“Then what is it? If I can fly a Blackhawk gunship, I should be able to drive an itty-bitty car.”
Fletcher ran a hand across his face. “You’re asking the impossible.”
She felt a shiver of annoyance wash over her. All she was asking was to drive his car, and he was acting as if she’d asked him for a kidney. “Okay. Forget I asked.”
“Gotcha!”
“What!”
“I was teasing you because I needed to know if you would throw a hissy fit if you didn’t get your way.”
“You weren’t teasing me, Fletcher. You were testing me, and I shouldn’t have to remind you that I’m a grown-ass woman who doesn’t resort to hissy fits or tantrums if she doesn’t get what she wants.”
Reaching across the table, Fletcher grasped her hand, tightening his grip when she attempted to extricate herself. “Please let me go.” They resorted to a stare down until he released her fingers.
Rising slightly, Fletcher reached into a pocket of his jeans and set the keys to the sports car on the table. “The car is yours to keep.”
Nicole closed her eyes for several seconds. She didn’t know what game he was playing, but it was apparent he wanted to mess with her head. “You’re giving me your car?”
He smiled. “Yes. Consider it a peace offering.”
“I don’t need another car. Besides, it would never suit my lifestyle. Where would Othello sit?”
Fletcher slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I forgot about your four-legged boyfriend.”
“Othello’s not my boyfriend, but my protector. Only you can be my boyfriend.”
A beat passed. “What if I want to be your boyfriend and your protector? But only if you will permit me to be.”
“Do you really believe I need protecting?” Nicole questioned.
“Every woman, no matter how solvent or independent she may be or feel, needs a man to protect her.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “You sound like a throwback to another generation.”
Fletcher smiled. “I know, but I’m okay with it. Are you okay with me wanting to play superhero?”
Nicole placed her hand over his fisted one. “Yes, but only if you don’t let anyone see your cape.”
He reversed their hands, brought hers to his mouth and dropped a kiss on the knuckles. “You’re the only one who will get to see it.”
They shared a smile and then concentrated on the food on their plates. Nicole did not want to fight with Fletcher, but she also didn’t want him to think she was a helpless damsel in distress waiting around for him to rescue her from the bad guys.
“Do you want seconds?”
Nicole patted her belly at the same time she shook her head. “Please, no. I’m as full as a tick.”
“Careful, sweetheart. Your country is showing,” Fletcher teased.
She ignored the endearment when she said, “I’ve never pretended to be anything other than country. The instant I open my mouth to speak, folks know I’m from the South.”
“I happen to like country girls.”
“And I happen to like country boys masquerading as superheroes.”
“Am I Batman, Captain America, Superman or Black Panther?”
“Aquaman.”
“Why him?”
“You and Jason Momoa both have multiple tattoos.”
“So, you like ink?” Fletcher teased.
Nicole extended her right hand to show him the USMC tattoo stamped on the underside. “I do, but after I got this one, I couldn’t decide at the time whether I wanted to get another tattoo.”
“If you were to get more ink now, what would it be?”
“I’d put the scales of justice on my left wrist.”
“I still say you should’ve been JAG.”
Nicole stared at the tattoo on her wrist. “That would’ve meant not resigning my commission.”
“Do you ever regret leaving the corps?”
Fletcher was asking Nicole the very question she’d asked herself once she’d submitted her separation papers, and the answer was the same. She had mulled over leaving for a very long time and, in the end, had known she had made the right decision.
“No.” Her answer appeared to satisfy Fletcher’s curiosity when he picked up his mug, gave her a mock salute and took a long swallow.
She wanted to tell him she’d never been impulsive when it came to anything that would affect her future. The exception was leaving the law firm to come to Wickham Falls to take care of her brother and nephews.
The restaurant was becoming more and more crowded when she suggested they give up their booth to newcomers. She picked up the keys to the Corvette and walked out of the restaurant to the parking lot while Fletcher stayed behind to pay the bill.
Chapter Seven
Fletcher stared out the windshield at the passing landscape as Nicole accelerated along a winding two-lane road in an area favored by hunters. She handled the powerful sports car like an expert driver and there was no doubt her reflexes hadn’t slowed since becoming a civilian. The skills she’d acquired as a gunship helicopter pilot were on full display as she navigated a sharp hillside curve that had him unconsciously braking when she hadn’t.
“Nicely done, speed racer.”
“Thank you,” she said, not taking her eyes off the road.
“It looks as if I’m not the only adrenaline junkie.”
“I never said I wasn’t one,” Nicole admitted.
When he’d left the Wolf Den, Nicole had taken off her cap and was seated in the Corvette waiting for him. Instead of reversing direction, she’d driven through Mineral Springs and headed for the forested area locals and tourists used for hunting and fishing.
Fletcher did not complain because it would increase the time they would spend together. The one thing he’d noticed about the adult Nicole was that she was confident enough to say whatever was on her mind. She hadn’t been reticent when she’d said she did not need him to protect her. And she was right because he’d never protected her—not even when he’d overheard girls talking about her being stuck-up.
