Déjà Date

by Hatler, Susan

  That’s when I noticed the motorcycle parked ahead of me in the driveway. Nate. What in the world was he doing here?

  Chapter Six

  Sitting behind the wheel of my car, I stared at Nate and my mom who were deep in conversation on her tiny front porch. They didn’t seem to notice me parked in the driveway, and I wondered what they could possibly be talking about so intently. Had Nate dropped by just to say hi to her? Had he come by to see me? Although, that made no sense since I didn’t live here anymore.

  Whatever the reason, Nate’s being here was problematic for two reasons. First, I needed to beg and plead that my mom advance me my inheritance, since those potential buyers were coming to the bakery on Friday, and I couldn’t very well do that with Nate (or any other witness) standing nearby. And second, Nate stood facing my mom at the front door, giving me way too good a view of his backside, which caused my belly to go up in flames.

  I’m sorry, but it really should be against the law for him to wear jeans that snug. How did he expect me to stay “just friends” with him when he looked that hot? It was so not my fault that I wanted to slide my hands over every inch of him and feel his rippling muscles. My mind immediately flashed to our delicious kisses the other night, leaving me wanting a repeat right here, and right now. . . .

  Focus, Melinda. Focus!

  I shook my head, knowing I could not lose Bernie’s Bakery. Customer service work would make me even more miserable now that I’d tasted what it was like to be at my dream job.

  Mentally pumping myself up to convince my mom to advance the money, I got out of the car, walking my wiener dog along beside me using the leash Sarah had loaned me until I had the time to buy—make that charge on my credit card—a collar and leash of my own.

  Ruff! Ruff!

  My four-legged hot dog raced toward the porch, yanking so hard on the leash that her collar tightened around her neck and she started gasping. Not that this slowed her down at all. Despite what had to be a terribly uncomfortable position, she continued thrusting forward until she came close enough to jump obsessively on Nate’s pant leg.

  Ruff! Ruff!

  Without flinching, he stared down at my little yipper with his gorgeous jade-green eyes framed with long dark lashes—ah, I remember when I had a calmer less complicated life—then his gaze caught mine as I approached. “Hey, Melinda.” His eyes lit up. “Does this belong to you?”

  “Yes, she does.” I smiled proudly, my gaze dropping to where my pooch was sniffing Nate’s boot. “Her main hobby seems to be licking whatever she can get her tongue on, though, so consider yourself warned.”

  He knelt down beside my little pup, and started scratching both sides of her long neck with his fingers. “What’s her name?”

  “Haven’t picked one yet.” I watched Nate get all affectionate with my dog, and his actions only ignited the flame in my belly. He really needed to stop before I started getting affectionate with him. “I just picked her up from a dog rescue last night.”

  “Sweetheart, you finally got another dog.” My mom’s mouth spread into a wide smile, and she brought both of her hands to her chest, twisting her pearls. “That’s wonderful.”

  “It’s also task number one on Dad’s Carpe Diem list,” I said, giving her a meaningful look. In addition to wanting to know what Nate was doing here, I really needed my mom to listen to reason regarding my inheritance. “We need to talk that list. Um, alone.”

  Still rubbing his hands over my pup, Nate tilted his head up, squinting. “That a hint for me to take off?”

  “Well, I—” I was in mid-sentence when the neighbor’s tabby cat, Muffy, suddenly darted across the porch, letting out a loud Meowrr! when she caught sight of my pup.

  Apparently Muffy was more enticing to my new pooch than Nate was, because she chased the cat unexpectedly, yanking her leash out of my grip.

  “Hey!” I shouted as the end of the leash followed my hyper pup, who dashed after Muffy. I watched in shock as my wiener dog disappeared down the sidewalk at full speed, her browns ears flopping up and down. “Come back, girl!”

  She ignored me, of course.

  I gripped the sides of my head, starting to panic. “What if she runs into the street and gets hit by a car?”

  “I’m on it.” Nate’s voice sounded heroic to my ears as he darted after my galloping hot dog, his muscular legs pounding up and down against the pavement in true super hero fashion.

