Chance of Rain (3 page)

Lucy turned too. “He’s the guy who got me all wet.
That’s
Sawyer Nolan? He looks so different.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Natalie murmured, although he didn’t really. Taller, bigger, thicker in all the right places, but the same clear brown eyes that lit from within when they met hers.

It had been five years since he’d made an afternoon appearance in a black suit for his father’s funeral. Another six since he’d graduated high school and left town as quickly as the Greyhound could carry him. Even after all these years and all this distance, she remembered the feel of his arms around her waist. He had been a lanky teenager, but even then he’d been taller than her, bigger than her. Now he was massive. He would engulf her. His hands on her hips and his mouth over hers. He would swallow her whole, and please, yes, where could she sign up?

“Yo, Tally.” Lucy snapped her fingers. “Earth to Natalie.”

Natalie blinked. Whoa.

That was strange. She liked a fine-looking man. Who didn’t? But she didn’t gawk. And she sure as heck didn’t pine. So Sawyer was back in town because he lost his water rights. He was probably looking to offload the farm to a man more interested in gambling than Liam Cooper. To an outsider.

He might not remember her. High school was years ago, a lifetime ago. He looked different, and so must she. He might not even recognize her.

Then he walked straight toward her. Or maybe it only seemed that way. Logically, she understood that there were tables between them, people between them, so much time between them, but his eyes were locked with hers.

“Hi, Natalie.” Even his voice was lower, deeper, sending shivers over her skin.

Of course Sawyer Nolan would show up out of the blue, sexy as hell when she was all rumpled from the breakfast shift. He had muscle definition and a smooth tan. She had coffee splatter on her apron. He’d probably seen the world twice over in the military, while she had lived her whole life behind this counter.

“Hi back,” she said, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. “What can I do for you?”

Maybe there was something in the air, because her voice came out lower too.

His eyes darkened as if he’d noticed, which gave her mind permission to fill in all manner of suggestive possibilities to her question.
What can I do for you?

Anything.
Everything.
A grown-up version of the kiss they had shared before.

“Coffee, please. I’ll take coffee.”

Right. This was her, the waitress, the signpost on the way out of town. She grabbed a mug from the stack of clean ones behind her and poured a fresh cup, ignoring the tremor in her hand.

He nodded his thanks and sat down, but even as he drank his coffee, his gaze kept coming back to her. And damn it, she was smiling. She couldn’t contain her happiness to see him, even if it would be prudent to do just that. Caught off guard, she couldn’t play it cool.

It just felt so good to see him doing well. Alive and not blown to bits and
here
in her diner—in her home, really. Though she had no hold on him, she’d worried.

“I read an article about you in the paper. Heard you won an award.”

He shrugged. “They give those out instead of raises.”

“Oh. Well, it seemed really great.”
You seem really great.

“What about you? You’re still working here.”

His tone was neutral. Empty pleasantries. He hadn’t cared what she did all those years ago. There was no reason to think he would now. Yet she found herself feeling defensive.
I
love this diner
, she wanted to say.
I
love this town.
I
loved you
,
even if it was only puppy love.

Why did you leave?

The past had its claws in her deeper than she’d realized. A few weeks of being a couple. Scorching kisses underneath the bleachers. And then he’d enlisted in the navy, left town and never once looked back.

Until now.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Not much changes around here.”

She could have left it that, really. But then he did the most outrageous thing. He glanced, pointedly, at her ring finger. Her empty ring finger. Then his gaze slid away, but it was too late. She’d seen his interest, and—oh, hell, she was interested too.

Purely in the physical sense, of course. That strong jaw and those broad shoulders were objectively perfect. She could write a textbook on their dimensions and scholars everywhere would nod their heads in agreement.
Yes
,
indeed
,
Sawyer Nolan is a sex god.

But they had nothing deeper than that.

He quirked a smile. “I’m glad. I know how much this place meant to you.”

Oh, man, that crooked grin had always done topsy-turvy things to her insides. Her mind scrambled for something to turn it around, back on him.

“Well, you know. We all have our purpose. Like with you and the SEALs.”

The space between his eyes creased. “Yeah, I guess.” A beat passed. “You ever wonder about changing your purpose?”

Giving up the diner meant giving up on Gram, so no, she never, ever would. She shook her head. “I’m all in, you know?”

After a second, he nodded.

Joe cleared his throat, making his presence known. Had he been staring at them this whole time? Probably.

“Hey, man. Good to see you again.”

Tension saturated the air as Sawyer regarded him. They had been friends once too—even closer than he and Natalie had been once upon a time. But Sawyer had burned every bridge on his way out, and she never really understood why.

Finally, he nodded. “You too, Joe.”

“You planning on staying in town long?”

Sawyer paused, as though deciding how much to share. She could have sworn regret flashed briefly in his eyes before he said, “Can’t say that I am.”

And that was that. He had left all those years ago. He would leave again.

She couldn’t possibly be disappointed.

Sawyer turned to her. “I know it’s early, but do you happen to have any of your famous cherry pie? Even after all these years, I still get the craving for it now and then.”

The flattery softened her. Cherry pie was
her
specialty, not Gram’s. He’d thought of it years later? It was seductive.
He
was seductive...but also dangerous. She stood on the precipice, ready to fall for him all over again.

“Sorry,” she said. “Fresh out.”

