by Brenda Novak
“The bartender you told me about?”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a bartender.” That her mother, of all people, could say that in such a derogatory tone shocked Natasha. “Ace loves his job.”
“Who wouldn’t? He hardly has to work.”
He’d mentioned the beneficial hours. Working part-time made it possible for him to surf and do plenty of other things he enjoyed. She suspected his wealthy parents helped him out; he couldn’t go boating and jet skiing and do all the other things he talked about on his income alone. But he’d never specifically mentioned that. And who was she to judge? He seemed to have ambition, talked about owning his own bar someday.
“Do you think it’ll get serious?”
She couldn’t imagine it would. The only man she’d ever wanted was Mack. But she pretended otherwise. “Maybe. We’ve only been dating for a couple of months, so we’re not exclusive, but we... We like each other.”
Her mother eyed her shrewdly. “Mack’s a fool to let anything stand in his way.”
“Can we stop talking about Mack?” she asked in exasperation. “I’m sure he’ll be happy enough without me. After all, he’s never lacked for female attention.” Although he’d rarely had a steady girlfriend, there were plenty of women who’d shown interest. She could vividly remember how heartbroken she’d felt whenever he brought one home.
“But you’re the woman he wants.”
She pictured the tall, muscular, rugged man she loved and remembered how badly she’d hoped he’d come to her room last night. “Even if that’s true, people are complicated. And the way we met, my age at the time, your involvement with his father—I can understand why he’s holding back.”
“That’s all bullshit,” her mother insisted. “You could both be happy if only he’d quit fighting his feelings. I’ve watched him whenever you’ve been around. Last summer, when we went to the lake, you should’ve seen how his eyes followed you in that swimsuit when you weren’t looking. I don’t care what he says. He’s in love with you.”
Natasha wished she could believe that, but he’d never acted on those feelings, not in the way she wanted him to. “I’m fine,” she said. “I still have two years of med school left and then my residency, which will take another three years.”
Anya didn’t respond. She’d recognized a friend and turned to greet her.
Relieved that her mother was currently distracted, and hoping that was all she’d have to hear about Mack or any of the other Amos men, Natasha was waiting for Anya when she heard someone call her name and looked up to see Dylan pointing at her from across the street. His wife, Cheyenne, his son, Kellan, who was seven, Grady and Mack were with him.
She’d known she’d run into one or more of the Amoses eventually and was glad to have found them. Even though it was more and more painful to be around Mack, at least she knew they hadn’t been close enough to overhear anything her mother had said.
They smiled and waved, and she did the same. But the moment her gaze locked with Mack’s, it felt as if they were the only two people on earth.
For her, it’d always been that way.
Then he said something to the others and started across the street toward her.
Two
As soon as Mack joined them, Anya nudged Natasha. “Like a bee to a flower,” she muttered.
Natasha gave her mother a dirty look. Why did Anya have to embarrass her like that?
“What’d she say?” Mack asked.
“Nothing,” Natasha replied. “My mom was just trying to be funny.”
“I said it’s cold tonight.” Anya’s grin made it clear she hadn’t said that at all.
Mack glanced between them, but was wise enough not to press the issue.
“Where’re Dylan and the others going?” Natasha asked, eager to take the conversation in a more stable direction.
“They’re hungry and the Rotary Club’s selling pulled pork sandwiches.”
Anya slipped her arm through his as they joined the flow of people in the street. Sometimes she tried to act like Mack’s stepmother, even though he was an adult when she’d married his father. Other times she tried to act like a sister or cousin or something, since she was actually between Aaron and Rod in age, much younger than J.T. And sometimes, especially if she was drunk or high, she flirted with them shamelessly, making it obvious that she’d be willing to become a lot more, which had to make them uncomfortable. It certainly humiliated Natasha. “You didn’t want one?”
He didn’t pull away from Anya, but Natasha couldn’t help wondering if he wished he could. “I’ve already eaten.”
So was it merely for practical reasons that he’d joined them? Because he didn’t want to wait in a long line?
Natasha could never quite decide if she meant as much to him as it occasionally seemed. That was something she’d struggled with from the beginning.
Either way, they’d spent so much time together before she left for college that it would’ve been far more unusual if he’d ignored her. She was just glad he was willing to suffer her mother’s company in order to be with her again, especially since she had to go back to LA tomorrow. The hospital where she worked was understaffed, and she lived on a shoestring budget, so she needed to earn as much as she could.
“Want some kettle corn?” She offered him the bag and he took it and scooped out a large handful.
“Have you seen the photo booth?” he asked as he popped a few kernels into his mouth.
“Not yet. Where is it?”
“Down by the Christmas tree in the park. They’re doing those old-time photos again, like the one we took your sophomore year.”
