He stared at the phone for a long time. Well, hell, what did he have to lose?
His oven pinged, telling him it was ready for the casserole. He summoned his courage and called Andy, hoping that she wasn’t over at the Monroes’. She answered on the second ring.
“Hi,” he said. “It’s Nate.”
“You’ve been sprung?” she asked coolly.
“Finally,” he said. He hesitated, then said, “I owe you thanks for the great medical attention, as well as an apology. A very heartfelt apology. I now have in my possession the best shepherd’s pie you’ve ever tasted about to go in the oven. Can I tempt you to come over and let me take care of both matters at the same time?”
He felt like a kid as he held his breath until she answered. “I love shepherd’s pie,” she said. “You didn’t make it?” she added cautiously.
“Nope. I’m good with steaks and burgers, but a Good Samaritan left it in my fridge.”
He felt her hesitation. “I really do want to apologize,” he said. “I don’t usually pry.” He hated the word. “And,” he added in desperation, “I also have something to discuss with you. Josh and I were hoping you could help us with something.”
“Apology unnecessary. I...overreacted. It’s just...”
“Hell, it was none of my business.”
There was a silence, then, “Can I bring Joseph?”
“He’s always invited.” It had never been so hard to ask for a date, nor had he ever been so happy to have it accepted. It scared the hell out of him how happy he was.
“Where?” she asked.
“I’ll pick you up,” he said.
“No, you won’t. I’m through putting pieces of you together. I can follow directions.” He thought he heard a smile in her voice.
“Turn right at Maude’s, then take the fourth left—Aspen Road. I’m the fourth house on the left. It’s a brown bungalow with yellow roses along the walk.”
“When?” she asked.
“When can you get here?” To hell with trying to be smooth. He wasn’t any good at it.
“An hour?”
“Perfect,” he said and hung up before she could change her mind.
Down, boy, he told himself. He didn’t believe in romance. Maggie—Margaret—had killed that. He didn’t trust his own instincts. And yet Andy had stayed in his head since the moment he’d met her. He had known her only a few days, but it felt much longer. He couldn’t remember being so at ease with a woman.
Yet every moment with Andy had strengthened the attraction: the quiet, poignant watchfulness when she’d first arrived, the way she’d come back from the flashback at Eve’s house, the mischief in her eyes when she’d won at poker, the competence in treating him and getting him to the hospital, the unique connection she’d apparently made with the Monroes.
There were so many sides to her and he liked every one of them.
Using the crutches, he limped around the living room, piling magazines and books in neat piles and clearing the dining room table. He rarely had company other than the occasional get-together with other vets, and he’d never collected much in terms of dishes and silverware. Still, he rounded up the best he had and put them on the table.
Carefully balancing himself with the crutches, he managed to take the shepherd’s pie out of the fridge and put it in the oven, then realized something was missing. Wine. He had beer and bourbon but no wine. He called Josh. “SOS,” he said.
“You fell?”
“Nope. I need a bottle of wine. In the next ten minutes.”
“Should I ask why?”
“No.”
“Ten minutes?”
“Or less.”
“What kind?”
“Whatever is good with shepherd’s pie.”
There was a pause, then Josh said, “Okay, but you owe me,” and hung up.
Nate plopped down in a chair. Damn, but it had been a long time since he’d asked a woman to dinner. He knew, though, that Eve and Stephanie both enjoyed wine with dinner and Eve had a ready supply.
Eight minutes later, the door opened, and he knew it was Josh. He slowly stood. His friend had a big smile on his face. “Hot date?” Josh asked.
“Just making amends,” he said.
“All we had is white. Want me to put it in the fridge? It’s already chilled. I also brought a wine opener. Didn’t know if you had one.”
“I do,” Nate said. “I’m not that hopeless. Thank you, and goodbye.”
“Can I have a guess?”
“Nope.”
Josh grinned. “Don’t think I need one. I’ll run before she discovers you’re a clod who doesn’t have wine.”
“Goodbye,” Nate repeated pleasantly.
“I can take a hint,” Josh replied. “Don’t forget, you owe me.” He opened the door and left.
Nate found some cheese that wasn’t gray yet and cut it into small pieces. He put two plain glasses in the fridge to chill them. Not elegant, but they would have to do.
Almost exactly an hour had passed when the doorbell rang and he opened the door. Andy looked prettier today than she had yesterday, and more yesterday than the day before. God help him if that trend continued.
Joseph barked at her side.
He looked down and grinned, grateful for the save. “Hello, Joseph,” he said.
“Thanks for inviting him,” Andy said, then looked around the yard. “I like your roses,” she said.
“I’m just their caretaker.” He paused. “You look great,” he said as he glanced appreciatively at a pair of pants that fit snugly on her slim figure and a dark brown blouse.
“Thank you,” she said. “I made a visit to the general store yesterday and discovered there are clothes other than uniforms and blue jeans.”
