by Zoe York
“Multi-talented.” Shelby placed a cup under the spout of the espresso machine and dark liquid slowly poured out, steam curling up in slow moving tendrils.
He couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not.
“So Pete tells me you’re modelling now,” he said.
“Plus-sized modelling, if you couldn’t tell.” She looked at him briefly as if checking for his reaction before turning away when he didn’t give her anything.
Why would he? Shelby was beautiful—not a single person could deny that. It was a fact, some her career relied upon. Her weight had nothing to do with it.
“She was in the Vogue,” Pete added, his voice brimming with fatherly pride. “In Italy.”
“It’s just Vogue, Dad. Not the Vogue.” She brought the cups to the table then planted a kiss on her father’s temple.
“That’s impressive,” Nate said as though he hadn’t looked her up online one lonely beer-fuelled night. He’d seen the shoot—impressive was an understatement. “You must be pretty successful, then.”
“I guess that depends on your definition of success.”
Shelby stood in front of the open fridge for a moment, relishing the cool air on her heated skin. There was nothing like having the past show up on your doorstep—not to mention being caught in your undies—to spike a woman’s temperature.
She’d recognised Nate Ritter the second her eyes had opened. It might’ve been twelve years since they’d been in the same room, but she remembered every inch of him…even the back of his head. And, as nice as his head was, it was Nate’s broad shoulders and baby blue eyes that had caught her attention when they’d walked smack bang into one another in the Patterson’s Bluff High School library. He had the kind of features that made girls go weak at the knees back then.
Let’s be real, he’d make you go weak at the knees now if it wasn’t for the fact that you have such a good memory.
“What is your definition of success?” Nate cradled the cup in his hands, eyes tracking her with an intensity that got under her skin. He’d always had the ability to unnerve her. To unstick her.
“Vogue would be up there,” she replied with a shrug.
Screw Nate. What right did he have to ask about her dreams? How could he act like nothing had happened all those years ago? She grabbed the milk from the fridge and plonked it down on the table as she took a seat.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Shel.” Her father reached out to touch her arm.
Unfortunately—or was it fortunately?—her father didn’t know her history with Nate. Therefore, she’d have to make polite small talk to keep him in the dark. He considered Nate a true friend and since Shelby had left her father on his own, it wasn’t her place to say anything that might put a strain on that relationship.
But she didn’t have to like it.
“You do all that work with the high school girls, too, talking to them about self-esteem and confidence,” her dad continued, pausing to take a sip of his coffee. “And you were mentoring those young ladies who’d joined your agency.”
Nate’s blue gaze seared through the cotton of her dress and suddenly she felt near-naked again. He’d lost all the boyish charm she remembered. In its place, was a delightful combination of something harder and yet softer. Harder in his angular jaw and the stubble coating it. Yet softer in the crinkle at the edge of his eyes. A faded yellow mug was dwarfed by his large hands, the drink itself forgotten as he watched her. Studied her.
She tried her best not to do the same.
“Thanks, Dad.” Shelby forced a smile, wishing it was just the two them. Because uncomfortable thoughts about Nate were not what she’d wanted to experience on her trip home. “How are you feeling, anyway? Did you sleep okay?”
“I’m fine.” But the dark circles under his eyes told a different story.
The two purple smudges made his skin seem pale, aging him beyond his fifty-two years. Her father was of the old-fashioned belief that a man didn’t worry the women in his life. And since she was the only woman in his life, after her mother died and her aunt left town, it fell to her to take care of him. It was precisely why she’d packed her bags and come home despite his protest that he didn’t need help.
Even though she’d avoided setting foot in Patterson’s Bluff wherever possible.
He tried to move his arm and winced. “Could you pass the milk?”
Shelby reached for it at the same time as Nate. Their hands collided and sent the carton toppling over, a puddle of white racing to the table’s edge and pouring onto the floor.
“Crap.” Nate jumped up to retrieve it, shoving his chair back so hard it tipped over. “Sorry about that.”
Shelby waved him off and reached for a roll of paper towel. She tore off a few sheets and laid them down to soak up the milk on the table. What the hell was wrong with her? She’d worked hard the past twelve years to build her confidence, and the second she faced someone from her past she became clumsy and awkward again.
So much for thinking you’ve changed.
She bent to mop up the mess and watched Nate in stealth. Worn-in sneakers. Chucks. Identical to the ones he’d worn in high school. Except now his legs and butt filled out the denim of his jeans so perfectly it looked as though he was the model, not her.
God may have blessed the man with many positive physical attributes, but that didn’t make him a good person.
“You need a hand down there?” Nate asked.
She swallowed, shaking her head and turning her eyes toward the floor as she mopped up the last of the milk. “I’ve got it.”
“I can’t stand not being able to move around,” Pete said with a sigh. “It’s like being imprisoned in your own home.”
The words twisted in her chest. If only she’d known what would happen, she could have hired someone to clean the gutters. Maybe she could have stopped him from trying to do everything himself.
“Well, maybe you should have let me help you clean the gutters then,” Nate said with a worried edge to his voice that tugged at Shelby’s heartstrings. “I offered. Twice.”
