Читать книгу A Montana Christmas Reunion - Roz Fox Denny - Страница 10
ОглавлениеSomeone slid a stool onstage. Saxon half sat on it and then began to play and sing. Jewell, who used to believe he had a good voice, sat mesmerized. His voice had deepened and mellowed. If he still wrote the songs he sang, as he’d done back when she was his primary cheerleader, his lyrics now were decidedly more emotional.
It’d been a long time since she’d seen him perform in person. Never since he’d become famous. After the first time she’d heard him on the radio, she had blocked the pain by telling herself she was too busy to listen to music anyway. Because her work required short jaunts between ranches, it wasn’t worth turning on her pickup radio. But if she were being totally honest—country music had always been her favorite, and frankly, she’d been afraid if she heard Saxon singing any of his early tunes, she’d start blubbering.
She was near to weeping now.
She began to wonder about this song that dealt with loneliness and suppressed love, or lost love. Had she ripped apart Saxon’s heart? After all, she’d been the one to break things off—to surgically end their relationship.
At twenty-one, she never thought he would have ever expected her to realign her life to follow him. Everyone who knew her knew being a vet in Snowy Owl Crossing was what she’d planned and prepared to do from the time she was old enough to dream.
Now, listening to Saxon’s voice grow thick on a chorus about broken promises, Jewell trembled under his almost icy scrutiny. It was patently obvious that he had zeroed in on her. Was he taunting her? It seemed not to matter how tense his jaw was—his voice remained seductive. She was carried back to college days when he’d sung her parts of new songs, and it had frequently ended with their making love.
Uncomfortable, she shifted in her seat. But noting a hush fall over the crowd, she turned slightly to glance behind her. A row of women stared openly at her with envy, because as Saxon began his next number, it couldn’t be more evident that he sang the love song to her.
All at once a photographer who’d been taking pictures of Saxon and his band suddenly knelt and snapped off a battery of her. Blinded, Jewell jerked aside. And she worried about where those photos might appear and what they might reveal on her face—the rapture, the love she hadn’t been able to completely abolish.
Listening as he crooned her name, she felt her nervousness increase tenfold. Partway into the second verse, she thought, Phew! There was no way the people in the audience could know that the jewel he mentioned—like a vibrant diamond he longed for—was her. Only she was aware how many times in the past he’d kissed her and jokingly called her his million-dollar gem. At least, she used to assume it was a joke because they’d laughed together.
More uneasy, she flipped up her jacket collar to hide her burning face. Why was Saxon doing this? He hadn’t held her in years. He hadn’t called or tried to contact her. And she was quite sure he hadn’t been a monk since they’d parted.
Relief washed over her when the song ended—enough for her to actually relax as Saxon announced that he would sing his latest hit next.
Concertgoers clapped and shouted. Some whistled catcalls. But Saxon had barely run a thumb over his guitar’s strings when the man who’d first introduced him burst onstage through the back curtains. Grabbing the microphone, he said, “I’m sorry to tell you all, but the hurricane has reportedly made landfall, bringing bands of heavy rain. We need to cancel the rest of the show. As we told each of you at the outset, Saxon and his band appreciate how so many of you ventured out given the unsettled predictions for Althea. Unfortunately, we hear many streets are flooding, which has taken officials by surprise. I spoke with local authorities, who suggest you go home if you live nearby or seek accommodations in this city for tonight. Local motels will offer discounts if you show them your concert ticket stub. Everyone, please take care. And we’re sorry. Staff will give each of you a free CD at the door.”
Behind her, Jewell heard gasps and the sound of feet retreating up the aisles. She stood, intending to follow. Donovan leaped up to talk to another man. Suddenly he glanced around and beckoned her.
“Please remember to give Saxon the letter. Tell him I enjoyed the show but I have to go.”
The man blocked her exit. “Saxon is waiting for you backstage.”
“You don’t understand. I need to see about a room, because it sounded as if I’d be foolish to try and drive back to my hotel in DC until this storm passes.”
“Watching the stampede of folks out of here, you’d be wise to let someone on Saxon’s team secure accommodations for you.” Then without waiting for her to agree or object, he clasped her upper arm and all but dragged her through a set of black velvet curtains near the stage. Saxon’s band had already cleared out with their instruments.
