Confessions of a Girl-Next-Door Page 6

  “My apologies. I forgot. I have the world by its tail. I have no cares, no concerns, no worries whatsoever beyond which silver spoon to select to eat my next meal. I’m not allowed to envy anyone anything.”

  She started to rise to her feet. Nate put a hand on her arm to stop her. “I didn’t mean—”

  She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, as if reaching deep inside herself for patience. Apparently, she found it. When she opened her eyes, she looked calm and only the slightest bit weary. She straightened her shoulders, tilted her chin up. She was the polar opposite of the woman he’d come across mere minutes ago, legs pulled to her chest and lost in thought.

  If Nate had to pick one word to describe her it would be regal. And he meant it as a compliment, even if he also knew what it was costing her. I’m always on display, she’d said earlier. Which meant she knew how to play the part of princess.

  “Of course you didn’t. It’s all right. I’m tired and being insufferably rude, especially after all you’ve done for me.”

  He’d offered her a place to stay for the night—a little begrudgingly at first—showed her how to operate the ancient shower in the guest bath, shared a beer and allowed her the use of his phone. He’d hardly been put out. He said as much.

  “But I do appreciate it, especially since my visit was so unexpected.”

  Nate rose to his feet. He felt like a champion heel. Holly was apologizing, but he was the one who was sorry. Not only for the thoughtless comment he’d made, but also for the effect his words had had on her mood. It was as if a light had been doused. He didn’t like knowing he’d done the dousing.

  “It’s no problem, you being here. If I’ve seemed, well, a little brusque, it’s just that I’m not good with surprises,” he said. “I like to know what’s coming next.”

  “I’d rather enjoy a few surprises now and again. Part of the problem for me is I know exactly what to expect. The script has been written. I’m just acting out the scenes.”

  He’d never thought of it that way.

  “I think I’ll retire now.”

  “It’s been a long day,” he agreed.

  “Yes. Very.”

  He waited until she was at the base of the steps to turn out the lamp. Enough light spilled from the open door of his bedroom at the top of the stairs to keep them from tripping.

  It was odd, walking up to his bedroom with a beautiful woman at his side and knowing they would part ways at the top of the steps and nothing would happen but sleep. Or sleeplessness, as the case likely would be for him.

  He’d entertained overnight guests of the opposite sex before. He was a grown man, after all. And he’d hardly lived as a monk.

  But this was different. This was something … more. He might not like it, but that was a fact. He’d accepted that earlier when they’d kissed. The mere memory of it would haunt him, just as memories of a suntanned teenage girl had haunted him for the past decade, whether he’d wanted to admit it or not.

  At the top of the steps, she turned, as he’d known she would, starting to the opposite end of the house after offering a polite smile and the appropriate good-night wish. Words stuck in Nate’s throat, jumbled up on his tongue.

  I’m glad you’re here. He nearly said it. And he was glad. In spite of everything and all of the conflicting emotions seeing her again had prompted, he was.

  But instead of telling her so, he stepped into his bedroom and closed the door. After stripping off his shirt and shorts, he stretched out on the cool cotton sheets, eyeing the shadows cast from the lamp on the nightstand, as his mind tried to make sense of his thoughts.

  He’d gotten over Holly. A long time ago, in fact. It hadn’t been easy those first couple of summers, but then he’d gone off to college, dated other girls both on the island and elsewhere. Even if none of those relationships had lasted long or held any deep meaning for him, it wasn’t as if he’d been pining. He’d figured the feelings he’d had for Holly had only felt so intense because he’d been young and in love for the first time.

  That had made sense.

  Now, here she was again. Back on the island after all of these years. She’d been in his life for mere hours, already upsetting its careful balance in ways he couldn’t begin to fathom. And while Nate wished he could say that he’d been right, that immaturity and imagination had been responsible for those inflated feelings of the past, he knew he would be lying.

  She was special.

  Nate the boy had loved Holly the girl. After the kiss of a couple hours ago, he knew that Nate the man could very well wind up in a similar predicament.

