by Lynn Rae
“Nate must be home.”
“Who’s Nate?”
“My neighbor. Or maybe, I’m his neighbor since he was living here first. Mutual neighbors.” She shrugged and smiled broadly at him. Paul had the awful thought she was seeing this mystery Nate since she was so pleased at the idea of his return. His proximity would be convenient for staying home and watching a movie.
A man with a deep voice called out her name, and she replied she was in the back.
Emily patted his arm and rose to unlock her gate just as it started to rattle. As the wooden door opened, a muscular man with an uncanny resemblance to Superman entered with a smile for Emily and a narrowed gaze for Paul.
“Nate Garner, meet Paul Ellison. He helped me fix my dryer.”
Paul rose and shook the other man’s hand. Nate was tall, broad-shouldered, and young. He was wearing black boots, jeans, and a tight T-shirt that showed off a broad chest and big arms. He held a tight grip on Paul’s hand and gave him an evaluating stare.
“I could have done that. You should have let me know,” Nate said as he pulled up a spare metal chair to their small table and sat like he’d been invited. “What do you do, Paul?”
“He’s an engineering consultant, and he’s helping with the statue restoration I told you about,” Emily answered as she shifted the tray around to make room for the interloper. “I’ll just run in and get you a cup.”
She rushed off and left him alone with Mr. Macho. The man in question reached out a big hand and grabbed a small cookie.
“So, Emily.” Nate raised a dark eyebrow in an inquiry, and Paul wondered what he was supposed to say.
“She’s nice.” Paul fumbled to a stop.
“She’s very nice,” the other man agreed as he ate the cookie in one bite. “I try to watch out for her.”
“Good.” Paul hoped it was altruistic neighborliness motivating the other man, but he was well aware it was likely something more. There was no reason for him to speculate on whatever their relationship was. Emily’s friends or personal involvements were none of his business.
At that point in the awkward conversation, Emily returned with another decorated porcelain cup and saucer. “Here, Nate, let me pour you some tea. It’s hot.”
He accepted his cup with thanks and glanced between Paul and Emily as she settled back into her chair between the two of them.
“Electrical engineer.”
“That’s right.”
“Live here in Palmer long?”
“All my life.”
“Married?”
“Nathaniel!” Emily stopped the young man’s interrogation with a distressed exclamation.
“What? I’m making polite conversation over the tea table.” Nate slid Emily a sly glance before he grew serious and stared at Paul, one eyebrow quirked in a question.
“I was.”
“Ah, divorced.” The younger man twitched a shoulder and took a sip of scalding tea without a flinch.
“No.” Death was nothing like divorce other than both caused grief and regret. Emily’s mouth turned down and sadness filled her eyes as she watched him. There was no way he was going to tell her about Karen in front of the nosy neighbor. With a start, he realized he wanted to tell her, and soon.
“Kids?”
“A daughter.” If this guy asked anything about his daughter, Paul was going to lose his good mood. He had a feeling Courtney would find Nate Garner quite a temptation.
Nate ate another cookie as he sprawled back in his chair with confidence. Paul decided it was time to leave. He was old enough to know how to avoid pissing contests with young men.
“Emily, thank you for the tea. It’s time for me to go.” As he rose from his seat, Emily stood and pressed her fingers to his arm.
“Are you sure? You haven’t even had a cookie yet.” She looked away from him to glance at the plate now only containing crumbs. “Nice, Nate.”
The young man raised his broad shoulders and put on an innocent expression. Paul doubted he’d been innocent since toddlerhood. After shaking Nate’s hand one more painful time, Paul walked back to Emily’s house as she trailed along. Once they entered, he collected his tool bag from the laundry room and stopped when she reached out for his free hand.
“Thanks again. I really appreciate your help.” She stood in her small, neat kitchen and watched him with a wary gaze. “I’m sorry about Nate. He can be blunt.”
“Well, my sister was pretty rude to you earlier, so I guess it was my turn.”
