by Cora Seton
Best to keep things civil and platonic, she decided. For a number of reasons.
He smiled back and Nora’s intentions melted away. “Evening. Hope you’re hungry. I’ve got a lot of food.”
“I could eat something.” She drew on her gloves, put on her bonnet and tied the strings into a loose bow under her chin, grateful for a moment to pull herself together. She noticed Clay looking at her fondly when she was done.
“What?”
“You’re really something, you know that?” He reached for her hand, and she stepped onto the front stoop with him, shutting the door behind her. She heard the bolt slide home and knew either Avery or Savannah had locked it behind her. She hoped they remembered to lock the other door, as well.
“No,” she said truthfully. She’d never felt like much of anything. Certainly not in this last year. She hadn’t accomplished much in her life. Her father had left her without a second look. She hadn’t been able to prevent her mother’s death. She’d run away from the only job that had ever mattered to her.
“You are. It’s your eyes. And that smile you don’t flash around much. And your graceful hands. And the way you put it all together.”
She was sure she was blushing. She wasn’t used to praise like this. People either liked her or disliked her. They tolerated her plain speaking or hated it. They approved of her work ethic or thought she was a prude. No one thought anything of her eyes. Or hands, for heaven’s sake. The flutters in her stomach were getting the best of her, especially when she caught his eye and saw the desire there.
Nora looked away again, finding it hard to meet his gaze when he talked like that, but she couldn’t look at the cameras, either. She looked behind him—and noticed an older man waiting a half-dozen paces away.
“Who’s that?”
Clay sagged a little. “That’s my dad. I hope you don’t mind, he’s coming on the picnic with us.”
Clay knew without a shadow of a doubt that any headway he had made in those first few moments after Nora had opened the door were long gone. As the three of them trailed back down the dirt track past Base Camp toward Pittance Creek, he felt like he could have been on a picnic with the Pope, for all the flirting that was going on. Instead of smiling at him the way she had back at the house, Nora was walking beside his father, asking polite questions and making chitchat about the weather. He was stuck behind them with the cameramen.
He lugged along the heavy basket and cooler his father had insisted on packing as if Armageddon was coming. He put in a word or two when he could hear enough of the conversation to comment on it, but by the time they reached the creek, he thought he knew exactly how this evening would play out.
The cameramen fanned out and took up fixed positions. Clay set down the picnic basket and spread out the blanket he’d brought. He wasn’t sure what irritated him more—the cameramen’s presence on his date or his father’s.
“Is the fishing good here?” Dell asked, surveying the running water while Clay and Nora began to unpack the food.
“Haven’t had a chance to try it yet, but it was good when we were kids.”
“I remember the way you always came running over here back then. I figured you liked that pretty little girl who used to spend her summers here. What was her name? Riley?”
Hell. That wasn’t going to help his case with Nora. “It was the money I liked, Pops, not Riley. Riley just married Boone Rudman, remember?”
“I remember Boone. That boy always did end up on top when you two scrapped.”
“We never scrapped over Riley.” Clay would be ready to scrap with Dell in a minute, though.
“Oh, you say that now.” Dell turned, caught sight of Nora and seemed to remember her presence. “I mean, well, that’s all in the past now, of course.”
Clay touched Nora’s hand when Dell turned back to the water. “He’s got it all wrong.”
She nodded, but he wasn’t sure if she believed him. Or maybe she didn’t care. She seemed preoccupied tonight, like something other than their date was first and foremost in her mind. Maybe she’d decided there was someone else at Base Camp she liked more.
“Walker’s been to see you a couple of times.” He couldn’t seem to help himself. Mentioning it was a chump move, but he had to know the truth of the matter.
“He found me a job.”
Dell caught that and came back. “What’s that you say about a job?”
“Walker found me a curriculum writing job. I start tomorrow.”
His father lost interest again and went back to studying the creek. “I thought you were supposed to be writing a novel.” Clay was confused. That’s why she’d come to Chance Creek, after all. That’s why he’d been making it a point to leave her alone during the afternoons.
She nodded. “It’s only temporary, but maybe it will help me get my foot in the door of the local school administration. I miss teaching.”
“And Walker found the job for you?”
“I’ll be helping his grandmother. I was as surprised as you are. I don’t know why they’d want me to help. Surely someone on the reservation is far more qualified.”
Clay thought he knew why Walker would get Nora a job: because he wanted her to stay. He had some newfound fascination with her.
Clay didn’t like that one bit.
Dell chose that moment to return, drop to his knees on the blanket and open up the picnic basket. “I’m hungry. Which one is the pastrami?”
“I thought you said you wanted roast beef.” Clay pointed to a sandwich that was clearly marked. Maybe he was making too much of this. Maybe the job was innocent and Walker was just looking out for his grandmother.
“I said everyone likes roast beef. I didn’t say I wanted it.”
“For God’s sake.” Clay turned to Nora. He needed to connect with her the way Walker had. What could he do for her, to let her know she was on his mind and he was worried about her welfare?
