He nodded, accepting her pull toward the castle which was now just over the hill.
“I don’t like being out of control,” Natalie elaborated. “I’m the eternal designated driver.”
“Life of the party, hmm?”
“Hardly.” She snorted. “I … I let myself get out of control once. On a date. With someone I shouldn’t have trusted. It didn’t end well.”
His eyes went stormy.
“See. This is why I don’t talk about it.” She attempted to pull her hand free.
“No,” he said. He kept her fingers twined in his. He was sturdy, strong, and rooted to the spot. “I’m sorry. Please. Tell me.”
You can trust him, something deep within her soul whispered.
“The reason I don’t drink …” she began, working her way to the heart of it. “I haven’t talked about it much. My brother is the only one who knows the whole story. Every time I try, I … I get stuck. Back there. In that moment.”
“I understand. Sometimes it helps to think of it like a story—like something that happened to someone else. Philip taught me that.”
“Okay. Philip’s way.” She pushed a smile, amazed there was one to be found. “Once upon a time, someone I trusted, that I thought I even loved … He drank. A lot. Tried drugs. But I didn’t know what he was doing. He was high as a kite at our senior prom, and when I wouldn’t … do what he wanted, he … he hurt me.”
Nick kicked the dirt.
Tears leaked at the memory, the horror, the anger. She knew the words were a Pandora’s Box. Once lifted, the story would weave of its own volition.
“I was all done up, makeup, lipstick, these platform heels. My hair all sprayed into this knot thing.” She waved a hand to show the tendrils. “My dress was gorgeous and sparkly, and I’d been looking forward to the prom for weeks. Our big date. But he never even took me to the dance. He had other ideas—involving booze and the backseat of his car. I didn’t want to. He was so strong…”
“Did he—”
“No. He didn’t get that far. I did what they teach the girls in gym class. A palm to the nose, a well-placed knee.” She shuddered, shoulders shaking. “Then I ran. I ran as far and as fast as I could.”
She fought for a way to end her story. “By the time I got back, my dress was shredded, and my feet were all banged up from running home barefoot. Mom wanted to know how things went, but I just … ran upstairs and wadded my dress up in the trash. I jumped in the shower like I could wash it away.”
Nick stayed silent, and the words just kept tumbling.
“Mike would have raped me if I hadn’t gotten away. I know it. He didn’t, but he may as well have.” She was silent for a moment. “So, the control. The not partying. I have my reasons.”
“I’m sorry.”
She sagged against his shoulder, long ago cried out, but no longer hollow inside. Her heart was no longer alone.
“Thanks.”
After a moment, Nick started them walking again. The breeze tugged at her hair with gentle fingers.
She’d never given in to the desires of the flesh; instead, she’d scrawled every prayerful dream into her many journals. Piles of them were boxed up and organized by year on the top shelf in her closet at home.
But now? Watching Philip and his wife at the hospice center had uncorked a need within her. Grace, like a warm rain, fell across her shoulders as she realized the root of it. All she wanted walked hand in hand with her through these grape vines.
“It’s good. Not being out of control,” Nick said at last. His free hand trailed the back of her neck, combed through her hair with capable fingers. “I was out of control, Natalie. For far too long.”
“But not anymore?”
Her mouth went dry when he didn’t answer. She watched as his expression darkened and his mouth pressed into a hard line. It was as if his personal demons were standing at the convergence of their property lines.
What if she hadn’t been put up for adoption? What if she’d grown up in the Valence house, right next door to Nick? Would they have been sweethearts? Would they have been each other’s first kiss? First love?
Staring at the grapes, the broad green leaves bobbing in the wind, she knew the truth of it. In this world or any other, she would have met Nick and become his friend. If she grew up here, they would have played and laughed. Maybe she would have been friends with Rebecca. She’d have cried along with him when she went missing.
Most likely, she’d have watched him go off with the head cheerleader and a bevy of endless beauties while she sang Taylor Swift’s broken-heart songbook and filled a tear-stained journal.
