—THIRTEEN—
Nate could have sworn Nan had a sixth sense for when he came and went, because he was pretty sure she was supposed to be manning the popcorn stand at the high school football game tonight, but instead she was sitting on her porch when he closed the walk-out basement door behind him. She was clearly dressed for the game, so maybe his timing was off an hour or two. Or maybe she had called in late specifically so she could be nosy.
"And where are you off to?"
"You haven't asked me that since I was seventeen, Nan."
"Well, I'm just glad to see you going out."
"I leave the house every day. I didn't think I had a choice." He stopped, narrowing his eyes at his grandmother. She'd always had a keen sense for what was really going on underneath everything. It was what made her so invaluable to those who were down on their luck in the community. She noticed and remembered every progressive sniffle or cough and showed up on your doorstep with a pot of chicken soup and a little extra attention when the cold was the worst.
"Don't think that went unnoticed, either. You specifically told me you were coming home to wallow."
"You told me I had two weeks to feel sorry for myself. You should be happy I've already snapped out of it."
"Doesn't have anything to do with who you're chauffeuring around lately, does it?"
He tipped his head down, giving her a teasingly warning look. Nan didn't dance around any subject for long when it came to her grandsons. She was much gentler to those she wasn't related to by blood.
"And if I said it did?" There was no sense lying to Nan, but he could dance around any topic for at least twice as long as she did. Maybe he'd get out of here without having to detail all of his plans.
Nan sat back with a look of satisfaction that told him he wouldn't.
"I'd say that's good."
"You had nothing to do with this, you know. She turned me down twice. And she only gave in this time because she figured she owed me for playing taxi. So don't sit there like the cat that ate the canary, like you put any of this into play."
His grandmother's eyes crinkled at the corners with the smile she pursed her lips to try to hide.
"Unless you broke that thermostat on purpose…" He shook his head, then laughed. "No, you're devious but not that devious. But did you really have bread going in the oven when her car broke down?"
"I did." Nan nodded fervently. "It just might have still had thirty minutes of rising time left."
He narrowed his eyes briefly at her and turned toward his truck.
"Well, I haven't actually taken her out yet, so don't start congratulating yourself. She was reluctant enough that this could still fail."
"If she said yes, she'll go. So you have a good time, sweetheart." His grandmother rose, pausing. "And take the girl flowers. She deserves flowers at the door."
Right. Flowers. He glanced at his truck—if he didn't get moving soon he'd be running late, and he didn't want to give her any excuse to turn the tables on him and back down.
"I'll stop at Turner's on my way."
"Don't be silly, that's not on the way," Nan fussed, taking a large bouquet from where it had been waiting in a vase on her little round bistro table. He hadn't noticed it immediately, because Nan had an enormous garden she took great pride in, and the house had always been filled with fresh flowers. Something to keep her busy in her retirement, she'd said, as if she wasn't busy enough. This one was tied with a broad purple ribbon. She extended it over the railing of her porch toward him.
"Is this why you're late for the popcorn stand? So you could give me flowers to give to Layla, because you knew I wouldn't think that far ahead?"
"Betsy has it under control. It doesn't get busy until the end of the first quarter anyway. This is the first time I've had a chance to see you off on a date in ten years."
He frowned at her, taking the flowers. It was a beautiful selection of the fullest summer blossoms, and the broad ribbon under his fingers was silky with a fancy bow. Clearly not something she'd just had together for decoration.
"How did you even know I was going out tonight, anyway?"
"I'll never reveal my sources."
He narrowed his eyes. "You are absolutely impossible."
"To live without," Nan filled in, laughing. "You've had your share of being impossible. It's my turn. Besides, you're gonna wanna put up with me—I have an in with that girl."
"So you've been plying her with casseroles and loaves of bread because you knew this moment was coming?"
Nan's eyes twinkled with mischief.
"Impossible." Nate shook his head with a laugh as he walked toward his truck, raising his voice so she'd hear. "I'm leaving. Because if I spend too much more time with my impossible grandmother, I'm going to be late for my date."
Nan didn't respond, but she stood at the edge of her porch and he could see her waving until she was a tiny pinprick in his rearview mirror.
—FOURTEEN—
"Ugh, what are you even thinking?" Layla asked her reflection as she tugged at the hem of her shirt. She'd changed three times and she couldn't stop fiddling. The soft lavender tank top she'd settled on was probably the newest item in her wardrobe, and even it had come from Goodwill. And only because the hot summer sun had forced her to pick up some new wardrobe items. It wasn't often she did things for herself, least of all go out. She had no business going out on a date with Nate Montgomery. Not only was it an unnecessary and somewhat dangerous luxury, he was way out of her league. She barely had two cents to rub together and she was pretty sure people who posed on winner's podiums with giant checks made out to them had a lot more than that. They'd spent a couple nights together, but that was a long time ago, and it had never been intended to be anything more than what it was. Filling a passing need.
"What?" Kerri asked from the hallway, where she was heading toward the tub with Mason. This way there was no chance of Nate coming in and seeing the baby. And she'd grabbed the exersaucer off the porch on her way in after Kerri picked her up from work.
