by Zoe Chant
Nate shook his head. “No, no. Now that I’m up, I’ll be up for a while. Can’t help it. You’d be keeping me company.”
Well, in that case...”All right. I’ll make tea.”
His teeth flashed in a grin. “Sounds wonderful.”
She hadn’t expected him to want any. Most men she knew disdained tea as an old lady drink. Maybe he was just being polite. “Or something else? A beer?”
But he shook his head, still smiling. “I like tea. It’s soothing. Reminds me of my mom.”
His mom the church lady. There would have been a lot of tea in his house, growing up, if Stella knew her church ladies.
Stella went and started the water boiling, looked through the cabinets for the chamomile.
“I remember my grandmother doing this, when I was young,” she said, not knowing where the impulse to speak had come from. “Everything's in exactly the same place as it was then.”
“Your sister kept everything as it was, then?” Nate asked.
Stella smiled to herself. “Almost everything. Lynn likes things to be predictable, and she likes tradition. And she loved our grandmother so much. Her bedroom's still untouched, upstairs.”
“It must have been hard when she died,” Nate said, halfway to a question.
Stella nodded. “Harder for Lynn. We were both sad—she was the only real parent we had, growing up. Our dad left, and our mom died when I was a baby, so. And I grieved. It felt like the foundation of the world had been taken away. But for Lynn, it was almost like her entire world was gone. She wasn't sure what to do, without Grandmother around.” She smiled a little. “But I knew what to do. Grandmother wanted us to be happy. She wanted me to adventure—to be safe, but to experience the world. And so I did.”
The water was starting to boil, and Stella took the kettle off the heat before it could start to whistle and wake up the whole house. She poured tea into the two mugs, and held one out to Nate.
He took it—Stella was startled to see how small it looked in his big hand—and led the way back to the front room, turned on the light. Drew the curtains, so that no one would be able to look in and see them.
He paused at the couch, made up with its blankets and pillows, and then sat down decisively. Stella considered taking a chair for about half a second before she sat down next to him.
The blankets made the couch, an old and somewhat ornate piece of furniture, cozier than she'd ever thought of it before. The cheerful yellow lamplight, the steaming hot tea in her hands, and the presence of Nate next to her, warm and alive, all worked to dispel any lingering chill from the nightmare. Stella relaxed into the couch and smiled.
“So what adventure would you go on next?” Nate asked, settling himself into the opposite side. “If practicalities were no object at all.”
“Oh,” Stella sighed. “If I didn't have to worry about money, if Eva could take time off school and just come with me? I'd travel the world.”
A smile spread over Nate's face. “Anywhere in specific?”
“Everywhere!” Stella said, grinning. “The only foreign country I've ever been to is Canada, and that's right next door to Glacier. I'd love to see—oh, anything. Singapore, Dubai, Peru, Vienna. Morocco. New Zealand. Moscow. Thailand. The Great Wall of China. All of it.” And draw it all. She had books and books full of Montana mountains, and nothing else. She wanted to go somewhere where she didn’t even know what colors to use to paint the landscape.
“That's a tall order,” Nate said seriously.
“Oh, I know. I don't think it'll happen anytime soon. But maybe someday. After Eva's out of college.”
“Does she know where she's going to go?”
Stella sighed again, but this time it wasn't the blissful sigh of imagination. It was reality sinking back in. “Right now her dream is MIT. And she's so smart, I'm sure she'll get in. But I don't even want to think about how expensive it'll be. I can't afford something like that.”
“She could probably get loans,” Nate said tentatively.
“It would still be the same amount of money to pay off,” Stella said. “I—I work as a waitress. I can't make anything like that.”
“If she graduates from MIT, I bet she could get a job that paid well enough to take care of it on her own,” Nate pointed out.
Stella clutched her tea. “But—I'm her mom. I'm supposed to be able to do it. I want to do it.”
“Well, maybe she'll get a full tuition scholarship and you won't have to worry about it at all,” Nate said.
Stella laughed. “I hope so. If anyone deserves it, it's her. And I don't ever want to tell her that no, she has to go to a little, cheap school because that's all her mom can afford.” She sighed. “She deserves better. Even if it's going to take her thousands of miles away.”
“Do you have more adventures planned for when she's gone?” Nate asked, sipping his tea, blue eyes crinkling over the top of the mug. “Right now, it seems like you're holding off for her sake.”
Stella shook her head. “No, I'm going to be working my butt off for tuition money, remember? I can do that for four years. God forbid she decides to go to graduate school, though.”
Nate shook his head. “Stella, I can't believe you'd ever think you aren't a good enough mom. Sitting here, it seems like all you care about is that Eva be happy.”
“That's the first thing I care about,” Stella corrected. “There are other things. Just...that one's first.”
“You're making me wish I had children,” Nate said quietly. “I don't know what it's like to care about another person in such an—all-consuming way.” He smiled a little. “Although I don't know how well I'd handle the crying and hand-holding and time-outs and so on. I had enough of that sort of thing dealing with Marine recruits.”
He said it so deadpan that Stella didn't realize it was a joke at first. Then she burst out laughing. “Eva's always been a really good kid,” she managed. “I mean, there was some whining and time-outs, because there is for every kid, but she was always really easy. Even now.”