Nick interrupted her thoughts, a palm to her cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
Backhanding tears she hadn’t realized were falling, Natalie matched his gaze.
Nick whispered her name, drew her near. Closing the gap between them, mouth soft on her cheek, he grazed the base of her ear with shaking restraint. “I’ll wait for you, Natalie. As long as it takes.”
“That’s just it. I’m getting tired of waiting.”
His kiss was achingly soft and sweet, tentative upon her lips. Until she leaned, body, heart, spirit into him. His mouth on hers, his breath on her neck, in her hair, twining with capable fingers. He was everything in that moment—past, present, future. An earthquake of need ricocheted through her, but he held her close, carefully, gently, as if she’d shatter.
“Natalie?”
She knew the answer and kissed him this time, allowing her heart to take the lead.
So this was what it meant to kiss and be kissed by someone who mattered. Like too much wine, too much wind, they weathered the storm of brewing passion and survived, stronger for it.
They stood in the breeze, the cool air setting skin and nerves alight in the long shadows of the day. Now he knew why she’d never been able to let herself go, allow herself to trust. To love. But nothing could keep him from wanting her.
The late afternoon air felt charged by his very presence. He spoke her name again, with utter need, but peace flowed through her. Not fear.
She felt only trust, knowing that this encounter would go nowhere, unless she wished it so.
“Nick?”
With his answering sigh, chills raced the rapids of her blood along with an instant longing that left her breathless. His palm spread electricity along her slender neck, and she felt like a live wire. Exposed. Dangerous.
Those work-worn hands could plant a field, tend a garden, hold an elegant glass to the sun, or drive her to ecstasy if she allowed it. The choice was hers. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t, do that to him. They would wait, together.
This was what she’d always dreamed of. How could someone fall so hard, so fast? The drop was like a roller coaster, just as scary as it was thrilling.
Nick released her from his arms.
She stepped back, breathless. Only their locked fingers kept them at each other’s side.
Natalie had witnessed the cage that held back his passion. She could feel the bars of it, the rattling need inside of him, and he’d offered her the keys to his sweet prison.
She wanted to tell him what she’d seen at the hospital. That bittersweet moment between husband and wife, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t hers to share.
With Philip as a mentor, what kind of husband would Nick be?
For that matter, who was he, really? She didn’t know all that much about him. They had been brought together by messy family histories and a killer. How many of their conversations had strayed much past that?
He had parents who loved him but stopped raising him after the death of their daughter. He’d been alone, angry, left on the breezes to fend for himself. Making mistake after mistake that led him to … what? Want nothing more than to seek justice for the one who killed his sister? Unable to do so, year after year?
And now, here she was. According to Dalton, Natalie had the right looks, had arrived at the right time, and was apparently the ready-mad
e object of a madman’s desire. She was poised to complete Nick’s need for closure. For justice.
That couldn’t be all he saw in her, but his mission was still clear. She was just bait for the bigger fish. She was the sacrifice he was willing to make to feed his need for revenge—the revenge he’d deluded himself into thinking was justice.
Struck, Natalie allowed Nick to tug her down the hill, zombie-walking at his side toward the estate. His fingers were locked in hers, but Natalie was no longer certain of why he was unwilling to let her go.
Chapter 17
The train arrived just a few minutes behind schedule. The sister, he guessed by Natalie’s frantic waving, stepped off the train.
Gypsy, Natalie had called her, and she wasn’t wrong. Corie’s black hair was twisted back in a sleek style. Her bracelets jangled in an equally enthusiastic greeting as she dragged her huge carry-on their direction. Remembering they weren’t biological sisters, Nick noted the differences between the girls. Nat was all wild Taylor Swift curls and cat eyes, and she stood a full head shorter than her “little” sister; Corie was swan-necked and thin, graceful in style and mannerisms. Though she was dark where Natalie was light, Corie was just as beautiful as Natalie.
