Confessions of a Girl-Next-Door

by Jackie Braun

  “Yes, late. Hank Whitey flew me over from the mainland.”

  “Really. That was bold of him, considering the storm.”

  “It was before it hit.”

  “I see.”

  Two words that in Nate’s experience were women-speak for anything but.

  Holly didn’t bat an eye. She remained the picture of calm and contrition. “Hank and I wound up overnight guests at Nate’s home.”

  “How convenient.”

  “Yes. They are both very kind men. But then, in Nate’s case, given how far our families go back, I’m sure he felt obligated to look after me.”

  Nadine’s brows rose at that. Her gaze cut to Nate for a moment before returning to Holly. “Just how far back do you go?”

  “To childhood. In fact, I haven’t seen Nate since we were mere children.”

  Okay, that was an exaggeration. It’s not as if they’d been toddling about in diapers, but he decided not to correct her.

  Holly said, “We lost touch over the years. I wasn’t even aware that his parents had retired and were no longer in charge of the resort when I decided to come for a visit.”

  “Oh.” Nadine’s posture was no longer quite so rigid.

  “Now, I’m hoping to get out of Nate’s hair, I believe the saying is, and find a place to stay for the remainder of my trip.”

  “And how long might that be?”

  “Ten days.” In his peripheral vision, Nate saw Holly lick her lips before adding, “Or so.”

  Interesting. The duration of her visit kept lengthening. Equally interesting, he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  “Let me see what I can do.” Nadine returned to her desk and booted up her computer. A few keystrokes later, she was frowning. “I hate to tell you this, but pretty much all of the private residences that rent out are booked at least through Sunday.” It was Thursday. “After that, I can set you up in a nice chalet on the eastern tip of the bay.”

  “You’d be directly across the bay from the resort,” Nate added.

  “I thought that was all state or federally owned land?” Holly said.

  At Nadine’s questioning gaze, Nate said, “We used to hike it when we were kids.” To Holly, he replied, “There are a few acres of private land along the coast.”

  “It’s a little secluded as a result,” Nadine added. “But it has a generous private beach and offers terrific views of Lake Huron. It also comes with the use of a couple of personal watercraft and a canoe. The owners live downstate. They’re rarely here, so they rent it out. It’s in high demand.”

  “I can see why. It sounds lovely.”

  Nadine sucked air in around her teeth. “Yes, well, its rental price reflects that.”

  She rattled off a sum that was three times more than the going rate of Nate’s largest and most well-appointed cabin. He could only imagine what the inside of the chalet must look like as Nadine was telling Holly about a jetted tub in the master bath and granite countertops and a wine cooler in a gourmet kitchen. He’d gone by the outside in his fishing boat on several occasions. It certainly didn’t lack for windows or outdoor living space with a deck that wrapped around the lower floor and a balcony off the upper one.

  “The owners only rent by the week, so if you stay, say, ten days, you would still have to pay for the full two weeks.”

  “It will become available on Sunday?” Holly asked, clearly unaffected by the amount.

  Nate saw Nadine’s eyes widen slightly, as if she’d figured it would be too rich for Holly’s blood. If only she knew. Still, she was all business.

  Nadine folded her hands on the desk blotter. “Yes. That’s when the current guests are scheduled to leave. Checkout is noon. You could check in by three o’clock, maybe even a little earlier depending on how much work housekeeping has to do.”

  “Thank you. I’ll take it. For two weeks.”

  Nadine gaped and so did Nate, neither of them quite able to contain their surprise. One week had become ten days and now ten days had turned into two weeks. Two weeks that would start on Sunday.

  “Don’t you want to see it first?” Nadine asked.

  “No. I’m sure it will be fine.”

  “All right.” Nadine typed up the rental agreement. If she wondered at the Texas post office box Holly gave for an address, she never let it show. However, her eyes widened for a second time when Holly opened her handbag and paid the entire sum in traveler’s checks.