It had taken nearly two decades for him to come to know Nicole. Unlike many families in Johnson County, the Camposes did not claim generations of coal miners, but professionals who’d gone into education and law. He’d told her kids were afraid of her father exacting tough justice, but the truth was she’d been alienated because they were jealous of her intelligence and envious that boys whispered about how cute she was.
“If you were to sell this car, how much would it go for?” Nicole asked, breaking into his thoughts.
“About sixty thousand.”
Nicole smiled as she eased off the gas pedal. “Not bad for a car that’s more than sixty years old. If you don’t mind my asking, what is the most expensive car you’ve restored and sold?”
Fletcher thought about her question for a moment. “My representative sold one for one thirty-five.”
She gave him a quick glance before focusing on the road again. “You have an agent?”
“He searches out cars for me, I restore them, and he gets his commission once they’re sold. Most times he puts them up for auction, which generates higher profits for both of us.”
“On average, how much have you invested in restoring a vehicle?”
“It can be as low as a couple of thousand to more than ten.”
“That’s not too shabby if you’re able to recoup your outlay appreciably.”
“Pop calls it my side hustle, but I tell him don’t hate it, because I’m saving the money for my retirement.”
* * *
Fletcher mentioning retirement reminded Nicole that Austen Auto & Sons had been a family-owned business for more than a century when his great-great-grandfather had set up shop to repair one of the first Model T Fords in Wickham Falls. The
business had been passed down from father to son and then grandson, and now there was just Fletcher and his father.
Reggie kept her up-to-date about the residents of their hometown, and she’d been surprised when he’d told her that Sean Austen had moved his family to Texas to work on an oil rig. She knew Fletcher had many more years before he would consider retiring and wondered if he didn’t marry or father a son, whether he would sell the shop or go out of business.
“You have quite a few years before you even consider retiring.”
“I’m projecting by sixty-five I should be more than ready to hang up my tools. Pop just turned sixty and he claims he’s going to hang in for another three or four years, then he’s done. What about you, Nikki?” Fletcher asked. “Have you thought about what you want to do once you retire?”
“Not really. It would depend on my marital status.”
“You want to get married?”
Nicole thought she imagined a hint of surprise in his voice. “I never said I didn’t want to be married.”
“I...I just thought that...” His words trailed off.
“You thought what, Fletcher?” Nicole asked as she slowed the car to just under the legal speed limit.
“That you weren’t willing to give up a career for marriage.”
“Why can’t I have both? My grandmother was a teacher and my mother clerked for a judge, and both had husbands and children. So why should it be any different with me?”
“I suppose it wouldn’t be any different with you.”
“You suppose? Either you believe I can or I can’t.”
“You are a pilot and a lawyer, so there’s probably nothing you can’t do.”
Nicole blew him an air kiss. “You’re really good for a woman’s ego.”
Fletcher rested his left arm over the back of her seat. “I don’t want to be good for your ego, but good to you, Nikki. I want us to have as much fun as we can before you leave to go back to Florida.”
“On a scale of one to ten, how much fun are you talking about?”
Fletcher ran his fingers up and down her nape and Nicole clamped her teeth together to smother a moan. He unknowingly had discovered one of her erogenous zones.
“How about a fifteen?”
“I kind of like the sound of that. Can you give me a hint what you plan for us?”
“Nah.”
“Why not, Fletcher?”
“Because I want to surprise you.”
Nicole wanted to tell Fletcher she did not like surprises, but she was curious about what he had planned for them to do during her stay. “O-kay,” she said, drawing out the two syllables. “I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see.”
Leaning to his left, Fletcher kissed her cheek. “Yes, you will.”
“You claim you can cook a little.” He nodded. “I want to know if you’re going to cook for me.”
“Keep fishing, Nikki, but I’m not biting.”
“You can’t blame me for trying.”
He released her neck. “Yeah, right, Counselor. And I’m not going to let you wear me down.”
“Let me warn you that I can be pretty persuasive.”
“What do you have planned?” Fletcher asked.
Nicole shook her head. “Nah. If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
She felt as if she and Fletcher had turned back the clock to when they were in high school before he’d asked her to prom. They’d worked well together. He’d respected her suggestions and decisions and she his, but at no time had he indicated he’d liked her as more than a classmate. His asking her to prom had come as a complete shock.
“I’ve also planned several outings with Luke and Danny. Of course, you’re included.”
Nicole smiled sweetly. “Thank you so much.”
Her nephews had spent the past two weekends with their grandparents, and although they enjoyed playing with their cousins, both had complained about not going anywhere, although she had given their grandfather money to offset the cost of taking them out to eat or to the movies. They had gotten used to her taking them out on weekends. Whether to eat at Ruthie’s, to go to a movie, or just on a road trip to stop at roadside stands to buy fruits and vegetables, or to go berry picking.
