by Annette Lyon
I certainly could land one and break his nose — or jaw. Give him a shiner. Nathan almost smiled at the idea, but quickly pulled back on that emotion.
Just in time, too, as Hazel’s step came up short; she must have only now noticed him. Under the traditional crabapple tree. Her eyes flitted from him to Coltrane and back again, and she put on the most fake smile he’d ever seen.
“You came,” she said, and looked up at Coltrane. Goodness, the man was tall. “You recall Nathan, don’t you, Mr. Coltrane?”
“Please, call me Wyatt,” he said, patting her hand. He nodded Nathan’s direction. “And of course I remember your ... friend.” A clear message that the man didn’t believe that Nathan’s claim that they were engaged.
Yet, he thought irritably.
Coltrane dipped his head and touched the brim of his hat. “A pleasure to see you again, Nathan. Miss Hazel here is giving me a tour of the town and showing me about the parade route.”
“Is she now.” It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t make it sound like one, either.
Nathan crossed his arms and leveled a stare at Coltrane, who stopped a few feet away with Hazel and took an annoying relaxed stance.
“Of course I came,” Nathan said. He meant to reply to Hazel, but he didn’t change his focus from Coltrane. “I promised, didn’t I?”
Hazel cleared her throat and stepped forward, or tried to, because, as Nathan had suspected, Coltrane held on to her hand. “One moment is all,” she told him with a sing-songy voice. “I need my hand, Mr. Col — I mean, Wyatt.”
At the use of his name, he surrendered her hand. She pulled it away and seemed to shake it out a bit, as if he’d been pressing on it too hard. Nathan had yet to see a thing to sway his opinion of Coltrane in any direction other than the one he already occupied in his mind, that of dangerous troublemaker.
Though he’d released her, Hazel didn’t step far from Coltrane. Rather, she took perhaps a half step toward Nathan before looking back at Coltrane, hesitating, but finally turning about and facing Nathan again. “I’m glad you’re here, but I hoped you’d come to enjoy yourself.”
With one arm, he leaned against a chest-height branch. “That’s a high expectation for the neighborhood curmudgeon.”
“Oh, Mr. Sinclair still has claim to that title, remember?” Hazel said. For the first time since her approach, her manner and voice were almost those of her usual self. Nathan hardly dared hope it would last. For all he knew, she spoke and acted normally only because Coltrane wasn’t in her line of vision. Did she like him so much already, to be acting the fool around him?
Had she ever behaved in such an addled manner around him, even during their brief courtship? If so, he couldn’t recall it. He’d made her blush more than once, that was for certain. And at when he kissed her under the fireworks, he’d felt certain that she had the same experience he did, of fireworks going off inside, too. But right after that was when she’d run away.
Coltrane stepped up beside her and again put her hand through the crook of his elbow, as if he owned her. Hazel bit her lip and blushed even more, if that was possible. “Are you staying for the picnic after the parade?” she asked Coltrane. “Do say yes. Everyone brings something to eat, so there’s more food that you can imagine.”
“I’d like that very much,” Coltrane said.
“I’ll talk to Mrs. Tandy about making sure you get a piece of the apple pie I made. My pies are known around these parts.” And then Hazel giggled. Giggled like a young girl without two thoughts in her head. Hazel, who could track a deer better than any man he knew. Hazel, who had read more literature and could quote more Shakespeare than anyone in town, including Dr. Muller, who used to teach literature at a university back in Germany. Hazel, who beat him on every arithmetic test when they were young. She was one of the most intelligent people he’d ever met, yet here she was giggling to a handsome stranger as she bragged about a pie?
Her pies were definitely famous, and now that he knew she’d brought one, he’d be sure to stop by to see Mrs. Tandy to be sure he got a piece too. But pies — or cooking of any kind — had never been the kind of thing she cared about. She’d never used those things to impress anyone, at least in his memory. He watched the two of them talk a bit more, and with every reply she gave Coltrane, her intelligence seemed to drop lower and lower, until Nathan half wondered if she’d be able to count to twenty anymore unless she took her boots off to use her toes.
