Rachel wanted to believe Ty. But people didn't offer help without wanting something in return. Repaying her brother was one thing, but he could invest in more promising ventures than hers. This had to be about more than gratitude and gingerbread.
Not sex.
Someone wealthy and handsome like Nate could get any woman he wanted. A hardworking baker wasn't high on the trophy wife list. He wanted something else. The question was what.
And would whatever Nate Vaughn wanted be more than she was willing to give?
CHAPTER FOUR
The next afternoon, Rachel stood outside the Main Street Diner with Nate, a folder full of order forms pressed tightly against her chest. Something was ringing. She looked around toward the jingling sound. Down the street in front of the bank, a woman dressed in red and wearing a Santa's hat shook a bell in front of a charity's collection bucket.
"I'm so out of my element." Rachel didn't mean the winter weather. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."
"Come on." Nate wore a black wool coat over his button down shirt and slacks. He'd left his cowboy hat in the truck, but the gingerbread creations he held in a box looked out of place. "You thought canvassing businesses was a great idea yesterday."
"I did." On their drive back from Bozeman, he'd shared his idea. Giving businesses gingerbread replicas of their storefronts in return for them displaying her order forms had sounded brilliant at the time. She'd spent the evening baking and this morning perfecting each miniature shop, but now the prospect of rejection made her nerves as taut as wire cutters. She loosened her grip on the folder and wiggled her fingers. "I wasn't thinking straight. I was caught up in a flurry of excitement."
The wicked gleam in his eyes sent a shiver shooting through her. He cocked a brow. "I excited you."
Yes, but Rachel would die before she admitted that. She'd been trying to take Ty's advice to heart and let Nate help her. Yesterday afternoon, that had worked.
Talking during the drive, shopping at the warehouse, every minute she'd spent with him yesterday had been exhilarating. She'd never shopped with a man who wasn't family or a cook. Had no idea that mundane activities like loading bags of flour and sugar onto a cart and chatting in the checkout line could feel so much like a date.
She must have misread his intentions, her chronic problem tripping her up again. Because Nate's raised eyebrow suggested he was joking around with her, making fun of her or trying to annoy her. Maybe all three. Like a friend of her brother's. She gave him a drop-it-now look. "I'm talking about buying supplies."
He staggered back. "And here I thought I was more than your driver and baggage carrier."
"Don't forget cart pusher," she teased.
"I need to push you right through the diner's door."
His lighthearted tone told Rachel he was kidding, but the courage she'd mustered on the drive from the Bar V5 to Marietta had shriveled like a rotten grape, leaving her insides trembling. Her stomach churned, clenched, and churned again.
"I don't think I can do this." Her voice sounded breathy, barely above a whisper.
"Why not?"
Her feet felt glued to the pavement. The queasiness in her tummy intensified with each passing second.
"I..." She stared inside the diner. Customers sat at tables, eating and drinking and laughing. A waitress dressed in black carried plates full of food. A dark blonde in a long, patterned skirt and black sweater answered the phone. Nothing strange or out of the ordinary as far as restaurants went. But a spider web of apprehension made Rachel feel like the diner's entrance led to the underworld of doom. "I'm a baker. I don't have a head for business. It's one thing to push sweets and treats when I'm standing behind the counter, but to go in and do a hard sell..."
Nate shifted the box to one hand then touched her shoulder, a comforting gestures, something Ty would do. Except this felt different. Not brotherly. More boyfriendly.
Her throat tightened.
Nerves were one thing, but the concern in Nate's eyes did funny things to her tummy. Butterfly things. Things she wasn't used to feeling and didn't want to feel.
Maybe Ty was right when he'd said starting a business was insanity. Maybe she was insane, had lost her mind, somewhere between taking off from Phoenix International Airport and landing in Bozeman.
Nothing else could explain what she was feeling for a guy she'd known three days.
Had to be insanity, right?
