would like to call or email me, I'd love that. I know you don't have a phone here, but my number is 555-6090, and my email is [email protected] . I would really like to hear from you, and if you're ever in the Minneapolis area, please call me and I can show you some of the pleasures of the city.
She started to write Love, Felicity, then balked at it, and just signed her name with a little flourish.
Hunter was still asleep, breathing slowly and deeply. Felicity placed the note on the table, weighed down with a book, and opened the cabin door very quietly before she could change her mind.
The morning was fresh and chilly, the sun just cresting the trees. All the ice had melted away, and it truly felt like spring now, the storm no more than a distant memory.
With the sun to navigate by, she was pretty sure she knew which way to fly to get back to her car. She was going to be late regardless, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd been late getting back from a "hiking" trip; Melinda was used to it.
Felicity stretched her arms to the sky and shifted.
It felt wonderful to have the wind under her wings again. She caught an updraft and soared upward in a great, slow spiral. Below her, the cabin and its woodshed dwindled to the size of toys. There was a part of her that wished Hunter would come out onto the porch to wave goodbye, and she did a few extra circles above the cabin just in case he might. Then she told herself she was being silly. It was best to make a clean break. Maybe, hopefully, she would hear from him again; if not, this would be a wonderful memory, a weekend of passion in the wilderness.
She'd known all along that it was probably never going to be more than that.
And yet, as she flew away, she felt as if she was struggling against a bond that wanted to draw her back. It stretched, longer and longer, thinner and thinner, but never seemed to break.
6. Hunter
Hunter woke when the morning sunshine came through the cabin window. He stirred and stretched, eyes still closed. Felicity was no longer in the bed, though her side—and how had it happened so quickly that one side of the bed had become her side?—was still slightly warm. She must have gotten up to make breakfast. Yesterday, he'd been careful to rise first so he could bring her breakfast in bed. It was only eggs and bacon and toast, nothing special, but he saw all over again her look of delight when he did it. She'd told him it was the best breakfast she'd ever had.
But he didn't smell anything cooking, and she must not have stirred up the fire, because the cabin was still chilly.
And he didn't smell her anywhere ...
Hunter's eyes snapped open and he sat up. The cabin was, indeed, empty.
"Felicity?"
He scrambled out of bed, telling himself as he did so that maybe she'd just stepped outside to go for a short flight. Bird shifters were like that, he'd heard; they were happiest when they could fly a lot. He'd kept her inside all weekend, not meaning to, but the weather had been terrible and inside the cabin had been ... well ... it wasn't like they'd had any trouble keeping busy. But maybe she had needed to go for a flight.
Then he saw the note on the table, neatly folded, weighed with a book.
Hunter approached the note as if it was a live explosive. His heart sank straight down to his feet, all his happiness from this wonderful weekend gone in an instant. This was exactly how it had happened with Christine, except without even a note. She'd never told him what he was doing wrong. She just held onto her unhappiness, grew angrier and more miserable for reasons he couldn't understand, and then left him without a word.
Felicity's not like that!
Except ... she was gone, and the cabin was cold, and apparently Felicity was like that.
A great, tearing misery and anger rose in him. Hunter turned on his heel and flung the cabin door open. He stomped out into the yard, not even caring that he was naked. It wasn't like there was anyone around to see
She started to write Love, Felicity, then balked at it, and just signed her name with a little flourish.
Hunter was still asleep, breathing slowly and deeply. Felicity placed the note on the table, weighed down with a book, and opened the cabin door very quietly before she could change her mind.
The morning was fresh and chilly, the sun just cresting the trees. All the ice had melted away, and it truly felt like spring now, the storm no more than a distant memory.
With the sun to navigate by, she was pretty sure she knew which way to fly to get back to her car. She was going to be late regardless, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd been late getting back from a "hiking" trip; Melinda was used to it.
Felicity stretched her arms to the sky and shifted.
It felt wonderful to have the wind under her wings again. She caught an updraft and soared upward in a great, slow spiral. Below her, the cabin and its woodshed dwindled to the size of toys. There was a part of her that wished Hunter would come out onto the porch to wave goodbye, and she did a few extra circles above the cabin just in case he might. Then she told herself she was being silly. It was best to make a clean break. Maybe, hopefully, she would hear from him again; if not, this would be a wonderful memory, a weekend of passion in the wilderness.
She'd known all along that it was probably never going to be more than that.
And yet, as she flew away, she felt as if she was struggling against a bond that wanted to draw her back. It stretched, longer and longer, thinner and thinner, but never seemed to break.
6. Hunter
Hunter woke when the morning sunshine came through the cabin window. He stirred and stretched, eyes still closed. Felicity was no longer in the bed, though her side—and how had it happened so quickly that one side of the bed had become her side?—was still slightly warm. She must have gotten up to make breakfast. Yesterday, he'd been careful to rise first so he could bring her breakfast in bed. It was only eggs and bacon and toast, nothing special, but he saw all over again her look of delight when he did it. She'd told him it was the best breakfast she'd ever had.
But he didn't smell anything cooking, and she must not have stirred up the fire, because the cabin was still chilly.
And he didn't smell her anywhere ...
Hunter's eyes snapped open and he sat up. The cabin was, indeed, empty.
"Felicity?"
He scrambled out of bed, telling himself as he did so that maybe she'd just stepped outside to go for a short flight. Bird shifters were like that, he'd heard; they were happiest when they could fly a lot. He'd kept her inside all weekend, not meaning to, but the weather had been terrible and inside the cabin had been ... well ... it wasn't like they'd had any trouble keeping busy. But maybe she had needed to go for a flight.
Then he saw the note on the table, neatly folded, weighed with a book.
Hunter approached the note as if it was a live explosive. His heart sank straight down to his feet, all his happiness from this wonderful weekend gone in an instant. This was exactly how it had happened with Christine, except without even a note. She'd never told him what he was doing wrong. She just held onto her unhappiness, grew angrier and more miserable for reasons he couldn't understand, and then left him without a word.
Felicity's not like that!
Except ... she was gone, and the cabin was cold, and apparently Felicity was like that.
A great, tearing misery and anger rose in him. Hunter turned on his heel and flung the cabin door open. He stomped out into the yard, not even caring that he was naked. It wasn't like there was anyone around to see
Similar Books
Embracing Us (Embracing Series)
Delisa Lynn
Among Thieves
Douglas Hulick
Once a Rancher
Linda Lael Miller
Keegan's Bride (Mail Order Brides of Texas 2)
Kathleen Ball
Trouble with a Highland Bride
Amanda Forester
Avoiding Intimacy
K. A. Linde
Violent Spring
Gary Phillips
The Diary of a Nose
Jean-Claude Ellena
Beer Money: A Memoir of Privilege and Loss
Frances Stroh
In Pursuit of Spenser
Otto Penzler