by Gina Wilkins
“Maybe she’ll give me the recipe before we leave.”
“I’m sure she would be delighted.”
Talk of his mother had changed the mood between them. Joel didn’t comment when Nic scooted a couple inches farther away from him on the couch, setting her mug on a coaster on the end table as an excuse for the change of position. Just to keep things comfortable, she turned up the television a bit, focusing her attention on the screen.
Pretending to be checking for the remains of melted marshmallow, she ran her fingertips across her lips—lingering just for a moment at the spot Joel had touched.
After setting their cocoa mugs in the dishwasher and turning off the TV, Joel walked Nic up to the guest room for the night.
“You’re sure there’s nothing else you need tonight?”
She smiled up at him. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”
“I’m right next door if you need anything.”
She glanced automatically in the direction he had indicated. His bedroom door looked awfully close to her own. “Not very far,” she murmured.
“No.” He looked from his door to hers, then gave her a weak smile. “Not far at all.”
“So…um…good night, Joel.”
“Good night, Nic.”
He didn’t immediately move away. He just stood there looking down at her. And suddenly her heart was beating so hard in her chest that she could hardly breathe. Feeling an uncharacteristic heat flood her cheeks, she took a quick step backward, swinging the door closed between them.
What, she asked herself, was that?
Joel threw his Cardinal-red polo shirt over the back of a chair and pushed his hand through his tousled hair. For some reason, he was restless tonight. Itchy.
Must be the reunion making him feel that way, he mused. The reminders of his younger self, the signs of aging in all his friends—signs he assumed they were also seeing in him. He supposed it was only natural to feel nostalgic for the more innocent and carefree days of his youth when he was around the people who had shared those times with him.
And yet…oddly enough, he wasn’t thinking of those old days now. He found his thoughts turning more to the life he had made for himself in Arkansas—his home, his patients, his friends. Especially the one friend now sleeping only a few steps down the hall.
Despite his vague feelings of guilt earlier for subjecting her to this ordeal, he was glad he had brought her. Having Nic with him had made the whole evening so much easier, giving him an excuse to avoid discussing Heather’s death with his former classmates, keeping him grounded in the present. Not to mention that he simply enjoyed being with Nic.
Remembering the enthusiasm with which she had cheered on his high school team, he couldn’t help but smile. Nic wasn’t exactly shy and retiring. She had impressed the heck out of the Watson twins with her knowledge of football. And she was hardly a high-maintenance companion. She didn’t expect him to constantly entertain her or cater to her needs. In fact, she was firmly insistent upon taking care of herself, not even letting him go to the concession stand for her snacks.
His smile faded a little when he recalled the way she had waded into that potential brawl in the stadium parking lot. When most other women—and most men, for that matter—would have stayed safely at a distance, doing nothing more to help than looking for the nearest officer, Nic had simply taken matters into her own hands. It hadn’t even seemed to occur to her that the angry teenagers almost all dwarfed her in size.
He still didn’t understand why his old friends seemed to think she was a little odd. Because she was a police officer? Female police officers might still be in the minority, but they were hardly a rarity these days.
Because she liked football? Again, hardly a big deal. He knew a lot of women who liked sports. His nurse was the biggest NASCAR fan he knew, quoting statistics and rankings that could make his head spin with confusion.
Because she hadn’t even hesitated about throwing herself into that fight? They should admire her for that. He was a bit chagrined that it had taken him so long to intervene himself. Had Nic not been there, one of those kids could have gotten hurt before anyone had had the presence of mind to break them up.
He kept coming back to the suspicion that it was simply that Nic was so different from Heather. And again he thought that was a really lame reason why he and Nic couldn’t be good friends—or even more, if they had chosen to pursue anything else.
Now he was all itchy again, thinking incongruously of Nic standing in the doorway of her bedroom, gazing up at him with what might have been an uncharacteristic hint of nerves in her big dark blue eyes. Had that been just a touch of a blush on her smooth, soft-looking cheeks? Had she, too, been struck by the intimacy of saying good-night in a quiet, darkened house in which they would both be sleeping tonight? Or was it all in his own imagination?
Maybe bringing Nic to his reunion hadn’t been such a good idea after all, he thought, throwing himself onto his old double bed. Their friendship meant entirely too much to him for him to take any chance at all on putting a new distance between them.
It was always awkward to wake up in a strange house, disheveled and disoriented. Pushing her tousled hair out of her face, Nic gathered her clothes and makeup bag and opened the bedroom door. The hallway was empty and the house was quiet, making her wonder if she was the only one awake at seven o’clock on this Saturday.
She had just reached the bathroom door when it opened. Wearing only a pair of jeans and rubbing a towel over his wet hair, Joel stepped out, almost walking straight into her. He stopped abruptly when he realized she was there. “Whoa. Sorry, I didn’t mean to run you down.”
“You didn’t,” she assured him, stepping quickly backward. “I didn’t know you were in there.”
“I’m done. It’s all yours now. Do you need anything?”
