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Chuckling, he felt the tension begin to bleed out of him. He’d had some trepidation about coming to Sierra’s home but now that he was here, he wondered why he had felt that way. The cabin was alight with morning sunshine through the many large, well-placed windows. He saw the red curtains she’d told him of, framing the large, wide windows on two sides of the kitchen. “You’re right,” he said. “Still, it’s good coffee.”
“That’s a relief,” she teased, sharing a warm smile with him.
“Are you working at home today?” he wondered.
“Yes. For the next week or two at least, until you get oriented around here. Know where the food is at and can start cooking for yourself.”
Mace felt grateful. Her face was free of stress, her cypress-green eyes large and so damned readable. He ached for Sierra. There hadn’t been a night that went by in the hospital where he didn’t dream of her being at his side, embraced by him, her long, sleek body against his. “You might not have to spend a week babysitting me. I intend to be mobile. I’m not sitting in that guest bedroom all day.”
She sipped her coffee. “I didn’t think you would. But until those fang holes close up, you know you have to stay inside. Don’t you dare go outside and get bacteria in them.”
“I saw the red rocker swing you have on the porch,” he noted, gesturing in that direction. “I’m sure the doc wouldn’t mind if I go out there? What do you think? At least, I’ll be outside.”
Mace didn’t like being housebound. Sierra couldn’t blame him. Since age eighteen, he’d challenged the elements and weather. “Give it a couple of days?”
He grimaced. “For you, I will.” He reached for the green plastic sack. “Here, I was going to bring these to you when I left the field in June. I hope you like them.”
Touched that he’d bought her something, she set her coffee aside. Pulling the sack over, she opened it up. Inside there was a largish bundle wrapped in brown paper and string. Pulling it out, she asked, “What did you get me?” She saw amusement and eagerness in Mace’s eyes.
“Hey, you’re talking to an operator,” he teased. “I’m not telling. Go ahead, open it up.” His pulse sped up. Would Sierra like the gift? Mace found himself worried she wouldn’t. She delicately untied the string and pulled it off the large, bulky package. He wanted to please her. Make her happy. He had hurt her a lot of ways in the past and now, maybe this gift would be a small token of how much he cared for her. He held his breath momentarily as she carefully opened the brown paper wrapping. Mace saw her eyes widen with surprise.
“Oh, my, Mace!” she whispered excitedly, “my lace curtains!”
He felt heat tunnel through him as color rushed to her cheeks, her green eyes shining with such joy as she lifted one of the handmade curtains up to view it more closely.
“I found that lace pattern online,” he told her, his voice suddenly tight. The look of joy on Sierra’s face was one he wanted to photograph forever in his heart. She was completely surprised.
“I knew an old Q’ero woman who makes lace and sells it on one of Cusco’s main plazas,” he admitted sheepishly. “I took the pattern to her and asked her to make two sets of curtains for you.” He felt a lump in his throat as he saw her face crumple with gratitude. “Do you like them? Do you think they’ll be okay for that room?”
Making a soft sound, Sierra placed the curtain aside, rose and slid her arms around his shoulders, giving him a hug. “Oh, thank you, Mace! This is so thoughtful… I mean,” she gushed, releasing him and touching the lace curtains, “…you are so incredibly thoughtful…,” and she sniffed, wiping tears from her eyes.
Her tears tore him up and the skin across his shoulders still sizzled from her unexpected hug. How he’d wanted to turn and meet her mouth. Kiss her senseless. Take her to his bed. Love her. Hear soft, satisfied sounds in her slender throat as he pleased her. All of it had been there, hanging before him. It was surely not possible. His gut tightened. Yet, making Sierra happy even just this once stripped him of another thin layer of doubt. Just seeing the sparkle dancing in her eyes, her excitement as she lifted the curtains, making small sounds of awe and pleasure as she turned them over and ran her fingers lightly across the fine lace. It made Mace smile.
“I haven’t done much to make you very happy,” he admitted, his voice apologetic with barely held emotions. “When you told me about those curtains over that phone call, the excitement in your voice, I wanted to do something special for you, Sierra.” The soft look she gave him damn near totaled him. It was filled with such love for him, and for him alone. He felt like such a coward in comparison to Sierra. She was laying it out in front of him. Never saying the words. But he saw her heart in her eyes, in the sudden grateful expression she shared with him. Her fingers were never still, touching the lace delicately, admiring it, murmuring as she smoothed her hand along its surface. How Mace wished she would do that to him. But then, it was him that had placed the wall between them, wasn’t it?
