Lifetime Risk (Pelican Bay Security Book 7)

by MEGAN MATTHEWS

  I hesitate, still engrossed with the closed door as I wait to see if Nate will come back and rescue me. “Um, no.”

  “Oh my gosh you must try them. Katy says they are better than sex.”

  “Obviously she isn’t doing it right.” Winnie laughs, taking a cookie from the package. “Don’t get me wrong. They’re delicious, but nothing beats the other thing when done properly.”

  Tabitha nods like she understands what she’s talking about, but as I take my first bite of the bright pink macaroon, I agree with Katy. I haven’t had sex in over a year. And well, I’ve never had good sex… Ever.

  Barry was more of an efficient lover in the bedroom. Get in, get the job done, and get out. The problem was sometimes he didn’t complete the entire job. If you get what I mean?

  “And what don’t I know?” I ask. The macaroons are good, but I’m not that forgetful.

  “Well…” Winnie looks to Tabitha, asking her what to do.

  Tabitha doesn’t appear to be any help as she stares back at Winnie with her eyes enlarged like a deer caught in the middle of the road between two cars. “I don’t want to be the one to tell her.”

  Winnie cringes, not making the situation any better about whatever they need to say. “You’re more involved than I am.”

  Tabitha sighs, pinching her lips together before she answers. “You heard Nate was almost arrested?”

  4

  “No? For what?” We may not be best friends, but I thought we had gotten friendlier the last few days. He didn’t mention anything about being arrested. I even asked if he’d ever been to jail.

  “Well, he almost ran you over with his truck.” Tabitha nods her head, waiting for my response like this is obvious.

  Okay, fine, it should have been. My mind has been full lately with work and taking care of Emma. I haven’t put thought into what happens to someone who hits a person with his vehicle. But it can’t be good.

  “Ridge got him out of immediate trouble, but you could still press charges. You almost broke your ankle.”

  “No. I don’t want to press charges.” The thought never crossed my mind.

  “Well, he needs to pay for any medical bills, and make him do a lot more crap around your apartment. Rearrange the furniture or paint something.” Winnie grabs another pink macaroon. “Lift heavy furniture.”

  “It’s the absolute least he can do. And the town will tar and feather him if he doesn’t,” Tabitha chimes in her opinion.

  After a pause, I lean back on the couch, a small headache forming behind my left eye as it twitches. “I moved to Pelican Bay because I wanted to blend in with everyone else.” I planned to find a nice little small town and set up shop and then keep to myself.

  Both ladies laugh and Tabitha chokes on the macaroons she’d been halfway through chewing. “You picked the wrong town for blending.”

  I nod, accepting defeat. “I’m starting to agree.”

  The police have not been by to get a statement for what happened in the apartment parking lot the day Nate hit me. Someone asked me a few questions while I was in the hospital, but I don’t remember much of what was said because I was dealing with doctors and trying to figure out if my ankle was broken or not. The doctors still weren’t sure at that point.

  Although, this new information makes me analyze at the situation between Nate and me in a different light. Why is he here helping me? I hadn’t questioned it all that much, thinking he was a nice guy who wanted to help take care of the situation he created, but is there another reason? Is he doing this so I won’t press charges?

  What kind of person is Nate? Is he a wolf in sheep’s clothing? A man I let into my house because I considered him a good guy, but in actuality he’s here for his own selfish purposes? Ugh. I hate the self-doubt my divorce created. I used to be so confident of my ability to make good decisions.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to live with Ridge, but I just feel like a girl should be married first,” Tabitha continues thirty minutes later in our ongoing conversation.

  Winnie rolls her eyes. “Tabitha, you haven’t been to your own house in weeks. If you won’t sell it, at least rent it to someone. You can make a ton of rent in Pelican Bay.”