Nate had offered to help her dad, not throw money at the problem like she would have. The guilty flash passed as quickly as it came, however. It wasn’t her fault she hated this place. And it definitely wasn’t her fault that she didn’t consider it home.
“Don’t kick a man while he’s down,” Pete grumbled. “The second I get this bloody boot off, I’ll feel myself again.”
“Healing takes time, Pete. Don’t rush yourself.” Nate landed a comforting hand on her father’s shoulder before he went back to his seat. “How long are you in town for, Shel?”
She winced at hearing her nickname in his deep timbre, and dropped the milk-soaked paper towel into the rubbish bin. Anything to drag out the moments before she had to sit at that table and pretend that being in Nate’s presence didn’t make her feel like she wanted to run back to New York so fast it would leave a Shelby-shaped cloud behind.
“Two weeks, I think.” She shrugged, hoping she sounded nonchalant. “Depends on how Dad’s doing and what my work schedule looks like.”
“Are you planning to catch up with anyone while you’re here?” Nate sipped his coffee.
Was he serious? Shelby had three things to do on her trip home: help her father until he could get by on his own, enjoy some peace and quiet and stay the hell away from anyone related to her childhood. Today’s reunion was not part of the plan.
“This isn’t a social visit.”
“Nonsense.” Her father shook his head. “There isn’t much that needs to be done here. You should go out and have fun.”
“I’d be happy to take you out,” Nate offered. “How long has it been since you were last here?”
Seven years, four months and two weeks. She forced herself to breathe. “A while.”
The visit had been for her father’s forty-fifth birthday. Shelby had flown from New York and driven the leg from Melbourne to Patterson’s Bluff wit
h her aunt. They both dreaded coming home. In fact, Ellen was the only person in her life who understood what Patterson’s Bluff did to her psyche, because she hated it too.
“I’d rather spend time with you, Dad.” Shelby turned to her father. “You’re the reason I’m here.”
“I’m not a good patient.” His eyes crinkled in amusement. Her father had the same green eyes as her—a Jenkins’ family trait. “Your words, I believe.”
“Let me at least take you out for lunch,” Nate said. “There’s no good you being cooped up inside when it’s so warm out. You always enjoyed being outdoors if I remember correctly.”
Shelby’s teenage self would have given her right arm to have Nate Ritter ask her out. But now that it was happening, trepidation lined her stomach. What was he up to anyway? Did he get a kick out of taking Fat Shelby on a date? Would he secretly call his old friends so they could all laugh at her like they’d done all those years ago?
You are a successful woman now. You don’t need to be afraid of Nate Ritter anymore. Or anyone else.
She glanced at her watch, stalling. “It’s a little early for lunch.”
“You mean you don’t normally do lunch at ten a.m.?” Nate joked.
Her father watched her expectantly. He’d been at her to go out and meet people ever since she’d arrived. His motives were thinly veiled, of course. If she made friends here, she’d be likely to visit more often. Or maybe even consider moving home.
Not. Going. To. Happen.
Ever.
Yet despite her conviction, guilt surged through her. Without his wife, his daughter or his only sibling, it wasn’t a surprise that he was lonely. They’d all abandoned him in some way. But Patterson’s Bluff was a demon from her past—one she wasn’t tempted to slay.
Still, it made her feel like a rotten daughter for not even trying.
“Go,” her father urged. “I need to rest anyway. These drugs are knocking me around.”
In the years since she’d left her hometown, she’d done things she’d never dreamed possible—walking a New York Fashion Week runway, shooting for Vogue Italia, seeing the world, speaking to a crowd of hundreds. She was strong.
What the hell would it say about her if she couldn’t handle a simple lunch date?
“Fine,” she said tightly, steeling herself. “Lunch it is.”
Chapter 2
Nate had prepared himself for straight-up rejection—emotional helmet and crotch pad and everything. It was no less than what he deserved. But even he couldn’t prevent himself from doing an internal fist pump at the chance to spend time with Shelby.
He’d always had a crush on her, ever since he’d moved to Patterson’s Bluff at the age of thirteen. Too bad his idiot teenage-self had thought “fitting in” was more important than treating her with respect.
“I’ll grab my bag.” She searched his face for a moment, regarding him with a level of trust reserved for a lion minus its tamer, before leaving the table. Her footsteps faded toward the rear of the house.
“You take good care of her,” Pete warned, his expression serious. Nate usually only saw him like this when something had gone wrong at school. “Shelby doesn’t like coming home. She had a rough time growing up here.”
Nate nodded, guilt scything through him. “Didn’t we all?”
“She had it worse than most. No one saw what a beautiful person she was…still is. Inside and out.” Pete pursed his lips together and rubbed a hand along his stubble-coated jaw.
I did. I knew she was beautiful in every possible way.
But he’d lost the right to utter those words when he’d cowardly denied their friendship and the blossoming attraction between them.
“I wish I’d been able to make things easier for her, but it was only the two of us after her mother passed. She never wanted to talk to me about her troubles.” Pete cradled his mug. “And then one day she decided to leave. No explanation or anything.”
