A Town Called Valentine: A Valentine Valley Novel (24 page)

“Oh, better and better. He definitely would have appealed to my new age mother. I’ll go to the Sweetheart Inn. Maybe I’ll have better luck running into him with all his family around.”

Nate didn’t offer to introduce her, which surprised her—and didn’t. He thought his involvement would somehow hurt her, she knew, and he had a right to his feelings. But she shouldn’t let herself feel so . . . forlorn about it.

She pushed away any of her doubts and remembered that she was making a new family, including good friends she’d never neglect, and a baby sometime in her future. She smiled as she imagined Brooke and Monica as doting aunts, the widows acting as the best kind of grandparents. There was so much love here in Valentine Valley.

The bakery idea floated to the surface of her mind. She saw happy people enjoying meals together over food she’d created. Then she quickly submerged it.

Nate’s fingers dipped between her thighs and trailed higher.

Oh yes, and she had Nate—for now. She wished she could be like him, content with his life, knowing just what he wanted and what worked for him. He was watching her, his face all serious, his green eyes unusually dark as they studied her. And then they drifted to her mouth and flared with heat, and she felt an answering shiver of pleasure.

“Guess what I got yesterday?” she said in a low voice. “A persuasion gift from Leather and Lace. They want me to remember they have first dibs when I put the building on the market.”

Though the corner of his mouth turned up, he still searched her eyes with an intensity that confused her. She touched his face with her fingertips, smoothing along his brow, then dipping into the dimples in his cheeks. He caught her fingertip in his mouth and lightly bit.

“Do you want to see it?” She leaned against him, whispering near his ear, “There’s a lot of lace,” then gently bit his earlobe. “And leather.”

With a groan, he turned her across his lap, and said hoarsely, “I can’t resist you.”

She sank into his kiss, so she wouldn’t have to think he’d showed any hesitation.

B
ut the widows did hear about the gift the next evening, when Emily had them over for dinner, along with Monica and Brooke. Emily gave everyone a tour of the restaurant, blushing with pride at all the praise, realizing what an accomplishment it had been to turn that disaster she’d seen the first night into a building any business would be happy to buy. The widows discussed the varied businesses that might go there, while she served dinner buffet style since she didn’t have a big enough table. She could picture a boutique restaurant, or maybe an exclusive shoe store, or even a bakery—run by somebody else, she told herself. And the more she looked around at these dear ladies, so concerned about her and the town, the more she felt she couldn’t go on keeping the secret about Leather and Lace’s interest. So she told them, then tried not to wince as she awaited their reaction.

After a momentary, bemused silence, Mrs. Thalberg asked, “Do they have a website?”

Soon, they were crowded around Emily’s laptop, oohing and aahing over the sometimes tasteful, sometimes raunchy, Leather and Lace catalogue.

Emily was shocked and delighted by their open minds and couldn’t help saying, “You know, Nate wasn’t certain you’d approve.”

“Young men can be so conservative,” Mrs. Palmer drawled, rolling her eyes.

As they debated the function of several of the garments—Emily kept her lips pressed together to keep from roaring with laughter—she served the raspberry torte she hadn’t taken to the Thalbergs. That launched a whole new discussion about the overworked pastry chef at the Sweetheart Inn, and all the upcoming summer weddings. Emily frowned at Monica, as if she had set the whole thing up.

After Brooke drove the widows home, Monica stayed to help Emily clean up.

“Okay, do you have a confession to make?” Emily demanded sternly.

Monica frowned, looking confused. “About what?”

“There was a lot of talk about having only one pastry chef in town. You’re the only one I discussed it with.”

“I said nothing. Scout’s honor,” she added solemnly. “But . . . have you given it any more thought?”

Emily sighed and sank down on the love seat. “When I made that flower delivery to St. John’s today, I sat there in peace for a while, hoping to find answers, but I’m just as clueless as ever. Then a wedding party began to arrive, and I found myself wondering where their reception would be, and about the cake—and I’ve never done a wedding cake in my life!”