He stood in a hallway gesturing and talking to a couple of those same band members. Donovan whisked her along, barely letting her boots touch the floor. He didn’t stop until her shoulder jostled Saxon’s upper arm. “One lady friend delivered as ordered,” the man announced.
It didn’t surprise her to hear Saxon huff out an exasperated-sounding, “She’s an old friend, not some item I ordered off a menu.” As if to make a point, he swept her up and swung her around until excitement built inside Jewell like it had when they used to ride the Tilt-A-Whirl at the county fair. Then he unceremoniously plopped her down and went on talking to a young man holding a guitar.
Her stomach had yet to settle when Saxon again skewered Donovan with a glance. “Speaking of menu, I’m starved. Ask Carson to see if he can scare up a decent meal for two and deliver it to my bus before this town drops its shutters?”
“I can’t stay, Saxon. I need to call around and find a room,” Jewell said.
Her comment had Saxon frowning down at her.
The last band members moved on out a back door. When it opened, Jewell felt a damp wind whish along the hall. Courtesy of an outside light above that same door, she noticed rain flying in circles. “The weather is definitely worse. I wonder how far away hotels or motels are.”
Donovan acknowledged Saxon’s request for food. Then he, too, rushed out, calling loudly to the absent Carson. Suddenly she and Saxon were the only ones left in a theater where the few lights still burning began going dark one at a time.
His arm tightened around her waist. “Damn, it’s really you! Believe it or not, you come to mind so often I first thought I imagined you standing in line. I’m sorry I didn’t have a minute before the show to do more than have Donovan find you a seat. This is only the second time we’ve had to shorten a show due to weather. However, our booking agent is responsible for battening down the hatches, so to speak. Come, we’ll have a drink, wait for the food and catch up in my bus. It’s parked out back.”
Anchoring Jewell more firmly to his side, he moved them along the almost dark hall to shove open a door that seemed to stick. Once they emerged, driving rain and a battering wind jammed Jewell’s protest down her throat. “Seriously, Saxon. I’m not kidding about needing to locate a room.”
Hunching his larger body around her, Saxon made a hard left turn and plowed on through fat raindrops striking them from all sides.
As the wind robbed her ability to speak, Jewell was unable to object when Saxon keyed some numbers into a pad near the front of a big, dark bus, then opened a door where steps magically appeared. She blinked water from her eyelashes after he rushed them in out of what was definitely deteriorating weather.
Saxon flipped switches until light fell from a series of wall sconces. That gave Jewell time to gather her jumbled senses enough to examine the interior of a vehicle that for all the world looked like a luxury apartment.
He dashed off, leaving her standing behind plush driver and passenger seats. She dripped on real tile that served as a foyer to a living room outfitted with thick beige-colored carpet. Saxon reappeared with two towels, one of which he offered her.
She set her handbag and the now-soaked free T-shirt on a side table and blotted her face and hair with the terrycloth towel. The hem of her shirt not covered by her jacket was also soaked. The hand towels wouldn’t do much to dry either of them.
“Saxon, I would love to have time to share a meal, but considering the number of people at the theater who’ll be stuck in town, I really need to find accommodations. My hotel is in the heart of DC. I intended to return there after your show, but now that’s out of the question.” Wadding the towel, she clutched it nervously in front of her.
“Are you afraid of me?” Saxon abruptly asked.
“What? No!”
“It looks like it from the way you’re holding that towel like a shield.”
Jewell scowled at the object and quickly relaxed her arms. “Here.” She tried to pass the towel back. “Donovan said you’d have an assistant find someplace for me to spend the night. Is there someone who’ll do that?”
A sharp rap at the door kept Saxon from taking the towel or responding. Before he reached the door, it flew open. A man dressed in a clear slicker gestured to Saxon by holding up two square takeout boxes. “I hope you guys like lasagna. The only restaurant open was an Italian place. Even they were closing up. And Donovan said your friend needed a room. I’m sorry, Sax, but two of us phoned around and couldn’t find even an empty broom closet.”
Saxon handed Jewell his wet towel so he could accept the boxes from the poor dripping fellow. “Uh, thanks, Carson. Were you able to buy enough to feed you guys and the band?”
“Yeah, the restaurant owner was happy to have me take all remaining pizzas off his hands. If this is all you need, boss, I’d like to get back before the others demolish it.”
“By all means. And double thanks for braving the weather.”
