Willa was busy putting what was left of the baked goods away for the night. When the bell above the door dinged, she glanced up and froze.
Immediately my name was on her lips. “Sean.”
Neither of us moved for a few moments. I stood just inside the door and she remained on the far side of the counter. And then Willa raced around to the other side and leaped into my embrace. As soon as she was in my arms and I could hug her, I experienced my first sense of having arrived home.
“You’re back,” she cried, her arms around my neck, squeezing as if she never intended to let me go.
I was certain I felt moisture against my neck. Willa was crying.
“I came here first. I had to see you.”
Leaning back, her hands cupped my face and her watery smile was my undoing. It was either kiss her or die. My mouth fused with hers and we kissed until we were both breathless. It seemed impossible to get enough of each other in a single exchange.
When we broke apart, she stroked my jaw with her hand and said, “Bandit didn’t do well without you. The poor dog has abandonment issues.”
Her gaze was holding mine as if she was actually talking about herself, not Bandit. It was selfish of me, but I had to know. “What about you?”
She answered with a weak smile and lowered her eyes as though she’d rather avoid the question. “I never knew twenty-three days could take so long.”
Grinning, I kissed her again. “Me, either.”
She slid down my front. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. This was what I needed, what I’d craved, being with Willa, holding and kissing her. It felt as if I could breathe again.
“I know we need to talk,” I told her, unwilling to let her go, “and I promise we will.”
She swallowed hard and nodded. “We need to. Not today, though. You’re exhausted. Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” I agreed. My mind had been composing what I wanted to say for the last three weeks. I hoped it would be enough to convince her that the cocky, self-absorbed idiot I’d once been was no more. With everything in me, I prayed she hadn’t gone on an Internet search and found pictures of me with Nikki.
“How was Bolivia? Did you get what you needed?” she asked, leading me to a table where we could sit and talk.
“I believe I did. I took about ten thousand photographs.”
“Ten thousand?”
I would need to go through, sort, and analyze which ones would tell the story that I hoped would convey the lives of these herders. The project would demand countless hours in front of the computer. As tempting as it was to linger with Willa, I needed to collect Bandit, unpack, and get to work as soon as possible.
She must have read my mind. “How about I bring you dinner tomorrow night? You can tell me about Bolivia and show me some of the photos, and we can talk.”
That was a perfect solution. I hadn’t eaten a decent meal in weeks. “Yes. Please.”
“What time should I plan to arrive?”
“Any time you want.” I craved her company, regretted every moment we were apart, and was eager to settle matters between us.
* * *
—
By the time Bandit and I arrived home, I was bone weary and exhausted. I unloaded the car, unpacked my equipment, and tossed every piece of clothing from my backpack into the washing machine. When I finished, I was shaking with fatigue and nearly passed out in the shower.
“Okay, bed now.” I didn’t know who I was looking to convince. Nothing appealed to me more than a solid ten hours of sleep. Not food. Not work, which I was eager to start. Nothing.
In the morning I woke with a monster headache, barely able to lift my head from the pillow. Standing next to the bed, Bandit rested his chin on the mattress, looking to me to feed him and let him outside.
“I don’t feel so great,” I managed to say. Overtaken by chills, I shivered and pulled the blankets over my shoulders as I curled into a tight ball. I must have returned to sleep, because Bandit’s bark woke me.
With effort I managed to let him out to do his business. I poured food into his dish and literally fell back into bed. My head pounded like someone had taken a jackhammer to it. Aspirin didn’t put a dent in the constant, persistent ache. In all the