Angel Falls (Angel Falls Series, #1)

you know, the news is just another soap opera. Same shit, different names.” I knew this was sacrilege to a newspaper editor, someone whose very life was based on relaying day-to-day happenings to the rest of the world.
So we were different. Maybe even opposite polarities coming together like magnets. I wasn’t interested in resisting our differences. So I pushed the mound of newspapers aside and covered his mouth with mine.
*
Much later, I drank my coffee and wandered around Ian’s house while he showered. Lizzie had been outside for her morning potty, but being in a new place, wasn’t eager to leave my side. Her toenails made tipping sounds on the hardwood floors as she followed me from room to room.
The house was big, substantial, blocky, built of stucco-over-brick and oak timbers. In the enormous den, a grouping of leather furniture crouched before a stone fireplace. Crowded bookshelves hugged the room like welcoming arms. I could see myself living here. But he’d have to ditch a few of his moldy old leather-bound books—Moby Dick, War and Peace, Crime and Punishment—to make room for Spy of the Knight and Border Lord and Outlander.
With a guilty glance around to see if Ian was watching, as if my face would give away my thoughts word for word, I chastised myself for my mental leap from almost-casual sex to walking down the aisle. I had given myself to Ian, and the part of me that believed in fairytales wanted it to mean forever.
And this was a lot of house for one man—not at all suitable for a bachelor. Had Ian bought it with future plans for a family in mind? After everything we’d just done together, it shouldn’t be hard to ask him, but I knew I wouldn’t. Ruthlessly, I beat back my little-girl dreams of happily-ever-after. Maybe we would talk about the future sometime.
But not today.
I heaved a sigh, releasing my Cinderella fantasies like so much carbon dioxide. Back in the kitchen, I poured the dregs of my coffee into the chipped enamel sink and made a fresh cup. Bored with following me around, Lizzie turned circles before collapsing in a cubby space under a small built-in desk. Outside the window, a pair of cardinals flitted past, and two deer stepped into the yard. A young buck with a small set of antlers stood guard over a smaller doe as she nibbled gardenia leaves. The scene was so peaceful, so perfect, I sighed with contentment.
Ian, bigger than life and damp from his shower, put his arms around me from behind. “Planning on venison for dinner?”
I ignored his stupid comment and leaned my head back against his chest. He felt hard as a brick wall, safe and substantial. “I haven’t thought about dinner. I’m wondering if the injuries you’ve inflicted on me are permanent. I’ll definitely be walking funny for a while.”
Ian laughed. “Lass, you’re not the only one.” He rocked me against him, his arms around my middle. “I hesitate to ask, but... aside from any physical trauma, are you okay about what happened between us this weekend?”
That depends on what happens next, my heart shouted. I wanted to know if there was any chance of this becoming a forever kind of thing. But I didn’t want to scare him. I had tried to think of this as almost-casual sex, but I knew in my heart that sex could never be casual for me. The fact that I’d allowed him inside my body wasn’t as damning as the fact that I’d let him into my heart.
“Casey?” Ian held his breath for a moment. I could feel his chest go still against my back.
I watched the birds take cover in the trees when the young buck picked his way to the concrete birdbath at the center of the large unfenced yard. “I guess you knew when you saw the dusty pink box in my bathroom closet, I don’t tend toward weekend flings. So this is... new for me.”
Ian took a deep breath and let it out. “I’ve told you about my wife.” His arms tightened around my ribs, preventing me from turning toward him. “I’m afraid you’ll want more than I’m capable of giving.”
I watched the buck sip rainwater from the birdbath though he stayed on full alert, his eyes scanning the yard for predators. “Ian, what happened to Maeve was not your fault.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Casey.” He hugged me tight, the strength of his muscled arms so different from the wounded little boy I sensed inside him.
The earth-mother in me shoved Cinderella aside. I turned around and went on tiptoe to kiss his chin. “We don’t have to figure anything out right this minute. Let’s just take it easy and see where this goes.”
“Christ.” His voice was weary and low, the voice of a sinner at confession. “I meant to help you through your grief, and now I don’t know what I’m doing. I might be hurting us both more than we’ve ever been hurt yet.”
“I’m responsible for my own safety, and I’m not ready to run yet. At least for now, I’ll take what you have to offer and be happy for it.”
He released his breath in relief, and I knew I’d said the right thing.
*
Monday afternoon, I got to the studio early. I’d been trying out new choreography and was spread out on the classroom floor doing the splits and making notes in my choreography notebook.
Lizzie gave a short bark of recognition, and I looked up. Ben came in carrying Amy, her head lolling sleepily on his shoulder. She wore the red tights Melody had probably bought to go with her Christmas dress last year—I remembered them from the family Christmas card—and the same leotard she’d had on last week, now smeared in back with grass stains.
I closed my notebook and walked to them. Lizzie hopped down from her ottoman and sat in front of Ben, expecting her share of admiration.
“Amy’s still sleepy.” Ben leaned toward me, preparing