by Natasha Deen
Light flooded the room. She grabbed her slippers, shook them in case anything had landed inside, and put them on just as her bedroom door smashed open and Nate charged in. At the sight of her, he slammed to a stop and stared. His gaze—somewhere between shocked and gaping—traveled the length of her body.
“It’s pre-dawn,” she said crossly, covering her chest with her arms. “I’m allowed to look ruffled.”
He made a choked, gurgling sound, and wrenched himself from his stupor. “Are you okay?” His gaze moved to the window. He started toward it, stopped, turned around and went back to her door.
“Here.” Her bathrobe sailed through the air. She caught it, wrapped the terry cloth around her, and welcomed the warmth.
“Careful,” she said, noting his bare feet and ignoring how sexy they looked—especially when in the context of his naked chest and sculpted arms. “There’s glass all over the floor.”
“Right.” He disappeared from her room, only to return seconds later with his slippers and—most disappointingly—a shirt, as well.
“The branch didn’t break the window frame,” she said as she crossed to the window.
“Thank God for small mercies. It could have done serious damage.”
The sting of the cold wind whipped her hair against her cheeks. She dug into her bathrobe pocket, pulled out an elastic band, and tied her hair back. She nodded toward the window. “Well?”
“Fixable. The frame is still in place, all we’ll need is a new pane. I can take care of this for you in the morning.”
Fixing her window. The connotations were enough to make her blush.
He turned, smiled, and everything in her melted. “Talk about starting your birthday with a bang.”
Voices sounded in the hallway, and Pops and Destina came through the door.
“Aye, niña, are you okay?”
“Yes, the wind broke the window. At least with Daniel coming through on his back payments, buying a new pane will be an inconvenience and not a catastrophe.”
“I told her I’d fix it in the morning,” said Nate.
Pops gave Aya a knowing look. “Fixing your window, is he?”
She turned, hiding her scarlet face from view.
“I’ll get some wood to board up the window,” Pops said, laughter in his voice as he retreated out of the room.
“Si, and I’ll get the broom and pan.”
When they were alone once more, Aya turned to Nate, who crouched on the floor, stacking the larger pieces of glass into a pile. “I wanted to ask you something.”
He glanced at her. “Why does your tone seem to bode trouble for me?”
Her heart pounded in her chest, but she forced an easy smile. “You’re cynical by nature.”
“I doubt it.” He didn’t smile back. “What’s the question?”
She knelt beside him, and tossed a piece of glass into the pile. “You’re telling me the truth about why you’re here, right? Denis sent you—you’re not a lackey of Mason St. John.” From her peripheral vision, she saw him still.
He regarded her with icy detachment. “I’m not a lackey of Mason St. John.”
“If I can show a profit, would you stay and help me run the farm?”
“That’s two questions.” He resumed his tidying.
“Nate, be serious.”
“I am.”
Because of her tightened chest and locked breath, she could barely get words out. “Would you stay?”
He froze. When he looked up at her, frustration darkened his eyes. “No. How can you even ask me that?”
“It was just a simple question—”
He grabbed her around the shoulders. “There’s nothing simple about it. You know I can’t stay—I came here to convince you to sell. I’ve never lied to you about my intentions.”
Pain turned her fingers cold and her heart icy. “I thought—”
He dragged her to her feet. “I know what you thought—I know what you’re thinking, and you can’t.” The curtain of frustration drew back to reveal his true emotion, sadness. Infinite, bleak, and unending, it poured out of him in a flood. “We can’t ever be, Aya. It’s impossible.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered, the tears in her eyes turning him into a blurred shape.
His fingers curled around the side of her face, holding her gently, softly. He pressed his forehead against hers. “You will, one day. There are...things about me you don’t know, and when you find out, you’ll despise me.”