“You know you don’t
have
to do wedding cakes,” Monica said, sitting in a chair opposite her. “That’s kind of a specialty, I think.”

Emily crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.

“Stay open-minded, Em.”

“I’ve
been
open-minded, but I have to go home. I start school in the fall, and I can’t just throw it away because of one different idea. I’m not that . . . flighty. Getting the money to start my own business would be hard, and how could I support a child never knowing if I’d make enough to cover the bills that month?”

Monica nodded sympathetically.

“I’m enrolled at Berkeley,” Emily insisted. She rose to her feet to continue taking dirty dishes to the kitchen, refusing to meet her friend’s curious eyes.

Chapter Twenty-one

W
herever he was, whatever he was doing, Nate couldn’t get the image of Emily in that little lace number out of his mind. Not that he’d let her wear it for that long, but still . . . The lingerie stood for something—for Emily leaving. She might have a buyer for the building, then she’d be gone. Maybe he could wait until then to break up with her. That had been the plan all along.

But he was hurting her already. He knew she thought he’d go to the Sweetheart Inn with her. It was one thing to help her to take concrete steps to find her father, and another to be there while she met him. It would be a momentous, emotional moment for her, and he didn’t want to influence her opinions or decisions.

Tuesday morning, just after sunrise, Nate and his brother and sister were already up in the White River National Forest, riding their grazing allotment, looking for sick cows, broken fences, or evidence of coyotes or other predators. It was usually a peaceful time, with the weather breezy and cool on the mountain, the smell of pine as well as the grass so necessary to the herd. And so far they’d seen nothing unusual, were able to talk casually about a new saddle Josh had been commissioned to decorate, or the barrel racer coming to challenge Brooke. Nate enjoyed this time immensely, the feel of his horse beneath him that linked him to his ancestors and the land. He loved what he did.

“So Emily’s going to dinner tonight at the Sweetheart Inn—alone,” Brooke suddenly said.

Nate’s peace was shattered, and he glanced at her with a frown. “I know.”

“I thought you two were dating,” Josh said curiously.

“We are, but this isn’t a social evening.”

Brooke sighed and guided her horse around a tree stump. She briefly explained to Josh about the chance that Joe Sweet was Emily’s biological father.

Josh whistled. “This must have been tough for her. And you helped?” he asked Nate, eyeing him with amusement.

Nate shrugged, feeling grim.

“You are so easy to read,” Josh said, shaking his head. “You’ve been rattled by one little mistake for the rodeo.”

“Little?” Nate echoed icily.

Josh ignored him. “It’s not because you’ve been with Emily. I can tell you want to go with her tonight, so why are you resisting?”

Nate didn’t answer, and knew Brooke was eyeing him in the way of little sisters who are about to savor something to use over a big brother’s head.

“Don’t sacrifice a good relationship for work, Nate,” Josh continued quietly.

Apollo shook his head and danced sideways, giving Nate a welcome distraction.

“Look, we’re dating, we’re not in a relationship,” he said at last. “We’ll be ending it soon, and it’s better that she not get used to confiding everything in me.”

“Hey, she’s got me, too!” Brooke said. “But I think I understand where you’re going, and I don’t like it. You want to break up with her already, don’t you?”

“That’s between me and Emily,” Nate said impassively.

“Why?” she asked, as if she hadn’t heard him. “You’re having fun, so’s she.”

“It’s not always about fun, it’s about people not getting hurt.”

“And he doesn’t mean himself,” Josh told her.

Brooke snorted. “I already knew that.”

“Thanks,” Nate said dryly.

“Wait,” Josh interrupted, standing up in his stirrups. “Is that fence near the creek leaning sideways?”

“Must be elk again,” Nate said. “Brooke, write it down.”

“How does the girl become the secretary?” she asked with sarcasm, pulling a little notebook out of the breast pocket of her vest.

“It’s because you’re the youngest, not because you’re a girl,” Josh told her.

