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He turned onto Commercial Street a moment later, then onto South Pine and then into her driveway. He switched off the engine and turned to her, frowning. “You okay?”
She gave him a cool look. “I could ask you the same question. Are you mad at your mother or something?”
“What makes you think that?”
She pressed her lips together and drew in a slow breath through her nose. “If you keep answering every question with a question, what’s the point of even attempting a conversation?”
He readjusted his cowboy hat and narrowed those gorgeous green eyes at her. “That was another question you just asked me, in case you didn’t notice. And I asked the first question, which you failed to answer.”
They glared at each other. She thought how wrong it was for such a hot guy to be such a jerk.
And then he said ruefully, “I’m being an ass, huh?”
And suddenly, she felt a smile trying to pull at the corners of her mouth. “Now, that is a question I can definitely answer. Yes, Nate. You are being an ass.”
And then he said, “Sorry.”
And she said, “Forgiven.”
And they just sat there in the cab of his pickup with the rain beating hard on the roof overhead, staring at each other the way they had back at the store.
Finally he said, “My parents are good people. Basically. But my mom, well, she kind of thinks of herself as the queen of Rust Creek Falls, if that makes any sense. She married a Crawford, and to her, my dad is king. She gets ideas about people, about who’s okay and who’s not. If she likes you, that’s fine. If she doesn’t like you, you know it. Believe me.”
“You think she’s too hard on people?”
There was a darkness, a deep sadness in his eyes. “Sometimes, yeah.”
“Well, Nate, if your mother’s the queen, that would make you the crown prince.”
He took off his hat and set it on the dashboard—then changed his mind and put it back on again. “You’re right. I was raised to think I should run this town, and for a while in the past seven or eight years, I put most of my energy into doing exactly what I was raised to do.”
“You sound like you’re not so sure about all that now.”
“Lately, there’s a whole lot I’m not sure of—which is one of the reasons I’m planning on leaving town.”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe that. I think you love this town.”
“That doesn’t mean I won’t go.” And then he smiled, a smile that stole the breath right out of her body. “Come on.” He leaned on his door and got out into the pouring rain. He was soaked through in an instant as he opened the backseat door and gathered her groceries into his arms. “Let’s go.” He made a run for the house.
She was hot on his tail and also soaked to the skin as she followed him up her front steps.
Laughing, she opened the door for him and he went right in, racing to the kitchen to get the soggy shopping bags safely onto the counter before they gave way. He made it, barely. And then he took off his dripping hat and set it on the counter next to the split-open bags. “A man could drown out there if he’s not careful.”
It was still daylight out, but the rain and the heavy cloud cover made it gloomy inside. She turned on some lights. “Stay right there,” she instructed. “I’ll get us some towels.”
In the central hall, a box of linens waited for her to carry them upstairs to the extra bath. She dug out two big towels and returned to the kitchen. “Catch.” She tossed him one.
He snatched it from the air. They dried off as much as possible, then she took his towel from him and went to toss them in the hamper. When she got back to him, he was standing in the breakfast nook, studying a group of framed photographs she’d left on the table last night.
She quickly worked her long wet hair into a soggy braid. “I’m going to hang those pictures together on that wall behind you.” And then she gestured at the boxes stacked against that same wall. “As soon as I get all that put away, I mean.”
He picked up one of the pictures. “You were a cute little kid.”
She had no elastic bands handy, so she left the end of the wet braid untied. “You go for braces and knobby knees?”
“Like I said. Cute. Especially the pigtails.” He glanced at her, a warm, speculative glance. “An only child?”
“That’s right.” She went to the counter and started putting the groceries away. “They divorced when I was ten. My mother died a couple of years ago. My father remarried. He and his second wife live in Vermont.”
He set the picture down with the others. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
She put the eggs in the fridge. “Thanks. She was great. I miss her a lot.”
“Half siblings?”
“Nope. They travel a lot, my dad and my stepmom. They like visiting museums and staying in fine hotels in Europe, going on cruises to exotic locales. He really wasn’t into kids, you know? My mom loved camping, packing up the outdoor gear and sleeping under the stars in the national parks. So did I. But my dad? He always acted like he was doing us a favor, that having to deal with sleeping outside and using public restrooms was beneath him. And having a kid cramped his style. I never felt all that close to him, to tell you the truth. And after he and my mom split up, I hardly saw him— Sheesh. Does that sound whiny or what?”