The more she blushed, the more Nathan could feel his face turning red too, but for entirely different reasons.
She’s never acted like this toward me, but I’d never want her to, either.
She behaved flirtatious toward him, certainly, and a blind man would have been able to discern that she found him attractive. Something about their interactions — something more than Hazel’s pretending to be downright brainless — rubbed at him like a burr in his boot. He couldn’t quite identify what it was, couldn’t quite separate her silly flirtation from the other things.
Hazel seemed contained, in a way. Yes, that was it. Not just attentive to Coltrane, but alert, as if she needed to be aware of his every movement and thought.
Or else what? The question hung in the air for him.
The men at the front of the parade finally reached their block. They set off another loud boom, and the crowd cheered. Hazel and Coltrane clapped and laughed, while Nathan stood there, arms still folded, jaw tight. Once again, Coltrane took her hand, about to tuck it into his elbow, but first, he brought it to his lips and placed a quick kiss on the back of her hand.
Forget being curmudgeon; Nathan was downright riled now. He straightened from the tree and took a step toward Coltrane, making sure the man saw him coming and understood the message. Don’t play with Hazel’s emotions. Don’t step into places you aren’t wanted. Go away, and leave my girl alone.
Wait, my girl? Where did that thought come from? Nathan felt unsettled; he’d been thinking about how Coltrane had no right to look at Hazel as property, as his own, but Nathan himself had just thought of her as belonging to him.
For her part, Hazel didn’t seem to have noticed a thing about Nathan’s reaction to any of what had happened. She appeared blissfully unaware and now watched the parade, her hand once more in the crook of Coltrane’s arm, so close to him that the man could easily lean down and kiss her lips, too. She’d let him kiss her hand. She’d seemed happy about it, no less. If given the opportunity to kiss her, would Coltrane take it?
Nathan felt queasy at the likely answer to that question. I can’t stick around to find out.
Without so much as a goodbye, he ducked under the crabapple and headed toward the town square, away from Coltrane and Hazel. That meant away from home, as well, but he figured that by the time he managed to get a piece of her apple pie — a very large piece, if he had his say — he’d be able to cut across the street and get home from the back.
He walked quickly against the parade route, dodging groups and small children, smiling and waving hello at neighbors. When he reached the town square and escaped Main Street, he breathed a sigh of relief. In the shade of one of the buildings; he leaned against the stones; their chilly temperature seeped through his shirt and cooled him off a bit.
Mrs. Tandy spied him. “Nathan, dear. How are you?”
“Not too bad. How about yourself?” Hands in his pockets, he sauntered over to her. With luck, he’d charm that big piece of pie out of her.
“Pioneer Day is always a busy time,” she said with a shake of her head but a big smile. She clearly loved her job. “Are you staying for the picnic and the afternoon dance?”
For a split second, Nathan considered staying. He’d basically promised Hazel that he would, but that was before she’d essentially abandoned him for Coltrane. Besides, he’d kept his promise by going to the parade. She wouldn’t even notice his absence, he was quite sure. Going home had one down side: if Peter was home, he’d tease Nathan mercilessly over Coltrane.
&nb
sp; He’d take the chance. I can handle bursts of Peter far better than an afternoon full of Coltrane.
“I’m afraid I need to get home,” he told Mrs. Tandy. He sidled up to the table and shot her his best smile. “I don’t suppose I could get something to tide me over, though, say a piece of pie? That’s a mighty nice apron you have on, by the way. Is it new?”
“It is, actually. My husband hasn’t even noticed it, though I made it out of some of his old shirts.” Mrs. Tandy smoothed her hair back and tugged the apron straight, clearly flattered. “Would you like some peach pie? Bertha Middleton dropped one off not five minutes ago.”
“I was thinking apple,” Nathan said. “Hazel’s?”
“Ah, I see.” Mrs. Tandy gave several big nods as if reading between the lines. What, precisely, was she reading? Nathan genuinely wanted some of Hazel’s pie. It would be the best one at the picnic.