  Handing her the receipt, Nadine asked, “So, where will you be staying between now and Sunday?”

  Though the question was tendered casually, there was nothing casual about it. And they all knew it.

  “Somewhere on the mainland.” Holly turned to Nate. “I’ll need to call Hank when we get back to your house.”

  “Sure.”

  He turned and thanked Nadine.

  “Will you be at the Fishing Hole tonight?” she asked.

  “I, um …” His gaze cut to Holly. “Probably not. I’ve got a lot of work to catch up with at the resort.”

  Nadine nodded. Holly smiled politely. No one made direct eye contact. As they took their leave, Nate couldn’t escape the feeling that he was in hot water with both women.

  Holly was fuming, even though she told herself she had absolutely no right to her anger. Still, she felt like a fool, and that seemed reason enough to give it vent. She waited until they were in the truck, seat belts buckled, to say in as casual a tone as she could muster, “Your girlfriend is very pretty.”

  Nate cleared his throat as he stuck the key in the ignition. “Nadine is not my girlfriend.”

  “Oh?” Holly puckered her lips, unconvinced. “Does she feel the same way?”

  The truck’s engine revved to life, and he shifted into gear. He spared her a glance before he looked both ways for oncoming cars and then pulled out of the parking lot. The truck’s tires squealed and spat gravel, and she figured she had her answer, even before Nate said, “Look, we date … sometimes. Okay?”

  Why did hearing him say that make her heart hurt? And it did. There was a funny ache in the center of her chest. Which was ridiculous. She had no claim on Nate. Whatever had been between them had ended practically before it began, and that was a very, very long time ago.

  Their kiss of the evening before flashed in her mind, every bit as impossible to ignore as the lightning that had flashed in the sky during it. With it, needs she hadn’t known existed had filtered to the forefront.

  “You might have mentioned it.” The words slipped from her lips before she could stop them.

  “I didn’t see the need,” he said. He shifted in his seat. Squirmed? “For that matter, I don’t see why it should be a problem.”

  “Problem? I can assure you, it is not a problem.” She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. Did she sound as pathetic and juvenile as she felt?

  “You’re acting as if it is,” Nate replied.

  Apparently so.

  She dropped her arms. “All right, it’s just that I felt very foolish back there.”

  Her revelation seemed to take him by surprise. “Why?”

  “I felt like I was in the middle of a … a …” Holly gestured with her arms as she searched for the right word. “A lover’s quarrel.”

  “Nadine and I are not … serious.”

  But apparently they were lovers. Or they had been. That ache was back, and so was the small voice in Holly’s head that kept telling her to let the matter drop. It was none of her business. Besides, what right did she have to question Nate’s personal relationships when there was a man waiting for her back in Morenci that everyone assumed she would agree to marry in the near future?

  Since she couldn’t ignore the ache, she ignored the voice and pressed on. “Serious or not, Ms. Masterson clearly was not pleased when she found out that I had spent the night in your home. Has she ever spent the night there?”

  She studied his profile. A muscle ticked in his jaw, telling Holly she’d struck a nerve. �
�I’m not going to answer that. What I will say is this—I can’t help how Nadine feels or what she thinks.”

  “It doesn’t bother you?”

  “She and I aren’t serious,” he said again, this time through clenched teeth.

  Holly let out an inelegant snort.

  Nate swore and then swerved. The truck left the main road and pulled onto a narrow two-track that was mottled with mud puddles from the previous night’s downpour.

  Holly braced her hands on the dashboard as they rattled over the rutted road.

  “Wh-where are we g-going?”

  “To see the secluded beach house that you just rented for a two-week stay.”

  “Do you mean to tell me there is no proper road?” Apparently the word secluded should have been written in capital letters.

  “Sure there is. This is what’s called a shortcut.” He winked, though nothing about his demeanor at the moment was particularly friendly or relaxed.