He watched her for a moment. And then he shrugged. “Not whiny. Honest. I like that about you.”
She felt ridiculously gratified. “I... Thank you.”
He nodded, slowly. They stared at each other too long, the way they had back at the store.
And then she realized that one of them should probably say something. So she piped up with, “On a brighter note, I have a couple of girlfriends in Chicago who are like sisters to me. They’ll be coming to visit me here one of these days— Beer?”
He left the pictures and came to stand at the end of the granite counter. “Sure.”
She got a longneck from the fridge. “Glass?”
“Just the bottle.” He took it, screwed off the top and downed a nice, big gulp. She watched his Adam’s apple working, admired the way his wet shirt clung to his deep, hard chest. He set the bottle on the counter and ran those lean, strong fingers through his wet hair. “You leave anyone special behind in Chicago?”
She stopped with the carton of milk held between her two hands. “I told you. My girlfriends.”
He picked up the beer, tipped it to his mouth, then changed his mind and didn’t drink from it. “I wasn’t talking about girlfriends.”
She didn’t really want to go there. But then, well, why not just get it over with? “There was a doctor, at the hospital where I worked. A surgeon.”
“It didn’t work out?”
“No, it did not.” She glanced toward the bay window that framed the breakfast nook. The rain kept coming down. The wind was up, too. “Listen to that wind.”
He nodded. “It’s wild out there, all right.” Lightning flashed then, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Callie put the milk in the fridge and threw the ruined paper bags away. He held up his beer bottle. “I’ll finish this up and get out of your hair.”
She had plenty of boxes left to unpack, and the sooner he went home, the sooner she could get going on that. Still, she heard herself offering, “Stick around. Faith Harper brought me a jumbo baking dish full of chicken divan last night. I have plenty left if you want to join me.”
He took his hat off the counter and then dropped it back down. “You sure?”
She realized she was. Absolutely. “Yes.”
Half an hour later, he’d cleared all the stuff off the table and set it for them with dishes she’d unpacked the night before. She’d cut up a salad and baked a quick batch of packaged drop biscuits. He said yes to a second beer and she poured herself a glass of wine. They sat down to eat.
After a couple bites, he said, “I remember this casserole. Faith’s mom always brought it to all the church potlucks. It was a big hit. The water chestnuts make a nice touch.”
Callie chuckled and shook her head.
“What?” he demanded.
“I don’t know. It’s just... Well, that’s a small town for you. I love it. I give you chicken divan and you can tell me its history.”
He ate another bite. “It’s the best.” He took a biscuit, buttered it, set down his knife. “So how do you like working with Emmet?”
“What’s not to like? He really is the sweetest man, and he’s good, you know, with the patients. Everyone loves him, me included.” She sipped her wine. “The equipment we’re working with, however, is another story altogether.”
His brows drew together. “I thought Emmet got some grants after the flood, that everything was back in shape again.”
“That’s right. He had the building restored. It is in good shape now, and he saved most of the equipment by moving it to the upper floor before the levee broke. But was all that stuff even worth saving? It’s a long way from state of the art, you know? The diagnostic equipment is practically as old as I am. And the exam table cushions are so worn, they’re starting to split.”
“You’re saying you need funding?” He was looking at her strangely, kind of taking her measure....
“What?” she said sharply. Did she have broccoli between her teeth or something?
“Hey, I’m just asking.” That strange expression had vanished—if it had ever been there at all.
She spoke more gently. “Yeah, we could use a serious infusion of cash. So if you know anybody looking to give away their money, send them our way.”
“I’ll do that,” he said. And then he picked up his fork and dug into his food again.
A few minutes later, he helped her clear the table. It was a little after seven. If he left soon, she could still get a couple more hours of unpacking done before calling it a night.
But the longer he stayed, the more she didn’t want him to go.