“I, um…” For some reason, her mind had suddenly gone blank. She couldn’t even remember exactly what he had asked. She had known that he was fit, of course, in a sturdy, solid-looking way—but who knew there were such serious muscles hidden beneath his conservative-young-professional clothing?
“Nic?”
He was looking at her oddly, and she forced her attention away from his pecs and abs. “Sorry. I guess I’m not completely awake yet. What did you say?”
“I asked if you need anything. Soap, shampoo and towels are all laid out for you in there, but if there’s anything else…”
“No, I’ve got everything. Thanks.”
Nodding, he moved toward his bedroom. A moment later he looked inquiringly over his shoulder. “Problem?”
Starting, she shook her head and ducked into the bathroom, closing the door a bit too sharply behind her. She really hoped he had believed her lame excuse about still being sleep-addled. She would hate to think he suspected she’d been watching him walk away and wondering if those pants concealed an equally impressive physique.
It must be something in the Alabama air, she thought as she plunged beneath the showerhead into water that was just warm enough to be tolerable. She hadn’t been acting quite like herself ever since she and Joel had arrived here.
Showered, blow-dried, made-up and dressed in a cropped denim jacket over a lace-trimmed camisole and boot-cut jeans with short brown leather boots, Nic decided she was as presentable as she was going to be to start this second day of Joel’s reunion. She had given more attention to her appearance than she usually did, even running a bit of styling gel through her somewhat shaggily layered dark blond hair. She was wearing eyeliner, for Pete’s sake.
She told herself that she had taken such care with her grooming because it was only courteous to look her best for a gathering of Joel’s old friends. Her hostess was obviously into that sort of thing, judging by Elaine’s meticulous hairstyle and makeup, and Nic wouldn’t want to look grubby in Joel’s mother’s eyes.
Not that she was competing with anyone, she assured herself as she started down the stairs. Not with Elaine or Heidi—and cer
tainly not with anyone’s memory of a beautiful redhead.
She had expected to find Joel downstairs with his parents. Instead the living room and dining room were empty. Following a few muted sounds into the kitchen, Nic found Elaine pouring batter into a waffle iron.
Elaine smiled brightly when Nic entered. “Good morning. I’m making Belgian waffles with fresh-sliced strawberries and whipped cream. But if you’d rather have eggs or oatmeal…”
“I love Belgian waffles,” Nic assured her. “But you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble for my sake.”
Shaking her head, which didn’t ruffle a hair of her perfectly curled and firmly sprayed coif, Elaine took a carafe of orange juice—fresh-squeezed, no doubt—from the refrigerator and set it on the counter. “It’s no trouble at all. Joel loves waffles, so I always make them when he’s home. Not that he comes home all that often,” she added with a little frown.
“He stays really busy in Cabot,” Nic said, feeling a need to come to Joel’s defense. “He works ten hours a day, five days a week, and usually puts in a couple of hours on Saturdays and Sundays. And he makes himself available to his patients even when he isn’t working, voluntarily staying on call almost 24-7.”
Rather than appeasing Joel’s mother about his reasons for not visiting more often, Nic’s comments seemed to only worry her more. “I worry about him working that hard. He’s going to burn out. Or get sick.”
“He seems to enjoy it,” Nic offered weakly. “He loves the kids.”
Elaine sighed heavily as she stacked perfectly browned waffles on a serving platter. “He always has loved children. He and Heather planned to have several of their own.”
“Is there anything I can do to help you, Mrs. Brannon?” Nic asked, hoping to change the subject.
Rousing herself from her melancholy memories, Elaine motioned toward the juice pitcher. “You can set that on the table in the breakfast nook if you’d like. I’m almost finished here.”
Nic carried the pitcher around the bar that separated the well-appointed kitchen from the breakfast nook set into a bay window that overlooked the sizable, neatly landscaped backyard. Spotting movement at the back of the yard, Nic noticed that Joel and his father were walking the perimeter, apparently examining the redwood fence that surrounded the property.
“Are you having problems with your fence?” she asked Elaine more to make small talk than because she was particularly interested.
Elaine shook her head in exasperation. “Lou is obsessed with termites. He’s convinced they’re going to attack at any moment, even though we have regular inspections by professionals. Nearly every time one of the boys comes over, he makes them help him look for signs of termite invasion.”
Nic found that amusing, though she noticed that Joel seemed to be taking the task very seriously. She watched as he bent to brush a few dried leaves away from the bottom of the fence, and her attention lingered for a moment on the way the morning sun brought out the gold highlights in his light brown hair.
Elaine set the platter of waffles on the round cherry table with a thump that might have been a bit more forceful than necessary. “Do you drink coffee, Nicole?” she asked, bringing Nic’s attention back inside.
Nic couldn’t help but wonder if that had been Elaine’s intention.
Chapter Six
Telling herself she was reading hidden agendas into perfectly innocent actions, Nic turned away from the window and smiled at Joel’s mother. “Yes, I drink coffee. Cops tend to pretty much live on caffeine and fast food.”
Elaine had already returned to the kitchen, where she poured steaming coffee into a delicate flowered cup. “It must be difficult being a woman in such a traditionally male occupation.”