Nick stepped up and grabbed Corie’s heavy duffel bag while the sisters did a happy dance reunion.
Corie presented her certificate of completion. “You’re looking at an official Le Cordon Bleu chef.”
“I’m so proud of you!” Natalie cried, gaping at the diploma.
Corie ducked a glance at Nick. “That’s the guy?”
Natalie did the introductions, and Corie enveloped him in a fast hug of thanks while Natalie exchanged coins for a bottled water at a machine.
“Thanks for looking out for my sister. It can’t be easy for her. Meeting her bio-grandmother while the woman’s on her deathbed …” Corie wiped a stray curl from her neck.
Nat trotted over and handed Corie the water bottle. “It’s hot. Hydrate.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Corie did as she was told, draining half the bottle in a fast guzzle.
“I had no idea how much I missed you until I saw you on that platform!”
“Likewise.” Corie linked arms with her sister as they turned for the parking area.
He watched them go on ahead and climb inside his truck, making sure they were safe and sound while he wrestled her bags along after them.
It was hard not to compare the two. The Turner sisters were completely opposite in appearance––a smattering of freckles the only common denominator.
He drove while they talked and giggled, showing them around Old Town like playing tour guide was his job. After parking, he stood back while the sisters hit antique shops and funky dress stores, accumulating bags that had him struggling after them like a Sherpa.
So this was the real Natalie. Seeing her in her element—carefree and full of energy—this side trip was worth every step. Every bag. This Natalie was quick to smile, quick to laugh, and when she locked him in her gaze, there was smoke there. A comfortable campfire smolder that would outlast any short-lived fireworks.
Somehow, he found her hand and kept it, loving the way she linked her fingers through his and swung their hands in time with the live band playing on the street corner.
Corie tossed coins in an open guitar case as she walked by. Nick finagled out a dollar as Natalie sang along with a lilting voice.
The Gloriana tune melted on her glossy lips, and all he wanted was to kiss her good night, good morning, and all of the times in between.
It was twilight after he wrangled them back to the truck. Nick drove down Rancho Road, heading east into wine country, all three of them wedged in the front of his truck.
Corie sized him up with an even stare, studying his paint-splashed work jeans and muddy boots. “What kind of work do you do, Nick?”
“Vineyard management. Or, I did.”
“Tough times.”
“That they are.” Nick sucked in a sharp breath. Would he go back and eat crow? Did he want to? Right now, overseeing Natalie’s safety was a full-time job.
“Interesting.” Corie’s expression softened as she elbowed Natalie. “You said there’s a vineyard at the Valence place, right?”
“Nick and I’ve talked about property improvements, maybe even selling the grapes. I need to make some capital to get the place up and running. If he doesn’t mind working for a pittance in the meantime, I’d love to have him.”
“A pittance is fine if the company’s right.” Their eyes met, and Natalie blushed before darting her attention back into the night. He’d made her blush. The thrill of it charged him to his boots, and he could almost see the electricity when she met and held his gaze a second time.
He looked back to the road and thought, I’m carrying precious cargo, Lord. Help me pay attention. Nick cleared his throat. “We could keep them too. Natalie could do a little grape stomp of her own.”
“Barefoot, like I Love Lucy in a big vat?” From the corner of his eye, he saw Natalie glare at her little sister, but Corie continued, voice honey sweet. “That’d be fun. Could we do it?”
“We’re not making wine. We’re gonna make some money. I need to get the place off the bank’s radar.”
“Hmm. Seems like selling wine could do the same thing for even more profit. Probably leverage your loans.”
Corie leaned around Natalie’s squeak of rebuttal, not skipping a beat. “It’s awful nice of you to show her the ropes.”
“I try.”
She was fishing. Corie wanted to know if there was something between Natalie and him, but he wasn’t biting. It wasn’t his story to tell. If Natalie wanted Corie to know, she’d tell her.
They could whisper about it in Rebecca’s room. At his mother’s house.