  “Nate, please slow down.” Her molars smacked together a couple of times after she said it.

  “It’s just a little off-roading,” he defended. “I wanted to give you a bit of the local experience.”

  Just then, the truck’s front right tire hit an especially deep rut. Mud splattered the windshield and the side of the vehicle. Unfortunately for Holly, she hadn’t had either the foresight or the time to roll up her window. Great gobs of thick brown matter rained in on her.

  She let out a squeal of outrage befitting both a woman and a princess.

  Nate took one look at her—she could imagine what he saw given the condition of her blouse—and expelled an oath aimed at himself. He hastily stopped the vehicle and began handing her napkins that he pulled from the glove box.

  “God. Oh, God. I’m really sorry. I … I was going too fast.”

  “Yes,” she said drolly. She pulled down the sun visor and studied herself in the mirror attached to the back of it. She was as speckled as a leopard.

  “I am sorry, Holly.”

  “We’ve established that.” She swiped at the side of her face, succeeding only in making several small spots into one large smudge.

  “Are you going to say anything?” Nate asked.

  “I believe I have been speaking.”

  “But not talking. To me.” He grabbed a napkin and dabbed at her shirt, stopping just short of her breast. “I’m making it worse.”

  “No. I don’t think it can get worse.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed before leaning his head back against the rest. “This makes two outfits of yours that I’ve ruined.”

  He looked and sounded so miserable that she was left with no choice but to take some pity on him. “What is that saying? You’re on a roll.”

  Nate turned his head and opened one eye. “Can you forgive me?”

  “They’re just clothes, Nate.” She patted her gritty face. “And I was due for a facial. A mud treatment such as this would set me back quite a bit in Paris.”

  He laughed. The sound held more relief than humor. “I was being an idiot.”

  “If you’re expecting me to disagree with you …” She let the sentence trail off as a challenge, adding in a pair of arched brows for effect.

  “I was mad, okay?”

  Holly figured that much out for herself, but over what exactly remained unclear. “Why? Because it was none of my business?”

  If he’d said yes, she could have lived with that. In fact, she probably would have apologized, too, because he would have been right.

  But what he said instead floored her.

  “Nadine and I have gone out on and off for years, even … even during high school.”

  As in, not long after Holly was out of the picture. She pretended to blot at the splotches on the front of her blouse, when in fact she was pressing against that persistent ache in her heart.

  “So, you’re high-school sweethearts? That’s the term for it, right?”

  “Yes.” He grabbed her hand. “But no. Nadine and I aren’t high-school sweethearts. We’re just … just two lonely people waiting for the right person to come along.” He squeezed Holly’s hand. “I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of me. I’ve broken no promises to Nadine, because I’ve never made her any. And I’ve always made it clear, or at least tried to, that we … we’re not headed anywhere but where we are right now.”

  Not my business.

  Not my business.

  Not my business.

  Despite the phrase she chanted over and over again in her head, Holly still heard herself ask Nate, “And where might that be?”

  He let go of her hand and scrubbed his face. He took his time answering. When he did, she understood perfectly why he’d hesitated.

  “In my case at least, it’s waiting for someone I can never have.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  NATE knew he’d just dropped one hell of a bomb. Holly’s shell-shocked expression confirmed as much. He hadn’t meant to say it. Part of him wanted to take it back. But it was a fact. One he couldn’t deny while sitting across from the only woman who with whom he’d ever felt like he could conquer the world.

  Except that he couldn’t.

  Even assuming she felt the same way, they couldn’t have a future together. Morenci’s future queen and an American resort owner? Yeah, right. That would never fly.

  He glanced over at Holly, who was staring out the window in silence. He wasn’t sure what he expected her to say. It certainly wasn’t, “I’m seeing someone, too.”

  Which is what she told him a moment later.

