by Law, Kim
Megan gulped.
“Never mind.” She climbed into her car. What was wrong with her today? “It doesn’t matter anyway. This is strictly a dinner-as-entertainment kind of date.” She slammed her door, but because the window had been down when she’d pulled up, she didn’t fully block herself off from the testosterone-laden, pine-air-smelling, cute-cheek-flushing man.
He came to her door.
“I need to go,” she said, repeating her earlier assertion, and then she sat there, looking straight ahead instead of at him. And she wondered why her ex-boyfriend’s brother suddenly made her itchy between the shoulder blades.
“Megan.” The way he said her name, a little soft, a little husky, had her throat going dry.
And she wanted to kick herself. This was Nate.
Jaden’s brother.
“What?” she scratched out.
He wrapped his fingers around the bottom of the open window and squatted down to her level, and she got another noseful of man. “I’m sorry that I upset you.”
“About what?”
He nodded toward the house. “About Jaden.”
“Oh.” Yeah. That’s what they’d been talking about.
What they’d been arguing about.
She glanced over at the house before bringing her gaze back to Nate’s. She didn’t want any of the Wildes thinking she wasn’t over her ex. “I’m not still hung on up him, Nate.” Her words swirled into the space between them. “I promise you that. And I truly am happy for their engagement.”
“I know.” His expression went repentant. “And I also know that he’s happy with Arsula.”
“Then really . . . what is your issue?” She stared at him now, this time breathing him in on purpose, if only to prove that there was nothing special about the man. He was just Nate.
“I just don’t understand it,” he said at last, and as one shoulder lifted, she could read vulnerability in his eyes. “How two people could be . . .” His words trailed off briefly before he added, “. . . and then for you to be okay with him getting engaged so quickly.”
His non-question ended with another shrug, and Megan found herself turning in her seat to face him. Then she allowed a moment of pure honesty with herself. One she hadn’t let happen before. The quick engagement had shocked her. Not because she wanted to be with Jaden. She hadn’t been lying about that. But because it had hurt a little to know that he’d found that kind of love so quickly.
That she’d been so right in her assessment that he wasn’t that for her.
“Honestly,” she said now, her voice cracking before she cleared it, “I was over him weeks before I ended things. I hadn’t fully even admitted it to myself until the night we broke up, but I suppose, that being the case, that plays into me being okay with everything now.”
Because she was okay with everything.
However, as she’d done far too many times since the moment she’d first considered breaking up with her once long-time boyfriend, she wondered if there was actually someone out there who could share that kind of lasting love with her. Or was she doomed to be more like her family?
Doomed to either leave . . . or to be left?
Chapter Four
He stood me up.
Megan tapped Send on her phone four days later and stared at it as she willed three dots to appear in the bottom left corner. When they popped up almost immediately, she let out a breath. Thank goodness for Brooke.
Mark? her friend replied.
Exactly.
The guy you went out with Monday night?
Before Megan could answer, Brooke started typing another message, so she waited. When her phone buzzed in her hand once again, the returned words put a smile on her face.
The “I own 35 pairs of loafers, all in different styles” spray-tanned “outdoorsman” who’d insisted on another date just so *he* could buy dinner this time?
That pretty much summed Mark up. Megan snickered. The one and only.
The dots went to work again as soon as Megan sent her reply, but at the same time, a pair of trouser-covered legs appeared in her peripheral vision. They stopped directly beside her table, and she quickly slid her gaze to the floor. The shoes at the ends of the pant legs were a crisp black loafer—instead of the navy basket-weave pattern of Monday night—and she let a smile inch up. Though he absolutely wasn’t forever kind of potential, she’d had a decent enough time on her first date with Mark. At least, good enough to accept a free meal in return.
Only, when she looked up, ready to consider forgiving him for keeping her waiting, it wasn’t her date who stood before her.
“Ma’am?” The manager of the restaurant offered a tight pull of his lips. “Will you be ordering now?”
It was Friday night, and the Lakefront Grill was a happening place. Her waiter had already stopped to check on her multiple times, as well the hostess and a woman she thought was one of the bartenders. But now she got the big guns. Apparently, her sitting there, ordering nothing more than a Diet Coke for half an hour was the limit of their patience.
“Can I wait a few more minutes?” Not that she expected Mark to show up at this point. She just wasn’t ready to skulk through the diners being made to feel like even more of a loser than getting stood up already did.
The manager stared at her, his jaw set and his eyes two squinty little black orbs, and Megan guessed he also fought back a sigh. She simply stared in return.
In the end, he caved. “Ten minutes.” But his tone made it clear that in exactly six hundred seconds, he would be back. And if she didn’t order dinner at that time? He’d personally be escorting her out.
As the man walked away, she pulled a face, then picked her phone back up. Brooke had sent several more messages—a soliloquy about the inadequacies of the men in the Birch Bay dating pool—but Megan didn’t respond to that line of thinking. Instead, she thumbed out a quick offer.
Be at the Lakefront in less than ten and I’ll buy you the best steak on the menu.