  “You could. Property goes fast here, and it’s expensive. That’s why I’m renting outside of town.” When I packed up and left Barry, I had to do it fast and there wasn’t time to house shop. Now that we’re in the apartment and I’ve been looking, either houses have offers on them before I get past the front door or they are way out of my price range. I was lucky to find the little fixer-upper I did. The one Nate saw on my laptop yesterday. Now I just need the bank to get their stuff in gear so I can make an official offer.

  “The house has sentimental value.”

  My neighbor rolls her eyes again at her friend, and then shakes her head no at me, but I don’t plan to get insert myself in the argument between the two women.

  The apartment door squeaks — I need to put oil on the hinge or call maintenance — and all three of our heads shift in that direction. I could’ve sworn Nate locked the door on his way out.

  “Honey, I’m home.” He walks in the apartment smiling, a set of keys dangling from the door handle and a big smile on his face.

  When did he get keys?

  Who said that was okay?

  Why does it seem like he and his friends railroaded my life the last few days and how can I stop it?

  Do I even want to stop it?

  As he struggles to pull his keys out of the lock with one hand, a large red and white pizza box flip-flops at the top of his other.

  “Here let me help you,” Tabitha says, jumping up to grab the box from Nate.

  I frown, irritated that she gets to get up and help him so easily and I’m stuck in my chair fumbling around for a crutch — even if she has spent the last two hours in a nonstop poetic love fest discussing her boyfriend Ridge. I never had these thoughts about Barry. Was it a sign? A big one, which I missed.

  Too bad I didn’t listen to it when I had the chance. I have more feelings for Nate than I ever did for Barry, even if they are all mixed up right now.

  “Hey, Josie, I got pepperoni. You’re okay with that. Right?” Nate asks, looking at the other two girls. “Um, I’m not sure if I bought enough for everyone, though. If you give me a minute, I can go back.”

  Tabitha laughs, setting the pizza on my round kitchen table. “Nope, Winnie and I are busy. You two enjoy your dinner. Come on, Winnie,” Tabitha says winking at her friend.

  She doesn’t waste any time and jumps from the couch like he poked her with an ironing prod. “Right, gotta go.” She follows Tabitha out the door but turns back right before she leaves. “We’ll stop in and see you again soon, Josie.”

  I wave. “Have a good evening,” I yell, as Nate closes it behind their two retreating backs.

  They sure left fast. The delicious aroma of cheese clouds my senses and I can’t worry about them any longer.

  “Where is Emma?” Nate asks, his eyes searching the living room. “It’s quiet. Should I be worried?”

  He is learning. I shake my head no. “She’s taking a nap, but we should wake her up soon since it’s after four. Otherwise she’ll be up all night.”

  “Let me grab plates first and then I’ll get her.” The way Nate says everything makes it sound so simple. Like he’s been here every day of our lives. Two people parenting together. I don’t know what to make of it. Barry never even helped parent this way. He was more of a “tell me what I should do and then watch me do it” parent. When he was around, that is, which wasn’t often.

  “Come and sit at the table,” Nate says, standing in the open space between the two rooms eyeing his pizza.

  Right. Time to sit at the table with Nate, the man I’ve learned so much about while he’s been absent for the afternoon. Winnie and Tabitha were full of information on my current home nurse — all of it good. Everything made my tummy happy dance at the thought of spending more time with him
. It was an afternoon of feelings I’m not ready to have about anyone. Certainly not the man who hit me with his truck and is only here so I don’t press charges against him.

  “What did you do today?” I ask as my butt hits the bottom of the chair and I drop a crutch.

  He shrugs with his nose crinkling up to match the corners of his eyes. “This and that.”

  I wish I could work out my feelings for Nate. Do I hate him for hitting me with his truck? Do I think he’s cute? Am I physically attracted to him?

  I’m aware of the answer to the last two. They are yes, but I haven’t worked out how I feel about what he’s done to my life. It was already complicated, but he’s added an extra layer by giving me an injury all because of his negligence. I should make sure he pays for everything just like the girls said.

