The One Safe Place by Kathleen O`Brien

almost white with flour, and her dark eyes wet with tears. And she was so vulnerable, her need for comfort and hope and joy so strong they were like magnets drawing him in.
    This was a mistake.
    But he couldn’t resist. He bent his head, said her name once. And then he kissed her.
    She smelled of vanilla and tasted of apples and sugar and cream. At first she was utterly still, as if she didn’t understand. And then, as his lips moved, finding cinnamon and a sweet lick of nutmeg, she came quietly alive.
    She made a sound that fell over him as softly as flour sifting through the air. Her lips grew warmer, fuller. They pressed and parted, asking for more.
    More? Oh, yes, he had more. So much more…
    He went deeper, catching her apple-scented breath and the tiny, hard tip of her tongue between his teeth. She put the palms of her hands on his shirt, and theywere warm, sticky with melting dough. He didn’t care. He wanted her hands on him.
    But suddenly, without warning, she pulled away. Her dark eyes were textured with flecks of hazel, green and gold, like autumn leaves in a pool of storm-water. Her lips were as red as the apple peel that littered the kitchen floor. She breathed fast and shallow.
    â€œFaith?”
    â€œSpencer,” she whispered.
    He looked, and he saw Spencer climbing to his feet, tired of trying to rouse his sleepy puppy. The little boy had his back to them, and Reed felt sure he hadn’t seen anything.
    Faith clearly wasn’t as certain. She licked her lips, then glanced at Reed. He knew what she had found there—the taste of him mingled with the cinnamon.
    She shifted toward the little boy. “Can you bring us the bowl of apple pieces, sweetie?”
    Spencer obediently went to the table.
    Reed took a breath and put out his hand. “Faith—”
    â€œNo.” She backed up. “It will confuse Spencer.”
    She looked away quickly, but he had seen the hot flush on her cheek, beneath the sprinkling of flour, and he knew who was really confused.
    They all were.
    Â 
    E VER SINCE Spencer was a baby, whenever Faith was around at bedtime she sang him a lullaby. Her voice was nothing special, but the song was sweet and fullof love, and even as he got older Spencer insisted on hearing it. Up here, in the cozy Autumn House gable room that had become Spencer’s bedroom, the simple notes resonated beneath vaulted pine beams and sounded even more beautiful than ever.
    Since Grace had died, Faith sometimes needed to sing it five or six times before Spencer could relax enough to drift off. But tonight, exhausted from hours of romping in the brisk mountain air, he conked out in the middle of the first verse. Faith sang the final words to Tigger, who kept his ears politely perked to show that someone, at least, was listening.
    â€œThanks, buddy,” she whispered, ruffling the puppy’s ever-thickening mane. Shelties looked a little like lions, and this one was going to have a particularly majestic coat. Tigger stretched out close to Spencer, rested his muzzle on his paws and finally shut his eyes, too.
    Faith sighed, tucking the soft blue quilt under Spencer’s pointed chin. Now she had no more excuses. She was going to have to go downstairs and talk to Reed.
    Awkward as it was, she owed him an explanation. She had overreacted to a fairly innocent kiss.
    And she also needed to explain why, as innocent as it had been—and as pleasant as it had been—it must never be repeated.
    Reed didn’t seem to be in the main house, but his truck was parked out back, so she decided to check the clinic. A brick path lined with small landscapingglobes lit the few short yards to the neat structure. Sure enough, the clinic was still completely bright, though it should have closed hours ago.
    She opened the door, and instantly she heard Reed’s voice coming from behind the front wall. He must be in one of the examination rooms, probably with a patient, though she