The response was muffled as the other man shut the door with a loud bang that made Jewell jump.
Facing Jewell again, Saxon shrugged. “You heard him. Maybe the storm will pass quickly. I’m sure you heard me say earlier that I’m starved. Unless you’re full up, follow me to the table and I’ll serve this while it’s hot. My kitchen and dining table are in the center of the coach.”
The aroma from the food wafted up, causing Jewell’s stomach to growl loudly.
Saxon smiled for the first time since they were left alone together. “That sounds as if you’re plenty hungry, too.”
“Embarrassing but true. I went to examine a stallion Mark Watson wants to mate with his new mare. I got lost and missed lunch. Where shall I put these towels? They’re too wet to set on any of your nice wood furniture.” Looking around, she noted the cozy living room and its big-screen TV.
“The kitchen counters are granite. Drop the towels there. If you want, you can wash up at the sink while I grab plates and utensils. So you came across country to check on a horse for Watson? Remember Rafe Laughlin? He came to one of my shows a few years ago. He said you were engaged. Was it to Watson?”
“Mark is older and happily married. I made this trip to speak to the Natural Resources Committee about buying a portion of Leland’s land as a snowy owl refuge.” Trailing in his wake, Jewell laid the towels on the countertop. “Wow, this is fancy. I had no idea buses could be so swanky.” She swept a hand around to take in stainless-steel appliances that included a dishwasher and wine fridge. She noticed it only because after setting out plates, napkins and silverware, Saxon got out a bottle of wine. Holding it out for her to see the label, he pulled the cork. “Do you still prefer chardonnay regardless of what type of food is served?”
Jewell saw it was a brand they sometimes used to buy as a treat after acing their college tests. Almost as quickly, she recalled if they indulged too much, their evenings usually ended in a sleepover. Back then not a lot of sleeping went on. “I...still do prefer chardonnay. But only one glass with dinner. Hopefully, I’ll get to drive back to DC later.”
“Doubtful from the sound of that wind.” He set aside the cork and poured wine into two glasses. “Let’s sit and fill our plates. Then you can catch me up on what’s happening in the lives of the old home crowd.” Pausing, he studied her. “I still can’t believe you’re here. If you only knew how many times I spotted someone with hair the color of yours in the crowd and my heart... Well, suffice to say, until tonight I was always wrong and disappointed.”
Having no idea how to respond, Jewell dipped her head and slid into a chair across the table from him. Opening her food carton, she sniffed the pungent garlic scent. “This looks and smells fantastic. Can we eat first and talk after I appease my empty stomach?”
Chuckling, Saxon scooped lasagna onto his plate, along with asparagus and two slices of toasted garlic bread. “I can’t say I’m sorry the only restaurant open was Italian. Remember that little hole-in-the-wall place near campus that served the world’s best spaghetti and meatballs? I recall it every time I eat Italian food.”
Jewell smiled and felt the knot in her stomach ease. “Rossiano’s. Good food and cheap. I wonder if it’s still there. I have to admit I rarely get out of Snowy Owl Crossing these days.”
“Yet here you are.” Saxon picked up his wineglass and took a drink. Setting it down, he said, “You mentioned asking a committee to buy some of Uncle Leland’s land. Is he selling out? If so, I suppose he wants a fortune.”
“His Realtor advised him not to break up the ranch, which includes the area where owls nest.” After blotting red sauce off her lips, Jewell set her napkin back on her lap. “My meeting with the federal committee didn’t go as I’d hoped.” Between bites, she launched into an explanation of the efforts already put forth by the Artsy Ladies. “One member of the national committee said maybe we can partner with a birder group to buy the land.”
“Who are the Artsy Ladies?”
Jewell named them. “We all make and sell crafts. We hope the money will one day buy land for a snowy owl refuge.”
“Okay, I know most everyone. I’m drawing a blank on Myra Maxwell.”
“Until this past spring she was Myra Odell. Remember she only spent summers with her grandparents? Her grandmother passed and Myra moved to Snowy Owl Crossing to run the ranch the last three years. Then her grandfather died.”
“Now I can place her. I’m sorry to hear about the Odells. You say Myra married someone named Maxwell? That name doesn’t ring any bells.”
