No Fault of Mine

Chapter Fifty-Three

Something I hadn't felt in a long time stirred within me. It swirled in my belly, punched my heart's accelerator, and vibrated through my body. The shock of it set off fireworks in my brain. 

With Stan holding my hand, his eye penetrating mine, his stance above me with his head bowed toward me, I had a strong impulse to give in to his touch, to invite him to draw closer, to give and get what I really wanted. Another part of me wanted to push him away. It was a part of me holding onto uncertainty. If I did open the door, would I only be disappointed and live in another desert?

But was this the man, or was I letting my romance-novel idealism create something that was not real...not real between us? I wanted emotional closeness, but would I jump so quickly just because a man offered himself? Would it last? My experience has taught me that passion can lead to premature commitment, and commitment with passion lost is a desert. I'd rather be single than live committed to a man only to live in a desert again.

Now, I felt awkward. What do I say? Should I simply say thank you and withdraw my hand? 

Should I say, I missed you, too? Should I ask for a hug? Should I pull him to me and kiss him? 

None of these responses seem true to how I felt.

"I'm sorry," Stan said with disappointment in his eyes. "This isn't the time or the place to tell you how I feel. I'm sure you have enough on your mind without having to consider the potential of us."

"The potential of us, huh?"

Stan blushed, dropped his eyes, and let go of my hand. "Do I need to parse it out?"

"Sure," I said, smiling with a hint of cynicism. I could see his discomfort, but I wasn't keen on letting him off so easily.

"This isn't going the way I anticipated," he said.

"What did you think would happen?"

"I'm still working on your first question," he said.

"We can address the potential of us first if you wish," I said coyly. "But if you would like to tell me how you envisioned our discussion would go, that would be fine too."

"I thought I would tell you how I felt, and you would tell me how you feel, and we would go from there."

I reached for his hand and said, "Since the death of my husband—it's been over a month now—my life has been in chaos. I'm sure you can understand that. Stopping at the store you were working in was entirely random, but you went out of your way to help me, a woman in distress. 

You helped me then, and you helped me again as I was dying from hypothermia. Maybe my life will become more normal now that Ducain and his minions are locked up. Regarding how I feel, 

I'm grateful that you found me in time, and I think we need to experience each other without chaos to distract us. I want to know you better. I really do have feelings for you."

"Time I have," he said. "I have a bunch of vacation time coming up, and when you're ready, maybe we can make good use of it."

"I like that idea." I reached for his hand and felt his warm acceptance.

"Can we start over?" He raised my hand to his lips, kissed my fingers ever so softly, and gave me the best smile I'd seen. "My name is Stan, and I'm a US Marshal working out of Spokane. I told you about my family and all that is true. My Dad owns the company I told you about and is opening an office here in Compton Hills. He has asked if I'd be interested in heading it up."

"He has?" I asked, my hand cradled in his.

"I've been thinking of taking him up on it."

"Huh, imagine that," I said.