by Oram, Jean
Well, Katie was smarter than that.
“Maybe we need to slow down a little,” Nash said quietly, drawing her against him as she sagged in relief.
They sat in comforting silence, and even though she knew that her family, best friend, and half the town were on the other side of the snowbank protecting them from gossip, it was nice to be held. To be with someone who seemed to be in sync with her.
Nash tossed another log on the fire and sat back, allowing her to snuggle against him again. “What do you want in life, Katie? Are you happy doing this?”
There it was again. Happy.
“Doing what?” she asked, buying time.
“Nursing. Being the bottom of the totem pole.”
“I’m head nurse. A source of pride and gloating for my father, seeing as I failed bio the first time around, in tenth grade.” She swung a fist through the air. “I sure showed them, by golly.”
“There’s more to you, Katie.”
“Only when I eat a lot.”
Nash shifted, taking a no-nonsense tone. “You and I are a lot alike, and I’m always wanting more. So? What are you looking for, Katie Reiter? Don’t hide behind humor and topic changes.”
She reached for her cup of rum and eggnog, teetering on the brink of telling him everything she’d kept inside for years.
No wonder Beth had crushed on him so badly; the man was a good listener. That was also likely why some folks had thought he might be gay. Style and listening skills? Not something you could drive by and grab off Main Street in the small mountain meadow town of Blueberry Springs.
“I want to get into decorating.” Oh, crapola. Did that just come out of her mouth? She glanced in her empty cup. Dang rum and eggnog. The stuff was like a lethal injection of truth serum.
“Interior or cake?”
“I love that you asked that.” This was not good. She was going to warm until she thawed, get all gooey and mushy for a man who…who what? She sighed. “Interior.”
She had to stop talking to him. Couldn’t someone have a heart attack or something? But not her father, of course. He’d already had his.
And that was yet another reason Katie needed to ignore the idea of getting into interior decorating. Her father would have a coronary if she dropped nursing, and she’d feel guilty until the end of time. She’d seen what going through a career switch had done to her brother, and it hadn’t been pretty.
“I took a few online courses,” she said. Holy moly truth serum. Had Nash slipped her a sodium pentothal? Why was she telling him things she hadn’t even told Will in a moment of postcoital glow?
“Did you enjoy them?”
“Yeah, of course.” Feeling uncomfortable, she got up and threw another log on the fire.
“Any experience?”
She shrugged. “A few friends here and there. Just as a favor. Nobody knows I have training or have been thinking about this.”
The back door opened and Katie felt the surge of heat that came with getting caught doing something wrong. Secrets. So many secrets. She was glad she was no longer wrapped in Nash’s arms, at least.
“Hey, you two.” Mary Alice paused outside the door to fish a lighter from her coat pocket. “Hiding out together, are you?”
“Hardly. The house is packed.” Katie blinked and poked at the fire. She had been hiding out. And with Nash, no less. Kissing. Snuggling. Sharing secrets and dreams. Allowing it all. Even enjoying it.
She’d never believed Beth had good taste in men—first falling for Katie’s screw-up brother, and then Nash. But there were some good sides to Oz, who was proving to be an amazing father as well as a caring and doting husband. Nash, however? Katie had never seen the value in him other than the fact that he never seemed to need someone to remove the stains from his clothes as Will always had.
But now she kind of got it.
Mental note to herself: Nash was still Beth’s ex.
The flame from Mary Alice’s lighter flickered in the light breeze and Nash moved to help shield it.
“How was supper, Mary Alice?” Katie asked. “Did you get enough?”
“Sure did. Your father ate so much he’s got a stomach ache. Your mother says it is not the cabbage rolls, so don’t walk into that one.” Mary Alice squinted as she took a satisfying drag on her cigarette. She smiled at Nash. “Thanks, hon.”
He gave a nod and moved back to the warmth of the fire.
“So, Nash, how is being a bigwig in the city treating you these days?”
“It is what I was looking for,” he replied carefully. Katie wanted to ask if it was what he was still looking for. She had a feeling it wasn’t.
“If so, then what are you doing in this place?” Mary Alice laughed, her smoker’s cough moving phlegm in a way that had to have Nash cringing and double-thinking his gentlemanly move to help her light her cancer stick.
“How’s the store?” he asked diplomatically. “Still have that husband of yours kicking around?”
“You thinking of replacing him?”
“You’re more woman than I could handle, Mary Alice.”
“That’s true,” she said thoughtfully. “What about our fine Katie here? I’ve often wondered why the two of you didn’t hit it off.”
Katie rolled her eyes. “Have you not met Nash?”
“I have.” Mary Alice crossed her arms and stared her down. She took a final drag of her smoke, then chucked it in the fire, ignoring the mistletoe ashtray Katie’s mother had set out on the snowy porch railing. “So you two? I was talking to Liz today.”
“How’s her hand?” Katie asked, heading her off.
“Fine enough. I heard you two are working together again tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Nash replied.
“Well, I’ll try to keep everyone out of the hospital for you.” With a wink, Mary Alice stepped back indoors, leaving Katie to wonder what the woman saw when she looked at the two of them and if that something had actual potential.