“Not so much anymore. I’m not the only woman in my department, though we are outnumbered. Thanks,” she added as Elaine handed her the cup.
“Do you plan to keep working in the police force even after you marry and have children?”
It was a question straight out of the last century, especially when combined with Elaine’s tone and expression. Nic tried to answer it with a smile. “I haven’t really thought about it. And it isn’t an issue now, since I don’t expect to get married or have children anytime soon.”
“Oh? You don’t want children?”
It took an effort, but Nic managed to keep her smile steady. “Not at the moment.”
“You’re—what?—twenty-six?”
“Twenty-seven. This coffee is really good. What brand do you use?”
Either Elaine hadn’t heard the question or she did a good job of pretending. “I had two boys by the time I was your age. Our little Kyle was born a month before my thirtieth birthday.”
Nic’s mild irritation immediately evaporated. “Joel told me about Kyle,” she said gently. “I was sorry to hear about your loss. I know it must be very painful for you still.”
Though her eyes held a world of old pain, Elaine kept her face serene. “Thank you, dear. It was a terrible trial for us, but we’re a close family. We found comfort in each other, just as we did when we lost our Heather five and a half years ago.”
Our Heather. What sort of message was Elaine sending with that phrasing? Or was Nic only imagining that there was a message?
“I have an older brother myself,” she volunteered. “My mother and I leaned on him quite a bit when my father died a few years ago. Mother is living with him now in Europe, where he works for a U.S. embassy. It’s nice to have family to turn to when you need them.”
What might have been a glimmer of approval appeared in the look Elaine gave her then. “Yes, it is.”
Feeling as if she had just scored a hard-earned point—even though she wasn’t quite sure of the rules in this particular game—Nic took another sip of her coffee.
She was immeasurably relieved when the kitchen door opened and Joel and Lou came into the kitchen along with a draft of cool October air. “Is breakfast ready?” Joel wanted to know, smiling from his mother to Nic. “I’m starving.”
Her voice going practically liquid with doting affection, Elaine patted Joel’s arm and replied, “Everything’s ready. Seat your guest and then take your own chair. I’ll get your coffee.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sharing a look with Nic, Joel made a production of holding a chair for her.
Feeling a bit foolish, Nic sank into it and reached for the napkin—snowy linen—that sat beside the flowered plate Elaine had already laid ready on a crisp yellow linen place mat.
The stack of waffles disappeared quickly. Other than murmuring a few compliments about the delicious food, Nic said little during the meal, listening quietly as the others talked about local people and events. Joel made an occasional attempt to include her in the discussion, but she answered in polite monosyllables, sending the conversational ball back into their court.
“I thought Ethan might join us for breakfast this morning,” Joel said as he pushed his empty plate away and reached for his freshly refilled coffee cup.
Lou frowned. “Ethan’s been pretty busy lately. He’s involved in some project he hasn’t discussed with us. He said he’d tell us about it when he’s ready to talk about it.”
“What does Ethan do?” Nic asked.
“He’s an independent financial consultant,” Joel answered. “Basically he goes into small businesses that are struggling to make it and he helps them turn a profit.”
“So he’s like a financial genius?”
Joel chuckled. “You could say that. He’d hate it, but you could say it.”
“I suppose it’s true enough when you’re talking about other people’s money,” Lou complained. “You couldn’t say it applied to himself. He doesn’t charge enough for his services, and I’ve been telling him that for years. With his talents, he should be a wealthy man by now. Instead he’s just getting by.”
“He makes enough for his needs,” Elaine responded loyally. “He’s promised me he’s putting enough away for his future, but he says he doe
sn’t need any more than he brings in now. Ethan isn’t interested in amassing a fortune just to impress other people.”
“It isn’t a matter of impressing people, it’s a matter of security. Someday he might find a woman who’ll look beyond that difficult exterior of his and actually want to start a family with him and then he’ll wish he had planned a little better for his own needs rather than all these small-business owners he works with every day.”
From Lou’s tone, Nic got the impression that this was an old argument and one he no longer expected to win. Lou was fond of both his sons, that was obvious, but he acted almost as though he blamed himself that their lives hadn’t turned out exactly as he and Elaine had hoped and planned for them. Apparently they thought Ethan should be a wealthy business consultant with a suitable wife and children, and that Joel should be running an upscale metropolitan pediatrics clinic—and still married to the woman they had all loved.
It seemed to her that they should be more proud of the men their sons had become. Decent, hardworking men with a purpose—to help others rather than amassing fortunes for themselves. But then, the Brannon family dynamics were none of her business. She was only here for another few hours, and then it was entirely likely she would never see them again.
Except for Joel, of course. As her neighbor and friend, he would continue to be an important part of her life.
Perhaps Elaine decided they were revealing too much in front of a guest. Her voice was almost chirpy when she asked, “So what exactly are your plans for today, Joel? I know your class party doesn’t start until six o’clock, so that gives you several hours free this morning.”
“Heidi has arranged golf and tennis tournaments at the resort and a spa day for the women who were interested, but Nic and I decided to pass on those activities. I thought I’d give her a tour of the area, if she’s interested. Show her some of the local highlights.”