Yes, he wanted there to be less for Coltrane. But Mrs. Tandy couldn’t possibly have figured that out. She turned to another table, called to one of her daughters who was helping, and was soon cutting into the correct pie. Nathan could tell because of the design cut into the top crust; Hazel always cut the same pattern of two half-moons and three little stars.
“Here you go,” she said, handing him the pie. “I expect to get that plate back.”
“Of course,” Nathan said. His mouth had already begun watering simply at the sight of the pie.
People began entering square, a clear signal that the parade was ending. All the more reason for Nathan to get home. If he saw Hazel adoring Coltrane for one more second, he’d be liable to lose his mind.
He waved at Mrs. Tandy one more time and then hurried out of the town square, across Main Street. To avoid being seen by Coltrane or Hazel he went the back way to his house. He’d need to distract himself. Maybe he’d find something in the newspaper to keep his mind occupied.
Chapter Seven
Hazel had to shake off the memory of Nathan’s swollen face and his hunched shoulders as he walked away. She had to find a way to make things better, especially seeing as Wyatt was relying on her to show him a good time his first day in the city. After the parade, Hazel walked the whole train arm in arm, toward the town square, where they would have a grand picnic.
“You must try my apple pie,” Hazel said, putting on a smile. “People say it’s the best in town. Of course, my mother is the one who taught me how to make it. The recipe is hers, but I get the credit.”
“I’m sure it’s delicious.” Wyatt patted her hand and followed her toward Mrs. Tandy’s table, which was filled with foods all kinds: fried chicken, peaches, pears, vegetables, breads, and barbecue meats. Then there were the desserts: cookies and cakes and tarts. And that wasn’t counting the punches juices and beer for some of the older men.
“Mrs. Tandy, I would like to give Mr. Wyatt Coltrane here a piece my pie.” Hazel gestured toward her guest expectantly.
“Oh, I’d love to,” Mrs. Tandy said, “but the last one was just taken.”
“It’s all gone?” she asked in dismay.
“I’m afraid so,” Mrs. Tandy said with a shrug. “But if it’s any consolation to you, Nathan got a nice, big piece.”
Hazel’s stomach dropped slightly. She should have expected Nathan to have some of her pie. She’d seen him at the parade, but she hadn’t expected him to get something to eat before going home. Nathan always had some of pie or whatever other treat she made for Pioneer Day. This time she expected to have some of her own creation to give to her new friend — man friend.
“To get him a quarter of the whole pie,” Mrs. Tandy said a chuckle. “But I imagined that you, of all people, would approve.”
Hazel wore a pasted-on smile and hoped she didn’t make Mrs. Tandy suspicious or feel bad for giving away so much of the pie to Nathan. “Well, what other treats are available today?”
Mrs. Tandy gestured about. “This side of the table has plenty of savory foods. You’ll find chicken, beef, and pork. And over here to find salads of every kind imaginable.” She gestured to her left. “And over here, of course, you will find all of the delicious desserts. Hazel’s pie excepted, alas.”
Wyatt began piling plates high with food. He seemed intent on taking some of everything that was offered, and he didn’t seem overly worried about consulting Hazel over what she might want to eat. He did make it clear that she did not have to get her own food, that he would carry food for them both.
“Let’s go find a place to fit in the shade,” he said, both hands carrying full plates.
“Some benches over there are open,” Hazel said, pointing.
He shook his head. “I’d rather stay away from the large crowds. The parade was lovely and all, but you are even more lovely, and suddenly I feel a bit jealous that anyone might have more time with you than I will.” He took a small step closer and whispered in her ear so quietly that his breath tickled her neck and sent goose flesh up her arms. “Do you know a slightly more ... secluded spot?”
Hazel eagerly agreed. Not that she would go somewhere totally secluded with someone she’d just met, but surely there could be no harm in eating a picnic with him, even if it was in a place slightly separated from the rest of the town.
