tummy.
“Is it because you think I’m pretty?” I flashed him a flirty grin. I knew shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself. The little zing between us was a breath of fresh air to my dying lungs. For too long Angelo had suffocated me.
Tanner’s smile slightly faded and his cheeks flushed. He looked down at the floor and scratched his temple. Oh, damn. The man was handsome when he laughed, but bashful Tanner was panty-melting hot. Finally, he looked up and met my gaze. Lifting his right hand, he held his forefinger and thumb about an inch apart, shrugging, saying yeah, a little bit.
Now it was my turn to laugh. “At least you’re honest.” Which was more than what I could say for myself. I couldn’t even tell him my real name. Pregnant and carrying more baggage than even I was equipped to deal with, it would be a long time, if ever, before I could open my heart.
Suddenly, I wanted to cry again.
Tanner stood to his full height, turned toward the living room, and pointed two fingers toward the sofa.
“Alright. Alright. I’ll go relax.” I went and curled up on the sofa, pulling the soft blanket on top of me, watching as he pushed up the sleeves of his shirt and did the dishes. I yawned, and it took everything in my power to keep my eyes open as long as I could to watch the muscles on his back flex underneath the fabric of his shirt.
I wouldn’t be staying long. Once the snow melted, I’d be on my way. But I’d taken enough shit to last a lifetime. So, for the time being, I was going to accept that the universe was giving me a little break, thanks to this kind, handsome soul.
And I planned to enjoy the gift as long as it lasted.
I awoke sometime later, still wrapped in the afghan, propped up on my elbow and glanced around for my guest. Tanner was crouched down, leaning over the fire, stoking it with the poker while Archie was now at my feet, curled up and snoozing away.
Threading my fingers through my locks, I rested my head and admired the way the orange glow lit up the golden highlights in Tanner’s sandy hair. He looked even more handsome in the soft light with the shadows bouncing across his chiseled features.
Part of me yearned to know more about him. Where did he grow up? Any siblings? What were his parents like? What events in life transpired that brought him up here, to live all alone? Was he born Deaf? Could he speak? I could have sworn I heard his voice before I hit my head, but I wasn’t certain.
The truth was, I didn’t deserve to know any of that because I was leaving very soon.
Task finished, he turned and glanced in my direction. For some reason, his eyes widened just slightly and a crooked grin lit up his face. Placing the poker back on the stand, he stood and pointed to the stack of fresh logs now sitting by the fire, letting me know he’d restocked for me. That’s probably when he picked up Archie and brought him back over. I guess their fight was short-lived. He threw a thumb toward the door and bobbed his head, indicating he was going to head out.
“Thank you,” I signed. That was another one I knew.
His nose wrinkled then he pulled out his phone, typed, and passed it over. How much ASL do you know?
I typed my response since it was a long one. I had no idea how hard lip reading was, but I assumed very. Not a lot. Used to work in the service industry. I picked up a few basics along the way. Things like thank you, sorry, and the alphabet. Not enough to hold a good conversation.
He looked up at me and I signed sorry on my chest. And I was. I really, really wished I could have a conversation with this man, so before I passed him the phone back, I sat up and curled my feet up underneath my bottom, giving him space to sit between me and Archie. I then patted the cushion, hoping to get him to stay just a little longer. He looked really unsure so I patted it a second time, with a little more force. Reluctantly, he sat, and I handed him the phone.
Glancing down at the screen, he nodded at my response, as if that made sense. Then typed back to me. Most people know a few signs, like you. That’s kinda what I figured. For most adults it takes about four years to become fluent, and even then, you’re not fooling anyone.
“Like me listening to a foreigner with a thick accent?” I asked.
He chuckled and nodded. Yes. Hard for me too with lip reading. Kids are the absolute worst for me to try and lip read.
I motioned for the phone. Do you prefer that I type or that I talk? Which is easier for you?
Frowning, he scratched his hair and I could tell he was debating on how to respond. Finally, he began typing. Screen time is not good if you had a concussion. You need to rest your brain.
I snatched the phone from him. Now it was my turn to frown. All this man had done was worry about me. I was the one who intruded into his life. I was the one that broke in, damaged his window, and fell. Sure, he startled me, but none of that would have happened had I not trespassed on his property. You didn’t answer my question. I asked what is easier for you. Now answer the damn question or I won’t say or type another word.
He snorted, reading my response. The tip of his lip curled as he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye before he went back to typing. Lip reading is hard. I only catch about sixty percent of what people say, so I have to fill in a lot of blanks. But, I really like looking at you when you speak to me.
His warm words could have thawed every ounce of snow outside, because on the inside, I was a puddle.
Whoa, I couldn’t believe I just told her that.
But it was the truth. I really, really liked looking at her. Liked the way that she chewed on her pinky nail and worried her plump, bottom lip. Liked the way that her oversized sweatshirt fell off her shoulder. And don’t even get me started on how good she smelled. It was like I’d forgotten how tantalizing a woman’s scent could be.