Her tears came fast and hard now. “No, I could never hate you, I lo—”
He pressed his mouth to hers. “Don’t. I can’t stand to hear you say it.” Nate pulled away. “This was never meant to be anything but a professional relationship...I didn’t intend for you to care about me...or for me to—care for you, either. Your infatuation will pass, Aya. We just need to get through this month, and then we can both get on with our lives.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Trust me.”
She did, but he was wrong. There was no way of getting over him, and no way her life would ever be the same once he left.
****
“Mom, are you almost ready?” Spencer’s voice sounded through her bedroom door. “Pops says we’re going to be late for our dinner reservation.”
Aya rolled her eyes. “This is Wolf Point, not New York. The Pitch ’N’ Putt won’t give up our table. Tell them I’ll be ready in a few minutes.” She didn’t want to go out, though. She wanted to hide, to crawl into a dark, quiet place where she could deny the certainty of Nate’s rebuff, and the reality of her shattered heart.
She took one final glance in the mirror and adjusted her blouse and skirt. Her hair hung in loose waves, concealer covered the dark smudges under her eyes, and a light coat of gloss gave her lips a pink tinge. “Happy birthday,” she told the reflection. “Congratulations on falling in love. Too bad he doesn’t want to be with you.”
A knock sounded at the door.
“I said I was coming.” She winced at the impatient tone in her voice.
“It’s Pops and Destina. Can we talk to you?”
The urgency in his words propelled her across the room to open the door. The older woman smiled and held out a dress box wrapped in silver foil.
“I came to give your gift,” she said.
“Thanks—why didn’t you wait until the party?”
Destina’s pink mouth formed a perfect “O” and her eyes widened. “No, it’s not that kind of gift.”
Aya snatched the box and cast an embarrassed look at her grandfather. “Just tell me that you didn’t have a hand in buying this.”
“Not even a pinkie.” He smiled. “Can I talk to you?”
“Feliz cumpleaños. Happy birthday.” Destina kissed her on the cheek and left in a swirl of floral perfume and the swish of her wrap-around print dress.
Aya moved back to the bed and set the gift on the mattress. “What did you want?”
“Have you thought about selling shares in the farm?”
She stumbled to a stop, whipped around, and stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
Pops sat on the bed and pulled the sleeves of his oxford shirt to his wrists. “It’s your birthday and I love you. What better gift to give you than the one thing you’ve been asking for all along: my support of your efforts to save the farm.”
She sat next to him. “What does this have to do with shares?”
He took her hand; the gnarled, calloused bumps of his palms and fingers rubbed against her. His touch was so familiar, so comforting.
“If you sell me stock in the farm, you get an infusion of cash and a chance to make a profit.”
Her eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Why now?”
“Nate says you’ve agreed to sell the land if you can’t make a healthy profit at the end of the month. No matter what happens, I’ll get my money back.” He let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “I want you to let the farm go. It’s the healthy thing to do, but I can�
��t force you.” He sighed. “I’m trying to do the right thing, but still protect you.”
Her brow wrinkled as she contemplated his words. “Wouldn’t I have to get the okay from the Stock Exchange Commission?”
“No, you’re not a public company. You can set your own price per stock, sell to who you choose.”
“I don’t want your money—I’ve already told you so.”
“If you truly believe you can make this farm a success and your decision to keep it is based on facts, not emotion, then sell me some shares. But if you’re holding onto the land because you think letting it go dishonors your parents’ memory, then I won’t buy.” His gaze bored into her. “So, Aya, what do you say?”
She dipped her head. His challenge hit the bull’s eye on her doubts, and forced her to see sides of herself she didn’t want. “Give me tonight to think it over.”
He patted her on the knee. “We’re okay? I’m still buying you dinner for your birthday?”
Aya nodded and smiled. “I’ll be down in a couple of minutes.”
After he left, she remained on the bed, considering his proposition and contemplating all possible angles. When her brain ran out of energy, she turned her attention to the box.
Last year, Destina had bought her a vibrator. The year before that, a book on the art of self-cultivation. What the neatly wrapped gift held, Aya didn’t know. Though if she lifted the lid to reveal a blow up doll, she wouldn’t be surprised.