  If he allowed it.

  He didn’t plan to allow it. After all, just like before, she would be leaving. In mere days, she would go back to a life that Nate wasn’t part of and never could be.

  No, he wouldn’t make the mistake of falling in love with Holly twice.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  NATE awoke just before dawn, not that he’d slept much knowing that Holly was just down the hall, stretched out between the sheets he’d spread over his boyhood bed.

  Oh, the irony, given the many fantasies he’d entertained of her there back when they both were teenagers, when his hormones had been churning on high.

  Between her nearness and Hank’s buzz-saw snoring, Nate barely had managed a few hours of shut-eye. Add to that his anxiety over the extent of the storm’s damage to the resort, and it was no wonder he was suffering insomnia. At first light, he dressed and prepared to head out.

  Hank was still sleeping. The noise coming from the other man’s room confirmed as much. Nate glanced down the hall. Before he could stop himself, he was at Holly’s door. He leaned in close and listened. The only sound he could hear was breathing and it was coming from him. She was probably dead to the world, a casualty of jet lag. He started to step away, then stopped. Even though it made absolutely no sense, and he knew he was being unforgivably rude, he slowly turned the knob, pushed the door open a crack and peeked inside.

  Just as he’d suspected, Holly was asleep. She was on her side, facing him. She looked lovely, if troubled. Even in sleep her brow appeared furrowed. She’d come to the island to get away. Even as he wanted to believe it wasn’t his business or his concern, he couldn’t help wondering, from what exactly? She’d mentioned how scripted her life was. But she was a princess, high enough up the royal food chain that surely she could call some of the shots. So what exactly was she running from?

  Or whom?

  That guy she was linked to? Nate’s hands fisted at the thought.

  She sighed then, turned. Honey-colored hair spilled over the pillow. His pillow.

  Lucky pillow.

  A sound rose in his throat—part moan, part curse. Nate closed the door with a smart click and hurried downstairs. Mere minutes later, armed with a Thermos full of black coffee and a clipboard, he hopped in his pickup truck.

  He spent the first hour riding from one end of the resort to the other, jotting down notes and prioritizing the cleanup as he went. This was how he approached problems: head-on and with a plan. Doing so was not only practical, but in this instance it also helped keep his mind off of Holly.

  As he drove, a calm settled over him, despite the obvious fallout from the storm. This was his kingdom. Last night, he’d experienced some doubts. They’d cleared off with the storm. He’d made the right choices in his life. This was where he wanted to be. The resort was a grand enough dream for him. He was happy here. The island was home.

  He’d already called in the Burns twins to help. The boys were seventeen, with strong backs and a deep desire to earn enough cash to buy their first car. Their dream vehicle was a vintage restored Mustang the island’s only doctor had put up for sale. So they were only too happy to hear Nate had extra hours for them to work.

  As he drove, Nate stopped to chat with any guests who were out and about. Several of them were, especially those who had come to the island to fish.

  “That was quite the storm last night,” Ern
ie Smithe commented. “Reminded me of the one back in eighty-seven.”

  The older man haled from a suburb just outside of Detroit and had been coming north for two weeks in June for as long as Nate could remember. He was seated at the picnic table just outside his cabin, a steaming cup of coffee at his elbow as he went through his tackle box.

  “Yes, it was.” Nate nodded at the selection of lures. “What are you fishing for this morning?”

  “Anything that will take the bait.” The older man laughed then. “I haven’t had too much luck trolling off the little islands just outside the bay.”

  “Perch are biting off the marina’s dock. Your best bet is minnows.” Nate sold them for a couple dollars per dozen in the shop. “Tell the kid working the counter that I said to give you a complimentary bucketful.”

  The way Nate saw it, it was a small price to pay for the fact the storm had taken out the resort’s cable television. He made a note to himself to tell anyone who worked the desk that minnows were on the house for the rest of the day.

