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He grinned. “It can be your Christmas dress. Wear it for me every year.”
She gulped. “Are you saying you'll be around next Christmas?”
“I don't know what I'm saying.” A slightly annoyed lilt coated his tone, and his smile vanished. “Let's just enjoy the day. Okay? We're living in our own place in time. You said so yourself. No strings. Let's just make memories while we can.”
Instead of handing her a glass of wine, he set them down on a nearby table. When she frowned in confusion, he held his arms open. “Dance with me.”
They waltzed around the room while avoiding the furniture, and she learned that Jared was an excellent dancer. For a big guy, he was graceful on his feet. With gentle pressure from his hands, he led her to move in unison with him.
Without warning, he swept her off her feet and carried her upstairs to his bedroom. For the first time in her life, she felt beautiful and adored. Every touch and every look from him underlined that feeling. All doubts about her femininity faded away. Jared didn't make love to her that night; he worshipped her, giving more than he took.
One question kept going through her mind: how would she ever manage to live without him?
∞∞∞
At the end of a long day of taking care of horses without any extra help, they plopped down on the sofa in the spacious living area. Beth wanted to be in Jared's arms, but she sat on the opposite end so they could have a serious conversation. It was difficult to talk when they were making out like hormonal teenagers. From experience, she knew she couldn't be that close to him without kissing that sexy mouth.
Before she could tell him what was on her mind, he put his feet on the coffee table and stretched his arms over his head. The periwinkle blue shirt traveled up to reveal his taut belly. A drawn-out yawn opened his mouth while closing his eyes.
His head rested on the cushion behind it, and he looked sideways at her with deceptively sleepy eyes. “I was thinking about how you read all my letters and built this crazy, impossible for me to live up to fantasy. You need to stop romanticizing me. I am not a knight in shining armor. The way you look at me sometimes, like I put the stars in the sky... that's just not me.”
His words gave her pause. Was he right? Had she built him up in her mind so high that the real him couldn't compare?
No. She was right; he was wrong. Jared had grown into a wonderful man, and she needed him to see himself through her eyes. “How can you think that way after everything you've done for others? You have dedicated your life to saving people you don't even know.”
“I couldn't save my mother,” he said. “I save lives to make up for not saving hers. You can ask my colleagues in Boston, and they will tell you I am not the great guy you seem to think. I'm quick-tempered and dismissive and bossy.”
“You are all of those things, yes,” she said. “I know that. I’m not looking at you through distorted glasses. You are also extremely compassionate. I don't believe for a second that you don't care about the people you meet in the ER. You're so tender with me and with Delta, and I've seen you with the horses. Don't sell yourself short. You are a good man, Jared Wilder, even if you don't think so.”
He turned his head to stare at her with an expression she couldn't read. A moment later, his facial features relaxed, and he smiled. He reached for her hand. “I don't know about that, but I do know you're a good woman.”
The statement would have meant more if he had offered it without prior solicitation. It was like when a woman told another woman her dress was pretty. Then the other responded in kind. A person never knew if it was truth or just polite conversation.
He added, “I am just so angry all the time, and I don't know what to do with that rage. Talking to Dr. Morose, my shrink, has helped some. I know I'm angry because my mother died the way she did, senseless, but I don't know how to channel that anger in a way that's productive. I lash out at the people closest to me. I don't want to lash out at you. I don't want to hurt you.”
She put a reassuring hand on his arm. “I still can't believe you talk to a shrink. You, of all people. I mean, you opened up to Simon in your letters, sure, but I didn't think you were the type to talk about feelings to anyone in person.”
“Blame my father,” he said with a snort. “You know how he was with us boys. Men don't cry. Keep a stiff upper lip. Bottle those feelings up until you die.”
She nodded. “I remember.”
“It's actually your fault I see a shrink, you know.”
“My fault?”
“After you kissed me when you were sixteen, I thought I was some sicko that liked young girls.” He threw his hands up, clearly agitated at the memory. “I wanted to know if I was a pervert, so I went to a shrink. He made me tell him stories about my youth and about my dating history. Later, we got into dangerous territory with my father... and eventually I told him how my mother died.”
“Did it help?” Beth asked. “Did talking to him ease the pain?”
Jared shook his head. “Not really, but I'm still seeing him once a week. He says I'm a work-in-progress.”
They sat in silence for a long, stretched out moment. When she realized he wasn't going to say anything else, she decided to fill in the gap and let him know he wasn't the only one hurting. She felt the need to show him that she could open up to someone, too. Him.
“My mother died when I was ten,” she blurted. “And my father died when I was twenty. I understand how you feel, because I feel that way, too. I lost my parents and Big Jim and you when you went away. That left me with Simon. I trusted him with my heart, and he slept with my maid of honor. Then, instead of talking to me, he ran away. He left me at the altar.”
“Let's be mad at Simon.” Jared chuckled. “He's the jerk here.”
“Yeah.” She grinned. “Simon is a jerk.”