“She's almost the age of a Marine recruit, and I can tell you she's head and shoulders above a lot of eighteen-year-olds I knew, in terms of maturity,” Nate said thoughtfully.
“I don't think she'd make it in the Marines, though,” Stella said. “Too independent.”
Nate was quiet for a long minute, and then he said, “I'm glad. I wouldn't want to think of her putting herself in danger, over there. MIT's a much better choice.”
Stella's heart was seized with something difficult to describe, at that. Nate being protective of Eva...it was like he'd reached straight into her chest.
Suddenly unable to bear the distance between them, she scooted over on the couch a bit. Just to be a little nearer.
“What about you?” she asked impulsively. “If practicality were no object. What sort of adventure would you go on?”
She’d startled him, she could see. His brows came together, and he thought about it for a long time.
“Travel sounds pretty good,” he said finally. “I like your answer.”
“But haven’t you been all over the world already?” Stella asked.
“I’m always working when I travel,” Nate said ruefully. “I never go around seeing the sights. I look at everything tactically. A nice building—well, what are the entrance and exit points? What are its vulnerabilities? What would be the safest place to store something valuable, and how would you protect bystanders who lived or worked there? I’m never thinking about the architecture or the history of it.”
“That’s a shame.” Stella was struck by the sadness of it—so many opportunities, so much experience, but it was all in the service of others, and all with the heavy thought of wrongdoing weighing it down. “Maybe you could take a vacation sometime soon, travel somewhere just for fun.”
“Maybe,” Nate said slowly. “I don’t know where I’d go. I’d have to think about it.” He smiled at her. “Maybe I could ask you what you think would be best.”
> “Oh, but there’s so many choices! Maybe you could go to Cambodia and see the temples there? Or—what about Machu Picchu? Although if you’re going to see pyramids, really, you should definitely go to Egypt. Although...” Stella trailed off, because Nate was laughing.
“You know, none of those are places you named the first time around?” he asked. “How many exploration destinations do you have floating around in your head?”
“At any given time, it could be different,” she admitted. “When I was bored in school as a kid, I used to read National Geographic inside my textbooks, and think about going to all the fantastic places they talked about.”
Nate’s eyebrows flew up. “National Geographic, huh. Weird kind of rebellion.”
Stella laughed. “I know! Once a teacher caught me and said, Well, at least you’re learning.”
“But you never got out of the country?” Nate asked quietly.
That brought her back down. “I was saving up,” she said. “I’d kicked it all around the US since I was nineteen, hitchhiking and Greyhounding and dating guys who were heading somewhere interesting. I’d settled down and gotten a cashier job, and I was keeping it boring, living with my boyfriend, and saving all my money, because I was—we were—going to backpack down through Mexico into Central America, see how far we could get. But then...”
“Eva,” Nate guessed.
Stella nodded. “Eva. I didn’t figure it out until I was a few months along. And my boyfriend couldn’t handle the news at all. He said he was going on the trip with me or without me, and when I said I wasn’t going to have a baby in the wilds of Peru, he just...left. Quit his job, took everything he thought was valuable, and disappeared.”
The pain and anger had dulled over the years, but it still made her fists clench. “So I was all alone and pregnant, and I had a decision to make. And that was the beginning of putting Eva first. I took all my money that I’d saved, and I moved back home, so Eva could be born with a solid roof over her head and plenty of food and clothes and whatever she needed.”
Nate set his tea aside and reached out. He seemed to have forgotten his aversion to touching from the kitchen, and Stella knew she should probably remind him, so that he didn’t regret any unprofessional contact again...but she couldn’t quite summon the strength. Instead, she reached her hand out, too, and shivered at the slight shock when they touched. He twined his fingers with hers and held on tight. The memory of Eva’s father seemed to fade away until it was almost nothing.
“Once she got old enough to be in school, I started moving around more again,” Stella continued, “because...I had to. I couldn’t stay here any longer. Lynn was a lot more sanctimonious then, and I was surrounded by all the people I’d grown up with, all the guys I’d made dumb decisions with, and I just had to get out. But I never traveled as far as I had when I was young. Mostly I stayed in Montana. It’s beautiful here, and there’s a lot to see.” She shrugged. “But I never had that sense of purpose I’d had when I was younger.”
There’d been a lot of aimless drifting, clutching Eva to her side and wondering what on God’s earth it was that she wanted. That she could have.
Nate's hand tightened on hers. He was so warm, and his hand was rough but his grip was gentle. Stella just wanted to let herself go, fall sideways until she was lying against him, close her eyes and soak him in.
“I can't imagine the sort of bravery that took.” His voice was suffused with emotion.
Stella frowned at him. “You were in the Marines. You went overseas and got shot at. I think you understand bravery.”
He shook his head. “That's a different kind of bravery. Everyone's afraid for their lives, sure...but none of us were alone. We knew the Corps was behind us. We knew our brother Marines were beside us. One thing you never are in the Marines is alone...whether you want to be or not.” His eyes crinkled a little.
