by R. T. Wolfe
She found herself a little speechless as she moved out of his way. The boys followed at his heels. "I'm sorry, Nathan, wait—stop! I said eight. You're... early."
He walked through to the kitchen. "I said we're here to help, not socialize. I have great southern hospitality. I imagine anyone who waits until the day before Christmas Eve to put up lights might also wait until the last minute to get ready for guests. You have a nice home," he added, moving his eyes in a first-time-around glance. He paused at the traditional lattice detail garnishing the corners of the entrance to the dining room. "What did you do with all your furniture?"
The crooked smile softened her... a little. "There was a fire. Can I speak with you privately?" She forced a grin as she tilted her head at the boys, still frozen, each with their dish of food and bulging brown eyes. She squatted down in front of them. "Duncan, Andy, I have new boxes of toys the clerk at the store said were the latest thing. They're some kind of monster-type people with cars that match. I don't know that much about them. Do you think I could take that food from you and maybe you could get them out of the boxes and try them out for me? The children will have plenty to play with tonight at Mr. Piper's, and I don't want to send over new toys if they aren't any good. That could be very embarrassing."
"Yes, ma'am," Duncan said.
Nathan took their coats and hung them over the newel post of the staircase. He ran his hand up the rail. "Walnut. It's what I'm planning to use on mine."
The boys wore nice jeans and shirts. Their hair was cut short and neat around their ears and necks. They sat down on the carpet in the family room next to the boxes and began tearing them open as she made her way to the kitchen.
She noted Nathan's sweater matched the blue of his eyes, making them all the more striking. His hair waved slightly at the ends. "Listen, we could discuss the walnut stairs at eight; I don't have time right now to entertain—"
Nathan opened the back doors. "We'll save that for later, then. It looks like you have plenty on the deck that needs to be moved. Where to?" He walked back in carrying the cooler that was filled with hard lemonade.
Brie tried to think of something catchy to say but simply pointed to the opening leading downstairs.
When the drinks were settling on ice in wicker-covered metal buckets around the house, they moved to transfer the kitchen table to the dining room. Talk centered mostly on the boys and where they had lived. Every few minutes they would hear a loud, 'That's not fair!' or noises that sounded surprisingly similar to loaded sports cars.
"When is the rest of your family coming?" she asked before she realized how that sounded.
"Rest of my family?" Nathan tilted his head toward the boys who were gleefully battling scar-faced monsters driving Corvettes and Camaros.
"You made reference to your wife." Her eyes moved around thoughtfully. He said that, hadn't he?
"I would not have made the reference, since there isn't one. I'm divorced."
"Yes, you did. You said your family was at your parents' home when I came to bring your dog back to you."
The two of them centered the table under her traditional, crystal chandelier.
"The boys were at my folks and they are my family. You know, you wouldn't have to move your kitchen table if you had one for your dining room."
"I told you, it was burned," she said quickly.
"I guess I thought you were being sarcastic. How did it happen?"
"That's a subject I don't have time for." She turned and started upstairs. "I need to change."
She felt his fingers, rough and possessive, wrap around her arm. Gently, he turned her around. He held on carefully when she tried to pull away.
As she looked into the blue, he whispered, "I'm sorry. I know what it's like to suddenly lose someone you love."
Shaken, she felt exposed as she responded, "I never said I lost anyone."
Nathan released her arm and lifted his hand near her face. He paused as she watched him before running the backs of his fingers down her cheek.
"True. I'm going to work on setting around your stack of folding chairs."
As she moved up the stairs, she laid the palm of her hand where his fingers had touched her and swore she felt heat.
* * *
From her bedroom, Brie heard the front door shut and Liz's voice playfully threatening her kids with bodily harm if they tracked their snowy feet through the house. She touched up her makeup, tucked a few loose strands of hair back into place and decided on her silver jumpsuit. She heard her sister's footsteps on the stairs and grinned at the thought of the look on Liz's face when she'd walked into the house to find a strange man and his two children setting up chairs and playing with action figures.