They guided their horses along an overgrown path, tall grass slapping their chaps.

“Back to Nate,” Brooke said, putting away her notebook.

Nate winced. “Must we?”

“So you think Emily’s going to get hurt,” she continued thoughtfully. “Is she falling in love with you?”

To his surprise, just the thought made his chest hurt. “No, it’s not about that.” He hesitated, then said in a low voice, “It’s just . . . I’m going to hurt her. I always do.”

He spurred his horse to a trot, not wanting their pity or to answer questions.

Josh caught up with him. “Nate, you’ve got these habits where women are concerned, and never once have you even been tempted to go beyond the ten-date rule. After all these years, you might have grown up a bit. We all do. Don’t you think you should start trusting yourself? Emily is making you behave differently—doesn’t that tell you something?”

“
I
think it should tell you something,” Brooke said from the other side, her tone superior. “You don’t want to break up with her, and you’re fighting as hard as any calf on the end of a rope. Take her to dinner. And if you just want to call it a date, then fine. But don’t give up because of what
might
happen. Emily’s not like the other women you’ve dated. She’s strong, and she’s growing stronger every day. I think you’ve met your match, and it scares you silly.”

“Now that’s enough,” Nate said with exasperation. “While you’ve been jawing, you missed another sagging fence.”

“Fine, Josh and I will go check out the fence post, while you call Emily. Take her to dinner. She shouldn’t be alone when she meets her dad for the first time.”

“Is that a yearling on the wrong side of the fence?” Josh suddenly called out.

“I’ll get her before you will,” Brooke challenged.

Nate watched his brother and sister ride off at a gallop.
Scared silly?
Of falling in love? How was he supposed to know what love felt like? He always thought he’d positively know when it was time to settle down and start a family. He didn’t want to imagine it could involve feeling so ambivalent and hopeful, worried and excited, all at the same time. Was he really falling in love?

That would screw up everything. But he called Emily and asked if he could accompany her to the inn. Though she hesitated, she said yes at last. And he felt relieved, like he’d made the right decision. Now he would have to be very wary and aware, to remain neutral, to be her support and not influence her.

T
hat evening he picked her up to take her to dinner at the Sweetheart Inn, and for the short drive there, he couldn’t stop looking at her, her hair caught up at the back of her head, the blue dress hugging her curves tastefully but provocatively—at least to him. She wore strappy sandals that showed off her cute feet. Cute feet?

Emily kept looking at him, too, not quite hiding her confused expression. He hadn’t really explained why he wanted to take her to dinner, and she hadn’t asked. Maybe she really had wanted him to come support her, and he was just a jerk.

As they passed the front desk of the inn, he exchanged a nod with the slim, older woman who was waiting on a customer.

“Who’s that?” Emily asked softly, when she went to examine a mixed set of vases on several shelves.

“Eileen Sweet, Joe’s mother. She’s the one who turned this place into an inn, and now runs it with her daughter Helen.”

He saw Emily’s gaze dart back to her, wide-eyed with interest.

“Maybe she’s your grandma,” he whispered.

She elbowed him. “None of that, Nate Thalberg. We’re here to look around, not speculate.”

“Look around? We’re having dinner.”

He saw her glance at the open French doors leading to an elegant formal dining room, its low lighting emphasized with candles everywhere.

“I’m sure it’s expensive. We could just explore and look for Joe.”

“We can eat and see if Joe’s here just as easily. The family is always wandering through the dining room. Come on.” He took her elbow and led her toward the restaurant. “And as for the money, I asked you out, so it’s my treat.”

“Couples take turns paying, and since this was my idea and for my benefit—”

“Who says it’s for your benefit?” he drawled. “You’re puttin’ out later.”

The laughter in her eyes made him begin to relax at last.

The Sweetheart Inn Restaurant could rival one in any elegant, Old World hotel. It was situated in a corner addition to the house, with windows filling two long walls, emphasizing spectacular views during the day. He could hear the muted sounds of someone playing the piano. They followed the hostess past tables dressed in white cloth, with fresh flowers and candles as decorations.