Then he sobered. “But there's some things...some things I think that only women can really understand. Being alone and pregnant is one. That takes a sort of bravery that I've never had to muster.”
Stella couldn't help but smile, feeling warmed now by more than his body. “I never thought I'd out-badass a Marine.”
“Believe it,” Nate said with an answering smile. “And you came through. You raised a wonderful girl.”
Stella's smile grew as she thought of her daughter. “That's on her as much as it is on me.”
Nate shook his head, still smiling, and raised their joined hands to his lips. He kissed her knuckles.
Stella shivered.
Nate's eyes caught the movement. She could see his attention snap into focus. His pupils dilated.
The warmth that had filled her body began to turn to heat. Her cheeks flushed, and the muscles in her lower stomach tightened. Could he feel this, too?
Deliberately, he bent his head and kissed her hand again. Softly, but slowly. Stella made a small sound.
Just as deliberately, she disentangled their fingers, and when her hand was free, brushed her thumb over his lower lip.
He inhaled audibly. Stella could see the tension in his body, tight like a wire, all of it focused on her.
Ours, her lynx growled. He's ours. See how he looks at us? See how he wants us?
And finally, Stella had to acknowledge that her lynx was right.
So she leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Nate's. Right before their lips touched, her eyes drifted closed, and when their mouths brushed together, she sighed with desire.
There was a shining, perfect moment when they were both just hovering together, barely touching, feeling each other's body heat. Aware of the potential that hung in the air.
Then Nate caught her in his arms and kissed her hard.
Stella shuddered. His hands were tight on her waist, his mouth hot and demanding. Like he'd been holding himself back so carefully, and now that he'd let go, he couldn't contain himself.
She kissed him back. All hesitance had disappeared as desire came roaring through her body, her lynx wild in her chest, the same thought thudding through them both: Mine, mine, mine.
Forget any belief that she couldn't have him. Any thoughts that he was too good for her, that he had a life far away. Screw that. Stella dug her fingers in, held on, and let any thoughts of the future go. For now, for right now—this man was hers.
They kissed until her breath came short and her fingers were tingling. His tongue slid into her mouth, and she opened for it with a moan. She pushed forward, insistent, until he spread his big hands over her hips and lifted her right into his lap.
And then, oh, she could feel him hardening underneath her. Right between her legs, where she wanted him the most. She kissed him fiercely, biting at his lip while her clit throbbed.
He tore his mouth away and panted for breath, his eyes devouring her. “God,” he said. His voice sounded wrecked already. “God, you’re gorgeous. The things I want to do to you—”
“Do them.” Stella kissed his mouth again. “Do all of them.”
He growled and pulled her close again, fingers biting down. There was something about seeing Nate like this—Nate, who was easygoing and always in control, who was safe and kind and conscientious. Seeing him wild-eyed with desire, overwhelmed with need, for her—
It inflamed her, made her wild in turn. She rocked on his lap, chasing the thrill of sensation that arced through her when her clit rubbed against his erection just right. He groaned and thrust up. She could feel his cock jerk through the thin flannel of his pants.
“Clothes off,” he said into her mouth. “Off now.”
He stripped her tank top up over her head; she had to let go of him to raise her arms and get it off, and she hated every second she wasn’t holding on to him. But then he wanted to lean back and look at her.
She caught her breath, seeing his eyes glaze over as her chest heaved. “You too,” she insisted, pulling at his T-shirt.
He sat forward so she could yank it up and off of him, and then she was caught by
the sight of his chest, leanly muscled, with salt-and-pepper chest hair. She spread her palms over his pecs, catching a nipple between two fingers. He made a low noise, and then he was cupping her breasts in his big, rough hands. She closed her eyes.
And then one of his hands trailed down, fingers tracing delicately over her stomach. Stella smiled without opening her eyes, and waited.
The fingers dipped down under the waistband of her pajama pants. The elastic gave him plenty of room, and soon his whole hand was down there. Stella leaned back to give him room—his other hand caught her around the waist, letting her arch her back and lift her hips without being in any danger of falling.
He cupped her mound, massaging lightly through her panties. Stella panted hotly, pushing her hips up into his hand. She was slick with wetness, the fabric of her underwear soaking through as he rubbed her clit through it. “Come on,” she whispered, “come on, come on.”
He groaned and pulled his hand back—Stella gasped in protest at the loss of sensation—and then slid it under the waistband of her panties. And then his fingers were pressing right up against her clit, thank God, right where she needed them. His touch was firm but unpredictable; first here, then there, then somewhere else. Stella wiggled against him, looking for more.
He gave it to her. Sliding his hand down the length of her clit—she let out a moan, then clapped a hand over her mouth, remembering that they weren't alone in the house—he slid one of those long, capable fingers right inside her, while his thumb rubbed circles over the base of her clit. Stella's muscles clenched hard around him, her head thrown back, all of her weight on his other hand, pressed against her lower back. She dragged in air, her mouth open, moving her hips in circles against his hand.
She could feel the orgasm building inside her. “Don't stop, don't stop—”
“I won't stop,” he said, no hesitation. He kept the pressure up, the circling of his thumb, the slow thrust of his finger in and out. At the last moment, Stella opened her eyes.