“It’s quite a story. Myra’s dad gave the ranch to Zeke Maxwell, an ex-military guy who saved her brother’s life. Myra and Zeke fell in love and married. They run the Flying Owl now. Zeke has a twin, Seth. Before I left home, I sensed he and Lila Jenkins will be the next in our group to walk down the aisle.”
“Lila? Did she and Keith divorce?” Saxon paused in eating and frowned. “Rafe didn’t mention anyone but you when we talked. He travels a lot selling farm equipment. Sometime after college he left Montana for Tulsa.”
“You really are behind times.” She glossed over the horrific mine accident in which Keith and other miners died.
“Gosh, I’m sorry to hear it. I remember they got married right out of high school. And didn’t they have a son about the time we graduated from college?”
“Yes. Rory is nine. He’s nuts about playing baseball, something Seth Maxwell’s been helping with. Actually, another of Zeke’s groomsmen, a guy who lost a leg in Afghanistan, kinda fell for Tawana. We expect he’ll move back when he’s done with rehab at the VA. They all fit well into the community.” She ate a few bites to let Saxon absorb all she’d said.
“In my mind things in Snowy Owl Crossing remain as they were when I left. Obviously not.”
“You could’ve caught up if you’d bothered to touch base with anyone,” Jewell said pointedly.
He idly broke apart a slice of garlic bread. “I had a tough time believing we were through, Jewell. You were my rock. The constant in my life.”
“Your only living relative is still in town, Saxon. Leland is aging,” she chided softly. “He looks poorly but doesn’t complain. At least, not to me. What did he have to say in the letter I brought?”
“You didn’t give me a letter.”
“Donovan took it. I planned to leave when the show ended. Your uncle didn’t share what he wrote, but he was anxious enough to bribe me to hand-deliver it. He paid for my ticket to your show.” She finished off her wine.
Filling their glasses again, Saxon paused, his eyebrows diving together. “Donovan will give me the letter next time I see him. But I don’t want to talk about my uncle. You, of all people, know he’s why I had to leave Snowy Owl Crossing.”
Jewell moved her plate so she could set her elbows on the table. “I know he seemed detached and hard on you as a kid. People can change, Saxon,” she said, propping her chin on folded hands. “It’s not healthy to hold a grudge so long.”
“You haven’t held one against me?”
“What? No. Do you not know how shocked I was to learn we had such conflicting goals? I assumed we would...” She lowered her eyes. “Plainly, back then we were both naive. I’ve often wondered how you’re doing,” she murmured, picking up her wine.
“Yeah. You probably hoped I’d fail and have to return to Montana.” He took a long drink from his glass.
“What a horrible thing to say. With your talent, I knew you’d succeed.”
“I almost didn’t. My first five years in Nashville were a hand-to-mouth struggle to get anyone to hear a demo. All I wanted was to live up to your expectations. I owe you so much but have no idea how to repay you.”
“I don’t want to be repaid for anything, Saxon. I wanted us both to have our careers. I’m sorry we lost touch.”
“Really? I phoned your mom during one of my lowest periods. You were off at veterinary school in Washington State.”
“You talked to Mom? She never told me.”
“Yes, well, she never came right out and said it was best I forget you, but it was implied. And once I got my head screwed on straight enough to admit you deserved to be the hometown vet, I focused all my energy on making my music work. I stuck it out even when I lived in a dive of an apartment and couldn’t afford to feed myself.”
Jewell bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have any idea your life was so hard.” She indicated the room with a wave of one hand. “I’d say things have picked up.”
“I suppose I should thank you for dumping me. Had you gone with me to Nashville, there’s no way I could’ve made a go of my music and paid for you to attend vet school like I promised.”
She took a drink, then swirled the wine. “I’d like to say I was smart enough to see that. Closer to the truth, I was crushed when you made clear you could never live in Snowy Owl Crossing. Not even for me.” She finished the wine and set down her empty glass.
“If it means anything, I never got you out of my system. I hung on to the fact that your mother said you were happy.” Leaning forward, Saxon took her hands, which forced her to stare straight into his somber gray eyes.
As if stuck in a dream, she squeezed his warm hands. But eventually she pulled hers free. “That’s bullshit, Saxon. Remote as we are, we have cell towers. Once when I was surfing the web, I ran across photos of you with a cute little blonde singer. There was speculation that you two planned to marry.”