  “Ah. Oh. Right.” He’d read the news stories, of course. He nodded, not sure what else to say. After all, it made sense. She was halfway through her twenties, the heiress to not just a vast fortune, but to an actual kingdom. She would be expected to marry. He swallowed thickly. And carry on the royal lineage.

  On the seat beside him, Holly was saying softly, “He is a nice man. Kind. And very bright.”

  They were the right words, perfectly acceptable adjectives considering the subject matter, but Nate found the way Holly was studying her hands to be far more revealing.

  “You don’t love him.”

  “No.” She glanced his way. Even though she smiled, he saw the sadness in her eyes.

  “But?” he pressed, knowing the conjunction fit into the equation somewhere.

  “My mother thinks Phillip is perfect.”

  Phillip. The guy would have to be named Phillip. It was a very, well … royal and no-nonsense-sounding name. Nate would bet the title to his resort that the guy never went by plain old Phil.

  He was probably going to regret it, but he asked, “So, what does this Phillip do for a living?”

  “He’s a businessman like you,” Holly told him. If only she’d left it at that. But, no, she continued with, “His family owns several oil refineries in my country. Since he’s taken over from his father, he’s put environmental concerns ahead of corporate profits, which earned him the Royal Medal a couple of years ago. That’s how we met.”

  “Wow. The Royal Medal.” Morenci’s highest honor. Nate ran his tongue over his teeth. “And a green guy to boot, huh?”

  “The environment is important.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” he said. The great outdoors was his meal ticket. “So, um, what happens now?”

  “I’m not sure.” She shook her head slowly. Her gaze fixed on some point in the distance that he was sure she wasn’t seeing, she repeated, “I’m not sure.”

  Had she not looked so miserable, Nate might have pressed.

  Instead, he said, “The island is a great place to think.”

  Then, without another word, he started the truck. Slowly this time, he drove down the two-track, careful to avoid the worst of the ruts.

  It took another twenty minutes before the truck emerged from the dappled green canopy of the woods to a small clearing just up from the lake. There was no sandy beach here, but plenty of reeds and water lilies in the bay’s rocky
shallows. Before that, the landscape was dotted with wildflowers and the occasional poison ivy plant.

  “This is pretty,” she remarked. The line between her brows softened as she scanned the scene before her. “It would make a lovely painting.”

  “A watercolor?” That had been her favorite medium.

  She nodded, her gaze riveted on the lake. “The way the colors meld together, teals and blues. It’s breathtaking.”

  It was breathtaking. This, Nate knew, was exactly why he’d given up skyscrapers and the madness of city living. As much as he’d thought he’d wanted an urban lifestyle after growing up on a speck of land in the middle of one of the Great Lakes, the truth was he was small-town at heart. He wouldn’t make any apologies for that. He glanced over at Holly, noting the rapturous expression on her face, and he knew she wasn’t expecting one.

  She started toward the lake.

  “Just watch where you walk.” Once he had her attention, he pointed out the three-leafed plant that could cause a couple weeks of grief to those who came into contact with it. They both knew that from personal experience.

  Once they were almost to the shore, he turned Holly to the right. The chalet was a couple hundred feet down the shore from them. A man and a woman sat on the lower deck. The current occupants were making good use of the gas grill. The scent of sizzling steaks wafted on the breeze along with their laughter.

  “That’s where you’ll be staying.”

  “Oh, it is lovely.”

  “And a good hiding place.”

  His assessment made her frown. “I’m not running away,” she insisted.

  “Getting away.”

  She nodded and murmured what sounded like, “Thinking.”

  “I’m there.” He pointed across the bay to where the green tin roof of his lakefront cottage glinted in the sunlight.

  Holly turned to him. On a smile, she said, “We’ll be next-door neighbors, of a fashion.”

  “I guess so.” He reached out to scratch at a patch of dried mud on her nose.

  “I’m a mess.”

  “A pretty mess,” he clarified, resisting the urge to drop a kiss on the very nose he’d just tried to rid of dirt.