  Ernie thanked him. Nate started on his way. As he passed his cottage, he thought he saw movement through the kitchen window. He pulled the truck to a stop and headed up the steps, bracing himself a moment before pulling open the door. He wasn’t sure what to say. Good morning would be appropriate. But for some reason asking if she’d slept well seemed a little too personal.

  Then again, that kiss had been nothing if not personal.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face at the memory, felt the stubble. He hardly looked his best. He didn’t want to care. But he did. God help him. He did.

  It turned out there was no need for divine intervention. The person standing in his kitchen was Hank. The other man was hunched over the counter helping himself to a bowl of cold cereal.

  “Mornin’,” he mumbled around a mouthful of fortified flakes.

  “Hey.” Nate glanced past him. The television was on but the living room was empty.

  “She’s not up yet,” Hank said, doing a lousy job of hiding his amusement.

  Nate ignored him. “I checked on your plane.”

  That got his attention. “How’d she fare?”

  “No worse for the wear. Good thing we beached and tethered her, though. A couple of the boats that were moored in the shallows got tossed about quite a bit. One is going to need a new prop.”

  “Good thing,” Hank repeated, his complexion a little pale. He set the now-empty bowl in the sink. “And thanks for the place to stay last night. You’re not a bad host, Matthews, even if we never did get around to that poker game.”

  Nate laughed. “No problem.”

  Hank hitched a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the stairs. “So, what are you going to do about your other guest?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The lady needs a place to stay,” Hank reminded him. As if Nate needed reminding on that score.

  “I’ll find her something on the island.”

  “Sure about that?” Hank scratched his scruffy chin. He had a good decade on Nate. Right now, he was acting as if he were his father. “You said last night most places were full up. Kind of scolded the girl, as I recall, for coming without advance notice.”

  “I’m sure there’s something she can rent.” Especially given Holly’s unlimited budget. With that kind of cash to flash around, even the exclusive private summer residences that dotted the bay’s eastern shore would likely be open to renters. Since Hank seemed to be waiting for greater reassurance, Nate added, “I’ll drive her around later, see what’s available.”

  “As long as you’re sure she won’t wind up down at the campground.”

  “The campground.” Nate snorted out a laugh. The Holly he’d known as a child would have been fine in a pup tent, roasting marshmallows over an open fire and swapping ghost stories. They’d done just that her second summer on the island. In separate tents pitched outside the cottage her grandmother rented. This Holly? She would be carried off by the mosquitoes that sometimes were mistaken for Michigan’s state bird.

  He laid a hand over his heart. “I promise, I won’t allow her to wind up at the campground.”

  “Okay.” Hank nodded. “I’ll be heading out in a bit. I’ve got a couple fares scheduled for later this morning. You tell her she can call me if need be. I’ll come back for her in a flash.”

  “I’m sure she won’t be needing your services.”

  “Just see that you tell her.” The other man was all business now. Nate would have found Hank’s edict annoying if he didn’t also appreciate that he was looking out for Holly.

  That made two of them.

  “I will.”

  Holly woke to the far-off squawk of seagulls, the sound of gently lapping waves and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. The storm was long gone, and from the sunshine peeking through the curtains, it was but a distant memory at this point.

  She stretched on the mattress and smiled sleepily as she regarded the outdated, overhead light fixture. Overall, she’d slept well, deep and dreamless. It was peaceful here, and so quiet.

  She amended her opinion a moment later when the jarring roar of a chainsaw had her lurching out of bed. A peek out one of the windows and she found its source. Nate was just down the beach from the cottage, holding the offending power tool in his hands and using it to slice through the thick trunk of a fallen cedar tree.

  She noted other trees and branches strewn about the beach and wondered what the full impact of the storm had been on the resort. She glanced around. Hank wasn’t with him. Nor was the pilot’s seaplane visible on the beach. But Nate did have a couple of helpers, teenage boys unless Holly missed her guess. And from the looks of it, they were as impressed with his skill with the chainsaw as she was.