"Come in and tie up my back," she said to the tap on the door.
"I don't generally tie women up on the first date. Where would you like coats? The closet in your foyer's not big enough." Nathan smiled as he watched Brie catch herself on the open drawer of her dresser.
She placed a hand over the neck of the jumpsuit. "Do you generally barge into the bedrooms of people you hardly know? And this is not a date."
"I didn't barge in. I knocked. You invited. And why do you always back away from me?" He lifted a corner of his mouth.
She wore silky silver that went from high on her neck to her feet that stood in strappy, black heels. Trying not to be obvious, he couldn't help but notice how the material clung to her slightly more than should be legal. Finally, he got a glimpse of the form that was under the sweatpants and fleece jackets. And it turned intrigue into a moment of straight lust. She wasn't the skin and bones so many women think men wanted. She was merely built and all female.
Brie placed one foot down, then the other, like she was stopping a cowardly retreat. "I don't know what you're talking about. What do you think you're doing?" she said, putting her free hand out, palm forward as he walked toward her.
"You asked me to tie up your back."
He gently took the wrist of her outstretched hand, felt her pulse quicken under his touch and turned her around. It was his turn to be flustered. The upper half of the back of her top was missing, replaced with zigzagging strips of silver strings. Not skin and bones, no. Her back was smooth and golden lined with a hint of muscle he fought not to touch. He tied the strings at the top and stepped back.
Standing next to the open drawer she'd knocked into, he turned and looked in. "Is this what you wear while you're running around in snowshoes and putting up other people's Christmas lights? There's nothing but lace in here." He grinned as he picked up something pink and stringy.
Brie stepped forward and, hands shaking, yanked the panties out of his hand. Throwing them back in the drawer, she slammed it shut. "It's no one's business what I have on underneath when I have on my snowshoes or anything else. Come on, pushy new neighbor. I hear a car door. I need to get the sitters set up across the street." She stepped around him and made her way for the door.
Brie stopped in the family room and plopped down on the floor in her silky jumpsuit and heels. Andy lay on his stomach with his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he carefully lined up his monsters with plans to defeat Duncan's.
"I heard Mr. Piper has set up a table full of Play-Doh and those machines that let you push it through to make strings that look like spaghetti." Andy turned his head to her in interest.
She turned to Duncan. Good luck with that one, Nathan thought. "And there's always a game of Twister going." Duncan politely nodded his head. Tilting her head dramatically, Brie tried again. "The babysitters are arriving. If it's okay with your dad, after tonight I really don't have a place to keep the monsters and their cars. Would you mind taking them home with you?"
At that, Andy ran over to Nathan as he leaned against the entrance, thumbs stuck in his front pockets. Andy locked his arms around one of his legs. He squeezed his eyes shut and whispered, "Pleeease, Daddy?"
Duncan followed. "Can we, Nathan? It would keep the kid happy."
<
br /> "The kid?" He grinned at Duncan's obvious attempt to impress Brie. "Well, I suppose we could find a place for them for the kid, although I notice you have them lined up pretty carefully for war." Duncan's face flushed, but not enough to keep him from jerking a bent elbow back and letting out a fisted "Yesss," before heading to pack them up.
As the boys gathered the toys, the doorbell rang. Without waiting for an answer, a tall man walked in carrying large speakers. The band, he figured. He felt a twinge in the back of his neck when Brie walked right up to him and kissed the guy on the cheek. No worry about personal space there, he noticed. Shit, shit, shit. He knew she lived alone but never really pushed to find out if she was seeing anyone. She turned back to him for introductions. He let out a small sigh of relief as he noticed the similarities. Same color hair. Same eyes.
"Nathan this is my brother, Chase."
The man pulled his arm from around Brie and held it out to shake Nathan's hand.
"He bought the old farmhouse across the creek."
