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    Take My Breath Away
    Take My Breath Away
    Take My Breath Away
    Ebook123 pages1 hour

    Take My Breath Away

    By Suzanne D. Williams

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    About this ebook

    She'd fall hard and fast for him if she'd let it. But the pain of her mom's betrayal and what still lay unsaid with her dad stopped her, and instead, she teetered on the edge, her mind warring with the daydream he'd spun around her.

    Hannah Giselle hopes two weeks with her dad in the northern California mountains will help heal some of the friction of her parents' divorce. Though it was years ago, she struggles with the tension between them every day and has missed spending time with him.

    Her mom's resentment follows her there, though, taking a firm grip in the secrets which come to light. Her dad had a fiancée she knew nothing about, a lovely woman whose unresolved disappearance quickly turns her already troubled world upside down.

    She finds comfort in the arms of handsome local, Troy Lansing. He's stronger than he knows and, despite his personal doubts, the steady hand she needs. Especially when yet one more revelation tears her life apart.

    A coming of age romantic suspense by author, SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS. 30,000 words.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSuzanne D. Williams
    Release dateAug 14, 2015
    ISBN9781516383269
    Take My Breath Away
    Author

    Suzanne D. Williams

    Best-selling author, Suzanne D. Williams, is a native Floridian, wife, mother, and photographer. She is the author of both nonfiction and fiction books. She writes a monthly column for Steves-Digicams.com on the subject of digital photography, as well as devotionals and instructional articles for various blogs. She also does graphic design for self-publishing authors. She is co-founder of THE EDGE. To learn more about what she’s doing and check out her extensive catalogue of stories, visit http://suzanne-williams-photography.blogspot.com/ or link with her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/suzannedwilliamsauthor.

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      Book preview

      Take My Breath Away - Suzanne D. Williams

      SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS

      © 2015 Take My Breath Away

      by Suzanne D. Williams

      www.feelgoodromance.com

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher.

      This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

      CHAPTER 1

      Tendrils of his breath blew white into the northwestern night sky, tightening the skin on his cheeks, and he tugged his jacket tighter around him. Not quite spring, but no longer winter, the days were warm, the hours after dark, frosty.

      His fingers chilled on the handle of his guitar case, the tips catching hold of the night air. Hurrying his footsteps, his head ducked beneath his collar, he doubled his pace toward the barn-shaped diner-slash-nightclub. Inside, he drew in a breath, inhaling sawdust, fry grease, and grilled meat, the heated temperatures welcoming.

      Troy!

      Theo Morton, a tall, slender twenty-something, sporting shaggy blond locks and a strange native arm tattoo, waved a beringed hand at him from his place at the foot of a tiny, wooden stage.

      Dipping his chin in acknowledgement, Troy turned his steps in that direction.

      Dude ... Theo offered his hand, leaning forward to bump shoulders. Thanks for coming. With Eddie out, we’re sunk.

      Troy Lansing set his guitar at his feet and offered what he hoped was a friendly smile. No problem. I’m tired of playing church songs.

      Theo grinned. Come on now ... what would your mom say about that?

      His mom would laugh. She was a good sport about his singing, always encouraging him to expand his horizons, but he’d found, stuck in this mountain town, that his horizons only went so far. He was either singing standards – Willie Nelson, George Jones, Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash – or southern gospel, whose monotone melodies drove him crazy.

      Mom knows I’m here, Troy replied.

      Well, thanks again for coming. Theo revolved, snagging his bass from its bracket. There’s a list of songs on the music stand. I don’t think there’s anything you don’t know, and I’m sorry in advance for the older pieces. Gotta please the clientele.

      The clientele, mostly fifty-somethings who’d lived here long enough they’d forgotten the world revolved. In these mountains, time slowed to a crawl and progress came to a standstill. That was okay if you were facing retirement, but not so much for the handful of kids caged here. And handful was the proper word. There were perhaps twenty.

      Moving across the stage, Troy laid his case flat, unsnapping the hasps and raising the richly oiled guitar from its velvet liner. His grandfather’s guitar, played for thirty years on stages not much larger than this one before he was given it at age twelve. His grandfather had passed away two years later, which made the instrument that much more precious today, the nicks on the neck, the worn spot on the pick guard reminders of a life well-lived.

      He often felt like his grandfather helped him play. Not something he ever shared with anyone, but valuable in his mind. Because he had little else to keep him here but memories and, he liked to think, the same fortitude that’d caused his grandfather to carve out existence in this foreboding California landscape.