Nate’s pulse spiked. His heart thudded faster even as he led her toward the kitchen.
“How are you feeling?” she asked as she eyed his crutches and swollen ankle.
“Probably a lot better than I should, thanks to you. I don’t know if I thanked you...”
“You did, and it wasn’t necessary. I just happened to be going by.” She looked at him with concern. “No headache?”
“The barest shadow of one.”
“And the wound?”
“Sore but tolerable. A good meal will help build strong blood cells.”
She squinted at him. “Your medical training told you that, yes?”
“My common sense told me that. Along with my appetite.”
She grinned. “Shepherd’s pie is one of my favorite dishes. I discovered it in Germany, of all places. There was an English pub near the base when I was stationed there.”
He limped his way into the kitchen, and she followed. She looked around and through the windows to the garden in back. There were roses everywhere.
“I inherited them,” he said with a shrug. “The house belonged to a friend of my mother’s. Her son inherited it when she died. But he’d moved away and nothing was selling here. I was just returning to Covenant Falls and we made a bargain. I would rent it, make some improvements and take care of the property until the market turned around. That included the roses.”
“How long have you been here now?”
“Three years, going on four. Mom’s getting older and I thought I should be near.”
“Is your mom the Good Samaritan?”
“Yes. She’s convinced I’ll starve without her help, or else die early from too many stops at the Rusty Nail.”
He opened the fridge with his good hand and took out his newly acquired bottle of wine. “We have a few minutes before the pie is ready. Would you like some wine?”
She looked up at him. “Now, let’s see here. You’re just home from the hospital with one leg, and I
’m driving with one hand.” Then she grinned. “I guess Joseph and I can always walk home.”
The smile was breathtaking. It lit her face like the North Star.
“I take that as a yes,” he said. He took the wine over to the table where he’d put the glasses. Then he made the mistake of discarding the crutch and balancing on the two legs as he turned the corkscrew.
“Nate!” He heard her voice just as his ankle folded under him and he started to fall. She reached out for him with her bad hand, and they both fell against the fridge, her face next to his, her body pressed against his. He held out his arms to steady her.
“Are you okay?” he said shakily as she echoed the words at the same instant. She felt so good against him. Softer than she looked.
She nodded with a grin and made no effort to move. “You make a good landing pad.”
He chuckled.
“What about you?” Andy asked.
“Pretty sure I’m as intact as I was a minute ago.”
She started to laugh. Their eyes met. He swallowed hard and did what he had been wanting so badly to do: he folded his arms around her and touched his lips to hers...
* * *
THE FEEL OF his lips burned all the way through Andy, and she found herself responding with the same rush of heat she felt in him.
Reaction from the near fall. Relief that neither of us was injured.
As much as she tried to tell herself that, she knew it was something far stronger. He was awakening something she’d thought dead and gone.
Her body wasn’t obeying her head. The whisper of his breath on her cheek, the warmth of his hazel eyes, the searching of his lips all blocked the part of her that wanted to deny it.
His lips explored hers, and her body ached with need.
Her arms went around him and she didn’t feel so cold, so apart from everyone else. So alone. She found herself responding, her lips opening to him. The air between them was magnetic, storm winds blowing temptation.
Wrong. It was wrong. Jared was dead!
She jerked away and stood. Trembling. “I...can’t,” she said.
He straightened. Leaned against the stove and his fingers soothed her hair. “It’s okay. I’m...sorry. I...”
“Don’t apologize,” she said. “It’s me. Not you. I’m just not ready.” She looked up at him. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”
He took a deep breath and simply nodded. “I don’t usually come on so strong. You just...looked so damn pretty and felt...well, just right.”
Just right. She couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. Not the most elegant compliment, but now it sounded like one of the nicest. She realized then why she felt so comfortable with him. There was no pretense about him. He was strong, capable, comfortable in his own skin. And sexy. Much too sexy.
“Food,” he said, and she knew he was trying to cut the tension that the kiss had created.
She moved out of the way and picked up the unbroken bottle in her good hand. “You really think we should have wine?” she asked with a grin. “We’re not doing very well without it.”
“I think we can manage,” he answered with a chuckle. “But I think I’ll skip the ancient cheese with which I was going to tempt you and put the shepherd’s pie on the table.”
This time, he leaned against the kitchen shelves as he uncorked the bottle. Then he took the shepherd’s pie from the oven.
“The problem now, as I see it,” Andy observed, “is getting it to the table without dropping it.”
“Ye of little faith,” he replied. “I considered the problem earlier. I have two plates here. I will load each with shepherd’s pie and you can take one at a time to the table while I use the crutch.” He looked very satisfied with himself and she couldn’t help but smile.
She took the first plate, then the second, to the table while he limped over with the bottle of wine. He sat and watched as she took the first bite. Baked mashed potatoes covered with melted cheese topped a rich combination of beef, gravy, mushrooms and onions. Andy took a bite, then said, “Wow.”