Chase raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He walked to open the door to two teenagers carrying pieces of a drum set. "It's got a great build to it, loads of structural personality, but it needs work. You hiring her out?"
"Chase is an architect," Brie interjected. Female bickering came from the kitchen. "And I had, uh, better see to that."
"Only some," Nathan responded, all but ignoring Brie. "I won't do the painting, or the roof or much carpentry. I've got a small crew coming next week to help knock down a wall and enlarge the kitchen. The home was built in the late 1800s, but you probably know that," he added awkwardly.
"Yes, I know," Chase said before turning to the teens. "You can take those down to the basement. Your cousins are already down there. They can show you where they go."
"Drummer?" Nathan asked, thinking Chase carried himself as more of a cello player.
"No. That would be my brother. I live in the city and keep a set there for him since he flies in from Pittsburg. I'll be taking care of the keyboard for the night. Mostly, we use a DJ system, but guests seem to move easier to live music." He shrugged. "Nice to meet you, Nathan... "
"Reed. Nathan Reed," he said as he turned to make his way cautiously to the kitchen.
"Nathan Reed," he heard Chase mutter. "Rings a bell."
Nathan walked in to find four women leaning against the counters in close conversation. He could tell right away which woman was Brie's sister. Her hair was shorter and she stood several inches under Brie, but other than that they could nearly pass as twins. The other two he figured were Brie's sisters-in-law. One was tall, thin and dressed in a sleek, black dress. The other was more conservative, yet still wore a pantsuit he recognized as upper-middle class. Other than their clothes, all four women carried themselves as casual and warm—until Brie's sister spoke up.
"Why does he get to come early and help?" Liz poked a finger toward Nathan. "You've never let any of us come early to help. Hello." She turned. "I'm Liz." She didn't offer a hand but instead laced her fingers in front of her and turned back to Brie.
He watched as Brie's chin dropped slightly. Amused and interested at being the subject of the conversation and at this new timid side of Brie, he joined the other two women leaning against the counter and watched.
"I didn't let him in. He just barged in and started setting things up," Brie huffed. "And believe me, it won't happen again."
Hmmm, he decided, a challenge. Temper and cranky at the same time. So sexy.
"I'll just remember that for next time." Liz poked the finger toward her sister and turned back to him. "I'm terribly sorry for the scene. Are those adorable boys out there your sons and why does the older one call you by your first name?"
He grinned at Brie's outspoken sister. "Yes, they're my sons... now. Their parents, my brother and his wife, died in a plane crash when the boys were two and four."
Chapter 7
Nathan answered Liz's question matter-of-factly, then without bothering to quiet his voice added, "Duncan still feels a duty to his father. He may decide to always call me by my first name. It's up to him." He casually reached to snack on the neat rows of bruschetta.
Suddenly lose someone you love. Brie recognized Nathan's efforts to keep the subject relaxed and admired his openness. She also felt a jolt of pain in her stomach. She'd judged him. Judged him the way she told others not to in her stuffy presentations. She'd seen a lazy man who would subject his young children to filth so he could pawn them off on his parents and have time to play in his garage. She respected his need to distance himself from pity with his casual response to Liz and felt exactly that, pity. Pity, with a feeling that Brian was right. She was ice.
Closing her eyes, she also thought of how she and his nephews had more in common than either of them had known. She knew exactly what it was like to lose your parents. The difference was she took part in a lifetime with hers before losing them. Taking Nathan's lead in keeping the conversation light, she smacked the back of his hand away from the thin pieces of toast and salsa.
"Those are for later. You'd better get their coats. It's time for them to head across the street."
* * *
Nathan spent much of the evening analyzing how this odd mixture of people ended up at the same place to celebrate the holiday. Brie had been right; he was able to meet many of his new neighbors. Most were either empty-nesters or retired. From the easily overheard conversations, he learned there were several firemen and a large group he was sure were either social workers or teachers.