  Nate passes me one of the plain white plates I purchased before moving into the apartment — they were the cheapest ones at the thrift store — with two pieces of pepperoni pizza on top. I’m too lost in my thoughts to eat and instead pick at the crust, ripping off large chunks of the crispy bread.

  “Is everything okay? Do you not like pepperoni?”

  I rip off a piece of pepperoni hanging from the edge of one of my slices and pop it in my mouth. “It’s fine.”

  “What is it then?”

  “Nothing.”

  Nate narrows his eyes in my direction and taps a finger on the table. A few seconds pass before he opens his mouth again. “I hate the word nothing for an answer. There’s obviously something wrong. Did you skip a pain pill?”

  Well, then. His words piss me off faster than a bee sting hurts. Like the only reason something could be wrong with me is I’m cranky from being in pain. But he doesn’t realize I’m still bruised and sore. And come to think of it, I did miss the pain pill, but that is not why I’m upset.

  “I don’t need a pain pill, Nathan.” For whatever reason, using his full name makes it better. “I spent all afternoon wondering if you would come back and then you come in here carrying a pizza acting like everything is fine. Everything is not fine.”

  The left side corner of his lips tweaks up a smidge as he stares at his own pizza. By the time he lifts his head to answer his face is back into a calm unveiling mask. “I’m not leaving you, Josie. At this point you’ll have to pry me out of here.”

  He says that now, but I’ve heard those words in the past. My ex once promised he never had eyes for anyone else.

  I manage a few bites of pizza and in the process shred the pleated white paper napkin Nate brought in with the plates.

  “Do you plan to tell me why everything is not fine or do you want to murder another napkin first?” he asks.

  I ball the pieces up and shove them into my lap, my face becoming red. Why does he notice everything?

  “Are you being arrested for hitting me?” I rush the question out as quickly as possible. His golden eyes glow in the faint light from the cheap chandelier over the table.

  Nate blanches, leaning back in his chair. “Do you want me to be?”

  Now it’s my turn to not look in his direction as I answer. Do I? “No, but it makes me wonder why you’re here. Is it so I won’t press charges?” If that’s the case he should know I won’t, so he’s free to go.

  I glimpse his face as he shakes his head no. “If you want to press charges, I’ll drive you to the police station myself. They’re going to ask you for a statement anyway. I deserve whatever you do to me and more.”

  “So you’re here because you feel guilty?”

  “Yes,” he says rolling his eyes. “But that’s not the only reason why I’m here. Although I do have a selfish reason for helping.”

  I swallow and it takes more effort than it should. The dread of finding out the truth slides down my throat like a ball and plops into my stomach, causing waves of nausea. Why is it that I haven’t learned to stop asking for the truth?

  5

  “I feel horrible about what happened, Josie, and I would be here making sure you and Emma were okay regardless, but the driving force pushing me is because I want to learn more about you.”

  “Me?”

  “You have no idea. Do you?” he asks around a grimacing laugh, but he’s the only one who gets the joke. “I hit you because I was staring at you when you were standing in the parking lot. I can’t sleep at night knowing I almost hurt Emma and did hurt you.”

  “Excuse me?” How did he hit me if he was checking me out? “What?”

  “I ran into you at the grocery store about three weeks ago. You didn’t even glance in my direction. The day in the lot I saw you standing next to Winnie and I couldn’t believe you were talking to someone I’d met. Small fucking town. My eyes were glued to you. I couldn’t pull them away and then you ran right out in front of my truck. It was like my worst nightmare happening in slo-mo.”

  He takes a deep breath before continuing. I couldn’t stop him even if I wanted. Which I don’t. “You’ll hate me after telling you this and you’ll probably kick me out, but I need to get it off my chest. The guilt is eating away at me. Because I was stupid and wasn’t paying attention and I could’ve seriously hurt Emma or you. I want to help you get well because I take responsibility when I mess up, but the selfish horrible part of me saw it as an opportunity to get to know you better, too. I am a terrible person and deserve to go to jail.”