  “This is a disaster!” I cried out, glancing quickly at my mom’s wide-eyed expression before I dropped my purse and keys to hurry after them. As I pumped my arms as fast as I could, I found myself wishing I hadn’t worn heels today. Each painful clomp against the cemented walk had me rethinking dressing like I’d stepped out of a magazine.

  Forget that other women found my appearance intimidating, dressing up was just not practical when your disobedient dog took off randomly after the neighbor’s cat with no regard to her safety or my feet—not to mention my feet had already been aching after standing in heels for thirteen hours at the bakery yesterday and six hours so far today.

  I rounded the corner, glancing up and down the street, but nobody was in sight. Not the cat, the dog, or Nate. My heart squeezed. Where had they gone? Taking off my shoes, I trotted to the end of the block, then scanned my surroundings. Across the street at my favorite park, I spotted them. My wiener dog had literally treed the cat, and Nate now had a hold of my crazy dog’s leash.

  As I made my way across the street, Nate led my pup over to the swing set. He sat in my favorite swing, while my pup dug her nose in the sand beneath him. Then her ears pricked up as I approached, and she trotted over to me, wagging her tail.

  Relieved that she was safe, I squatted down next to her, cupping her face in my hands. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

  In answer, she nudged her nose in my palm and began licking there. I let out a breath, waiting for all of the tension to ease out of me. It didn’t. Now that my dog was safe, I still had my mom to deal with. And Nate. I glanced over at the swing.

  The corner of his mouth turned up. “Looks like I’m a handy guy to have around, after all. Wouldn’t you say?”

  “In this case, I would most definitely agree.” I smiled, then tied the leash around the beam, watching my pup sniffing at a rock in the sand. Then I eased onto the other swing, gripping a chain with each hand. “Why were you at my mom’s house, anyway?”

  “You mentioned that your dad wanted his ashes sprinkled over the Sierras from a hot air balloon. Well, I found a friend of a friend who’s willing to take me up and look the other way while I carry out your dad’s wishes. Your mom and I decided this Sunday would work best.”

  Of course Nate would know someone rebellious who was willing to break the rules. I sighed. Then a cold chill rolled through me as I realized what that meant. My throat tightened. “Today’s Wednesday. So that means in a few days the last remains of my dad will be gone.”

  He reached over, and caressed my cheek. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that must be. I hope you don’t mind that I offered to help. I really liked your dad, and felt bad that your mom was having trouble carrying out his final wish.”

  My eyes burned. “He had a lot of last wishes,” I said quietly. Then I shook my head, thinking about his Carpe Diem list—especially task number four. I glanced over at Nate who was watching me intently, and I sucked in a breath. “In my dad’s letter, he said I had to fix my biggest regret . . .”

  “I remember.” He lifted my hand from where I’d gripped the chain, then laced his fingers through mine, stroking the groove between my thumb and index finger. His jade-green eyes darkened with emotion. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Thanks for offering, but there’s nothing anyone can do to help.” A bitter laugh escaped. Then my gaze blurred and a boulder formed in my throat. “My biggest regret is that I never went up in a hot air balloon with my dad. It’s what he loved doing most in the world. He was even thinking about starting a
tour business. Did you know that?”

  The corners of his mouth turned downward and he shook his head.

  “He absolutely loved being up there.” I glanced up at the baby-blue sky, fighting to hold my tears in. “He kept inviting me to join him, but I’m scared of heights. So I always turned him down. The night before the accident, he’d asked me to go up with him the next day and I’d wanted to say yes. But I didn’t.”

  A horrified expression crossed Nate’s handsome features, and his hand tightened around mine. “I’m glad you didn’t go that day.”

  I stared off in the distance, knowing it was no use begging my mom for the inheritance until I’d at least lined up all four tasks. “My biggest regret is that I didn’t go up in the hot air balloon ride with him, and that’s something I can’t fix now that he’s gone. I’ll never be able to complete his Carpe Diem list.”