“No, it’s not your turn. There was no reason for him to act like that.”
Oh, yes there was, even if she didn’t recognize it. Paul had dealt with enough territorial men to recognize when he was being warned off. Of course, he hadn’t been seen as a threat to another man’s woman in decades, but he still recognized all the signs with instinctive familiarity. He glanced out the window and saw Nate still slumped in the small patio chair taking up much more room than he should. “He’s watching out for you.”
“Nate?” Emily pursed her lips and shook her head firmly. “He’s just a neighbor who likes to know what’s going on. He’s as nosy as those little old ladies they show in the movies, the ones that keep track of every strange car and delivery.”
Paul realized with a description like that, it was unlikely Emily was interested in Nate. He smiled and Emily returned it with enthusiasm. She laid her hand on his arm. “I had fun with you. Except for when you burned your mouth. I hope you aren’t permanently damaged.”
At the reminder, Paul ran his tongue against his teeth. Only a little twinge. “No harm done.”
“Come on, I’ll walk you out.” She kept hold of his arm as she escorted him back through her small kitchen and cozy living room to stop at her front door. In an effort to take his mind off the pressure of her fingers against him, he glanced out the window looking out onto the street. Several small figurines lined the sill, Eiffel Tower in black metal, a ceramic leaning tower of Pisa, and a tin box painted to resemble Big Ben.
“What are those?”
She followed his gaze and shrugged her shoulders. “It’s my little travel altar. I look at those when I leave for work to remind myself why I’m doing it. Someday I’ll get to go.”
Her tone was equal parts dreamy and sad, and his heart lurched a little. The warm, gentle pressure of her hand was still on his arm, and he had the insane notion to lean down and kiss her. Not on the mouth of course, just a friendly, supportive peck on some neutral bit of skin. Before he could tell himself it was a bad idea, Emily lifted herself on her toes and grasped his shoulder as she pressed her lips to his cheek in a quick, soft caress. Before he could react, she returned to her space. The urge to pull her back was so strong it startled him, and he stepped away from her and ran right into the back of her sofa.
“Thank you so much for helping me.”
“You’re welcome. I’d better be going.” Emily nodded like she didn’t have a care in the world, like she’d never even touched him. Paul’s heart raced, and there was some sort of buzzing in his ears.
“Okay. I’ll see you later. At the meeting for sure. Maybe sooner.” Emily raised her eyebrows.
“Maybe.” Paul tore himself away from her and walked out of her house before he did something he’d regret.
Emily stood behind her next door neighbor and fumed. Nate knew she was there, because he’d turned his head slightly and was watching her out of the corner of his eye as a crafty smile curved his mouth.
“Come on over here and sit down before you let me have it. I don’t want a crick in my neck.”
Good Lord, he likes to order people around. Emily returned to her seat and had a sip of her drink, as if refreshment was the reason she was there. She placed the box of cookies on the table and handed Nate a cold cola, which she knew he preferred over tea. There was no way she could attempt to make coffee up to his standards, so soda would have to do. He’d only sipped his tea to make a point before. A point at her expense, or Paul�
��s, she wasn’t sure.
“I can’t believe how rude you were.”
“I wasn’t rude. I’m direct. Without guile or pretense.”
“Using guile correctly in a sentence is a good indicator that you have plenty.” Emily’s comment echoed the sourness of her mood. She’d been relaxed and happy with Paul this afternoon despite how mundane their activities were, and Nate had swaggered in and destroyed it. Then she’d gone and kissed Paul’s cheek like an idiot. What had she been thinking to put him in that position? He was probably calling his sister right now to resign from the committee.
“Just curious about the strange guy in your backyard. You can’t be too careful these days.”
She scoffed and daubed at a tiny spot of tea on the table.
“Hey, you’re built like Marilyn Monroe, and you have a heart of gold, so of course I’m going to quiz the guy.”