  It takes me longer to figure out exactly what he’s saying since I’ve been sluggish the last few days. The story still doesn’t make total sense. Regardless, I believe Nate… likes me.

  Wow.

  At least he finds me pretty. How long has it been since someone admitted to almost hitting a woman because they were so taken with her that he couldn’t stop looking at her?

  “Why didn’t you just talk to me at the grocery store?”

  He smiles, shaking his head. “I tried, but you never even looked up in my direction.”

  “You could have gotten my attention and said hi.” Thrown a pineapple or something. Nate is good looking, like hella good looking. He could have smacked me in the face with a piece of fruit and I would have gladly asked for more.

  His smile grows but not necessarily in a good way as it resembles a grimace. “I hit you with my shopping cart.”

  “That was you?” I can’t believe he’s the man who hit my shopping cart so hard I thought he cracked my big jar of pickles. I’d been so furious. I’d almost told him off, but I was late to pick up Emma from daycare and didn’t want to face the five-dollar-a-minute fee they impose when you’re late. Plus Barry had called to give me crap about dressing Emma in too much pink and my mother wanted us to come for a visit. I’d kept my head down and scowled the whole way to the register mumbling about assholes with penises.

  It’s absurd, but as I picture Nate pushing his cart into mine in the middle of the grocery store and then hunting me down to hit me with his truck, I laugh. “Stop hitting me with things!” I yell with a smile on my face and toss my ripped-up napkin at his forehead. He catches a few pieces of paper an inch before they connect his face.

  “Then start paying attention to me,” he says back, a hesitant smile across his features.

  “Momma!” a loud shrill comes from the bedroom. Emma is upset. She’s never had a problem waking up before, but since moving into the apartment she’ll get scared if she wakes up alone after a nap or in the morning. I’m hoping it goes away when she gets used to our new life.

  Nate’s laughter fades and he eyes my crutches with one perched against an empty dining room chair and the other on the floor. “I’ll get her,” he says jumping up and not waiting for me to offer. It’s a good thing because I wouldn’t have. I need to process a lot of things while he’s gone dealing with Emma and I prefer to process them alone.

  Less than a minute after he left the phone rings, and even though I hear it, I can’t see the ancient cordless model I keep somewhere in the apartment. I would never have considered a landline for myself, but my mother insisted. She said it w
as for safety. So each month I write a check of wasted money to the telephone company. I didn’t want to press any more of my mother’s buttons than I did by moving so far away, so I agreed to get the service installed. But ever since then it’s been a pain in my butt. Who even calls a landline phone anymore these days?

  The phone stops ringing and I shrug, giving up on whoever had been trying to call — probably a telemarketer.

  “Yeah, it’s no problem. She’s right here.” Nate comes around the hallway corner with the phone clutched between his shoulder and ear with Emma resting on his opposite hip. Where did he find the phone? And what is he doing answering it for me? First keys and now this?

  Emma reaches down to the floor, trying to get her dolls, and Nate puts her down before bringing me the cordless contraption I try to lose.

  “Hello?” I ask. I hope he’s smart enough to hang up on a telemarketer.

  There’s static on the other end of the phone and then the voice of my realtor cuts through so I can hear her. “Josie, I tried your cell first, but I didn’t want to text this. I’ve got bad news.”

  That crappy clench in my stomach forms again. “What happened?”

  “The little house you were interested in already has an offer. They offered full price and agreed to waive the inspection so the sellers took it.”

  My mouth falls open, distraught. “But I thought they said they’d give me and a week to get the paperwork?”

  “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do. You didn’t draw up the paperwork yet, and you didn’t put any earnest money down to secure the spot.”

  “So that’s it, then?”

  A horn honks and I wonder where in the hell the realtor could be standing. There’s never been this much traffic in Pelican Bay. “There are lots of fish in the sea, sweetheart. Every day someone lists a new house. We’ll find you something. I’ve got to go. I have a showing but wanted to make sure you heard so we could resume the search. Your house is still out there.”