Nicole gasped when she pulled up in front of what had been the Hutchinson property. A two-story farmhouse with a wraparound porch had replaced the small run-down structure that had been no larger than a bungalow. Rays from the late-summer afternoon sun bathed the white vinyl siding in gold. Navy blue trim matched the window shutters.
“What do you think?” Fletcher asked.
“It’s incredible,” she said softly. A colorful floral wreath adorned the front door and a quartet of white rockers with cushioned seats and backrests in monochromatic shades of blue beckoned one to come and sit awhile.
“Let’s go in.”
Nicole shut off the engine, handed Fletcher the keys and exited the Corvette, before following him up the steps to the porch. She gasped again when he unlocked and opened the door to an open floorplan with gleaming cherrywood flooring. She had expected to find Fletcher’s home to be the quintessential bachelor residence with sofas and chairs covered in dark-hued leather, not gaily colored and patterned fabrics.
Kicking off her running shoes, she walked across the living room and into the all-white kitchen with its stainless-steel Viking appliances and gray quartz countertops and backsplashes. The gray stone floor tiles were cool under her bare feet. Nicole ran her fingers over the smooth countertop on the breakfast bar overlooking the cooking island.
“You must love cooking here.”
Fletcher came over to stand next to her. “I do. I’m still learning, but I’m having fun trying new dishes. You’ll have to let me know what you want and I’ll try to whip it up for you.”
Nicole gave him a sidelong glance. “How much advance notice do I have to give you?”
He lifted broad shoulders under the black T-shirt. “Only a couple of days. What would you like me to make for you?”
“Fajitas. I love Mexican food and fajitas are one of my favorite dishes.”
Fletcher moved closer until their shoulders were touching. “Steak, chicken or shrimp?”
Tilting her chin, she smiled up at him. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Will the boys eat fajitas or should I make something different for them?”
A small laugh escaped Nicole’s parted lips. “They will definitely eat fajitas.”
“That’s good to know.”
Fletcher stared at her from under lowered lids at the same time he angled his head until their lips were mere inches apart. He was so close that Nicole could inhale his breath. She knew he was going to kiss her and she wanted him to. She wasn’t certain why he’d selected her as his temporary romantic interest, but at that moment she did not care.
Her girlhood crush on Fletcher came back like the rushing waters of the falls that had given their town its name. She stared at his firm lips and then closed her eyes when his mouth covered hers in a caress that ignited a wave of heat that surged through her body like a lit fuse. Time and reason stopped when she found herself in his embrace, mouths joined as he lifted her off her feet and deepened the kiss. Her arms went around his neck and she held on to Fletcher as if he were her lifeline. All her senses were heightened when she inhaled the lingering scent of his masculine cologne on his warm skin.
The kiss ended and Nicole pressed her cheek to his, feeling the stubble against her smooth one. “Why did you kiss me?”
“I’m surprised you have to ask me that,” Fletcher said. He set her on her feet but did not release her. “I’ve waited more than seventeen years to kiss you.”
She blinked once and then closed her eyes against his direct stare. The amber orbs had darkened until they reminded her of tiny cups of espresso. “If I’d gon
e to prom with you, then you probably wouldn’t have had to wait this long.”
Fletcher smiled. “You’re right about that.”
Nicole rested her forehead against his chest. “I’d like to see the rest of your house.”
She knew it wasn’t safe—at least for her—to remain in his embrace for much longer. Being this close to Fletcher was a blatant reminder of how long it had been since a man had kissed her. Fletcher’s kiss wasn’t as much about passion as it was to gauge her reaction. It was also a test for her. Because she’d kissed him back.
Fletcher released her waist and laced her fingers through his. “We’ll start upstairs and work our way down.”
Nicole walked with him as he led her up the staircase covered in a plush delft-blue pile. The carpeting continued down the hallway along the second story. “Who decorated your home?”
“I hired a professional. I told her I wanted furnishings I could live with year after year. I thought I was being interviewed for a position with a company when she gave me a questionnaire about my likes and dislikes. Once I completed it, she said it was a personality and lifestyle profile.”
Nicole enjoyed the feel of the carpet pile between her toes. “What did it conclude?”
“That I’m a traditionalist and basically a homebody. I like entertaining, but don’t want lots of folks traipsing through my home, so she suggested an outdoor kitchen and bathroom.”
“Do you have a cleaning service? Because this place is spotless.”
Fletcher gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “No.”
“You clean it?”
“Yes. I like cleanliness and everything in its place. My mother taught me to cook and the army to clean. For me, that’s a win-win.”
“What’s going to happen when you have kids, Fletcher? Are you going to go behind them with a broom and dustpan sweeping up crumbs?”
He chuckled. “No. I’m not that bad. I believe in letting kids be kids. They can run and scream and generally make a mess.”
“Are you saying you’re going to be an indulgent father?”
Fletcher stopped on the landing and met Nicole’s eyes. “The only thing I’m going to say is that I hope and pray I’ll become a positive role model, but I will definitely need help from their mother.”
This Time For Keeps (Wickham Falls Weddings Book 6) Page 9