As if Paul was even interested in her body or her heart. Time to turn the tables. “If that’s true, why haven’t you ever asked me out?”
Nate leaned back even farther and drained his cola. “You know me; I’m the sort of guy who goes for doughnuts, not crème brûlée.”
“I should be offended you’re comparing women to desserts.”
“But you aren’t. Better turn in your feminist membership-card first thing.”
Emily huffed out a breath and stared at him. On the surface, Nate Garner was the embodiment of the bad boy every girl dreamed of, but once you got to know him, he was simply an annoying know-it-all. He quirked a grin at her and dug into the box of cookies with an excessive rattle of cellophane.
“So, you think he’s going to ask you to the Beater Dance?”
“It’s the Beat Beet Dance, and no, I’m sure he’s not even aware of it.” Or me, Emily thought. Not that she should be thinking that way about a man she barely knew. She hadn’t even known he’d had a wife or a daughter until Nate hammered it out of him. He was a widower, and knowing that made his quiet kindnesses more understandable.
“Uh-oh.”
“What?”
“You’ve got a look in your eye.”
“Of course I do, it’s what they’re there for.” She tried to glare at him but it was a failure as usual. Nate just grinned, completely unintimidated.
“Defensive.”
Emily decided not to play into his attempt to bait her and remained silent. Extremely nondefensive as a matter of fact.
“You like him.” Nate’s tone was mocking, and Emily took the high road by pouring herself a splash of tea and stirring the cup in a calm manner.
“No need to confirm. I’ve seen that look before, usually directed my way.”
“What an ego.”
“What? I’m honest. Women get that soft and gooey look all the time with me. Just like you did with old Paul.”
“He isn’t old.”
“Older than me. Older than you. Old enough to know better.” Nate lost the teasing twinkle in his eye and dropped the cookie box on the table. “Hey, Auntie Em, it’s just something to think about.”
She regretted ever telling Nate she’d become an aunt when she was ten years old. She’d been a late-in-life and completely accidental baby and could barely remember even living with her brother since he’d been in high school when she was born. Nate had instantly coined an embarrassing nickname. Better to focus on her dislike of the name than respond to what her neighbor was saying in his usual blunt-force way.
“How long have you known him?”
“A couple of weeks.”
Nate hummed and ate her last cookie with no expression of remorse. He worked as a short-order cook at the diner during the day and on weekends filled in as bouncer or bartender at his mother’s place, so he’d seen about every human drama play out in front of him. She didn’t want to become a future anecdote.
“Long enough to catch on that you’re into him. Does he know?”
“I’m not into him.” Denial was little comfort to Emily now. Nate knew what he was talking about, both from personal experience, which had to be vast, and from watching all the relationship dramatics he saw at the bar. Emily screwed her face up in dissatisfaction and pushed her toe at his booted foot in annoyance. “He’s not interested either, so it’s a nonissue.”
Nate rolled his eyes like a spoiled teenager. “Right.”
“He isn’t. I’m not. We’re just on a committee together and have run into each other a few times.”
“Palmer’s a small town. It’s possible you’ve run into him at random, but let me ask you this.” Nate gathered up the used tea things into neat stacks on her vintage aluminum tray just like he was busing a table at the diner where he worked. “Until you met him at that meeting, had you ever seen him before?”
“No,” Emily replied as she thought about it. “But I’ve only been here a few months.”
“Exactly my point. How likely is it you’re now coincidentally encountering someone after you’ve just met him? It’s either fate, or he’s stalking you.”
She scoffed automatically. As if that would even happen. Paul was too sweet and retiring to even contemplate such a thing. “You just met him and have diagnosed him as an obsessive-compulsive.”
With a chuckle, Nate rose and carried the tray toward the back door. “If you don’t like that scenario, then I guess it’s just destiny.”
Chapter 4
“What if we made some sort of big football helmet to put on him on Fridays?” Roger said, swinging his hands along his jowly face as if to demonstrate how it might work.