“Marry? I’ve dated, but never got engaged like you apparently did. But I can’t think... Ah, you must mean Toni French. We had the same agent and recording label for a while. They splash all that hype around because fans love what they believe is access into recording artists’ private lives. Toni and I were never romantically involved. In fact, she moved to a different label. Are you saying you cared?”
Jewell shrugged. “I figured you’d gotten married and maybe even divorced like so many performers.”
“Did you?”
“Did I what?” She thought she’d missed something because his forehead was furrowed again.
“You aren’t wearing a wedding ring, but Rafe said he heard you were engaged. Have you married and divorced? If so, to anyone I know?”
That last part of his query sounded testy enough for Jewell to slowly shake her head, just feeling sad. “My engagement was brief. Now I’m too busy to date. But it’s pointless for us to travel this path, Saxon. I’ll help you clear the table and then try to find a place to stay. Or if the storm’s abated, I’ll return to my hotel.” The last had barely left her lips when wind rocked the bus and they could hear bands of rain striking the metal siding.
Saxon got up to peer out a window. He dropped the curtain and dug a cell phone out of his pocket. “It’s too dark to see much. But the wind is definitely tossing stuff around.” He pushed a few buttons on his phone. “Althea’s now listed as a strong tropical storm packing heavy rain and high winds. No way will I let you drive anywhere in these conditions. You can sleep here.”
Jewell’s heart did a little flip as she recalled how even when they were kids, Saxon had looked out for her safety and well-being. “How long before it’ll be over?”
He scrolled more. “Wee hours of the morning.”
She watched him return his stare to her, and she unconsciously licked her lips as their history kept playing over and over in her head. Trying to shake off the memories, she found her voice. “I trust this luxury conveyance has two bedrooms.”
“Nope. One bed almost fills the only bedroom. It could sleep four. I have any number of oversize T-shirts I can lend you. We’ll have to pretend it’s old times.”
As Jewell mulled over his offer to share a bed, he added, “How many times did we study so late we made do crammed together in one narrow dorm bed?”
“That was a long time ago.”
“For me those years melted away the minute I laid eyes on you. Can you honestly say seeing me hasn’t triggered some wistful feelings in you?”
She gave a slow shake of her head. “The music...” Her voice cracked and she stood. “When did you write songs for me, Saxon?”
He grew serious again. “I’ve written a few with you in mind.” Brushing her bangs aside with the backs of his fingers, he curved one hand around the side of her neck. Bending, he kissed her. Softly at first, but he continued kissing her with more fervor until both her hands slid up and down his chest and finally she clamped her hands over his shoulders.
The coach swayed in the wind, but the air Jewell breathed felt hot and sultry. Yes, she remembered loving him, loving his kisses. She might have been a girl back then, but she’d loved him like a woman. The good times they’d had tumbled over and over in fond memories that ran together in a blur. It didn’t take long for the old excitement to flutter in her belly and she wanted him with every fiber of her being.
He picked her up as if even in boots, jeans and a jacket she were feather light. Some small slice of her brain said she should object to being carried down a dim hall into a dark room. Then he sat with her on his lap, and their kisses went on until Jewell thought she’d go mad unless she touched his skin and he touched hers. She made the first move, ripping open the snaps down the front of his Western-style shirt.
“Whoa, whoa!” Saxon pulled back. He sucked in a breath. “Let’s have some light and lose enough clothes to get comfortable.”
Jewell blinked even though the bedside lamp he snapped on was little more than an amber glow. His hands had always been strong but seemed more so now as he removed her boots and set them beneath a bedside chair.
Because her bones were limp as cooked noodles, and because she drowned in his crooked smile, she had nothing to say when her damp jacket and wrinkled shirt landed on the chair. Suffused in heat, she still shivered when Saxon strung soft kisses from below her ear down her torso, stopping at the V of her bra. Dazedly, she ran her hands over the sculpted muscles of his back.
“I hate like the devil to interrupt what we’ve got going, but I need to make a quick check in the bathroom to see if my agent stocked, uh...protection.”
Rising, he placed a finger over Jewell’s trembling lips. “Before you get all huffy and ask why Sid would do that? Agents just do. They assume all performers meet and fall into bed with groupies. Some do. I don’t. But agents and managers are charged with making sure the label doesn’t get sued. No matter how many times I’ve said I only want Tylenol, soap and aftershave, Sid puts a packet or two in my medicine cabinet. Be right back.” And he disappeared.
