by Zoe York
He clasped his hand around the pint glass, relishing the chill against his palm. He wasn’t sure how to label what he and Shelby were now. They seemed to exist in some weird grey area.
Again, why does any of this matter? She’ll be gone before school starts.
“And now?” Cam prodded.
“Now…nothing. She’s in town and I stopped by Pete’s house to help him out. We decided to get lunch. End of a very boring story.”
The vision of Shelby lying near-naked except for minuscule pieces of silky lingerie was branded into Nate’s memory. All that golden skin, those deep curves—full breasts and flared hips—the mass of espresso-coloured hair spread out on the pillow like ribbons of dark silk. All the blood in his body rushed south, and he shifted on his barstool to ease the pressure his zipper was suddenly feeling.
“Why is it so interesting that I took someone out to lunch? Surely, there’s got to be better gossip around than that.” Nate drained the rest of his beer, keen to make a quick getaway before this conversation got any messier.
“Didn’t you kiss her in school?” Cam was drumming his fingers on the polished surface of the bar, brow furrowed as though he was flicking through the files in his head. Dude had the memory of an elephant.
Shit.
“So what?”
“Nothing, I just remember there being something about a kiss…”
The muscles in Nate’s neck bunched as he fought off the memories. He’d been young, stupid and desperate to fit into his new home. Desperate to belong. And that meant kissing the unpopular girl was a bad idea, no matter how much he’d wanted it.
And boy had he wanted it.
In the end, he’d been accepted into the inner sanctum of the cool kids, but at what cost? He’d sacrificed his friendship with Shelby, humiliated her by claiming she’d thrown herself at him. The look on her face had haunted him for years—those round unblinking eyes, the glimmer of tears and the shocked O on her puffy, just-kissed lips.
Could he have been any more of a bastard?
“I’m not talking about this,” Nate grumbled into his now empty pint glass.
Foam clung to the sides, the dregs of the pale ale wallowing in the bottom. He threw some money onto the bar and slapped a hand down on Cam’s back before leaving the pub. Outside, the balmy evening air washed over him. He had no right to be angry at Cam for asking questions. After all, he had kissed Shelby and turned on her. That was all him.
No excuses, no lies.
But it didn’t mean he had to live with the guilt forever. He would set things right with Shelby and prove that he’d changed and grown. She may not forgive him—he didn’t expect her to—but he could at least give her the apology she deserved.
If only he could see her again.
Nate headed to his car, his blood pumping a potent mix of guilt and frustration through his system. Damn this bloody town’s penchant for whispers.
Nate climbed into his Ford, closing the door behind him and letting out a long breath. He was an advocate for the small town, for the little guy. For the close-knit community and the strong support network that came with it.
But talk was insidious. If only he could go back to that day and act like the person he was now, instead of like the scared little shit he’d been back then. If only he could take back those words.
Would she have stayed?
Dawn’s slip-up really made him wonder. And beyond that, history had proven that people didn’t stay, not once they got the itch for the excitement and bright lights a coastal town couldn’t offer. It’d happened over and over—the woman who’d given birth to him had been determined to put her own desires before her children. Then his wife had left him because she’d craved the hustle and bustle of her old city life.
Even Neve had gone.
That’d hurt him more than the others. Neve knew what it meant to be abandoned, and yet she’d packed her bags and flown to Europe with nothing more than a flippant “a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do” attitude. Return date pending.
Just as he was about to start the Ford’s engine, as his phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number. He swiped at the screen. “Hello?”
“Nate?” Shelby’s voice came through the line, crisp and sweet. “Dad gave me your number, is this a good time to talk?”
He caught himself grinning in the rear-view mirror. “Sure.”
“I was wondering if you’re going to the working bee tomorrow.”
“Uh yeah, your dad would have my hide if I didn’t pitch in.”
Truth be told, Nate always looked forward to it. While some teachers viewed the working bee as a chore, he loved the camaraderie of banding together with his colleagues to improve their workplace. It was as much a social event as it was work and the day usually ended with a group of them heading to the pub.
“Are you planning to drop in?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m taking Dad’s place.” She sounded less than enthused.
Shelby had been the first one to volunteer for things in high school, whether it was staffing a bake sale or handing out flyers for the school play. But her tone of voice made it sound like she’d rather poke her eyes out with hot needles.
“It should be fun,” he offered. “We can grab a drink afterward.”
“Actually, I was wondering if I could get a ride.” Shelby paused, her discomfort audible. As much as she might chide her dad for not liking to ask for help, they were two peas in a pod like that. “I don’t have a car here and Dad’s in no position to drive. I would take his Toyota, but you know how he is. If I even get a tiny scratch on it—”
“I’ll pick you up at nine.” This was better than he could’ve hoped for—an opportunity to spend more time with Shelby and a chance for her to see a different side of Patterson’s Bluff.
Fate was smiling on him today.
“Really?”
He laughed at her surprise. “It’s only a ride. You haven’t asked me to give a kidney or anything.”
“Great. Uh…thank you.”