“Yeah, my wife would probably be able to come up with something made out of Styrofoam. Paint it red and it’d show up,” Dave replied with a thoughtful nod of his head.
Paul sighed. Dave and Roger were annoying him today. They’d met at the park to get some photographs of the statue so they’d have a reference for contacting restoration companies, but the other two men were too excited about the upcoming football game to do more than take casual snapshots of whatever caught their fancy. That left Emily and him to complete the more methodical camera work, which seemed to suit her. She had a checklist in hand and had borrowed a complicated camera from someone in the office, which had required a bit of mutual fussing to operate. Every time she asked him a question or smiled at him, he remembered that tiny kiss she’d given him in her kitchen. The twin bumps of her nose and chin against his cheek, the soft give of her lips against his skin, all those sensations kept intruding on his efforts to be nice and helpful. Despite the balmy temperature and sunny skies, the park was deserted, colorful fallen leaves swirling around them with every gust of wind.
“That sounds like a really bad idea,” Emily murmured under her breath as she made a note on her list. She had very pretty hands, small and smooth, with neat oval nails, buffed but not polished. Not that he should be making a study of her manicure habits.
“I agree,” Paul whispered back, shaking off his urge to lean closer to her and see if she was wearing any perfume. “Hey, you guys, there’s no way Shelly will sign off on something like that.”
“You got that right! Last thing I want is to piss her off. She’d send some inspector out to my house and bust me for substandard wiring in my new game room.” Dave grinned like a manic fool.
“She’s a real ballbuster. Excuse my language.” Roger glanced at Emily with faux remorse, and Paul tamped down his irritation with the two overgrown boys. They’d begun to sprinkle their conversation with profanities again, and although Emily hadn’t mentioned anything, he knew she felt uncomfortable. It was clear in the line of her hunched shoulders and averted gaze every time they did it.
The men in question whispered something between them and then burst out laughing, and Emily turned away to glance at the nearly deserted park.
Paul couldn’t worry about what Roger and Dave were sniggering about as he walked over to their pile of equipment. Emily was determined to take a picture of the Ellison foot soldier from the top of a stepladder and the ground underfoot was s
o uneven, he knew she’d take a tumble if he didn’t hold it steady. Therefore, he ignored the other two men as they pointed at the statue.
He picked up the ladder and set it up where Emily indicated she’d like it.
“Do you have me?” Emily looked at him, her green eyes narrowed with focus. She was approaching this restoration with the zeal of a person with something to prove, and he was going to do his best to help her.
“I have you.”
With a dip of her chin, she stepped up the ladder, camera clutched in one hand, and the other gripped the side of the wood ladder as she rose. Paul did not look at her rear end. The ladder wobbled, and she let out a squeak. With a worried sigh, he got closer to her, wedged a foot on the bottom step and circled his arm around the backs of her knees. She was wearing corduroys, and the soft material didn’t obscure the movements of her legs as she shifted to keep her balance. With a start, Paul realized his face was at the same level as her—no. With a shake of his head he stared at Great-Great-Uncle Peter’s large bronze feet.
“Thanks. I’m going to give it a shot.”
“Go for it,” Paul said, keeping a wary eye on the other two men as they circled away, out of sight behind the monument’s base. They were probably trying to sneak off again, although the closest restaurant was a block away.
Emily’s warm, soft thigh pressed against his shoulder as she took pictures rapidly all while mumbling under her breath. The statue stared at him, and Paul stared back. When he was a kid he’d often looked for his own features on the bronze face and had always been unsure. But now that he was older, he told himself their noses were similar, as were their builds. Of course, that would only make sense if the sculptor had done a life study of poor Great-Great-Uncle Peter and not used a generic cast.
Emily wriggled against his body, and he looked up at her. She held out the camera, and he took it as she edged her way down.
“I think I got what I needed,” she said as she stepped onto the grass.