“I-this is so…,” she choked, giving him a warm look as she quickly brushed the tears from her eyes, “…so wonderful, Mace. They’re perfect! The woman who did this is amazing! I’m just at a loss for words…”
His heart swelled with love for this woman who bravely wore her emotions without apology. Sierra knew no other way and he was like a seedy little beggar in the radiance of her happiness, lapping up her joy, starved for it. Starved for her.
“You think they’ll do?” he managed, his voice low and tight with all the feelings that wanted to escape.
“Oh, yes,” Sierra laughed. “They’re just perfect! I’d hate to think of the cost, though. The lacework on these curtains is just incredible, Mace.”
“You’re worth it,” he said gruffly, unable to hold the luminosity in her green eyes. He knew, somehow, that Sierra would come to him if he let her. If he opened his arms to her, she would walk into them. If he wanted to kiss her, he knew she would eagerly kiss him in return. To say he felt like the worst of men was an understatement. Why couldn’t he just spend the time here with her? Bed her? Love her? And then walk away? Mace didn’t have those answers yet. Maybe because Sierra was so artless, so damned emotionally honest with him, that he sought ways not to hurt her further. And hurt her, he had. Unable to give her what she really wanted. Maybe he was better off in the hospital. It wouldn’t remind him of all the things that couldn’t be. Rubbing his gut, he felt like there was a nest of snakes writhing in there every time he saw the hidden pain in Sierra’s eyes. The longing she had for him. The yearning for something they both wanted.
But he stood in the way. The promise he’d given his devastated father after Caleb had died at age twelve had changed the trajectory of his life. And then, his mother had suddenly died when he was fourteen. The dual losses had buckled his father. Had broken him under their weight. And the only thing that had ever seemed to bring his father back to him, through all those years of hardship and grief, was his promise to go into the Army and seek revenge for his family’s sake.
And he’d done that for fourteen years now. Looking at Sierra, watching her graceful hands fly lovingly across the lace, he had never felt so desperate, so unhappy and alone. All Mace really wanted was to ask Sierra to live with him forever. But, closing his eyes for a moment, Mace couldn’t see a way to make that happen. He just couldn’t, not matter how desperately he wanted it to be so.
“I’m going to hang these up in your bedroom right now!” she said, standing. Gathering them up in her arms, she smiled over at him. “I already have the curtain rods. I HAVE to see these hanging up, Mace! I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Mace gave her a nod, absorbing her excitement as she rushed out of the kitchen, the lace curtains gathered carefully in her arms. The sweet sway of her hips, those long legs of hers, just made him awaken further and want her even more. Looking up, he saw the blue sky out the windows. She had cracked them open over the kitchen sinks and he could hear the calls and singing of birds outside the cabin through the gaps. He wanted to do more for her. He’d do anything to see again and again the look that had been on Sierra’s face from the moment she realized he’d brought her those lace curtains. All he wanted to do was to make her happy. Hear her laugh. See that wide smile of hers. Why couldn’t life be simple? Why did it have to be so damned convoluted and twisted like some Gordian Knot that he could never untie or release?
He decided to get up. Mace needed to see her put up those curtains in his bedroom. Grabbing the hated walker, he pushed upright. His injured foot had a dressing with a sock over it for protection, and then encased in soft foam boot held in place with Velcro straps. Making his way a lot slower than he wanted, he finally arrived at the door to the bedroom. Sierra was just finishing up. The glow on her face made heat flash directly down to his lower body. She turned, realizing he was standing there.
“Look!” she said, laughing. “Look how beautiful they are, Mace!” She climbed down off the wooden chair and set it back in the corner.
“They look really nice,” he murmured, thinking that the curtains really did make the room complete its mid-1800s feel. Sierra had an unerring eye for what went well design-wise, there was no question. But she was a sniper and possessed an eye for detail few people would ever have. He saw her smiling as she walked quickly toward him. Mace was completely unprepared when she halted in front of his walker, threw her arms around him and pressed herself against him, her lips finding his.