Chapter 3
Last night Katie had made it through her mother’s Christmas Eve party with no major incidents. She’d even managed to spend time with Beth and Oz without feeling too terribly guilty for a) reasons of kissing the ex, b) enjoying it, as well as c) spending time with him during dinner—although she could argue that Beth and Oz were married and had each other, whereas she had nobody and nothing but her (not quite) bitter, broken heart for company—and finally, d) for ignoring Nash a teensy bit in order to spend time with other people.
The problem was, neglecting Nash had opened him up for every single, eligible woman in Blueberry Springs to move in on him, which Katie had found surprisingly distracting. But really, it was good, because maybe all that flirty-flirt business would throw Mary Alice off the track.
Not that there was a track. Nash was her best friend’s ex. That was a line you didn’t cross.
For any reason.
Probably.
“Nurse Reiter.”
Katie inhaled, bracing herself against that brisk voice she hated so dearly. She turned, jaw set. “Yes, Nash.”
Just like old times.
Except he grinned as though it was their own secret game, and she couldn’t help but smile back.
Just like new times.
“Are you needing to cut nursing supplies for another major project of yours?” she asked with fake sweetness.
“I was thinking, since you are so good with PICC lines, you could use cheaper needles in order to leave the better ones for the other nurses. We’d save approximately twenty-three dollars over the course of the year. Be a sport and help out the hospital?”
She gave his chest a playful shove. “Merry Christmas Nash-hole.”
He grabbed her arm, wincing in fake pain at the nickname. “Ouch.”
She smiled and tugged her hand free so she could give him one of the emergency gifts she kept wrapped and under her basement suite’s tree in case someone gave her an unexpected present. This morning it had felt right to print Nash’s name o
n the tag. And not just as a bribe to keep him from spilling the beans about her wanting to go into decorating—not that she thought he would.
“For me?” he asked, clearly surprised.
“To take away the sting of my bites.”
He let out a rich laugh and set his coffee down on the nurses’ station.
“Hey! You can’t eat and snack here. It is a rule we adhere to from years ago. An esteemed doctor—Nash Leham, have you heard of him?—put this rule into place and it is as highly regarded as he is.”
“Katie, shut up. You had me at ‘Hey’ and that scary tone of yours. I won’t snack or drink here.” He sat in her chair, kicked his feet up on the desk and chugged his coffee, then set the mug down on her notes.
She spun the chair around so he faced her. Standing over him, she demanded, “What the hell has gotten into you?” He set the wrapped box aside and stared at her, not answering. “Really! What?”
He glanced away and gave a small shrug.
She yanked the chair closer. She needed to know why he was in Blueberry Springs and why he was joking around and acting like a nice guy—a guy she could totally fall for. She gave the chair a rattle. “What?”
“I got lonely, okay? I was fine chasing my career before I came out here, but now…I just… It got under my skin, okay?”
The shock of his confession knocked her sideways. “Do you want to move back?”
“I don’t have the energy to go through all that renovation and decorating stuff in Blueberry Springs again.”
“I could do it.” She waited, not daring to breathe or blink.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You’d pay me, so yes, you could. I hated your old place, because it wasn’t Beth’s home and it represented everything you were trying to change in her. However, stylistically, it was gorgeous. I think you still need something sleek, fresh, and with strong lines. Practical, efficient storage to keep you organized, but with a modern, yet classic style. Simple lighting with an open concept would suit you.”
“Bullshit baffles brains. That’s just a lot of jargon.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Challenge accepted, Nash Leham.”
He rocked back in her chair, smiling.
“You know how your old place had that island between the kitchen and the sitting area?” she asked. When he nodded, she continued, “It was too wide and too high. It stopped conversation and I’ll bet that bothered you. You liked how it closed off the kitchen, but when you entertained, it felt like a barrier.”
He paused thoughtfully. “How did you know that?”
“I’m that good.”
A slip of a smile was her reward and she pushed the chair away in triumph. It was either that or kiss him, and a woman had to remember where to draw the line.
“Hey,” said a soft, slightly confused voice.
Katie turned to find Beth watching them. Katie pointed at Nash and cleared her throat. “He’s still a stubborn ass who wants things his way and doesn’t think others measure up to his level.” She dusted her hands together, ignoring Nash’s hurt look. “You made the right choice, Beth.”
“Baby, I’ve changed,” he said in a flat voice, hands out to Beth. He wasn’t even trying.
Watching Nash react to her words, Katie learned three important truths. He hadn’t come for his ex. He hadn’t been playing a game. He was back. Back for Katie.
It was time to stop thinking again.
“I brought this for you.” Beth placed a warm drink on the counter. She adjusted her pink woolly hat over her chestnut curls. “I left you one in the ER, Nash.”
“Thanks.” He gave her a friendly peck on the cheek, snagging Katie’s gift as he went. “Merry Christmas.”
The women watched him move down the hall, and Katie hoped Beth wouldn’t ask too many questions.
Beth took Katie’s seat, rubbing her swollen stomach through her coat. “So? What’s up between you and Nash?”
“He’s still a pain in my backside.”