  “That’s not exactly true.” He stared at me intently, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “You have one last chance on Sunday when I take your dad up for his final ride.”

  Chills vibrated through me, along with a tingle of hope. “But he’s dead. . . And those are only his ashes. He won’t know I’m up there with him.”

  “Maybe he will and maybe he won’t. But you’ll know. Won’t you?”

  I bit my lip, wondering if there was any possibility my dad would be aware I went up with him—that I’d finally been brave. “Um, when I said that I’m scared of heights that was kind of an understatement. Petrified is probably a more accurate word.”

  Slipping off his seat, he came around in front of my swing. “You can do it, princess.”

  Tingles flittered across my chest at the nickname my dad had always called me.

  “I’ll be with you the entire time.” His tone made it sound like a stroll in the park instead of my greatest fear realized. Then he proceeded to grip both edges of my seat, his hands brushing against my hips.

  Ignoring the flitters in my belly, I raised my brow. “You’ll stay with me even if I’m hyperventilating and clawing into you with my nails?”

  “Even then.” He pushed me up high in front of him like he’d done that last day when we were fourteen. The edges of his mouth curled. “Nothing can scare me away from you ever again.”

  “Nothing?” I whispered as a traitorous ripple of excitement ran through me, sparking another sense of déjà vu. I had been fourteen. Nate had lifted me high in the swing and held me there, suspended with anticipation before he leaned forward and kissed me.

  Then he’d disappeared.

  Remembering why I needed to keep my distance from him, I slid off the seat, wiggled under his arm, and went to get my dog. The bakery was my primary focus and this pointless flirtation with Nate was distracting me.

  Instantly, he caught my elbow then swung me back around so I was facing him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Just leaving.” I tried not to concentrate on how close he was standing to me, or on the way his shirt stretched across his muscular chest, giving me the irrational urge to slide my hands over him. I avoided his gaze, afraid he’d be able to read my thoughts. “I have to find a way to buy the bakery before it’s too late. Potential buyers are coming to look at the building on Friday.”

  “I know.” He lifted my chin so my gaze met his. “But didn’t we just solve that problem? If you go up in the hot air balloon with me on Sunday, then you’ll have completed the list and can have your inheritance money to buy the bakery.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll only have completed three of the tasks. I still haven’t dated someone who leaves me breathless.”

  “Now that sounds like an invitation.” Suddenly, he pulled me into his arms, then, with his arm securely around me, he dipped me as if we were dancing—so low that I felt the ends of my hair skim along the sand. The air rushed out of my chest and I stared into jade-green eyes framed by dark lashes, wondering if he was going to kiss me. I found myself hoping he would.

  He leaned closer until his mouth was barely a millimeter away. “Do you, or do you not, feel breathless?” he whispered.

  I gasped for air. “This . . . is not a date,” I managed to get out.

  “I’ll give you that.” He swooped me upright, then grinned. “But the other night was a date. I brought you dinner on the rooftop, and a lovely bottle of Bordeaux. There was also candlelight, which you ruined by turning on the rooftop lights. But the candles were still there burning. Dinner, plus wine, plus candlelight, plus kissing, equals a date.”

  “You and I are not dating,” I said, despite the fact that he’d almost just kissed me and I was dying to make him kiss me for real. An invisible tug pulled me to him and it took all of my strength to resist.

  Nate held a hand up. “We’ll argue about our relationship status another time. And I’ll win. But if you’d just let me call my dad, I’m sure he’d take the bakery off—”

  “No,” I said, firmly. “Bernie can’t have any more stress. He has to make the decision that’s best for him, not the one that’s best for me.”

  He let out an exasperated breath. “You’re being entirely too stubborn about that, but fine. At least talk to your mom. Tell her you’ll have the Carpe Diem list completed on Sunday so she should release your inheritance funds early. Convince her.”

  “That’s what I was trying to do earlier, when someone took off running after the neighbor’s cat.” I pointed an accusatory finger in the direction of my dog, who I noticed had dug a hole in the sand so deep she’d reached something dark and mucky that was now covering her snout as well as parts of her legs.

