Just His Type (Part Three)

by June, Victoria

  My throat ached. I wanted so desperately to believe it could be that amazing.

  I'd never met anyone with that view before. Harry certainly never treated sex as something sacred, which maybe was why he was so bad at it. I tamped down the desire to giggle at the thought. It wasn't difficult really when I considered that if I followed my own logic on that theory that put Nate at the opposite end of the scale in every way from my ex-husband. I practically squirmed with curiosity, wondering if that was true.

  "Are you a virgin?" I asked, unable to stop myself.

  Nate laughed. He dug his fingers into my hair, pulling playfully at the ringlets.

  "No sweetheart, I'm not. I wasn't always a Minister. I went to university too, you know."

  "Oh," I breathed out, not sure if I was relieved or disappointed. "But you can't..." I stopped, struggling to find the right words. "I mean... you don't..."

  "I haven't since I became ordained," Nate offered.

  "Can you?"

  Nate laughed again and the deep baritone tremor reverberated in my own chest. For a long moment I wasn't sure he'd answer me.

  "Officially?"

  I nodded, needing the truth.

  "Officially I'm required to state the act is something which belongs between a man and his wife, that it is a sacrament to be sanctioned only within the boundaries of marriage."

  My heart sank. I couldn't dismiss the thought that I just hid the brick wall I'd been avoiding for months. I should never have let myself admit that I liked him, that I wanted him, not when I couldn't commit to him.

  "Unofficially, though," Nate continued huskily, "if a man cares deeply for a woman and if she returns the sentiment... if they understand the significance of what they share and what that act means then... unofficially... I don't think God would mind. Not in the least."

  I melted. I knew in my heart that Nate and I weren't there yet, that we didn't know each other well enough to cross that line, no matter how much we both wanted to. I knew he wouldn't, not until he was ready to. There was a small flicker of hope in my belly, something I hadn't felt for months, for years. Something I hadn't allowed myself the privilege of even dreaming about.

  "There's that lovely little smile again," Nate teased. He bent to brush a swift kiss against my lips, one so fast I didn't even have time to respond. "I like that smile. I'm going to have to see if there are other ways of bringing it to the surface."

  "I'm sure there are," I murmured, still grinning.

  "Well," Nate took a step back and held me at arm's length, his hands gentle on my shoulders. "We have a snow day -- just like when we were kids. What would you like to do?"

  I knew without asking that the question more than likely didn't include a very frenzied make-out session on the couch in front of the fireplace. It most definitely didn't include him taking me upstairs to bed. I pulled my mind from lustful thoughts and tried to remember the snow days of my youth. I'd usually spent them curled up in an arm chair, reading.

  Nate's grin widened when I mentioned that.

  "Well, I have plenty of books," he offered. "We can light a few candles and read all afternoon if you wish."

  I realized with a little burst of happiness that I did wish for that. It would be so pleasant curled up with Nate in companionable silence, both ensconced in a fictional world where everything wrapped up neatly by the last chapter and everyone lived happily ever after.

  "That would be nice."

  "You pick something out for yourself and I'll find some candles." Nate twirled me about and gave me a little push towards the wall lined with book shelves.

  I let my eyes wander over the wide assortment of titles, which seemed to be grouped with no sense of organization whatsoever. Obviously the library had been cobbled together by an endless number of individuals with varying tastes. There were romance novels mixed in with biographies, historical fiction with children's books, cookbooks in between religious tracts. All said it was actually quite amusing just to peruse the assortment.

  With a triumphant 'aah', I pulled the perfect book from the shelf. It was one of my favorites and I hadn't read it in years. The manse's copy was lovingly worn and I smiled to myself knowing that someone, at some point in time, treasured the novel as much as I did.

  "Would you like a cup of tea?" Nate offered as I settled myself at one end of the slouchy couch.

  I glanced around the room. "How are you going to manage that with no electricity?"

  Nate gave me a patient smile. "There's a wood stove in the kitchen, sweetheart. I've gotten quite good at cooking on it. The power goes out all the time out here, sometimes for days."

  Half of me relished that idea, loving how cozy and private it sounded -- the other half was downright terrified at being alone with Nate in the dark for days.

  "For days? How do you manage?"

  "I'm well stocked for wood and food. I learned that lesson my first winter out here," Nate assured me. "Usually when the electricity is down Esther and I hole ourselves up downstairs where it's warmer. Of course, lots of tea helps."

  "Tea would be great."

  He crossed the room to drop a kiss on the top of my head. "I'm going to bring in some more wood. I'll be a while. Make yourself comfortable. Esther will keep you company."

  As if on cue the golden retriever lumbered over and lay at my feet with a sleepy sigh.

  Nate and I laughed in tandem. He slipped from the room with a backward glance over his shoulder, one that made me feel warm and welcome.