"Nothing." Layla glanced over her shoulder, then back to the mirror with a sigh. It wasn't going to get any better than this. Not in ten minutes. Maybe…ten years.
"You look nice, Lay." Kerri stopped in the doorway with a still spaghetti-sauce-stained Mason on her hip. "You're gonna knock his socks off."
Her stomach flip-flopped, and she reminded herself this was just a date. A date with a cute guy. It was for fun, and it would only happen once, so she was just going to let herself enjoy it. She hadn't done that in a good long time. Putting on a smile, she turned to the pair in the doorway. Mason babbled happily and reached for her, and she started toward him, never faltering, even when she saw the red handprints on Kerri's shirt. She took him in her arms, all the bits of her that were strung out on nerves coming back where they belonged for a brief moment as she held him against her chest. She drew in a calming breath and exhaled slowly, stirring the downy blond hairs on his head.
"I could cancel."
Kerri's brow shot up and she held her hands out for the baby again.
"Not a chance."
"It's reasonable, right?"
"No." Kerri pried the baby out of Layla's arms and shook her head. "You haven't gone out in at least eight months. You're going out if I have to push you out the door with my bare hands. Have fun. Relax."
Layla did a quick inspection of her shirt—no spaghetti sauce stains; a sign and a miracle, because the rumble of Nate's diesel engine rolled into the yard and she didn't have any more time for dilly-dallying, unless she wanted him on the porch looking into her house. Which she didn't.
"Be good, love you," she said, planting a quick kiss on Mason's cheek. She jetted for the door, grabbing her purse off the island on the way through the kitchen, and darted out the door, running head long into the broadest, warmest chest. Her hands shot out to catch herself at the same time Nate's fingers found her waist, steadying her, and a jolt of electricity ran through her. The firm musc
les of his pecs under her fingers were covered only by the thinnest t-shirt, and the memory of what they felt like bare, with a faint slick of sweat on them was just as close as they were. This was bad. This was real bad.
"Whoa, easy. What's the rush?" His voice was quiet in the space between them.
She brightened up her smile and looked up to him. There weren't many men in the town of Three Rivers that outranked her height, but Nate was a big man, and in a weird way, the size he had on her made her feel much more feminine. It was nice, for a change, not to be towering over a man.
"Just excited."
"Good," he said, a smile stretching across his face. He hadn't released her and his mouth was so close all she'd have to do was rise up on her tiptoes to have a taste. The memory of his taste would come back just as quickly as the memory of his skin under her fingertips; fingertips that were still splayed across his chest because he still had a firm hold on her waist. This was why she'd said no initially. Because she couldn't be this close and not want him. Wanting something when you were in her position was dangerous. It lead to irrational behavior and someone almost always got hurt—almost always her. "I'm excited, too."
He lifted a huge bouquet of fresh cut flowers; she'd been so wrapped up in the feel and smell of him she hadn't noticed he'd had them. The only person who brought her flowers was Nan—when she'd been in the hospital after having Mason, and now when she visited she brought them. She suspected these were sourced from Nan too, but she was still touched. Her heart twisted a little. So far, she was losing the battle of 'just for fun' and 'not wanting'.
She swallowed back tears and let out a breath.
"These are beautiful, Nate. Thank you."
He held her gaze for a long moment and she was sucked in, so much she only saw the crinkling around his eyes and realized he was smiling. He clearly liked getting the reaction out of her almost as much as she had enjoyed what had produced it.
"You're welcome. Now you wanna get out of here?"
She nodded, cradling the flowers in the crook of her arm—going inside to put them in water would put her in an awkward position and besides, she wanted to look at them for a minute longer. He touched the small of her back, his warm fingers sending a shiver up her spine as they turned and headed for his truck, and she did what she could about the butterflies.
—FIFTEEN—
The drive to Yvette's was second nature for Nate. Or at least it had been when he was younger. It had been a few years, but Finn assured him it still existed and the food was still as good as ever. It had been a popular spot to hang out when they were in high school, and the go-to date destination within thirty miles. The food at Hinkley's was good, but if you wanted a chance to spend some face time without every other person who walked in the door stopping for small talk, Yvette's was the spot.
Layla had never joined them there. Now that he thought about it, she'd never spent a Friday night at Yvette's with them, or the swimming hole, or in the barns at the fair rodeo. Those were some of the best memories of his life in Three Rivers, cementing his bond with people he could still count on ten years later. And she'd missed it. So he was going to cover a lot of ground quickly.
He signaled and turned off the highway, watching Layla sit up straighter in his peripheral vision.
"Are we…?"
He couldn't help but smile at the childlike eagerness in her voice.
"Yep." She'd leaned forward a bit, but when she caught him glancing over at her, she settled back into the seat, trying to downplay how excited she was. "I haven't had one of these burgers in a dog's age. 'Sides, I thought it would be nice for you to get out of town for a bit."
"Nate, that's…" She paused, and he considered how much he enjoyed doing things that made her lose her words like that—like bringing her those flowers from Nan, but how heartbreaking it was they were the smallest things. Like nobody had ever given her the time of day. "That's really nice of you to think of that."