“No problem.” He beat the palm of his free hand against his steering wheel. “And what about that drink?”
There was a quiet laugh of the other end of the line and he could practically see her shaking her head. “Persistent, aren’t you?”
“I prefer unrelentingly optimistic.”
“Those are some big words, Nate Ritter.” Amusement coloured her voice.
“I’m a teacher. They give you a binder of big words to use so you seem smarter than the students.”
This time when she laughed there no restraint. The sound ran through the phone line and electrified him. He could picture her throwing her head back, her eyes sparkling and her lush lips opening as the joyful sound escaped her.
Even her laugh was beautiful.
“I might have a drink afterward,” she conceded. “Depends on how hard you work me first.”
He swallowed a dirty thought. “It’s physical work. Make sure you wear something comfortable and bring some work boots if you have them.”
“I’ll have to see if Dad kept any of my old ones. Work boots weren’t exactly high up on my list of things to pack.”
“I guess you don’t have much use for them in New York.”
“Not really.”
“I could see if we have an old pair of Neve’s boots lying around, if you like.”
“Nah, it’s fine. They probably wouldn’t fit anyway. She’s got dainty little feet,” Shelby joked. “And you don’t get to be almost six feet tall without having big paws.”
Paws. His chest expanded at the visual. Big feet or not, he’d be quite happy to get Shelby out of whatever shoes she chose to wear…along with every other article of clothing on her body. But that was a fantasy that would have to stay right where it was: in his head.
Shelby bid him goodbye and Nate pressed back against the headrest, thanking his lucky stars for the opportunity that had been dropped at his feet. Tomorrow would be hard for her, facing old demon
s and bad memories, but he’d do everything in his power to make it a positive experience.
He’d be the friend he should have been all those years ago.
Chapter 5
Shelby couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so terribly. Alternating between dreaming about Nate and having nightmares filled endless hallways and mean, echoing laughter did not make for a refreshing eight hours.
How much more success did she need before she could come home without fearing ridicule? Clearly all those positive self-affirmations, counselling sessions and self-help books had been a waste of money. Because now she was shaking in her literal boots about facing the people she grew up with.
Then—like salt in the wound—she’d spent half the night dreaming about doing unspeakable things to the boy who’d publicly humiliated her.
But oh, what dreams.
She’d woken flushed and startled, half wishing slumber would draw her right back into that fantasy world, and half wishing she would never go to sleep again.
Shelby frowned at the worn, mud-caked boots on her feet. Not exactly high fashion. But they were the only ones in the house and, because they belonged to her father, they were a little big. Nothing a pair of thick, slouchy socks couldn’t fix, although they made her feel like some kind of 90’s throwback.
It’s a working bee, not a gala dinner. Suck it up.
A car rumbled outside and a second later a door slammed. Nate must be coming in to greet her to father. Sighing, she reached for a loose, white T-shirt and slipped it over her head. Along with a pair of beat-up denim shorts, the attire served as the closest thing she had to a hard-labour appropriate outfit.
Shelby glanced at the mirror on her vanity unit then quickly looked away. Funny how this particular one seemed to make her focus on all the things she hated, whereas the one at home was just a mirror. No evil powers or anything.
Conversation drifted through the house and Shelby followed it to the kitchen. Nate was chatting to her dad about the footy. Ah, how she’d missed Aussie Rules the last few years. For some reason, she couldn’t wrap her head around American football, so it was nice to hear some familiar sporting terms.
However, since there were no AFL teams located in any small towns, the residents were divided on who to support. Her dad was a die-hard Blues fan from way back, but Nate barracked for the Cats—it appeared to be a well-worn argument between them. She hovered for a moment, not wanting to interrupt their robust discussion. Especially knowing her dad valued it so much.
Despite her past with Nate, she really was grateful for the time he gave her father.
“Ah, Shelby. There you are.” Her dad smiled. He looked like he was moving a little better this morning, though it was still slow going. “Nate was just talking complete rubbish about the football.”
“I heard.” She looked at Nate and caught his eyes lingering on where her shorts stopped mid-thigh. But the second he realised he’d been caught, he cleared his throat.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Sure am.” She gave her father a peck on the cheek, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach.
It was ridiculous. She didn’t even feel this anxious about strutting her stuff on the runway in little more than her underwear, with cameras flashing and fashion bloggers ready to critique her every thigh dimple.
“Thanks for doing this for me, Shelby,” her father said, squeezing her hand as if he could hear the thoughts rattling around in her head. “You know I’d go if I could.”
“It’s fine.” She smiled brightly, unsure if it looked genuine. But she refused to let him see one ounce of her worries. If he wanted to protect her all the time, then she would do the same for him. “I’m here to help.”
“You’re a sweetheart.” He sipped his coffee then turned to Nate. “You take care of my girl, okay?”
She rolled her eyes. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”
Nate stifled a grin and bobbed his head, clearly not wanting to pick a side on that argument. As they walked out to the car, Shelby forced herself to look away from the frayed jeans that hugged Nate’s thighs like a dream…her dream, to be exact. Worn hems sat over a pair of work boots, his grey T-shirt stretched over a broad chest and broader shoulders. Her mouth watered.