When they were seated and opening their menus, Emily whispered, “So was the hostess a Sweet as well?”

“Yep, Theresa, Joe’s niece. She’s pretty involved with every aspect of the inn. I think they’re grooming her to take over someday.”

After giving their order to the waitress, Emily put her chin on her hand and studied Nate. “You look pretty good for a cowboy,” she said in a low voice.

He glanced down at his casual slacks and button-down shirt. “Uh . . . thanks.”

“You fit right in here, even though I could swear some of these elegantly dressed people came up from Aspen for the day. I think I’ve seen that woman over there in a movie.”

He smiled and took her hand, and the usual thrill zapped right up his arm and seemed to burn in his chest, a comforting warmth sometimes, a blazing inferno of desire at others.

She gave him a bright smile, and said, “So tell me more about Joe. If he was someone my mom was attracted to, what would drive her away?”

“You mean besides being pregnant at eighteen?”

“Besides that,” she answered wryly. “If Joe really is my da—biological father, why do you think she didn’t tell him? She had to feel so alone, so frightened. And apparently he’s not a mass murderer or anything.”

“For one thing, your mom seemed like a rebel, according to you. Joe’s family has been here over 130 years. Some people consider them our leading citizens.”

“That’s a lot to live up to,” she mused. “And something that Delilah wouldn’t have wanted. She valued her independence.”

“Even when there was a baby involved?”

She hesitated. “Even then. She liked to do things her own way. She only married once, even though I know she received several proposals in her life.”

“She told you that? Seems like it would be getting her little girl’s hopes up.”

“I was a teenager before she mentioned those kinds of things, and by then, too cynical about her wild ways. I was relieved each time she declined. She would have been miserable having someone to answer to.”

“Were you?” he asked quietly.

She blinked at him. “Miserable about answering to someone? No, not often. Greg wasn’t demanding of me. And I trusted him—my mistake.”

Emily seemed relieved when the sommelier approached to pour their wine, and Nate let the topic go. He hadn’t meant to start it anyway. Then the waitress arrived with appetizers they hadn’t ordered.

“Compliments of Mrs. Sweet,” she explained, smiling at Nate.

“Give her my thanks,” he said. “Is Joe around tonight?”

“Sorry, I haven’t seen him.”

Emily shook her head after the girl had left. “You’re a charmer even with the older women, but then I’ve seen that with the widows.”

He smiled and saluted her with his wineglass. After taking a sip, he said, “Since it looks like you might be disappointed again about Joe, I have an idea. I’m going to book a room.”

“Oh, no, Nate, we can’t do that.”

“Then you can explore to your heart’s content as a guest and not feel like you’re intruding. You’ll meet more of the family.”

She opened her mouth, then slowly closed it, as if she were considering the idea.

“And if you’re going to protest about money again, I don’t want to hear it. The rooms are all priced differently, and some are small but reasonable, especially since it’s still early in the season. The front desk can get us anything we need, like toothbrushes—and you won’t be needing anything to sleep in.”

He realized that making her happy was truly important to him, which was why he was so worried about doing something to hurt her. He finally had to admit that this was more than dating—he found himself wanting to tell her things about himself he’d never confided in another woman. He trusted her—but that didn’t mean he trusted himself.

Before he realized what he was doing, he told her about forgetting to order stock for the rodeo.

“So Josh thinks I’m overextending myself,” Nate finished tiredly. “And before you get all worked up, it doesn’t have anything to do with you. He’d been bugging me about this long before you came to Valentine Valley.”

She smiled briefly. “Whew. Guess you know me well enough by now to know I’d be worried about just that. But okay, if it isn’t me, then you need to look at yourself. If Josh believes you’re overextending yourself, then that means you’re doing more work than he does. So he’s a slacker?”

“Of course not! He works as hard as anybody. He’s just . . . enjoying pissing me off lately.”

“Then he thinks you do way more than you need to. Why do you go above and beyond?”