Half-nervous, half-wary, she undid the lavender ribbon and pulled the package free of its wrapping. Foil rustled, crinkled, and gave way to a cardboard box. She slit the medallion sticker, and holding her breath, lifted the lid. Soft pink tissue paper, and underneath, a glint of square foil, and a sheer, white baby-doll teddy with a matching thong. Her breath left in a rush of laughing relief. She stood, faced the mirror and held the satin spaghetti straps to her shoulders.
“Aya, everyone’s—”
At the sound of Nate’s voice, she whirled around. Halfway into the room, he crashed to a stop, as though he’d hit an invisible barrier. His gaze absorbed her...and the nightie. Passion darkened his eyes and a muscle at the base of his jaw began to twitch.
“What are you trying to do to me?” His voice rumbled with sex. “We need to—” He looked back, down the hallway. “We need—”
He stumbled backwards, his shoulders hit the door, and it swung shut. Nate closed his eyes, and leaned against the wall, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. “I can’t decide if I should turn and run away from you, or to you.”
“To me,” she said softly.
The muscle at the base of his jaw pulsed, rippled. “Don’t tempt me.”
Excitement made her mouth dry. “Please?”
He opened his eyes, and in them swam need, desire, and dwindling restraint. He pushed free of the wall. But rather than walking to her, he turned the doorknob.
“It is my birthday.”
He swore, spun on his heel, and came toward her.
Afraid he’d change his mind in mid-stride, she rushed to meet him. He pulled her into his arms; the solid strength and warmth of his body enfolded her in a sexy, spicy blanket of denim, aftershave, and soap.
“Aya, my sweet Aya.” He breathed her name. He nuzzled her ears, his fingers trailed a sensuous path from her arms to her neck. “You undo every honorable intention I have.”
“Good.”
He pulled her baby-doll from her hands, and groaned. “This scrap of cloth will haunt my dreams for the rest of my life.” His eyes glowed with desire. “I want to see it on you. I want to see it off you even more, and mostly, I want to be the one who takes it off, and licks every delectable inch of you.”
“Kiss me.”
His breath hissed in, jagged. “I can’t.”
She leaned close, inhaling the seductive scent of him, trailed her nose along the strong line of his jaw. “Are you married?”
“No.”
“About to be married?”
His laugh came out a tortured rumble. “No.”
“What’s keeping us apart?”
He ran the tip of his finger along the outline of her lips, and the blood rushed to the outermost layers of her skin.
“At heart, we are philosophical opposites, diametrically opposed.”
Aya smiled against his mouth. “Under the covers, we’re all the same philosophy.”
She flicked out her tongue and licked his bottom lip. A sharp gasp, then his mouth crushed hers. Blood pounded in her ears and her senses responded to each breath, every lick, teasing nibble, and thrust. Her fingers curled into his thick hair, knotting themselves in the dark strands. His heart boomed against her chest and found a matching tempo in the frantic pace of her pulse.
He ripped himself away, his panting breaths heating her face. “We have to go,” he said. “They’re waiting, and if I’m alone with you any longer, I won’t be responsible for what I do.”
“I’ll go lock the door.”
“Aya.” Her name came out in a tortured plea.
She sighed, wrenching her mind and libido away from what she really wanted for her birthday and resigning herself to a consolation dinner. “Okay.”
After a quick check in the mirror to make sure she didn’t look as wanting as she suspected she did, she stuffed the lingerie back into the box and went downstairs with Nate.
****
“Ready for the best birthday, ever?” Nate asked as they stepped inside The Pitch ’N’ Putt.
“You bet.” Seeing the rest of her family standing by the hostess table, she waved and headed over.
The idea of an indoor mini-golf and restaurant would have died a quick and dirty end had anyone but Aileen Windchaser created it. Under her nurturing care, the townspeople of Wolf Point found a center for entertainment and the greasiest comfort food around. Aya was no exception. The scent of pepper and spice, popcorn, and beer knocked her taste buds into overdrive and had her stomach growling.