Could he do this? Could his family get through the night with girlish giggles coming from a room that had been as silent as a tomb for ten years?
He turned up the country ballad on the radio and dipped a glance to Natalie with her curly blonde ponytail and her pert, freckle-dusted nose. Focusing on the winding road was a monumental effort as he guided the pickup past vineyards and an orange orchard.
Finally, Corie broke the silence with a guffaw. “Where the heck is your place, Nick?”
“Just through that stop sign down there.” He slowed at the bright red octagon at the base of the hill. Glanced to the right. “The Valence property is there, if you were curious. We’ll see it tomorrow.”
“Where?”
Natalie directed with a wave. “Through that old gate.”
“What gate? All I see is broken blocks.”
Nick swiveled, but he couldn’t see anything where the entrance should be. He angled the truck’s headlights and stepped on the brakes, tires crawling from asphalt to sandy gravel.
“What happened?” Natalie’s jaw dropped as they drove through the tumbled stone and cement.
“Looks like someone had too many glasses of wine and sideswiped it.”
Nick studied the stone and twisted steel––all that was left of the B&B’s grand front entry. It was too far off the road for a random accident. Someone had rammed the front gates, jarring them open.
“Maybe we should check the house tonight after all,” Natalie said, keeping hold of Corie’s hand. “Make sure everything’s okay.”
“I’ll check it out after I drop you off at my mom’s place.”
“No. I want to see it too.” After a pause, Natalie added, “But maybe we should call Dalton?”
“Who’s Dalton?” Corie looked from Nick to Natalie.
Natalie cleared her throat. “Nick’s brother. He’s a cop.”
“Detective.”
“Whatever.”
“What aren’t you telling me, Natalie?” Corie asked.
“There’s … been some trouble.”
With the weight of unspoken words between them, Nick drove down the rutted road at a crawl. For the first time in years, he wished he carried a handgun
.
He’d promised Philip he wouldn’t renew his concealed weapon permit, but he’d never sold the gun. It was still where he’d left it, hidden away in his childhood closet. Locked in a box at Mom’s house. He’d had every intention of grabbing it when he’d dropped them off at the house before returning out here, but Natalie’s insistence had derailed his plans.
The Ford’s headlights bumped and jogged over the dirt road. Through the olive grove, the building stood, its jagged rooftop revealed in spears of light that put a spotlight on the half-done work. The roof looked even worse than he remembered. Tar paper and missing roof tiles were exposed to the elements.
“This is it?” Corie squeaked as Natalie sighed in pleasure.
“Welcome home.”
“You two aren’t staying here tonight,” he pleaded. “Don’t go changing the plan now, Nat. Mom’s gonna be crushed if you don’t come now. She even baked dessert, and Mom’s not a baker.”
Every alarm jangled under his skin while he drove the truck down the driveway toward the castle. Leftover piles of sand, stacks of stone, and pallets were tossed together haphazardly from the unfinished construction project.
“It looks different at night.”
“You mean spooky,” Corie countered.
“It’s the ultimate fixer-upper.” He grinned, turning thoughts to ignore the physical danger and focus on the rat construction company Mrs. Valence had hired. Whoever it was, they’d taken that poor old lady for a ride, and now Natalie would face the brunt of it. “I might need to ask my boss for more money.”
“Very funny. There’s the front entry, Corie. Just imagine what we can do with the olives from that grove.”
Engine idling, Nick frowned at the darkness.
“Should’ve left a porch light on. Something.” He wiped a hand across his bristled jaw.
“I thought I did.” Natalie grimaced.
Nick’s senses went on high alert. They shouldn’t be here. He needed to get them out, away.
Corie leaned around Natalie to say, “Maybe we should wait for the cop. Brother. Whatever. Or let’s just go to Nick’s mom’s as planned.”
Natalie set her hand on the door handle. “Just a quick check, and then we’ll go. This place is my responsibility.”
First Crush Page 14