She licked her lips, trying to think of a good spot. The perfect one came to her in a flash. “There are several large trees around the corner,” Hazel said. She tilted her head that direction. “It’s close enough that we will be able to hear when they start the afternoon dance, but far enough away to not be disturbed by anyone.”
“Sounds perfect to me.” Wyatt gave her a dashing smile, which he did lifting one eyebrow in a way that nearly undid her. “Lead the way.”
Hazel couldn’t very well hold his elbow as she had before, not with the heaped plates in his hands, so she went in front of him, around one of the city buildings to the little patch of shade she remembered. The entire time, she was intensely aware that Wyatt had to be watching her from behind.
Hopefully he likes the view. The thought made her quickly blush; that kind of thing didn’t normally occur to her. She wasn’t that kind of girl.
In the shade, she turned about and sat down in the very spot she and Nathan had spent many picnics and many other occasions together over the years. It truly was the best possible spot for this kind of thing, but sitting here now, with the way she felt around Wyatt, almost seemed like a betrayal.
Foolish thought, of course. She was doing wrong by being here with Wyatt. It wasn’t as if she and Nathan were engaged, and she was doing something that like Meredith had — or at least what Nathan had hinted that she did, and what Hazel had inferred.
So why did she still feel guilty? All of those thoughts and emotions tumbled through her as Wyatt settled in, finding places to set the plates so they wouldn’t spill food all over the grass. The meal itself was pleasant enough. In fact, it was for more than pleasant. He doted on her and complimented her constantly.
By the time accordion music played from the square, the two were sitting knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder as they ate. Wyatt looked at her lips and eyes, and then back. She blushed and dipped her head, sure she should have been shocked that this man she just met might try to kiss her. She couldn’t quite muster the effort to be shocked at herself over the fact that she probably would have let him. Her heart thrummed in her chest at his nearness, and she could hardly believe someone as handsome as Wyatt Coltrane would bother giving a small-town girl like her any attention whatsoever.
“The afternoon dance is getting ready to begin,” Hazel said.
Wyatt licked a blob of strawberry jam from his thumb and lifted his eyebrows when the same way he had done before made her insides twist and twirl in the most delicious way. He wiped his hand on his trousers, stood, and held out his hand to Hazel. “Care to?”
Hazel drew closer to him than she had before, though no one could have said it was improperly close. Her hand was still tucked dutifully in his elbow; she simply walked at his side close e
nough that their bodies mostly touched her skirts swished against his trousers. Before they rounded the corner, Wyatt stopped and turned to her. For a moment, he looked insecure, unsure, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t dare.
“What is it?” Hazel asked.
Wyatt lifted both hands until he cupped her face with both of his. His big, warm hands felt strong. She closed her eyes and stood there. She could have stayed there all day long, enjoying his touch, his warmth. The only problem was that she knew what was coming, and she thought she wanted him to kiss her, but the reality was that she wasn’t so sure. But she couldn’t resist the temptation, either. Something about him lured her, drew her closer. Ever closer. His hands left her face and traveled down her shoulders, down her arms, to her waist.
He leaned in closer and pressed his mouth against hers, hard. The heady scent of his cologne muddied her mind and overwhelmed her senses. So lost was she in the moment that she hardly knew if the kiss was enjoyable in spite of its pressure. At some point she was aware that his hands had moved lower and lower. His kiss grew stronger, more demanding, and his hands squeezed her backside. Definitely not enjoyable. She gasped and put her hands against his chest then pushed him away with all her might. She might as well have been pushing against the tree or a stone wall. She pulled her head and twisted her face to the side trying to stop his kisses, but his enthusiasm would not be dampened.
“Wyatt,” Hazel said through their joined lips, “Stop. Please.”
“I thought you liked me,” he said, kissing her neck greedily.
“I do,” she said, “but this is too fast.” She reached around and pulled his hand away from her behind, but he wrenched away and grabbed her again.
“Sometimes fast is right,” he said, moving to the other side of her neck and pinning her against him. “Can’t you feel it too?”