  I opened the book on my lap and let my eyes skim over the first few familiar paragraphs, but none of it sunk in. My brain rattled around my head, unsettled by a thousand different thoughts.

  I liked Nate. I really did. Every minute in his company only strengthened the feeling more. He was so opposite to Harry it was a little unbelievable. My ex-husband had never once made me a cup of tea. He never even offered me a drink.

  With a sigh I laid my head back against the couch and closed my eyes. For the millionth time I questioned why I married him in the first place.

  The truth was Harry was charming and he easily caught me up in it, telling me exactly what I wanted to hear, promising me exactly what I thought I always wanted. In hindsight it had all been a lie, of course, but I'd been young and terrifically naïve. I didn't think to question his motives. I thought Harry loved me. I wondered now if he even knew the meaning of the word.

  Of course Nate was making me promises too and I ached to trust him. I wanted so desperately to allow myself to be caught up in the wonderful, hopeful web he'd woven. It would be so easy to picture myself in this house with him, comfortably domestic, happy together sheltered from the storms.

  The afternoon had been such an unbelievable whirlwind. I couldn't even pinpoint the moment when I stopped resisting and let myself get carried away. Nate made it so easy to forget that I was hurt and wary. He made me want to ignore every cautious voice in my head. I hadn't felt that way in ten years, not since the beginning of my relationship with Harry.

  I opened my eyes to stare at the shadows cast on the ceilings by the candles surrounding me.

  Nate wasn't Harry, I reminded myself. He's a Presbyterian Minister for heaven's sake. He wouldn't lie to me just to get what he wanted.

  Would he?

  Chapter Four

  Nate returned to the living room with two mugs in hand and a big book tucked under his arm. "It's still snowing like crazy," he revealed as he passed me my cup of tea before settling on the opposite end of the couch. The cold had left his cheeks flushed. He stretched out his legs and pushed his toes against my thigh. Even through the layers of our clothes I felt how chilly they were.

  I jumped a little, laughing. "It's cold out too!"

  He wigged his toes against me. The little gesture felt deliciously wicked. "Oh, I'm sure you'll warm me up."

  I couldn't contain my laughter. I never ever thought I'd be flirting with a man of the cloth.

  "I'm sure I will." I tweaked one of his toes.
They were long, but then again his feet were quite big, so I supposed it was all in proportion. Of course that thought made my mind wander into just what the rest of Nate was proportioned like. I believe I blushed.

  "What are you reading?" he asked with a grin.

  I held up the worn book so he could read the title embossed in faded gold across the cover.

  "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife," Nate quoted. "Pride and Prejudice—nice."

  "It's one of my favorites," I confessed. I loved the idea of a couple ending up together despite all prior misunderstandings. A small part of me wanted to believe it could happen like that in real life. "What are you reading?"

  Nate turned over the thick book so I could see the cover. The Bible. I should have known. I almost laughed aloud.

  "Isn't it dreadfully boring?" I asked.

  "Parts of it, yes," he admitted. He opened the book and flipped through it until he found the passage he wanted. "And then some of it is quite extraordinary." Nate cleared his throat and began to read.

  "How beautiful you are, my love! How your eyes shine with love behind your veil. Your hair dances like a flock of goats bounding down the hills of Gilead."

  I grinned. "Like a flock of goats?"

  He held up a hand to still my comment and his eyes twinkled. "Your hair dances when you move, I'll have you know. Hold on, it gets better.

  "Your lips are like a scarlet ribbon; how lovely they are when you speak. Your cheeks glow behind your veil. Your neck is like the tower of David, round and smooth, With a necklace like a thousand shields hung around it. Your breasts are like gazelles, twin deer feeding among the lilies...

  "The look in your eyes, my sweetheart and bride, And the necklace you are wearing have stolen my heart. Your love delights me, my sweetheart and bride, Your love is better than wine; your perfume more fragrant than any spice. The taste of honey is on your lips, my darling; Your tongue is milk and honey for me..."

  I sat speechless. It was lovely, yes, but it wouldn't have affected me half so much if it had been read by anyone else. Nate's husky voice filled the words with meaning I never would have found on my own.

  "Song of Songs," Nate said softly. He closed the book on his lap.

  "That's..." I trailed off, flustered.

  "Sexy?"

  "I was going to say, 'beautiful'."

  "That too."

  "Goats and gazelles, though? Really?"

  Nate pressed his now much warmer toes into my thigh. "I'm sure at one time it was a great compliment. Besides, there's something rather attractive about the way gazelles move. Light and free... graceful."

  "Yes, but can breasts be light, free, and graceful?"

  Nate's gaze wander traveled over my sweater, where the lilac cashmere clung to my modest frame. "Yes," he said in a gruff tone. His eyes had gone dark.

  A blizzard was raging outside yet I had to resist the urge to fan myself with Pride and Prejudice. I wasn't ready yet for Nate to know exactly how much he affected me.

  Yet.