"You're a baker, a salesperson, and a businesswoman." Nate squeezed, a gentle pressure that soothed and gave her strength. "You know how to bake. Now you're learning a new way to market your talent. This is a new territory for you. I have no doubt you'll succeed." His words made her feel all gooey inside, like melted chocolate chips. "You need to believe it, too."
"I want to believe, but I keep thinking about the couple in Arizona."
"The couple that screwed you over?"
She nodded. "I wasn't sure if I knew enough about starting a business so that's why I wanted their help. Pamela said my recipes weren't quite there yet and Grayson questioned whether the health department would allow a decorate-your-own-sweet-treat bar in the shop."
"I thought they stole your ideas and recipes."
Rachel nodded.
"They were messing with your head. Making you doubt yourself so you'd think you needed their help. They sound like a pair of master manipulators who have done this before. Put the past behind you and move on. They taught you a lesson: trust wisely and believe in yourself, in your vision."
His words made what happened sound like no big deal, that her confidence hadn't been scrubbed away with a scouring pad.
She fought the urge to lean closer to Nate, as if less distance would allow some of his courage to transfer to her. "I need to believe."
He touched his forehead to hers and sent those butterflies fluttering inside and outside and upside down. "Say it again."
She could barely breathe. "I-I need to believe."
His breath was warm and minty against her face. Her lips.
"Again," he said.
Inches separated his mouth from hers. "I need to, uh, believe."
Breathing would be good. Thinking, too.
"Again."
She pulled away, but he tightened his hold on her shoulders.
"Is this some ninja cowboy mind trick?" Maybe with more distance between him and the guys if he tried this at the ranch.
"Just say it."
"I need to believe."
"Once more."
She took a deep breath. "I believe."
He backed away. "Now we do this."
Rachel hadn't figured out Nate, but so far he was proving himself to be as good a guy as her brother claimed. He could have kissed her, if he'd wanted. She wouldn't have said no, and she had a feeling he knew that. That would have mortified her but she was already on edge. No time for being a sissy about a guy knowing she liked him.
"I'm a fan of your motivational style. I do feel calmer. Does it work with all women?"
He blinked. "It didn't work with my ex-fiancée."
"What happened?"
"Long story." He glanced from Rachel to the diner. "After we've finished, I'll tell you the lowlights."
"Sounds tragic."
"Not really, but if that'll get you inside..."
"Okay, okay."
"You're still not moving."
He pressed his hand against the small of her back. In spite of the layers of clothing and her jacket, she could feel his hand. His touch comforted, but also unsettled her.
Rachel stepped forward, and his arm fell away. "I'm moving now. "
She missed his touch. Total insanity.
Nate opened the door. "Inside."
Rachel took a deep breath. She'd lost her dream to the Darbys. There wasn't much left to lose.
She glanced at Nate. At least she hoped not.
An hour and a half later, Nate opened the toy store's door. Rachel breezed past him with a bounce to her step, an e
mpty file folder in hand, and the biggest smile he'd seen all afternoon. He followed Rachel outside, stopping on the sidewalk outside the ice cream shop.
"I'm in shock," Rachel said, her face flushed.
"And you claimed to be nervous. You nailed every sales pitch."
Rachel spun around, the bottom of her beige jacket flaring. "They all said yes. The diner, the kids' clothing store, Café Java, the photo studio—"
"And the flower shop and toy store want to sell your decorate-it-yourself kits." He liked seeing her so happy, expressing her passion, looking to him for encouragement before talking to business owners. "You did it."
She stopped twirling. Gratitude shone in her eyes. "We did it. Without you, none of this would have happened."
"We make a good team."
Rachel nodded once.
Warmth balled at the center of Nate's chest then spread outward. Admitting they worked well together must've been hard for Rachel. Independence was her shield. "This is only the beginning."
Another nod. She chewed on her lip.
He wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss away her uncertainty. But if he did that she would bolt. So he brushed stray hairs that had fallen out of her ponytail off her face instead. Ignored how soft the strands felt against his fingers. Pretended his pulse wasn't stampeding like a herd of bison on the plain.