She could almost see her friend’s disdainful eyes staring back at her. Brooke’s parents owned a meat shop, and there wasn’t any better cut of steak out there.
Please, Megan added, before Brooke could reply. I don’t want to eat alone.
But alone or not, she would stay and eat, she decided. Because leaving hungry, simply due to some man not showing up when he’d said he would, would be ridiculous.
I’m actually on a date myself.
Megan blinked at the response. What? Why didn’t you tell me?!?
Last-minute offer. Department head of mathematics.
Brooke was an instructor at the Salish Kootenai College.
Then why are you texting with *me* if you’re on a date with someone else?
The three dots appeared instantly, and Megan dipped her head as she waited, making it so she couldn’t see the manager. The man had crossed to the edge of the bar area and was now staring at her as if it were his life’s mission to make her uncomfortable.
Her phone buzzed with Brooke’s reply.
Because he’s been in the bathroom for twenty-five minutes. He’s either escaped out the window or the afterburners appetizers made him sick. Either way, it’s a no for me. Dude needs a heartier stomach to hang out with me . . . or he at least needs to HANG OUT WITH ME!
Laughter bubbled up at both visuals of Brooke’s date, and she quickly tapped out a question. Have your entrees been served yet?
Ten minutes ago.
Anything good?
Everything cold by this point.
Megan snickered again. Her friend was a bit of a foodie. And she hated having to eat her meals cold. Box it up and meet me at my place. We can reheat it and eat out on the patio. I’ll provide plenty of wine and turn the outside heaters on high.
As she waited for Brooke to respond, she peeked out from under her eyelashes again, checking to see if the manager was still practicing his scary glare. But her gaze landed on a familiar set of blue eyes, instead.
Nate.
She sat up straighter.
Her follow-up reaction, after scanning all the way down to his cowboy boots and back, was to look away. Because the memory of Monday afternoon, when she’d run from the Wilde place after suddenly finding the brother of her ex intoxicating, was suddenly all too real.
Nate.
Who could be harsh, but was also refreshingly honest.
As well as hot and brooding and sexy and . . .
Sensual.
She closed her eyes and breathed in slowly through her nose. Nate.
Whom she’d never once thought twice about before Monday afternoon.
She opened her eyes again. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t going to think twice about him now, either. He was just Nate. Part owner of the business she worked for and growing friend due to their acquaintance within his family and that business. He was not . . . Nate.
Returning her attention to the bar, when she found him still looking her way, she lifted her chin in acknowledgement, not allowing so much as a smile to flicker across her lips. When his greeting was returned in the same fashion, she breathed out a sigh of relief. It was just Nate.
But then the manager appeared directly in front of her, blocking her view, and she had the urge to shove the man out of the way.
“Ma’am?” He scowled at her in a way that reminded her of her mother.
“I’m only twenty-five,” she mumbled as she snatched up her phone. She rose from the table, suddenly too tired of his attitude to stick around. “I’m too young to be called ma’am.”
The manager gave the impression of neither hearing her words nor caring whether she’d spoken or not. Instead, he merely held one arm out in the direction of the door and waited for her to precede him. But before she could do more than gather her coat and bag, Nate was there, his eyes latching onto hers.
“Megan.” He stepped between her and the manager and took her hand. “My apologies. We must have gotten our signals crossed.”
Their signals?
Her confusion quickly fizzled when a glint appeared in Nate’s eyes, and he tilted his head ever so slightly toward the waiting manager. “Did we not agree to meet in the bar?” He held up a beer that was two-thirds empty, and she didn’t need any additional prodding.
“Oh my gosh.” Pulling her hand free, she pressed her fingertips to her mouth. “Is that what we said?” She let her eyes go wide. “I’m so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”
Without looking at the manager again, she retook her seat, somehow managing to keep her giggles inside, and when Nate settled onto the chair across from her, she flashed him a wide, fake-adoring smile.
“Ma’am?” The manager tried once more, but Nate took over.
“It’s my fault,” he told the man. “I should have checked the dining room before now.”
Nate didn’t take his eyes off the manager until the other man, huffing under his breath, finally walked away, and when he did turn to Megan, the smile that she’d only caught a tiny glimpse of Monday afternoon suddenly went from miniscule to full-on. White teeth flashed inside generous lips, and she noticed that one of his front teeth had a tiny nick missing from the inside corner.
How had she never noticed that before? She’d seen him smile plenty of times.
Her phone suddenly vibrated in her hand, and she jumped as if it had zapped her. Looking down, Brooke’s picture smiled back at her.
“Do you need to get that?”
“No.” She shook her head at the same time she pushed the button to end the call, and that’s when she noticed all the texts she’d missed. “But I do need to send a quick message.”
“Sure.”
She quickly scanned the waiting texts and saw that due to a questionable medical issue, Brooke had not only paid for, but packaged up the meals, and she was now ready to meet up at Megan’s. Megan peeked back up, unsure what to do. Was Nate’s “rescuing” her also an offer to stick around and have a meal? To truly let her save face?
Or had he merely been wanting to annoy the manager because the man was a douche?