She’d kept that picture on her dresser until she’d moved out. It was still one of her favorites. In it, she was dressed as a barmaid and sat on a barrel, her hair twisted up and decorated with a long feather plume, while Mack stood behind her wearing a sheriff’s star on a leather vest and a fake handlebar mustache that didn’t quite match his dark hair. Grady and Rod had posed on either side of them dressed like regular cowboys drinking a bottle of whiskey. She laughed whenever she looked at the tough expression on Mack’s face in that photograph. She knew there were people who had seen that expression when he wasn’t joking. But he’d always been gentle with her, had gone above and beyond to keep her safe and happy.
He was even the one who’d tried to have “the talk” with her. She’d never forget the night she announced that she’d been invited to homecoming and would likely be out all night. After the others had gone to bed, he’d knocked on her door and hemmed and hawed about school and the auto body shop and anything else he could think of before he managed to work up to the topic he’d come to address.
“I want you to know that...that this boy you’re going out with might try to... Well, boys your age are just beginning to feel...” At that point, he’d shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat before starting over. “What I’m trying to say is that this boy might attempt to do something you may or may not want him to do.”
“Like what?” She’d known exactly where he was going with this. A girl couldn’t grow up with a mother like Anya without learning a fair bit about physical intimacy. She’d seen things that would shock most adults—not the best example for a child to have when it came to sexuality, which was obviously what he was trying to rectify.
She’d blinked at him, keeping her eyes wide and innocent while awaiting his answer, and that was when he’d caught on that she found the conversation—and his attempt to have it—funny. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he’d grumbled with a scowl.
“Sex.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t want me to sleep with Jason.”
“I want you to think about it, be prepared, be smart.”
“What’s to think about?” she’d asked.
His eyebrows had shot up
at this response. “What do you mean? There’s a lot to think about. You’re only sixteen. It would be much better if you waited until you were older.”
“Because you want to have sex with me.”
His face had gone beet red. Instead of committing himself one way or the other, however, he’d said, “Because sex is much better when you’re in love. And there are other things to consider—like venereal disease, pregnancy, your reputation.”
“My reputation?”
“Yes. Gossip could make you a pariah at school.”
She’d shrugged. “With a mom like mine, I’m already a pariah at school. I can’t believe I even got asked to this stupid dance.”
“I’m glad you did—and that you’re going. I want you to enjoy it.” He’d worried about her when the other kids were being unkind.
“Just don’t have sex,” she’d volunteered, summing it all up.
He’d sighed as he shoved a hand through his hair, which had been longer in those days than it was now. “Basically. But if you’re not going to listen to me, you need to make sure he wears a condom, at least.”
“Should I take one in my purse?” She’d known he’d hate the idea of her carrying around a condom, but she was always needling him, trying to figure out if he wanted her the same way she wanted him. He pretended he didn’t, but she could feel the powerful attraction between them. Maybe she was young and naive, but she couldn’t be wrong about that. Or...could she?
“Just...be careful, okay?” he’d said.
“Do you want to give me a condom?” she’d pressed.
He’d waved her off. “Forget I said anything,” he’d replied in exasperation and went out and shut the door.
She still chuckled whenever she thought about that encounter. She hadn’t had a mother who was paying any attention to her, and she’d never had a father, so he’d stepped in to fill whatever roles he could. He’d even taken her to the store to buy her a new dress for the dance so she wouldn’t have to be so different, no less than anyone else, but finding one he considered modest enough hadn’t been easy.
“Should we get another picture?” she asked as he returned the kettle corn.
“I think you should,” Anya piped up. “Wait until Mack sees how well you fill out that waitress costume now.”
“Mom!” Natasha gasped.
“What?” Her mother let go of Mack to be able to spread her hands in an innocent gesture. “Look at that curvy body of yours. You’re gorgeous! I’m sure he’s noticed.”
A muscle moved in Mack’s cheek. “I’d be happy to get another picture,” he said as if that last exchange had never taken place, and they walked past the carolers again to reach the booth that said “McGee’s Old-Time Photos.”
Three
Mack knew he should’ve stayed with his brothers, Cheyenne and his nephew. Anya was difficult to take, and each time he saw Natasha, now so grown up and in command of her life, it only got more difficult not to imagine things he had no business imagining. Last night, knowing she was under the same roof made it impossible for him to sleep. He’d almost gone down the hall to her room half a dozen times.
Instead, he’d tossed and turned in frustration and indecision. He wanted her, and he was fairly certain she still wanted him. When she was younger, she’d done everything she could to get him into bed. She was far less obvious these days, but he sensed that, even now, she wondered where they stood, whether his feelings ever crossed into that territory.
So why couldn’t he act on his desire? She was certainly old enough by now to give him informed consent.
He’d asked himself that over and over again while staring up at the ceiling, but the reasons were good ones. Their relationship had never been clearly defined. They weren’t brother and sister. They weren’t just friends. And they’d never been lovers. But she’d always meant a great deal to him, and he knew that once he let the relationship move in that direction, there’d be no going back.