  She decided to get dressed after a glance at the clock on the nightstand revealed it was closing in on noon. Noon! By her calculations, she’d slept nearly a dozen hours. How on earth had she managed to sleep that long? Sure, she was jet-lagged. But back home she routinely ran on four to five hours of sleep a night, and even that, lately, had been punctuated with bouts of wakefulness.

  Dressed in a pair of white capris, a crisp cotton blouse the color of raspberries and the burnished silver gladiator sandals that she’d picked up after attending a fashion show in Milan, she headed downstairs. As she’d already determined, Hank was nowhere to be found. He’d probably flown to the mainland hours ago, which meant she had no way back. At least not right now. Which meant she was at Nate’s mercy. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  In the kitchen, there was exactly one cup of coffee left in the maker. Though she preferred tea, she didn’t feel like rooting around in Nate’s cupboards to see if he had any. She poured the coffee for herself, shut off the pot and instantly felt guilty. Americans liked their coffee, or so her mother claimed. Nearly thirty years in Morenci and Olivia still eschewed tea in favor of a nice cup of Colombian. She could drink a pot by herself, all while complaining about the effects of caffeine on one’s body and complexion.

  Holly decided to make a second pot. She would bring a cup out to Nate. It would be a peace offering of sorts …. A thank-you, she amended. She eyed the maker dubiously. As enamoured as she was with prospect of cooking, she didn’t have much skill in the kitchen. Much as in next to none. Anytime she attempted something remotely culinary her mother would remind her they had “staff” to deal with that.

  Thus, Holly also had little experience when it came to small appliances, and this looked nothing like the ones she’d glimpsed in the palace kitchens. Still, it seemed simple enough. Besides, the brewing instructions were listed on the inside of the lid that opened where she had to add the water. How hard could it be? Only an idiot could screw it up.

  It turned out Holly was an idiot.

  One look at Nate’s face after he took the first sip and she knew it for a fact.

  God bless him, the man managed to swallow what he had in his mouth rather than spit it out in sprinkler fashion.
But his grimace spoke volumes.

  “That’s … a little strong,” he said after a moment.

  “I followed the directions,” she countered as the identical-looking young men standing on either side of Nate studied their sneakers.

  “Let me guess. You used the scoop in the coffee jar as your measure.”

  “Of course I did.”

  “It’s double the amount.”

  “How was I supposed …?” She let the question trail off and crossed her arms over her chest instead. “Real men like it strong.”

  Nate blinked at that. The teens eyed one another, their expressions all but asking, “Did she really just say that?” From what Holly knew of the American teenage boy’s vernacular, she added, “Dude.”

  “I like my coffee strong,” Nate said in seeming agreement.

  “Good.”

  “I just prefer to have my stomach lining left intact afterward.”

  Delivered as it was in that even pitch of his, with the beginnings of a smile turning up the corners of his lips, it was hard to take offense. Impossible, in fact. Holly dissolved into giggles. The boys joined in her laughter, too, but only once Nate had let out a snort of amusement. As one who appreciated loyalty, she instantly liked them.

  “Sorry,” she said at last. “Truly, I wasn’t trying to poison you.”

  “It’s okay.” He tossed the rest of the coffee to the ground and handed back the cup. “I appreciate the effort.”

  Whether intended as a peace offering or as a thank-you, the coffee seemed to do the trick. Some of the old ease they’d had with one another returned.

  Nate seemed to remember his manners. “Josh and Joey Burns, this is … Holly. She used to come to the island a lot as a kid. She’s back now for a short visit.”

  She refused to acknowledge the way her heart sank at his description of her visit as being short. What else could it be? It wasn’t as if she could stay on Heart indefinitely. She couldn’t just quit being a princess and relocate to a foreign country. Could she?

  “Holly?” Nate prompted.

  “Sorry. My mind wandered.” Wandered? It had taken a trip into uncharted territory. She pasted on a smile. “It’s nice to meet you both.”