  Had I already turned the page from off limits to definite possibility when it came to Nate?

  "Why did you join the church?" I asked quickly before the conversation veered back into a forbidden direction. I had to know why someone as passionate as Nate obviously was would dedicate himself to a life where that part of him was discouraged, or if not discouraged then at least reined severely in.

  He watched me for a moment. "That's a long story."

  I gestured over my shoulder at the snow-blinded view from the window. "I've got time."

  Nate didn't answer.

  "I should know, Nate. Don't you think I deserve to know?"

  He pressed his lips together in a fine line before nodding.

  "Once upon a time..." he began while he ran a long-fingered hand through his light hair. "Once upon a time I was going to be a rock star."

  My eyes widened with surprise.

  Nate held up his hands in mock astonishment. "I know, I know. Shocking. But music was my life. I ate, breathed, and slept it. In high school a few of my friends and I started a band. It was the early nineties -- alternative grunge rock was in... we all wanted to be Kurt Cobain... without the drugs, of course." He laughed dryly.

  "And we were actually pretty good. The guys and I devoted ourselves to the band wholeheartedly. I even went to university close to home so we could stay together."

  I opened my mouth but Nate answered my next question before I voiced it.

  "University of Toronto, Bachelor of Arts Honors for Musical Performance and Theory, naturally. I studied and performed classical music all day and then played rock gigs at night. We actually gained quite a local fan base. We were even lucky to open a few shows for some pretty major acts. It was exciting. We were going to make it."

  He looked up at me then. Haunted was the only word to describe his expression. Had I realized it was going to be such a hard story to tell, I wouldn't have asked him anything.

  "What went wrong?" I prompted gently, my curiosity unabated by my reticence.

  "Things were going really well, we'd cut a demo a few months earlier and it was getting airplay on the local radio stations. We had an agent lining up record labels interested in recording our first album... we just had to decide which offer to take. Adrian, our lead singer, wanted to go out and celebrate—"

  "You weren't lead singer? But you have a beautiful voice!"

  Nate smiled at me. "Thank you, but I wasn't. I was too shy and I didn't have the right sort of personality to be the front man of a rock band. Adrian though, he was born to it. He had the larger-than-life persona and the distinctive voice. I could write the songs, but he made them great.

  "When Adrian took the stage people noticed. Everyone loved him. And the women... he made them appear like magic and always had his pick. He was funny and charming, just so cool... there's no other word for it. Adam reminds me of him at times."

  "So what happened?"

  "We went out to celebrate that night--Adrian, our bassist Travis, and our drummer Brad. There was plenty to drink and then Adrian found us a group of pretty girls. It was every guy's dream and we couldn't believe we were living it. I remember I had a midterm the next morning in advanced musical theory so I cut out early. I was only a few credits away from my degree and once I graduated we'd all be free to advance our music career."

  Part of me wondered if Nate had gone home alone or with one of the pretty girls, but I didn't dare ask.

  "That night Adrian decided to drive home instead of calling a cab. He ran a red light and t-boned a tractor-trailer. He died on the scene. Travis was paralyzed from the neck down, and Brad, by stint of being in the back seat, only broke seventeen bones, including all the ones in his right arm. He never drummed again."

  "Oh my god! Oh Nate, I'm so sorry." A wave of anguish and sympathy hit me so hard I swayed. The copy of Pride and Prejudice tumbled from my lap and thudded onto the floor.

  His eyes were hollow. "It wouldn't have happened if I'd stayed. I wouldn't have let it happen. Brad and Travis couldn't say 'no' to Adrian, they'd do anything he suggested, but I would have stopped it." The heartbreak in his voice nearly broke mine.

  "But what if you weren't able to stop him? What if you'd had enough to drink to get in the car with the rest of them?"

  Nate's mouth twisted into a sad scowl. "Well then I'd have been like the rest of them, we were more than just a band, we were like brothers... and then I wouldn't have been the only one of us left to go on and live my life unscathed by what happened."

  "I don't for a moment think you're unscathed," I pointed out gently.

  Nate treated me to a wry smile. "That's what Adrian's mother said too. I went to his parents a few months later to ask for their forgiveness, I didn't know what else to do, I was a wreck. I blamed myself for everything and barely scraped through the last of my classes. I could hardly play a note of music; it reminded me too much of
what I'd lost."

  "Adrian's parents forgave you?"

  Nate reached over and took my hand. He wove his long fingers through my own. I squeezed them, trying to impart a little understanding through my touch.

  Nate met my eyes. The lines around his eyes and lips softened, the darkness in his gaze had faded.

  "They forgave me and more--they welcomed me. My parents tried to help me but they didn't understand the loss the way Adrian's parents did. In time I began to see the good in life again. Adrian's father is an amazing mentor -- he made me want to learn everything I could so I could turn around and teach others how to escape the darkness in their lives, how to find the peace I found in forgiveness."