Free The Deepest Cut by J. A. Templeton Page A

longer bear it.”
    His hands dropped from my shoulders, and he turned and walked toward the ledge.
    “ Ian—”
    He stared at me, and then stepped off.
    I sat up in bed, my heart racing.
    “It was just a dream,” I said to myself, reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand. The dream had seemed so real, but thank God it hadn’t been. I didn’t want Ian to go away—not when he had been the first person I could talk to in what seemed like forever.
    I turned on my bedside lamp.
    “You called out my name.”
    I nearly dropped the glass. Ian had to stop doing that. Granted, it was nice knowing he was around when I needed him, but seriously… “Yeah, I had another dream.”
    He grinned, that irresistible smile that made my insides all fluttery. “You dreamt about me?” His voice held an arrogant edge that had me rolling my eyes.
    “Yes, and you jumped off a cliff.”
    He placed a long-fingered hand flat against his chest. “Ouch, lass.”
    His brilliant blue eyes held a warmth that made my toes curl. No one had looked at me in that way since Katie Jones’s thirteenth birthday party when I’d played the game, Seven Minutes In Heaven , and been forced into a closet with Stevie Steinway.
    It had been the longest seven minutes of my life.
    I wouldn’t have minded seven minutes in a closet with Ian MacKinnon though, I thought with a shiver.
    Ian’s gaze shifted to something above my head. I followed his gaze to the charcoal drawing of Mt. Hood, a mountain that had been visible from the living room of our house in Portland. I had drawn nearly all my life—practically from the time I could hold a pencil in my hand.
    He came closer, still admiring the drawing, and I used the opportunity to stare at him, amazed at how every time I saw him he was even more beautiful than before.
    “Such a lovely drawing, Riley. You’re talented, lass.”
    “Thanks,” I said, pleased by the compliment. “I drew it when I was fourteen. My mom entered it into a contest and I won first place.” I can still remember how proud both my parents had been, displaying the drawing
    and the blue ribbon on the fridge for all to see.
    “My mother enjoyed painting with water-colors,” he said, pride in his voice. “She would spend hours at the easel.”
    “Do you, or— did you have any hobbies?”
    “Of course. I enjoyed hunting…fishing…fencing…archery.”
    I smiled. “You sound like a man’s man.”
    He laughed under his breath, his wide grin making my heart skip. “A man’s man, hmm? I will have you know that I also enjoy poetry.”
    Now that surprised me. I would have never pegged him as a poet. “Really?”
    “Yes, and I also enjoyed reading novels…when time allowed.”
    “When you weren’t hunting, fishing, fencing, or shooting your bow.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm from my voice.
    “Exactly.” A smile teased the corners of his mouth. “What about you? What other hobbies do you enjoy?”
    “I used to dance. My mom enrolled me in my first class when I was five.”
    “And yet you don’t dance any longer?”
    “No. It was strange because I woke up one day and I was over it.” My loss of interest in dance had only been part of the reason I quit, but mostly because I’d fallen in with Ashley and the wrong crowd. Our little group considered anything that didn’t have to do with partying completely lame. Everything I had been passionate about had gone by the wayside.
    “Life is too short to live with regret,” he said softly.
    I lived with regret every day of my life, and I doubted that would change anytime soon. “Do you have any regrets?” I asked, anxious to turn the tables on him.
    He shook his head. “No.”
    I lifted a brow. “Oh come on…everyone has regrets.”
    His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Honestly, I had a good life, and all the hardships I en-dured only served to make me stronger.”
    I wish I could say the same, but I didn’t feel stronger from the hardships I had en-dured. Instead,