Riding the Pause by Evelyn Adams Page A

sure she’d ever reach it. Her poor car barely cleared the ruts in gravel road better suited to Ian’s truck. The cabin was beautiful in its isolation and perfect for him. She almost opened her mouth to ask him how long he’d lived there, but she caught herself in time.
    Got to stay still. Got. To. Stay. Still.
    Why did it seem like it was so easy for Ian while her mind was racing around like a gerbil? People spent whole weekends meditating. They went on retreats and everything. Surely she could quiet her mind for one evening. Inhaling slowly, she counted her breath.
    In two, three, four. Out two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
    She breathed, trying to keep her shoulders down and let her breath expand her diaphragm. She was pretty sure she’d read somewhere that singers did that. She seemed to have the hang of this deep breathing thing. Maybe she could try singing. Get a job singing at the bar at the Holiday Inn out by the airport, dragging herself home at dawn smelling like smoke and stale beer, clutching her tip jar full of wrinkled ones.
    She was rocking this breathing thing, why let a simple thing like the fact that she couldn’t carry a tune stop her from her new career path. She managed to stop herself before she rolled her eyes like a rebellious teenager.
    Oh, for the love of God.
    Tightening every muscle in her body so she wouldn’t scratch, twitch or roll her eyes, she shifted her gaze to Ian, praying he’d break down and wiggle something. He didn’t, but she could tell by the focus in his eyes that something had changed. Barely moving, he raised just his index finger from his bow and pointed to a spot further down the fence row. Rachel followed his gaze and saw a beautiful gray-brown doe step out of the shadows.
    Ian waited until the deer was looking the other way before soundlessly rising from his seat, lifting and drawing the bow at the same time. He paused, his strong arms holding all the tension and potential energy of the bow and arrow in perfect balance. It was a beautiful thing to watch but so was the doe. Elegant, graceful on long delicate legs, she watched it move closer to their tree, gingerly picking its way through the brush between the fence row and the field.
    When it was almost right below them and closer than she’d ever been to any other wild animal, Ian aimed at the doe’s side. Rachel braced herself not to react. Intellectually she understood what he was doing and why. She ate meat and she knew the damage deer could do to crops. But the doe was so beautiful and she wasn’t comfortable watching it die. She looked away and waited for him to loose the arrow, surprised when she felt him let down without taking the shot.
    He touched her shoulder, and she followed his gaze to the ground in front of them. The doe had moved a few steps closer, but she didn’t understand why he hadn’t taken the shot until a small movement in the shadows caught her eye. Out stumbled two tiny spotted fawns. Rachel froze not even daring to breathe. She didn’t want to risk anything that would spook the doe and her babies. Feeling Ian, still and attentive, next to her, she watched the deer lift her head and scent the air. Obviously uneasy, the doe turned and ushered her brand new family back into the shadows.
    Rachel waited for moments after they disappeared before letting out the breath she’d been holding and reaching for Ian’s hand. He’d barely had time to sit down before she leaned over to wrap her arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
    “Thank you,” she whispered, her lips tight against his ear.
    He turned to her, tilting his head so he could claim her mouth. Cupping her face with his gloved hand, he took the kiss deeper, nipping her bottom lip with his teeth and catching her sigh with his mouth. She leaned closer and felt the growl in the back of his throat as he tasted her.
    “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he murmured when they broke the