“Riding lessons,” he said out loud. “We’ve got a half dozen horses down at Base Camp now and you said you don’t ride. It’s time to learn, don’t you think? I could teach you.” She blinked and he realized he’d turned the conversation awfully suddenly.
“You’re right, I don’t know how to ride,” Nora admitted. She sat down gracefully on the blanket. “I’m not sure I want to learn, though. I don’t really like horses.”
Dell finally found the sandwich he was looking for and pushed the basket nearer to her. “I recommend the roast beef.”
“Do you have turkey?”
Clay crouched down and helped her find it, relishing the chance to be close to Nora. He wished they were alone. “You’d like them if you got to know them. Horses are intelligent, just like you.”
She smiled a little lopsidedly. “I’m not sure I can ride in something like this.” She indicated her dress.
Another excuse. Clay wondered if it was because she really was afraid of horses, or if she just didn’t want to spend time with him.
She’d agreed to this date, he reminded himself.
“You’d have to ride sidesaddle, I guess. I don’t know where you find one of those. It’s more difficult than regular riding, too. Can’t you wear pants for part of the day?”
“That would be breaking my vow.” She didn’t sound too enthusiastic.
“Let’s think about it,” he said.
“Sure.” She took a bite of her sandwich. Disappointed, Clay found one for himself and took a bite.
Pickled beets.
Figured.
The picnic wasn’t turning out at all like she expected. Nora couldn’t understand why Clay had brought along his father. He didn’t seem to want him there, which made everything uncomfortable. If he’d been happy about Dell’s presence, she could have settled in for a nice meal and gotten to know more about his family. Between Dell’s comments and Clay’s barely civil answers, however, she felt like she’d stumbled into a battle. And that didn’t even include the annoyance of being surrounded by cameras.
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She had found Dell to be a thoughtful man on the walk down to the creek when she’d done her best to keep the conversation flowing. It was only when they’d stopped moving and the two men had begun to interact that things fell apart.
“Dell, have you lived your whole life in Montana?” she asked when the current silence lasted too long.
“Sure have. Right here in Chance Creek.”
“What made your parents settle here?”
“My great-great-grandparents, you mean? Probably came looking for a new start. My great-great-grandfather hailed from Rhode Island, but he was a hunter and a fisherman and liked the outdoors. Montana’s got room to roam, if you know what I mean.”
“That’s for sure. You’re in construction?”
“I was.” Dell frowned. “Been laid off.”
Clay made a noise she couldn’t decipher. Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. If Dell had been laid off—or maybe fired, judging by Clay’s bad attitude—was that why he’d come to stay with Clay?
Was there trouble at home, too?
If so, time to move on to a new topic. “Do you know how to ride?”
“He taught me everything I know,” Clay said, and for the first time she heard pride in his voice. Encouraged, Nora went on.
“Who taught you?” she asked Dell.
“My daddy, of course. All the Picketts ride. We know our horses, too. Clay here could teach you everything you need to know when you’re ready to learn.”
“As soon as I find a sidesaddle,” Clay reminded him.
“Hmm. Ought to be one somewhere.” Dell looked thoughtful.
At least the tension between the two men had diffused. Nora finished her sandwich, enjoyed some potato salad and a slice of cherry pie, then helped Clay pack up the extra food.
“Take your girl for a stroll,” Dell said, settling back on the blanket. “I need some shut-eye.”
Nora’s spirits soared. Judging by the alacrity with which Clay got to his feet and pulled her to hers, he was enthusiastic about this turn of events, too. Her happiness lasted until she realized two of the cameramen meant to come with them. They weren’t going to be alone.
Not that they should be.
Clay crooked his arm, and she took it without thinking. They both seemed to realize simultaneously what they’d done. “Is this okay?” he asked softly.
She nodded. Why not? Touching him wasn’t hurting anyone, and she didn’t feel anxious. Maybe the paperweight incident was a one-off. Without another word, Clay began to amble along the bank of the creek. Full of food and mellow as the evening settled in, Nora took a moment to enjoy herself. She didn’t mean to lean against him as she walked, but his shoulder was right there, and with her arm linked through his it was difficult to keep her distance. Besides, it was kind of nice to feel the heft of his muscles under her hands. For the moment she felt… safe.
“It’s a beautiful setting,” she said when they made their way around a bend in the creek, but what she was feeling went far beyond the loveliness of their surroundings. Clay’s willingness to slow things down and just walk with her, rather than try to convince her to move their relationship along, meant a lot to her. As she relaxed, she realized how wound up she’d gotten in the past few days. Here she was with a Navy SEAL. Her stalker was just a teenager. Even if he had made his way out here to Montana, which was highly doubtful, he’d never attack her in Clay’s presence. And the broken glass… well, that was just a broken glass, wasn’t it? No one had been anywhere near the manor when they’d checked. She had to stop letting her imagination run away with her.
Some of the tension that had tightened her shoulders slipped away. She let her guard down and, with stolen glances, took in Clay’s handsome features. Rounding another bend in the creek, they moved out of Dell’s sight. Not that he was looking. The last she’d seen of him, Dell had stretched out full length on the blanket with his eyes shut.