  Ruff! Ruff!

  Great. On top of everything else, now I needed to give my dog another bath.

  I felt a pinch in the spot between my brows. “Why must she get into so much trouble? I swear that little brown hot dog is my love and my torment all rolled into one.”

  Nate smirked, then bent down to pet her, and she began energetically licking his arms. “I think she sweet.”

  My mouth twisted as his word echoed in my head. “You know what else is sweet, brown, and tortures me?”

  His face brightened. “Me?”

  “You’re not brown,” I answered, since he was technically correct in the other aspects. Then I smiled, thinking of those chocolate marshmallow treats that had seduced me again after fourteen years. “Fudge. It’s the perfect name for her.”

  He lifted her up from under her arms, holding her out so she was peering straight at him, legs dangling. “Is your name Fudge?”

  Ruff! Ruff! Her tail propelled back and forth so fast, I was afraid she might fall out of his grip.

  “She likes that name.” He set her down on the sand, holding the end of her leash tightly as she scampered toward the edge of the sandbox so fast she started choking herself on the collar again. He gave me a side-glance. “Now you’ll have something to call her when she takes off again.”

  “Great.” I shook my head, smirking, suddenly remembering all of the mischief Checkers had gotten into when I’d had him. He had actually eaten one of the plastic chips from my Checkers game, which was how he’d earned his name. “Let’s go back to my mom’s house, so I can throw myself at her mercy.”

  “It’s a plan,” Nate said, leading Fudge along next to him.

  Together, the three of us left the park, heading for my mom’s house. And when I glanced down at Fudge, for a moment I swear I saw the faint image of Checkers trotting happily beside her. Tongue hanging out of his mouth, he met my gaze with light in his eyes, then he veered in the opposite direction.

  With tears in my eyes, I watched him continue running off in the distance, then he slowly faded away. I’d always miss him, but I was finally ready to let him go. And for the first time since that awful day so many years ago, even more than the pain of losing him . . . I remembered the love.

  Chapter Seven

  Although I had begged and pleaded to my mom on Wednesday, she refused to advance any of my inheritance funds until my dad’s Carpe Die
m list was completed. I was beyond frustrated with her.

  I’d pointed out the very obvious fact that my dad had most likely assumed that I’d complete the Carpe Diem list by the time I turned eighteen, and that if my mom hadn’t waited to open his letter then I would’ve had his list fourteen years ago—thus the list would be done already. In turn, she’d pointed out that I’d rejected the funds when I was eighteen and also several times thereafter. Then she had the nerve to tell me that I was lucky she hadn’t given the money away liked I’d originally told her to.

  Her very annoying point infurtiated me since I couldn’t exactly argue with her logic. Then she’d annoyingly proclaimed that everything happened for a reason. “What reason would be good enough for me to lose the bakery?” I’d shot back.

  My mom’s face had grown stern, like I hadn’t seen since my dad had died. “You’re missing the whole reason behind your dad’s Carpe Diem list. The tasks are more important than the insurance money. Period.”

  “Easy for you to say when you’re not the one who’ll have to work in a job you hate!” I’d countered, then stormed off.

  Needless to say, the exchange had not been pretty.

  When Friday morning came, I tried to convince myself that everything with the bakery really would work out the way it was supposed to, but those thoughts immediately felt like a load of garbage. In the past week, I’d grown more attached to the bakery than ever, and I knew coming this close to my dream then losing it would devastate me. But I didn’t know what else I could do.

  I’d worn flats to work today, but I’d still done myself up “like I’d stepped out of a fashion magazine” as Mary Ann had put it. This time, though, I wasn’t dressing up to lose my ugly duckling rep, or to cover up of any of my (many) insecurities. Although I wasn’t sure how to make myself less intimidating, I liked my clothes and the way I looked so I wasn’t making any changes—other than wearing more comfortable shoes since I’d be on my feet all day.