She took a sip of wine and leaned back. She couldn’t recognize all the spices, but whatever they were, the shepherd’s pie was one of the tastiest dishes she remembered eating. “That’s not like any shepherd’s pie I ever tasted,” she said.
“It’s my mom’s own version. Ground sirloin, buttered mashed potatoes, onion, mushroom, several types of cheese and a bevy of spices known only to her. It’s her favorite for everything from church socials to funerals.”
“You should offer it at the inn,” Andy said.
He looked thoughtful. “I haven’t thought of that, but yes. I’ll have to pry the recipe from her.”
She changed the subject. “You said you had something you wanted to discuss with me.”
He poured her another glass of wine. “The inn,” he said. “You haven’t seen it yet, but you came up with the Camel Trail Inn, and we’re running with it. You know we’re having a preview for some travel writers in seven weeks, and Josh and I were considering activities Covenant Falls could offer.”
“And?” she asked.
“We thought of offering activities when they arrive—horseback riding, a Sunday brunch at the falls, fishing on the lake. A trip to an old abandoned gold mine. But we have women coming as well as men, and we need a theme, something to pull everything together.”
Andy immediately knew what he meant. “You already have the theme,” she said. “You have Angus and his story. Build entertainment around that. Songs from the time. Dances.”
“You’ve seen excerpts from his journals,” Nate said. “Maybe we can draw from them.”
Andy went cold. “Al and Sara have been good to me. I’m not going to abuse their trust.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to. We don’t want you to do anything you feel is wrong or unprincipled,” he said. He drew a long breath. “Maybe it’s just a dumb idea, Andy. Probably is. Josh and I were talking about what to do the night everyone arrives, and we were stymied.”
She studied him for what seemed forever, then said, “A play. A series of skits. Maybe even a pageant. I saw one in North Carolina when I was young. It was about the Cherokees being forced off their land. I still remember it. My da...”
Her voice faltered, then she said, “But it’s not impossible. You already have enough legend here without the journals, but you need a writer. I was willing to try to write a brochure, but I’m not a scriptwriter. And seven weeks isn’t very long...”
She watched the wheels spinning in his head, his brow furrowing with concentration. She liked watching him. More than she should.
“Maybe...” he started.
“Maybe?” she prompted.
“If we had a few scenes of Angus coming here, saving the chief and marrying the chief’s sister, maybe the first birth in a new town. We could incorporate Western and folk songs in the telling. Most are out of copyright, so there should be no problem. We have a great drama and music teacher here. It could give students and recent grads an opportunity to show their talents.”
“Would there be time?” she asked.
“I’ll call Louisa, the drama teacher. Won’t hurt to ask,” he said. “She’ll probably think I’m nuts, but hey, that’s been said before. What’s more, it could bring the town together.”
“What tore it apart?”
“There’s always been tension between Al and some of the other families. Some of it is just old-fashioned envy. Part of it was Al’s dictatorial grasp on the town for years. Eve has made inroads, but it would be nice to put it to rest.”
“A suggestion,” she offered. “Ask for Al’s thoughts, his help. Enlist his wife. She was an English teacher and she knows the history better than he does. She’s read all the journals, has a deep interest in them.”
/> “Okay, Eve first. She may think it’s impossible. Or crazy. Or both.”
“I should go,” she said. “I think you have some work to do.”
“I think I do,” he said with a smile that warmed her down to her toes.
“That was a great dinner. Thank you.”
It was polite. Nothing more.
It was all he could do to keep from grabbing her, holding her. But though she said she’d forgiven him, she was making it clear that she wasn’t ready to go farther.
He watched as she walked down the porch steps and past the roses.
He wondered if he had completely destroyed any chance he had with her. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he wanted one. A voice from within reminded him of his ex-wife, cautioning him he was a rotten judge of character.
He closed the door.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ANDY CLOSED THE leather-bound journal as the door to the garden room opened and Sara appeared, followed by Elena carrying the tray of tea and small cakes. Sara had called her earlier in the day and asked whether she would like to read some more of the journals. Andy had grabbed at the chance. She had been far too occupied with thoughts of her dinner with Nate last night.
“I thought you might need a break,” Sara said. “You’ve been reading for more than two hours, and it’s not that easy to read.”
Andy shoved back her chair. “I didn’t realize... I’m sorry... I’ve just traveled a long way with Angus.”
“He does bring you along, doesn’t he,” Sara said. “Where are you now?”
“Crossing the Mississippi. It took Angus and Liam two months to travel from New York to Hannibal by horseback.”
“With only what they could carry in saddlebags,” Sara said. “Their next stop is Independence, Missouri.”
Elena poured tea into a cup and handed it to Andy, who thanked her.
Much to her surprise, she was beginning to prefer it to coffee. Suddenly, Al Monroe walked into the room. “Still poring over those old journals?”
“Have you read them?” she asked.
“Yes. Most of them. A long time ago.”
“I want to ask you something.”
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