“Problem?” Nate asked. He nodded toward the phone. “Is it the loser who stood you up?”
A quick chuckle slipped out. “Not the loser. And not that I’d bother replying if it was.”
“Good to know.” He unrolled his silverware and tucked the napkin onto his lap. “Then if it’s all the same with you, I’m your date now. I didn’t really want to eat by myself tonight anyway.” He then leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Unless, of course, you’d rather pretend I showed up too late, so you can storm out of here, showing ‘me’ you won’t put up with it.”
She found it admirable that he’d be willing to be embarrassed like that. “How about I ‘put up with it’ by sending him the bill after we order the best things on the menu?”
When Nate’s lips once again curved at her words, she once again noticed the chipped tooth. She also noticed that his lips were almost a sunburned color. But not in a bad sunburn kind of way. More in a completely kissable, totally mind-melting sort of way.
Her thoughts froze. What in the world was wrong with her?
“Megan?” Nate’s lips moved to form her name, and mortification engulfed her. Sheesh. All she’d done since sitting down was stare at the man’s mouth.
She licked her lips, suddenly wishing she hadn’t finished her last Diet Coke. “Yes?”
He nodded once more toward her hand. “Your phone is ringing again.”
“Oh.” She jerked her eyes downward. She was acting as if she’d never been on a date before.
Not that this was a real date.
Her sense of survival finally kicked in, and, as if the buzzing device was a lifeline in some sort of weird dating-but-not-really-dating game show, she slid her finger across the screen.
“Brooke.” She spoke as she brought the phone to her ear.
“Are you okay?” her friend’s voice rang out.
“I—”
“This is the third time I’ve called! Why have you been ignoring me? Did loafer guy show up and kidnap you? Do I need to call the police?”
Megan watched as the corners of Nate’s lips quirked up yet again, and this time she found herself smiling back. “No police,” she assured Brooke, and as the waiter showed up with menus and fresh glasses of water, she added, “but I do have to back out on our plans.”
She stressed the last word, hoping Brooke would understand she didn’t want to say out loud that she’d been about to leave the restaurant to have dinner with someone else.
“Plans?” Brooke said hesitantly. And then she groaned. “Oh, for the love of Pete. Please tell me that loafer guy did not show up there.”
Megan offered the waiter a close-lipped smile as he set down a refill of her drink. “Not him, no.” She locked eyes with Nate. “A friend did, though. And I owe him. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”
“Wait . . . tomorrow?” Brooke repeated the word in a way that meant far more than Megan had intended, and Megan felt her cheeks heat.
“Not that kind of ‘tomorrow,’” she gritted out. She offered Nate an apologetic look, as clearly, he could hear every word and read between every line. “Just a friend.”
Silently, she added that it was a friend who would definitely be going home by himself. If only because he wasn’t the one currently lusting after the other.
“Well, that’s a little disappointing,” Brooke bemoaned.
“Not as disappointing as your date having to rush off to urgent care because he couldn’t handle a jalapeño.”
There was a pause before Brooke added, “Well played.”
Her friend signed off, and once Megan had hung up, Nate picked up his beer bottle and held it up in a toast.
“To friends,” he said with a wink. “And not to loafer guy.”
She laughed with him. “To friends.”
And to “Just Nate” sitting across from her.
Dinner became normal at that point, as well as quite enjoyable. Nate was more t
alkative than usual, so after they ordered, they chatted. They talked about the weather, about how the store’s first week after reopening went, about how delicious the food was and how loafer guy was totally missing out, and she also got an update on his dad. Nate hadn’t made it back out to the rehab center yet, but his siblings had.
“They’re still thinking he’ll get to come home in a few weeks?” she asked.
“That’s what they say.”
She twirled a piece of pasta around her fork. “And how do you think that’s going to go?” She watched him as she spoke. “Will he be able to get around in the house okay?”
Will you be okay?
She didn’t ask the last question, but it resonated inside of her. Because the moment the conversation had shifted to Max, she’d once again sensed the guilt Nate carried.
“The improvements to the house will be done by then.” Nate stabbed at a remaining bite of salad. “I’ve finished the ramp and have ripped out the bath in one of the downstairs bedrooms.” He looked up and explained. “I’ve worked in construction in past off-seasons, so we’re doing a full remodel. Nick is going to help. We’ll swap out the shower for a roll-in one, add a lowered sink, rails. The works.”
“Sounds like a good plan.”
“Yeah. And we’re following ADA guidelines to the letter. No need putting out the effort if we don’t intend to do it right.”
That was a theory she could get behind.
She pushed her plate away and propped her elbows on the table. “Can I ask you about something else?”
The look he returned had the breath catching in her throat. Because just like that, she caught the same vulnerability she’d seen in his eyes earlier in the week.
“What do you want to know?” he said, and for a second, she couldn’t remember her own question. She just wanted to sit there, maybe reach over and take his hand. Tell him that everything would be okay.
But she didn’t honestly know if everything would be okay. His dad had a long road to recovery; the farm was decimated.
“Are you still planning on leaving after you get everything done?”
And just like that, a curtain dropped over his vulnerability.