Silence drifted over the table like a thick blanket and Nate fidgeted in his seat. He’d never told Pete about what had happened back then. That he was the straw that broke the camel’s back, causing Shelby to finally give up on her hometown. That her leaving was his fault.
He’d almost come clean a few times when he’d had too many drinks and remorse had dug its pious fingers in. But Pete meant the world to him and he was afraid the truth would tear that friendship apart. Besides, the damage was already done. His confession couldn’t change the past.
“Ready?” Shelby appeared in the doorway, a denim shirt thrown over her dress and a bag slung over one shoulder.
“Have fun you two.” Pete struggled to his feet and limped out from behind the table, his medical boot clunking against the floor.
“Do you need me to bring anything home?” Shelby gave her father’s arm a squeeze. “More milk, eggs?”
“I picked up most of that stuff at the store this morning,” Nate interjected.
Shelby raised an eyebrow. “I can stop by the newsagents. See if they have that fishing magazine you like?”
“Stop fussing. Go out and have fun.” Pete hobbled past them and headed toward the lounge. “I don’t want to see you back here until the sun goes down.”
She pursed her lips. “I’ll be back after lunch.”
Pete grumbled something under his breath, but he didn’t stop. When they were alone, Shelby turned to Nate, her fingers toying with the strap on her bag. Tension rolled off her like steam billowing out of a cooking pot. Yeah, he was going to have to work hard to have any hope of winning her trust back. But it wasn’t like he could fault her for that. She had every right to be wary.
Why do you even care? She’s here for a few weeks and then she’ll be gone again.
The thought of her leaving so soon dredged up a whole lot of shit that he didn’t want to deal with. He’d stood on his doorstep watching people leave more times than he cared to count. It never got easier.
He simply stopped watching while it happened.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I thought we might take a walk along the reserve, for starters.”
At the mention of the Patterson’s Bluff Foreshore Reserve, her face relaxed as he’d known it would. She might be a city person now, but she’d always had a soft spot for nature. They’d spent plenty of time in secluded sections of the beach as teenagers, looking for ocean treasures and growing a friendship in the shadows, away from the prying eyes of their peers.
They headed out of the house, with Nate locking the front door behind them.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said as they approached his car. Being a creature of habit, Nate drove the same Ford Escape as when he’d moved back to town as a newlywed almost ten years ago. The car lasted, but the wife didn’t. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dad doesn’t want me waiting on him hand and foot, but that doesn’t mean I can’t amuse myself.” She looked up at him, only having to tilt her face a fraction to meet his eyes. “I’m sure you have plenty of stuff to do on your time off.”
If only she knew that was categorically not the case. But admitting it aloud would sound more pathetic than he was comfortable with. “I’m not doing this out of obligation.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
“Because I want to.” He toyed with the keys in his hand. “I like company and I like food. I don’t have any ulterior motives, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Ulterior motives weren’t his style, especially when it came to women. For better or worse, he was an open book—and his lack of filter had gotten him in trouble more than once. These days he wasn’t willing to go through the heartache of trying to find forever, but one-night stands were difficult in a small town. The women might not stay in your bed, but gossip would linger like a bad smell.
It was easier to keep to himself.
So then why was he so eager to get on Shelby’s good side? Redemptio
n, perhaps. Clearing a guilty conscience and doing the right thing by his friend.
Yeah right. Nothing to do with the fact that you’ve thought about her often since she left and now she’s here you can’t help being a glutton for punishment?
“I’m not interested making friends while I’m here,” she said. “I’m here to help my dad, nothing more.”
She paused as if waiting for a protest and when she didn’t get one, she opened the passenger side door and climbed into Nate’s car.
Shelby’s heart galloped. She’d spent her whole life trying desperately to fit in, to be liked. To say aloud that she had no interest in making friends was liberating…in a terrifying #foreveralone kind of way.
But she was returning to Patterson’s Bluff on her terms and that’s what mattered most.
They drove most of the way to Foreshore Reserve in silence. The familiar views drew Shelby’s eye and she couldn’t help but smile as the flat blue ocean grew closer. The coastline was a mix of ragged edges and dense scrub, broken by patches of sandy golden beach and dotted with caravan parks and picnic areas. She sucked in the tangy sea air through the open window, reaching deep for a memory that involved salt-crusted limbs and ice cream.
Nate’s radio was switched to some mellow indie rock station which soothed her nerves and she was grateful he didn’t force conversation. So far, her “relaxing” break from work was anything but.
When the sign for the Foreshore Reserve’s car park came into view, Nate slowed and made the turn. Mid-January in Patterson’s Bluff was high tourist season—Christmas and New Year’s had come and gone, and Australia Day was around the corner. The temperatures were still climbing, which meant city folk from nearby Melbourne flocked like seagulls in search of sea, sand and surf.
The chances of bumping into someone Shelby knew would be high, but hopefully she could blend into the crowd. As Nate spotted an empty space, Shelby fished around in her bag and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. Not exactly a master disguise, but better than nothing.
“You thought you’d be able to play hermit for two weeks, did you?” Nate asked as they got out of the car.