      Troy draped the guitar strap diagonally across his chest, setting the familiar weight on his shoulders, and slid left to a rickety music stand in the center of the stage. He scanned the handwritten song list and sighed. Love ... is a burning thing ... he warbled in an exaggerated accent.

      Some stuff never changed.

      Blue veins crisscrossed the papery-thin skin of her grandmother’s hand, her fingers soft and light in her own palm. Her grandmother’s eyes, however, were spritely. Never one to be held back by age, her grandmother had, this time, been held down by a sudden fall in her kitchen.

      Promise me you will not give the nurse a hard time, Hannah Giselle scolded. She’s here to help you.

      Pish-posh, her grandmother returned. What do you expect me to do, as much as she wakes me up?

      Hannah smiled. She expected her to fuss like she always did, ask for desserts she shouldn’t have, and make six tries to get up when no one was watching. Already, she’d seen that a mended hip wasn’t enough reason for her grandmother to stay still.

      The clock on the wall gave a consistent tick-tick-tick, and noting the late hour, Hannah squeezed her fingers lightly and stood to her feet. Leaning over top, she kissed her cheek and reversed. I have to go. Dad’s expecting me for dinner, and you need your sleep.

      You sure you know the way? her grandmother asked. It gets very dark at night.

      I’ll be fine. I have GPS.

      This earned her a rapid wave of the hand. Her grandmother had no time for gadgets, as she called them. She didn’t understand cell phones, computers, or the internet, but wrote faithfully by hand to her old friends, those still remaining, and her granddaughter in San Francisco.

      Hannah always looked forward to those letters, reading the local town gossip was the highlight of her day, and also a connection to her father who she seldom saw. She’d had this trip to see him planned out months ago and been glad of it when her grandmother fell. With no need to rearrange things, she’d already had the time off. She’d merely had to toss what she needed in her suitcase and make the drive. A long, lonely drive on icy mountain roads as she drove into the higher elevations. She considered herself a pro at it by now.

      I won’t get lost, and I’ll be careful. I promise.

      She hugged her again and waved on her way out. The frigid temperatures greeted her in the hospital parking lot, numbing her nose and lips. She hadn’t come prepared for the cold, but had thought by now it’d be much more spring-like. She’d have to borrow a jacket from her dad or purchase one at the thrift store. He’d be unhappy she hadn’t thought ahead.

      Always be prepared, he said. This motto had served him well during his years as the local park ranger. If you’re prepared, then circumstances won’t catch you off guard. He was the prime example of that, the trunk of his SUV containing everything from spark plugs to tissues to a King James New Testament. He was the guy you came to when you needed a bandage, if you were thirsty, because somewhere he’d have bottled water, or if your tire was flat. For her to come minus any warm clothing would definitely get her a lecture.

      Tilting the vents upward, she soaked in the warm air blowing on her cheeks and made no effort to drive for a few minutes. Then, shifting into gear, she reversed out of the lot and took a right towards the pass. Darkness captured the road and the interior of her car. Soon, the only light was from the paltry beams of her headlamps. But the fog, a persistent mist inherent to these mountains, made some of that opaque, and eventually, she slowed to a crawl.

      A film of ice covered the pavement, drawing some concern. Hands clenched tight on the wheel, eyes pinned to the road, she wished herself at her dad’s place instead of way out here. No sooner had she had this thought than she spotted a barn-like structure. Light leaked from its windows into a lot filled with a half-dozen cars. Distracted, she loosened her grip, her gaze turning, and in that instant, her tire blew.

      Her car skated sideways toward a fairly deep ditch, and with a screech, Hannah tugged at the steering wheel. But instead of correcting her direction, she made it worse and, spiraling, slid into the parking lot directly toward someone’s green pickup truck. The impact jarred her forward, slamming her chest against the wheel, the vehicle rocking backward for a brief second before coming to a standstill.

      Frozen in place, her heart pounding, Hannah exhaled, one by one unfolding her stiffened fingers. A quick check confirmed she was alive, a second that she was uninjured. Thank God for seatbelts.

      Now what?

      Her gaze trailed across the lot to the entrance of the place. It seemed to be some sort of after-five spot. Now, you go in and find out whose truck you’ve damaged. She would also call her dad, and she’d have to do that from indoors because her cell phone didn’t work out here. She’d left that part out of the conversation with her grandmother.

      Good thing she can’t see me now, she said aloud. She was glad of that and dreaded speaking with her father.

      Hannah pulled in a breath, gathering her courage, and cracked the car door. She winced at the sight of her crunched front fender. "You can

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