“Huh. I thought he seemed different.”
“Well, yeah, kind of,” Katie said. She had kissed him without imploding. That implied change, didn’t it?
“If you’re being mad at him for my sake, I’m past it. And I think he is, too.” Beth focused on the distance. “It seems important to him to patch things up between the two of you. He sounded worried about you when I told him about Will.”
“You talked to him about my breakup?”
“Sure.” She gave a small shrug. Then her eyes flashed with inspiration. “You two should date.”
“No.” Katie backed away. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” It would be a fabulous idea.
“Why not? You guys would be perfect. All neat and anal about your ideas. And he’s really a great guy. He just wasn’t the one for me.”
“But good enough for me?”
“Oh, silly you. It’s probably just my pregnant brain talking and wanting everyone to pair up. He was really committed, plus he’s the kind of man you need, because he won’t put up with your bull.”
“Okay, I’ve heard enough. Book the chapel on your way home.”
“I’m serious.” Beth rocked to her feet, her hands out for balance.
“Be careful on your drive,” Katie said, catching her friend and directing her toward the hall that led to the parking lot. “A bad storm is coming through. You’d better head home.” And never talk to Nash about this idea, because at the rate things were going, he didn’t need support. She did.
* * *
Katie stood inside the ER doors, mesmerized at how fast and hard the snowflakes were falling. There was already a foot on the sidewalks. With a grin, she smoothed her ponytail. If this snow kept up, she’d be stuck at work overnight. Not something most people wished for on Christmas Day, when there was a delicious turkey waiting for them after work. But then again, most people didn’t have a mother who had gone nutso for the holidays and had terrified them with so many decorations their head spun like a pinwheel just thinking about it.
Her mom had called at 5:00 a.m. to ensure Katie could find her Christmas cardigan—which she was to wear over her Christmas-themed scrubs, which were to go over her holly turtleneck, which was, of course, over her—yes, her mother went that far—mistletoe lingerie. Not to mention the Santa socks, the light-up Christmas tree earrings, the jingle bell hair elastic, and Rudolph pin complete with a blinking nose.
Katie was ready to jump in a snowbank and hope for an avalanche rather than face her mother and yet more holiday cheer. Or admit to anyone that she had, in fact, dressed herself this morning.
What would her mom do tomorrow when Christmas was officially over? Would she go into a deep depression as withdrawal set in? Or would she start planning how she could make next year even bigger and better? Possibly, Katie might slip her a sleeping pill, as the woman had to be exhausted by now.
Turning away from the falling snow that was morphing the parked cars in the lot into hibernating bear humps, Katie moseyed down the quiet halls to the nursing station. Most patients who could be released had gone home to spend the holidays with their families. The rest would likely be having company later on tonight, assuming the roads were still passable.
Humming “Jingle Bells,” Katie rounded a corner and bumped into Nash. She flicked his tie, which sported snowflakes. “All these flakes look suspiciously alike.”
He smiled and smoothed his tie back into place under his doctor’s coat before she could adjust it for him. “How’s the weather looking?”
“I think we may end up stuck here for the night. The wind is expected to kick up as well.”
Nash leaned against the wall to study her. “You truly are happy to be stuck here?”
“I am.”
“Is it because I’ll be here?” he teased. “Or are you trying to get out of your Christmas dinner invitation?”
Katie tried to ignore the blush that stole across her cheeks, burning a trail. “Or maybe because I
get to avoid an even larger production than you witnessed at Chez Reiter last night.”
“French?”
“I do believe my accent is better than yours.”
“That was not how you say Louboutin,” he said with a thick French accent, resurrecting an old battle.
She moved closer. “I do believe it is.”
“And have you ever been to France?”
“Have you ever taken me?” she retorted.
He leaned in, his lips almost touching hers. “Do you want me to?”
“You could take me anywhere.”
Oh, man. What was she doing? She was practically begging Nash to take her to bed. In France. Definitely not in the day planner. Not that one.
But it should be. Someone hand her a pencil. No, make that a permanent marker.
“Really?” he asked, his voice low. He still wasn’t touching her, kissing her. But desire flashed in his icy eyes.
He would be good in bed, she thought. All that fire. It would translate into hot, sweaty sex for sure.
Trey, a teen who worked in the hardware store and had picked up a few housekeeping shifts at the hospital over the holidays, tore by, his slushy boots squeaking, chunks of damp snow falling off his coat. He dangled a plastic piece of mistletoe over Nash and Katie, stretching to do so.
“Kiss! You’re under the mistletoe.”
They didn’t need prompting. Nash’s arms—surprisingly strong—tugged her tight against his body. Katie pressed her palms to his chest, unsure whether she should push him off with a laugh or perform a tonsil check with her tongue. There was a reason not to kiss him, even in a jolly, festive, platonic way, but darn if she could recall what that was.
Or what platonic meant.
His lips were demanding. Demanding what, exactly? she wondered. Reciprocity. He was challenging her.
Challenge accepted.
He was not coming out on top. She would be the one leaving him panting, thank you very much. She kissed back, hard, putting everything she had into outdoing him. She pulled her sexiest moves, and his body responded against hers.