He hit his blinker and pulled into the little dirt lot where Yvette's, a refurbished travel trailer, was parked. It had been outfitted with fryers, a big neon sign, and old Christmas lights; the most unassuming roadside canteen, it served the best burgers in Colorado as far as he was concerned. Yvette had been a school teacher before retiring, so it had always run seasonal and was usually pretty busy on weekends in the summer, but weeknights were quiet. There were a couple of cars in the lot and a handful of the scattered covered picnic tables were occupied, but it was what he had hoped for. Some one-on-one time, with almost no risk of running into anyone who might try to redirect his attention from her.
"When's the last time you left Three Rivers?" he asked, killing the engine and unbuckling.
"I can't even remember," she said all too quickly, but her deer-in-the-headlights eyes told him she remembered, she just wasn't willing to spill. He bet it had to do with the thing he'd seen on her front porch; the nearest hospital was outside of town limits, and while she had proven to be about as independent as they come, he was pretty sure she hadn't done that on her own.
"Ah well, I intend for you to remember this excursion."
His words made her blush, and the reaction made him feel like a million bucks. He'd spent a good year feeling about as useful as a piece of shit wedged in the heel of a cowboy boot, but if he could still make a woman smile, maybe he was doing all right after all.
He opened his door and climbed out, glancing back at her, still buckled in and wiping her palms on the thighs of her jeans
"You're not chickening out on me, are you?" he asked, feeling her nerves in the small space of the cab between them.
She let out a whoosh of a breath and brightened almost immediately. He'd seen it before, the automatic smile when anyone tried to get under her skin and figure out what made her tick.
"Never."
"That's my girl."
She blushed more, but she got out of the truck—without hesitation, this time, so he counted that as a point for him.
Once they got their food, they sat down one of the picnic tables with nobody nearby. After the appropriate comments about how amazing the burgers and shakes were, they settled into quiet, but not for long.
"So, I noticed Kerri was helping you again tonight."
"What?" Layla looked up, wetting her lips.
"Her car. It was in your yard tonight when I showed up. She peeling wallpaper or laying tiles?"
"Uh…" She let out a huff of a breath, and he felt bad for having cornered her. But he wanted her to know he knew and didn't care if she had a kid. He'd discovered a few things worse than a woman with a child during the period of his life he sometimes referred to as the 'buckle bunny buffet'.
"She's babysitting, right?" He tipped his head down, doing his best to relay the rest of his message. It's okay. I don't care. I still want you. God, do I ever want you.
Her lower lip trembled and he regretted it immediately.
"Um, yes." Her voice shook the same way her lip had, and then she tipped her chin up, much the same way she had when he'd looked appraisingly at her house that first night when he dropped her off after work. In the blink of an eye, she'd gone from defeated to proud, and strong. He wished he could be as strong, as brave. More than anything, he wanted to reach out and slide his finger along that stubborn jaw and touch her lips.
"I saw the toy on your porch and I figured."
She pushed her burger basket away from her a little bit, like she was done with the date. "I'm sorry I didn't mention it, Nate. I understand if you…"
Bless her, she thought he was done with the date. He wasn't even close.
"If I what?"
"If you want to just call it a night and go home." She was offering him an out. The take it or leave it attitude was brave. And smart. And he would take it.
"Why would I want to call off a perfectly good date when you've got a babysitter hired for the night?" he teased, dropping an eyelid in a wink. "Now don't let that good Baylor beef go to waste."
*
It took a couple minutes and a few good appraising looks at Nate's face for the tension to drain out of her and her appetite to return. She'd been making plans to get back to Three Rivers on foot when he quietly tucked back into his burger like nothing had happened at all. Her heart had jack-hammered when she'd realized maybe this entire date thing was just some kind of ploy to get her hopes up and make her look like an idiot. A cruel ploy, yes; something well beyond anything she could ever imagine Nate Montgomery doing in a million years, but a small part of her was still the unpopular grade school girl that had been invited to a birthday party in the fifth grade and had turned up to nobody there except two girls, hiding, to see her reaction when she realized she'd been tricked. A part of her was still distrustful about kind gestures, and this could have easily fallen into that category.
Except it didn't. Because Nate was still sitting across from her, quietly working at his platter of fries, glancing up every now and again to steal a look at her, and his eyes hadn't changed at all. If he'd come to the conclusion she had a child the day he'd seen the exersaucer, he'd clearly had time to come to terms with it. But if it was that easy for this little secret to come out, would she be able to hide the fact Mason was his from him for any period of time?
"I don't know why I didn't think somebody in town would tell you about the baby eventually. It's not like nobody knows. It's just not how I wanted to lead when you were asking me out." She shrugged; she could give him this much honesty.
"I get that," Nate said, nodding. "But you don't have to keep any secrets from me, okay?"
Having just one person in this world who knew everything that went on inside her head—all her secrets and worries and fears—would have been a huge relief. Nate Montgomery wasn't that person—couldn't be—despite his offer.
She tried a smile.
"A girl's got to have some secrets."
"Of course. But the heavy ones, the important ones…I can take them." He leaned forward, leveling with her across the wood table, so serious she stopped chewing her fries.
Secret Heart Page 7