What the hell is wrong with you?
When Nate held the passenger door for her, she mumbled her thanks and avoided eye contact. Clearly the slouchy socks weren’t the only teenage-years reboot—it seemed her social awkwardness had also made a comeback. Hopefully the zits didn’t follow.
“Ready to put your hands to work today?” Nate asked with a grin.
The car door slammed shut and Shelby jumped. “Uh-huh.”
Great, now she’d been reduced to syllables. Nate started the car’s engine and reversed out of the driveway with one hand. His other hand came to the back of her head rest as he turned and looked out of the rear window. At this close distance, each fleck of stubble caught the light. He had a touch of warmth there, a reddish gleam that only became visible if you were close enough to kiss.
And they were.
Her lips had craved his once. Craved his kiss with the kind of hormonal desperation only a teenager could experience. She’d doodled their names in her diary with cartoon hearts and flowers, fantasised about what she’d wear if he ever asked her out on a date. Hell, she’d even done that mortifying thing no girl would publicly admit too—practising making out with the inside of her elbow.
The day he had kissed her had been…everything. Until it wasn’t.
“Your dad has perked up since you arrived,” Nate commented as the car swung into the quiet street.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He cast a sidelong glance at her, his full lips softening. “He misses you.”
“Thanks for the guilt trip.” She picked at a loose stitch on her shorts.
“It’s true. You’re his only child. I wouldn’t respect him if he didn’t worship the ground you walked on.”
She discreetly tugged at the hem of her shorts and wished she’d worn jeans instead. Her palms smoothed over her thighs, trying to cover them, an old habit rearing its ugly head. “What makes you think he worships the ground I walk on?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Do you know how many times he told me that you were in ‘the Vogue’?”
Shelby chuckled. “Oh, dear.”
“He’s got so much to be proud of. You’ve done amazing things with your life.”
Her fingers drummed a nervous beat against her leg. “Thanks.”
“I mean it. Not many people make it in a big city, especially New York. You’ve got an apartment overlooking Central Park, your dad tells me. Must make Patterson’s Bluff seem like a blip on the map.” A slight bitterness coloured his voice.
“Well, it’s a sliver of a view.” For some reason she wanted to make light of her success, but she wasn’t sure why.
Tall Poppy Syndrome, maybe. No matter how long she’d been away from Australia, she couldn’t seem to shake that cultural quirk. It seemed safer this way, because people weren’t enticed to throw stones at those who didn’t draw attention to themselves.
He stopped at a red light, turning to watch her with an intensity that made her skin tingle with awareness. “You don’t consider this place home anymore, do you?”
Damn him. She wouldn’t feel bad about making herself over. And he might be a dyed-in-the-wool Bluffite, but that didn’t mean she had to be. “New York has nothing to do with the way I feel about this place. It’s all the shit that happened before I left.”
He nodded.
“What would you have done?” she asked, turning to watch him as he drove. His eyes were fixed on the road and she had a moment to catalogue him—from the proud nose to the thick head of dark hair to the sharp angle of his jaw. Rugged, masculine beauty. “Would you have stayed and tried to change people’s minds? Tell them that you were a person, and that your feelings had been hurt? That you cried yourself to sleep
every night?”
That maybe, just maybe, life would have been better if you didn’t have to eat.
Wishing that on herself had been a particularly low point in her teenage life. She’d even tried to throw up her meals on a few occasions, but sticking her fingers down her throat didn’t do anything. Gagging…then nothing. Just tears and self-loathing.
She wasn’t proud of it, but she’d learned that pretending it never happened wasn’t healthy either.
“I’m sorry. No one should have to feel like that.”
The apology cut through the soup-like tension in the car, deflating the pulsing frustration in her head. “I get it. You love this place because it’s been good to you. But you have to understand it hasn’t been good to me.”
If he’d been alone in the car, Nate would have given himself a good shake. Among the teaching staff he had a reputation for being the guy with no-holds-barred honesty. His wife had told him once that he’d benefit from having a verbal filter.
But what was the point of talking to people if you were going to play games?
He detested that stuff. Life would be so much easier if people just said what they meant instead of dancing around things. On this occasion, however, he should have employed a little more tact. “I’ve got foot- in-mouth disease, if you couldn’t tell.”
“I may have picked up on that.”
He thought about trying to explain himself further, but he’d pushed too hard as it was. It wasn’t his job to convince her that her hometown had more to offer than bad memories. And he really did understand why she was reluctant to see the good in Patterson’s Bluff.
Nate turned the car onto the road that would take them to the high school. This area was mercifully free of tourists. Not that Nate had anything against them, far from it. People flocked from the mainland during summer and injected cash into the town. Tourism was the key to the town’s wellbeing.
But hustle and bustle wasn’t something he enjoyed.
“It’s kind of refreshing, actually,” she said, breaking the quiet.
“What?”
“How blunt you are.”
