Nicola Merrells 
Country Charmed

You could fall in love with this man.  The idea and the warmth it generated emanated from deep inside, flowed into her limbs – and then ran smack into a wall of paralyzing fear.  She stilled her hands, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

     “Taryn?”

     A storm of thoughts suddenly whirled through her mind ¾ her life and career expectations, her mother’s warnings, her own needs, principles, the Hagen fiasco, the morning’s disaster …  They collided with each other and crashed into the beauty of what could be … and then they smothered it.  She wanted to cry in frustration.

     She shook her head, opening her eyes, afraid of what she’d see. 

     He was still for a moment, then released a long, loud sigh. “Okay Taryn.”  He paused again, then ran both hands through his hair, obviously exasperated, though he kept it from his voice.  “Remember what we talked about this morning, in the barn?  Taryn, look at me.”

     “The bit about professionalism?”

     “That, and the bit about the potential here, between us.”

     She nodded.

     “So what’s wrong?”

     She shook her head.  “Lots, when it comes to this.”

     “You don’t feel safe.”

     That was an odd way to put it, but after a moment she realized it was true.  That just about summed it up. “No, I don’t.”

     “Part of what I was trying to say this morning was that you seem to use your professionalism to give you emotional distance.  Distance makes you feel safe.”

     Interesting analysis.  “Maybe.”

     “But you obviously don’t feel safe.  And since you haven’t discarded your professionalism, I would guess that there’s something else making you keep your emotional distance."  He paused, then dragged his chair closer to hers.   He took her hand.  She let him.  His hand enveloped hers with a soothing strength.  They sat very still and silent that way for a moment or two.

     “You’re not afraid of me.” 

     His hand was big, solid, and warm around hers, steady, calming.  “I’m not.”

     “Well, you must know I won’t hurt you, so what should I think?  You’re afraid of the way you feel?”

     He rubbed his thumbs softly over her knuckles.  Some confession was due here, she admitted, and the contact helped.  “Yes.  There’s that,” she said quietly, looking at their linked hands.  Hers looked so pale and petite in his.  “I’ve got some very strong ideas about my life and how I want to live it, and the order in which I think things should be done.”  The words sounded so cold and calculating to her in this setting.  “That’s all being a bit threatened right now.”

     “By me? I’m not asking you to change your life.”

     In a way, he was right.  He wasn’t asking her to change her life.  He didn’t realize what he was asking of her.  He couldn’t.  He was asking her to give him a piece of her heart...

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