What if they didn’t make it? They’d lose the love and support they gave each other now. That would hurt him, without question, but at least he’d still have his brothers and the business to fall back on. He was afraid of what it might do to her. She’d already suffered far too many losses in her life. Would it really be smart to take that chance?
Besides, Mack understood what other people would think and say. They’d accuse him of having taken advantage of her from the beginning. After what he and his brothers had endured, thanks to his mother’s suicide and the stabbing that sent his father to prison, he didn’t want to give the people in Whiskey Creek any more reason to disrespect him or his family. He was part owner of a successful business in this small town, and that business supported them all—him, his brothers and their families and J.T., too.
He sent Anya a sly glance as they weaved through the crowd. If he and Natasha ever got together, it would also bring Anya back into his life and the lives of his brothers, and they were all relieved to be rid of her. Drug and alcohol issues aside, she had to be the most annoying person in the world. Mack would never be able to understand how J.T. had put up with her.
But J.T. was hard to put up with, too, so there was that.
He stopped to buy another beer before they reached the photo booth, and while they were there they happened to see Aaron, his wife, Presley, and their ten-year-old son and two younger daughters in the next line over, waiting to get some candied peanuts.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Aaron asked.
“Not much.” Mack offered to get him and Presley a beer, too, but they declined.
Natasha and Anya visited with Presley until Aaron was able to get the kids their peanuts. Then Natasha asked someone to take a group photo of them all and, as they were saying their goodbyes, Presley told Anya about a great wine-tasting booth she and the family were planning to visit next and invited her to join them.
Anya was obviously shocked to be invited, but she readily agreed, and they started off in the opposite direction.
“Why do you think Presley invited my mother?” Natasha asked, once they were gone.
“I guess she thought your mother would enjoy it,” he said, but he knew Presley hadn’t done it for that reason. The secretive smile his sister-in-law had cast him just before she walked away suggested she was doing him a favor. Although he probably would’ve denied it had she asked him—he’d denied a lot of things where Natasha was concerned—Presley knew he’d love to spend some time alone with Natasha before she had to go home tomorrow.
But he wasn’t entirely convinced that being alone with her put him in the best position. He was already experiencing the effects of what he’d had to drink so far tonight, felt his resolve and his restraint slipping, especially as they took the old-fashioned picture and the photographer suggested Natasha—wearing a boa with her barmaid costume—sit on his lap. As he held her, wearing cowboy attire but no fake mustache this time, it felt so natural to have her close that it was almost impossible not to continue touching her afterward.
Once they received their copies of the photo, they talked and laughed about a lot of different things as they made their way through the rest of the booths. Although Mack enjoyed the food and the festivities of Victorian Days, he had no real interest in the crafts and various trinkets. Natasha seemed to enjoy looking at all the objects people were selling, however, and he was happy just to be with her.
They returned to the park because she wanted another picture, this one a selfie of them in front of the big tree. After that, they meandered away from the festival, where there were no more lights or people. He’d always been impressed by how smart she was, but as he listened to her talk he was also impressed by how far she’d come, especially after the start she’d received in life. She was no longer the angry teen who’d gotten tattoos without her mother’s permission, shaved her head one day on a whim, probably to let the kids at school know she didn’t
care about their rejection, and pierced her nipples—something he saw the night she came into his room and stripped off her clothes. He’d never been able to forget that sight—or how hard it had been to tell her to put her clothes back on—and it was something he couldn’t quit thinking about right now. Were those piercings still there? She would always be nine years younger, but it was becoming very apparent that she was a woman now, no longer a girl. And the maturity of her mind matched the maturity of her body...
“What is it?” she said when he couldn’t help grinning at her.
“I’m so proud of you,” he told her. “I hope you know that.”
She didn’t respond. She just slipped her hand in his and the way she smiled made it impossible for him not to grasp on. There was no one to see them, so he didn’t have to worry about that. Still, he knew he’d be stupid to get anything started while she was in school. Even if they could overcome all the other obstacles, they couldn’t be together for another five or six years. She’d already explained how long it was going to take to become a pediatrician.
Right now, however, all that seemed to matter was this moment.
She continued to talk, but his heart had begun to pound as soon as her fingers slipped through his, and he couldn’t hear anything above it. He’d never stopped wanting her despite all the years he’d been so careful not to let her know it.
He knew he should probably stay away from her. But he also knew that was a fight he was going to lose—and he was going to lose it tonight.
The small building that housed the police station was on their right. Impulsively, he pulled her around the corner, just in case someone came looking for them, and kissed her like he’d always wanted to kiss her—with every bit of the desire he felt.
Finally.
* * *
Natasha hadn’t lost her virginity until the end of her first year in college. She’d been twenty, at least three years behind most other girls she knew. Her roommates had been shocked when she told them she’d never been with a man, never even had a steady boyfriend. After watching how her mother handled relationships, Natasha had been—and still was—determined to do things differently.