“Do you like mini-golfing, Nate?” Spencer stood by the waitress podium, his hand in Jessica’s and a happy smile on his face.
“I haven’t done this in a long time, but I remember liking it a lot.”
“I live for it—I want to be a golfer when I grow up.”
“I thought you wanted to be an astronaut or psychotherapist.”
Spencer grinned and glanced at Jessica, who smiled back with equal happiness. “Everyone has to have the unachievable dream—the one where the odds are stacked against you, but you try anyway.”
Aya met Nate’s raised eyebrows with a shrug. “The kid watches a lot of Disney.”
“Hey y’all. Happy birthday, Aya.” Aileen came over, shifting her armload of menus as she grabbed her in a tight hug.
She inhaled the peach and sandalwood scents of her friend’s perfume. “Thanks. Is our table ready?”
Aileen glanced over at the dining area, her chin-length black hair swinging around her in a glossy arc. “Yup. Seating for four, coming right up.”
Aya frowned, scrutinizing Pops, who’d been the one that made the reservations. “Four—there’s been a mistake—”
Spencer tugged her hand. “Mom, we need to talk.” He turned to Jessica, disengaging their embrace with obvious reluctance. “I’ll be back.”
She shot a suspicious glare at Pops and Destina. In the air, the smell of fishy goings-on began to entwine with the scent of pepperoni and cheese. She followed Spencer outside the restaurant. He took a position by the wood railing and she came to stand beside him.
“What’s going on?”
“The reservations are for me, Jessica, Pops, and Destina.” His large eyes blinked from behind his glasses. Coupled with the polka dot tie he wore—because apparently Jessica was partial to men with bow ties—he looked both earnest and studious. “It’s my gift to you.”
“Ostracizing me from my own birthday party?”
“No...a night alone with Nate.”
“A what?” Her good humor and patience vapo
rized in the wake of this revelation. “Spencer, this isn’t funny.”
“I’m not trying to be funny,” he said, blinking like a startled owl. “I’m doing this for you.”
“Putting me in an awkward and potentially embarrassing situation. Thanks, kiddo, but I don’t need that kind of help.” She knelt down and gently grabbed him by the lapels of his navy blazer. “I can’t fathom why you would have done this, but—”
He touched her on the cheek; his tiny palms cradled her jaw. “You were right. Honorable people always do what’s right. And that’s why you need to tell Nate you love him.”
Her spirits sank to the tips of her open-toe shoes. “Oh, honey, he already knows.”
“Did you say the words?”
“No, but—”
“You have to tell him.”
She breathed in; she breathed out.
“He knows,” she said again, trying to wrap her head around having this grown up conversation with her son. “He cares for me, but it’s not the right time for either of us.”
Spencer pursed his mouth, and exasperation colored his eyes. “Years from now, you’ll both regret not taking the chance. Pops says that’s what people always regret, the opportunity they passed up. Nate says it, too.”
She took his hands and squeezed. “I respect what you’re trying to do, but this is wholly inappropriate—would you stop shaking your head at me? You’re making me dizzy.”
“This is the right thing to do.” He pulled his hands away. “I’m sorry, Mom, but you have to go home with Nate.” He sighed and stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. “I would love to have more time with Jessica, but all I have is right now. All you have with Nate is right now. You shouldn’t waste it. I love you, happy birthday.”
He went back into the restaurant, and Aya, who needed time to contemplate whether to ground him or laud herself for raising a child with a high sense of integrity, sat on the wooden steps and debated her options. As soon as Spencer disappeared, though, Nate emerged from the door. He looked at her, fire in his eyes, and shrugged.
“It’s a grand conspiracy,” he said. “Between the four of them, and Aileen, we’ll never get a table by ourselves, let alone be allowed to join them.” He held out his hand. She took it, and he hauled her to her feet.