Brie spoke to everyone while paying attention to the drinks and food. She nursed the same glass of champagne for hours, and as composed as she carried herself, often rubbed the back of her neck or pulled nervously on her ear.
There always seemed to be one bombshell at these sorts of things. This one must be a close friend of Brie's as she was often hanging near her. She had pencil-thin legs and long, straight blonde hair with a date that followed her around like a lost puppy. A balding man that he concluded was in the firefighter group kept an eye on her ass whenever she shook it through the room in her skin-tight, strapless red dress. A blond, buzz cut man with baldy gave Brie looks that gave Nathan an urge to pound on something.
Brie headed upstairs from the basement, juggling an armful of dirty dishes. He followed to help, but the firefighting duo fell in stride behind her first. He noted they didn't attempt to help. Instead, baldy backed off and split away as buzz cut walked to her with a long neck in his hand. A woman stepped in to make small talk with Nathan. It suited him as he could see Brie and GI Joe from where he stood, and hear them.
"You haven't been by the station," the man said as Brie set the dishes in the sink and began to rinse. "You said you would come by."
"I've been busy. End of grading period, you know?" She loaded the dishes into the dishwasher.
He watched GI Joe and baldy as the woman spoke of drinking too much and coming here each year for this. He was only half listening. His interest remained with Brie and how she moved uncomfortably around the live action figure.
The man stepped closer and said something he couldn't hear. Then, the dude circled his hand around Brie's upper arm and pinned her between the counter and open dishwasher.
"Excuse me," Nathan said quietly as he stepped around the woman mid-sentence and headed for them.
"You've had too much to drink, Brian. I want you to back off." Brie pushed him with her forearm and spun around, almost running into Nathan. She caught her step and looked up at him.
"You okay?" he whispered with his lips close to her ear while looking Brian in the eye.
Brie nodded before picking up her step again toward the dining room.
Brian started to head past him to catch up with her.
Nathan stepped to the side, blocking his path.
Stuttering to a stop, Brian gave him a once over. "What the hell?"
Nathan saw red and fought to keep his voice down. "She obviously doesn't want to talk to you," he gro
wled.
"Who the fuck are you?" Brian slurred as they squared off.
Hands pumping into fists, Nathan inched closer until they were nose to nose. "I'm the one you have to get through before you lay a hand on her again."
Baldy conveniently stepped between them. "Whoa. It's a party, remember? Time to move along." He took Brian by the arm and pulled him back toward the basement.
Brie seemed to handle GI Joe better than he had although she didn't come out completely unscathed. He decided on providing her with a distraction. He walked up behind her, whispering in her ear once more. "How is it that your guests sit in folding chairs while you have the biggest television I've ever seen in your basement?"
"It's none of your business how I spend my money." Hearing the snap in her voice, Brie closed her eyes, paused and turned around.
"Football," she corrected with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Football?"
"Yes. I have my priorities. The Giants deserve a big screen. You mentioned that you moved from the South? Which state?" She placed her hands on the back of her hips.
"South Carolina. We lived in a small town near an old growth forest."
"Ah. The Panthers then, is it?" she said, making sure to keep her eyes focused on his. It occurred to her it wasn't hard. The blue was such a contrast to his jet-black hair. His eyes were intense and analytical and... observant. She couldn't help but smirk at that damned sexy, crooked smile. Shaking her head, she wondered how he could seem so comfortable around all of these people he'd never met, carrying on conversations with complete strangers and seeming to pick out the ones that would now be considered both of their neighbors.
"Jets." His hand lifted toward her face, then down again.
"Huh?"
"The Jets. I'm a Jets fan. You forgot, I'm originally from here. This town even."
"I did forget, and I forgive you."
"For you forgetting I'm from New York?"
"No, for being a Jets fan."
The doorbell rang. She tried for her warmest smile and gave Nathan's hand a friendly squeeze before leaving to answer the door.