She glanced over her shoulder, saw the cameras had lagged behind a little, and stopped. “Clay—”
“What?” Clay stopped, too. Waited for her to finish her sentence. “Nora, what is it?”
She found she didn’t want to talk. Instead, she wanted to let him know how she felt. She went up on tiptoe and kissed him before she could change her mind. She had a fleeting sensation of Clay’s hard muscles, his mouth soft on hers, the heat of his hands through the thin material of her dress when he shifted to take her into his arms.
She pulled back just as suddenly as she’d lurched forward.
“What was that for?” Clay didn’t pursue her.
“I… I don’t know.” How could she explain the turmoil inside her? She was too full of hopes and fears and confusion.
When it was clear she wouldn’t go on, he simply took her hand. “How about we keep walking?”
She went along with him, but now Nora’s thoughts were in turmoil. What had she done? She’d told him just this afternoon she wouldn’t do anything rashly, and now she was the one kissing him…
“Don’t overthink it,” Clay said gently. He gave her hand a squeeze.
Once again he’d made the perfect response. She relaxed again, appreciating the easy camaraderie she felt with Clay, the sense that she’d known him longer than she had.
But she couldn’t lead him on. She knew where this was going, after all.
“Clay, I can’t marry you.”
His stride hitched, but only for a second and then he kept going, although his pace sped up. Nora hurried to keep alongside him.
“You’re turning me down before I even ask you,” Clay pointed out.
Embarrassment made her reply tart. “You have to marry someone in less than forty days.”
“I didn’t ask for that deadline, you know.”
“You didn’t have to accept it.”
“Yes, I did.”
His response irked Nora. Wasn’t it hubris to think one person could make a real difference in the world? “Do you really think you can change anything with a television show?” The bank of the creek was narrow here between the woods on one side and the water on the other. In order to stay side-by-side, they had to walk close together. Clay seemed too big, suddenly. He was all muscles and shoulders and overconfidence.
“Actually, I think you can change a lot with a television show. I hope people become familiar with a lot of terms they don’t know. I hope they see us using equipment that isn’t in their homes today, and they become less afraid of it. I’d like the idea of paring back a little and choosing possessions more consciously to become part of the American mind-set.”
“And you’re willing to marry to make that happen.”
“Yes.”
His utter certainty made Nora curious despite herself. What had happened to Clay that made him so determined to pursue this course?
“Let’s keep moving,” he said before she could question him, with a backward glance toward the camera crew that was closely following them again. He led her onward. “So this job. What’s it all about?”
Nora decided to accept the change in topic. She couldn’t blame him for not wanting to bare his soul in front of the cameras, after all. “I hardly know. Some kind of curriculum about Walker’s clan for seventh graders.”
“If it’s for middle schoolers, it should be a walk in the park.”
“Nothing about teaching is a walk in the park,” Nora said tartly. “Especially not concerning a subject so sensitive. For years, Native Americans were all classed as bad guys—and as too primitive to build societies whose cultures were worth preserving. So much damage has come from that legacy—it’ll take hard work to turn it around. It’s a big honor for someone like me to be asked to be a small part of it.” When he raised an eyebrow, she clarified. “Someone white. I’ve got to go in there knowing it’s Walker’s grandmother who needs to take the lead. I can help with organization and ideas, but Crow culture isn’t mine to define.” She realized she was lecturing him. “I know it seems like a simple thing to draw
up a unit on Crow history, but what we teach our children about the past tends to define their futures, you know?”
“That makes sense. I didn’t mean to downplay what you do.”
“Most people couldn’t care less about any of it.”
“I’m not most people.”
They walked in silence for a minute and Nora tried to recapture her equilibrium. Nothing was going right today, and she wanted to enjoy this time with Clay. Who knew how much longer she’d have with him?
Despite the delicious smell of the pine trees, the sound of the running water in the creek beside them and the last rays of sunlight streaming through the branches overhead, all the light went out of the day when Nora thought about a future without Clay. It frustrated her to know that even though she hadn’t been looking for a man when she’d come here, she’d left her heart open to an entanglement. He would be hard to get over, and she was sick of feeling battered and bruised, even if only mentally.
“You’re right, you know. I have to marry in a short period of time, and that’s not ideal,” Clay said suddenly. “Here’s the thing. I like you. I’m attracted to you. I’d be a fool not to try to see if you’re the one for me.” When Nora tried to let go of his hand again, he stopped and grasped her other hand, too, so that she had to face him. “So we’ve got until July to figure this out and plan our wedding.”
“Clay—”
“What would it take for that to be okay for you?”
“There isn’t—”
“There has to be a way. Tell me.”
As fierce as his determination was, it didn’t intimidate Nora. His desire was clean and straightforward—nothing like her stalker’s twisted need to hurt. Was there a way to bridge the gulf between them? Suddenly Nora wanted to try.
“I’d have to know you,” she said in a rush. “That’s not possible, though.”
Clay chuckled. “Oh, yes, it is. Try going on a mission with a guy into enemy territory, living with him 24/7 while knowing you’re a split-second away from death. You figure out who they are real quick.” He cocked his head. “Maybe that’s what we need. A shared mission.”