Hard to do with her right in front of him, all he would have to do was dip his head and brush his mouth over hers.
He knew all the reasons why he shouldn't...couldn't, but his heart thudded, a booming annoyance. One taste would shut it up. He hoped.
Rachel's gaze locked on his. Her lips parted slightly. Full, pink lips that likely tasted sweeter than the fudge she'd made earlier.
Kiss me.
Hell, he could almost hear her saying the words.
Talk about tempting and the perfect way to celebrate their success today.
Do it.
The devil on his shoulder urged him on. Nate wanted to, oh, how he wanted to kiss Rachel until they needed to come up for air or they passed out.
Kiss her.
He would. Except...
Rachel wasn't leaning in or moving to kiss him. She was beginning to trust him. He didn't want to blow it.
Unless she gave him a clear invitation, something unmistakable, Nate had to back off. He couldn't be caught up in the moment unless he was sure. He'd never once had the urge to kiss any of the start-up founders he'd worked with as a venture capitalist. No matter how good the news or how much money they made.
This was different. She was different.
Still he couldn't kiss her. Forget Rachel giving him a sign. He couldn't kiss her without betraying his friend.
Ty was the reason Nate was helping Rachel. Ty would not want Nate kissing his sister or her kissing anyone. Rachel was a desirable woman, but Nate couldn't jeopardize his friendship and working relationship with her brother.
Not for a kiss.
Nate let go of her hair and lowered her arm. "Don't tell me you're not a salesperson. You had a 100% close rate."
She tapped the toes of her boots as if wanting to dance except they were standing on a sidewalk and the only music was a bell ringing down the street. "I still can't believe it."
"You were impressive, sweetheart."
A honk sounded. He glanced over his shoulder. Driving down Main Street, a pickup truck slowed. Brock Sheenan, a widowed rancher with a large spread in Paradise Valley, waved. Nate acknowledged his friend.
"Do you know everybody in Marietta?"
"It's a small town, and I grew up here. You see a lot of the same faces, though there are new ones." Nate thought he'd feel her out about Montana. "Like yours."
"I'm just here for Christmas."
Too soon. He'd back off. "We're glad to have you here for Christmas. And your gingerbread."
"You have a one-track mind."
"I know what I want." Operation: Hansel and Gretel was coming together faster than he'd anticipated. She would change her mind about staying in Marietta once she saw how much money she could make with her gingerbread. "Go after it."
"I thought that's what I'd been doing until today. I have a lot to learn."
"You're catching on fast." He motioned across the street to the Main Street Diner. "Hungry?"
"Yes, but Ty—"
"Can fend for himself." No cars were coming so he grabbed Rachel's hand and crossed the road. "You deserve a night off from cooking."
"I do, don't I?"
Nate opened the door to The Main Street Diner, the place where they'd started this afternoon. "After you."
She sashayed into the diner, overflowing with confidence and attitude. Yes, he was attracted, and damn if he hated not doing anything about it. Nate followed her inside.
The smell of basil and rosemary lingered on the air. Two men, realtor Tod Styles and Deputy Scott Bliven, stared at Rachel with appreciative glances. She didn't notice the male attention. She seemed more interested in surveying the pictures and knickknacks hung on the brick walls.
That didn't deter the men.
Nate balled his hands. Looking wasn't against the rules. He'd been doing the same thing when he was with her, but the guys needed to stick their tongues back in their mouths and try to be subtle. No wonder Ty got upset if any of the wranglers mentioned Rachel outside the context of her cooking.
Feeling territorial, Nate moved closer to Rachel, so close his leg touched hers.
She stiffened.
"Making room for others." Except no one else was near the hostess stand waiting for a table. Maybe she wouldn't notice. He liked the way she smelled—vanilla and sandalwood.
"The décor of this place is interesting," she said. "Welcoming."