In the back of her mind, a warning voice whispered that she was giving him the wrong signals, that she was supposed to be swearing off men for a while, that she might be really attracted to him, but her friend Paige Traub had called him a douche—and he’d acted like one the first time they met. Plus, well, he kept saying he was moving away, and she never wanted to live anywhere else but Rust Creek Falls.
It couldn’t go anywhere. And the last thing she needed was to get herself all tied in knots over a guy who wouldn’t be sticking around.
But then, instead of waiting for him to say how he should get going, she opened her big mouth and offered, “Coffee? And if you’re lucky, I may even have a bag of Oreos around here somewhere....”
He rinsed his plate in the sink and handed it to her. “Oreos, did you say?”
“Oh, yes, I did.”
“And I know you’ve got milk. I saw you put it away.”
She bent to slide the plate into the lower dishwasher rack. “Have I found your weakness?”
He moved in a step closer. “There are just some things a man can’t resist....”
She shut the dishwasher door and rose to face him, aware of the warmth of him, so close, of the gold striations in those moss-green eyes, of how she loved the shape of his mouth, with that clear indentation at the bow and the sexy fullness of his lower lip.
He lifted a hand and brushed his fingers along the bare skin of her arm, bringing a lovely little shiver racing across her skin. Outside, the sky lit up and thunder rolled away into the distance. The rain just kept pouring down, making a steady drumming sound on the roof.
She whispered, “Nate...”
And his fingers moved over her shoulder, down her back. He gave a light, teasing tug on her unbound braid. “I keep thinking of those pictures of you, with your braces and your pigtails. I’ll bet you had a mouth on you even then.”
This close, she could smell his aftershave, and beneath that, the healthy scent of his skin. “What do you mean, a mouth?”
“You know. Sassy. Opinionated.”
Her lips felt kind of dry, suddenly. She started to stick out her tongue to moisten them but caught herself just in time and ended up nervously pressing her lips together. “I am not sassy.” She meant it to sound firm, strong. But somehow, it came out all breathless and soft.
He chuckled, rough and kind of low. She felt that chuckle down to her toes. It seemed to rub along her nerve endings, setting off sparks. “Yeah,” he said. “You are. Sassy as they come.”
“Uh-uh.”
“Uh-huh.”
“No, Nate.”
“Yes, Callie.” Now his voice was tender.
And she felt warm all over. Warm and tingly and somehow weightless. She’d gone up on her tiptoes and was swaying toward him, like a daisy yearning toward the sun.
His hand was on her shoulder now, rubbing, caressing. And then he said her name again, the word barely a whisper. And then he did what she longed for him to do. He pulled her closer, so she could feel the heat of him all along the front of her body, feel the softness of her own breasts pressed to that broad, hard chest of his.
He made a low questioning sound. And in spite of all her doubts, she didn’t even hesitate. She answered with a slow, sure nod, her eyes locked to his as his mouth came down.
And then, in the space of a breath, those lips of his were touching hers, gently. Carefully, too. To the soft, incessant roar of the rain, the constant harsh whistling of the wind, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, parting her lips for him, letting him in.
The kiss started to change. From something so sweet it made her soul ache to something hotter, deeper. Dangerous.
A low growling sound escaped him. It seemed to echo all through her, that sound. And then his tongue slid between her lips, grazing her teeth. She shivered in excitement and wrapped her arms tighter around him.
He held her tighter, too, gathering her into him, his big hands now splayed across her back, rubbing, stroking, while she lifted up and into him, fitting her body to his, feeling that weakness and hunger down in the core of her and the growing hardness of him pressed so close against her.
Her mind was spinning and her body was burning and her heart beat in time to the throb of desire within her.
Bad idea, to have kissed him. She knew that, she did—and yet, somehow, at that moment, she didn’t even care. She was on fire. Worse, she was right on the verge of dragging the man down the hall to her bedroom, where they could do something even more foolish than kissing.
But before she could take his hand, the whole kitchen lit up in a wash of glaring light so bright she saw it even with her eyes closed. She gasped.
Lightning. It was lightning.
And then thunder exploded, so close and loud it felt as if it was right there in the kitchen with them.
Callie cried out, and her eyes popped wide open. Nate opened his eyes, too. They stared at each other.
He muttered, “What the hell?”