In the respite Jewell tried to clear her head. What flashed there like a neon sign was a niggling thought that spending a night making love with Saxon probably wasn’t smart. But even as she sat alone, she burned with desire for him. Wants and needs she hadn’t felt in a long time clouded her vision and made mush of her brain. Really, he was the only one who’d ever made her feel this way.
Saxon returned and handed her a crumpled foil packet and a T-shirt. “Maybe Sid finally got my message. I found one condom.” He sat at her side and caressed her cheek. “You’re still wearing way too many clothes.” He knelt to slowly peel away her jeans.
Jewell saw all he wore on his lean, tanned body was a pair of navy briefs. She could have admired the view longer, but he sank down beside her and tipped up her face, and she again grew weak from his kisses.
Beyond, in the tail of the coach, the wind whistled. Feeling pulled into the vortex of the storm, Jewell wedged a space. “Give me a minute in the bathroom, please.”
“By all means. Lights or no lights tonight?”
“I haven’t changed that much,” she said.
He studied her without blinking. “Darkness it is, even if I want to see every beautiful inch of you.”
She scurried into the opulent bathroom. Her heart slammed erratically in her chest as she stood for a moment clutching the T-shirt that smelled of the woodsy, smoky sandalwood scent that still always had her looking around for Saxon in the café or at a rodeo. Quickly she slipped on his large T-shirt, but wondered if she was being foolish. The pull of not knowing left her jittery, but eager.
Only a faint light from the living room sconces that Saxon had left on guided her into his open arms. How often over the years had she awakened from a dream to a vivid memory of this man’s delicious exploration of her body? Too many times to count, but she’d never admit that to him.
Soon he drove her to a fevered pitch, let her sink and drove her up again until she shattered around him. Jewell curled into him and whispered against his muscular chest, “You haven’t lost your touch.”
His pleasure at her comment was reflected in how snugly he wrapped her in his arms. “You complete me, Jewell. You always have. The music used to be enough, but lately I’ve wanted...more.”
What did he mean? Was he ready to put down roots in Snowy Owl Crossing? Molding her cheek to his toasty skin, she yawned. “Uh-um,” she murmured sleepily.
“Monday I have a four-day gig in Nashville, then head into a month-long tour across the South and Southwest. We end in LA for a benefit where a host of recording stars are raising money to fight against world hunger. Come with me.”
“Wha...hat?” She lifted her head slightly.
“I mean it. I make good money now. And you’re an experienced veterinarian who can hang her shingle anywhere. If you’d prefer, we can give living together a try before doing anything permanent. How does that sound?”
“Like I’m fuzzy headed from too much wine.” Unable to sort out his comments, she yawned bigger and tightened her arm across his chest.
His chuckle was a low rumble in her ear. She nodded when he proposed they sleep on it and talk again in the morning.
Saxon fell asleep almost immediately. But in spite of how tired Jewell was, she lay listening to him breathe, timing the sound to wind that eventually stopped buffeting the coach. She battled still loving him against a sick feeling that while he hadn’t discounted her career like before, he ignored her love for Snowy Owl Crossing. Ignored that she had a life and fulfilling career there. Really, nothing had changed except they were older. He no longer struggled to make ends meet, and she should be happy to tag along.
Very close to crying yet not wanting to wake him, she slid out of bed. Wishing badly that things could be different but knowing it wasn’t possible, she silently gathered her clothes and tiptoed down the hall to dress under the soft living room lighting. She looked around for something on which to scribble him a note. A few business cards sat on the coffee table. Holding one under a sconce, she saw it belonged to Saxon’s agent, Sid Andrews. She stuck one in her purse for Leland. She’d have to trust Donovan would give Saxon his uncle’s letter. But from the way Saxon balked at discussing his uncle, that’d probably be the end of it.
She turned over another card and wrote, “It’s roundup time at home. And I’m scheduled as the vet for the July Fourth rodeo. Sorry.” She scribbled a J. Really, what else could she say? Surely he’d see it was the storm, the wine and memories that got to them. Casting a last look around his chosen home, she slipped out into a predawn that smelled of recent rain.
She ran through the parking lot, and it wasn’t until she reached her rental car that she breathed again.
Sniffling away tears, she listened to the disembodied voice from the GPS. It crossed her mind how much better her life would be if she could stop crying over Saxon Conrad.