Paige Joffe, the diner's new owner, a young widow from California, led them to a table. Her skirt swished around her black leather boots. "Welcome back. Ty's favorite is the Bison Burger with Parmesan fries, if your tastes are anything alike, Rachel. "
Nate pulled out Rachel's chair. "Annie was busy when we were here earlier. I haven't seen her in years. Is she working tonight?"
"She is. I'll send her over." Paige handed them menus then walked toward the kitchen.
"How is not seeing someone possible in a town this size?" Rachel asked.
"Annie's been living on the east coast for the last ten years or so." He sat across from Rachel. "She arrived around Thanksgiving time."
Rachel glanced over the menu before looking up with surprise. "Call me a city girl, but I expected variations on steak and eggs, not cedar-plank salmon with asparagus and couscous."
"I told you about assumptions being dangerous."
A blush spread across her cheeks. "I know."
"Marietta might be a small town, but we've got some real gems, including this place. You can count on great food and service."
"Compliments are always welcome here." Annie Prudhomme greeted them with a big smile. She placed glasses and a carafe of water on the table. "Good to see you, Nate. It's been a long time."
"Too long." Her blond hair had returned to its natural brown, the color he remembered her having in school. "I was talking to Carson about that yesterday."
Annie wrung her hands together. "You talked to Carson?"
Nate nodded. "How's it feel to be back in Marietta?"
"A little strange, but I'm adjusting."
Her troubled gray eyes contradicted her words. But Nate understood. Annie had been the one who couldn't wait to escape this small town. Being back would be difficult after living in New York. "How's the ranch?"
"The same." Her smile wavered slightly. She looked at Rachel. "Who's your friend?"
"Rachel Murphy," Nate introduced them. "She's new in town."
"I'm visiting my brother Ty for the holidays," Rachel clarified. "He works at the Bar V5."
Annie's gaze narrowed. "You're the gingerbread maker."
"How'd you know?" Rachel asked.
"I saw you speaking with Paige earlier, but
I must have missed Nate." Annie glanced at the gingerbread house sitting on the hostess stand. "You do a wonderful job. Creative choice of colors and candy. Love the textures and details. The little white lights are the perfect accent. Sorry, I used to be an interior designer."
"Please, don't apologize," Rachel said. "I welcome compliments, too."
You're beautiful, smart and sexy as hell. Probably not what she was looking for, Nate realized.
Annie leaned closer. "A few customers picked up order forms on their way out. I'm taking one. I know a kid named Evan who would have fun with a do-it-yourself kit."
"Thanks." Rachel sat taller in her seat. "Today seems to be my lucky day."
He was the lucky one. Rachel had such a great smile.
"Would you like to orders drinks while you look over the menu?" Annie asked.
With drink orders placed and a few minutes later, dinner ordered, Nate took a sip of his beer.
Rachel leaned forward. The neckline of her sweater gaped, giving him a peek of white lace and creamy skin.
That kind of looking would get him into trouble. He drank more.
"So do I get to hear the lowlights of your love story now?" she asked in a lighthearted tone.
Nate choked, nearly spewed beer all over the table, but managed to force the beer down. He wiped his mouth with his napkin. "I thought you forgot about that."
"Memory like an elephant's." She tapped the side of her head. "So..."
He hated this story as much as he hated living it. But he wanted her confidences. He would have to cough up his own. "Four years ago, I was living in Palo Alto. I had a great job, worked crazy hours and spent any free time with my girlfriend Marissa."
"Sounds like a perfect life."
"I thought so, until I got a call from your brother."
Her nose crinkled. "Ty?"
"Yeah, my dad's health and mind had deteriorated more than I knew. He was making bad decisions, crazy ones no one who knew about ranching would make. Ty was doing all he could, buying livestock and hay with his own money, but then he learned my dad had taken out loans using the ranch as collateral. No one knew where the money went. Ty asked me if he should look for an assisted living apartment for my parents because the debt was too deep. The bank was going to foreclose."
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