He gave her a rueful look. “Guess I’ll have to come by another time.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Lucy’s eyebrows rise. Her friend knew she always kept a spare pie in the freezer for just this sort of request. But with Sawyer, pie seemed like a slippery, fruit-filled slope.

He took a swig of coffee and set it on the counter. The mug cracked down the side, separating from the handle. She stared at the broken pieces of ceramic, suddenly unable to defend the quality or quaintness of her diner. Unable to defend her own decisions, her dubious leadership. It wasn’t old-fashioned at all. It was cheap, backward, exactly what he must think of this town.

Exactly what he must think of her.

“Shit.” He grabbed the dish towel from her hand and wiped it up. “Sorry about that.”

She wanted to let him, but there was a jerkiness to his movements, an almost frantic edge that hinted at something darker beneath the surface. She caught his hands, and they stilled beneath hers. His gaze lifted to hers.

“It was really good to talk to you, Sawyer. Even if you leave town soon, I’m glad you came by.”

He swallowed. “I’d like to see you again.”

Her heartbeat quickened, and lower, a different kind of pulse strummed through her body.
It doesn’t mean anything
, she told herself sternly.

She forced a smile. “You know where to find me.”

Because she never ever left.

Chapter Two

Natalie turned on the faucet, wincing as the cool water sluiced over her reddened skin. Gradually the sting from the burn eased, as did her racing heart. She let her eyes fall shut. A low groan of frustration filled the small bathroom. She knew exactly how the accident had happened. She’d been staring at the door to the diner all freaking day.

Catching her reflection in the mirror above the sink, she began tucking loose tendrils into her bun. Then caught herself.
Stop that.
He likely wouldn’t show up, and even if he did, she didn’t care. Didn’t. Care.

The pink polka-dot flower entwined in her hair called her a liar.

A knock came from outside the door.

“Are you okay?” Barry called.

She had ducked into the bathroom after yelping in pain at the burn. Her cook had medic training from his time in the army. He took her kitchen injuries seriously, rare and small though they were.

“Should I take a look at it?”

“I’m fine.” She pulled her hand from the sink, frowning at the red, puckered skin.

There was a pause. “You sure?”

“Positive. You can head out. I’ll lock up.”

The last thing she needed was Barry examining her—or her careless behavior. No doubt he’d already heard about the reason why. The town was small. Like a miniature village in a snow globe, and along came Sawyer to shake it all up.

Well, she was fine. Fine with things as they were before he showed up, and she’d be fine again when he left. She washed her hands, mentally listing the chores she’d do before closing. Barry was a huge help. He did more than his share. But in a diner of this size and only the two of them, there was always something that needed to be scrubbed, ordered, or baked.

Except for today, apparently.

She emerged from the bathroom to find all the chairs atop the tables. The floor gleamed. The sink, empty. So much for keeping her mind off a certain man. She sighed.
Cool it
,
Natalie.
It wasn’t as if he’d stood her up for a date. It only felt that way. At least she had some invoices to take care of, though they were better done upstairs on her sofa with something mind-numbing on the TV.

She flipped the switch, and lights blinked off unsteadily down the long tiled ceiling. Only at the end of each day did it dawn on her how large the place was. Large in both its physical size and the space it took up in her life. Though unassuming and maybe unconventional, it was a legacy. Hers to keep. Hers to maintain.

She headed into the back office and gathered the papers. She returned through the swinging doors leading to the dining area with a stuffed manila folder. And ran smack into the broad chest of Sawyer Nolan with an
oof
.

“What are you doing here?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Having dinner.”

“We’re closed.”

“Door was unlocked.”

He wore the shadows well. The darkness seemed to enhance his handsomeness, lengthening his planes and sharpening his angles. He seemed more at ease here in the quiet dark than the bustling brightness of morning.

“I hadn’t gotten to that yet. No one usually comes around this late.”

“Guess that means no dinner.”

His voice was neutral, but it had to be a disappointment. He was hungry, and everywhere else would be closed. Unless he wanted a cold sandwich from the gas station on the outskirts of town. She wasn’t heartless enough to send him there, not when carefully packaged leftovers sat in her fridge.

Anyone else she would have invited back to the kitchen table, but not him. Oh, no. He could eat in the dim, impersonal void and count himself lucky if she even chatted with him.

She gestured to the bar stools. “Have a seat. I’ll heat you up something.”

His face cracked into a smile. “Thanks, Natalie.”

Man, he looked so genuinely happy just for that. Just for her to feed him. Her heart squeezed. Maybe she’d give him double helpings. He was broad and tall enough to need them anyway.

She pushed through the kitchen door with such force it banged back at her.
Damn.
And this smile on her face? There was no other word for it but dumbstruck. She was sixteen again, suddenly stupid over a boy. Which she wouldn’t mind, really. Having a crush would be a great diversion from the monotony of filling orders and ringing them up. Except she had no business crushing on this particular man. A man who had already left her once, hurt and confused.

He was sitting behind the counter, studying a menu, when she bustled out with a plate of steaming food. She paused, caught by the image of his large body superimposed over his younger one. Like a visual illusion, she blinked and he changed from lanky teenager to hard-fleshed man.

He looked up with a bemused expression, the half smile somehow sad. “It’s the same.”

Yes, that was true. The menu, the diner. Her. All the same as he had left them.

She set the plate down in front of him. “Well, you know what they say. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. We have weekly specials to keep things interesting.”

“It smells amazing. What is it?”

“We’re wrapping up home cooking week. There’s meat loaf and green bean casserole.”

He took a bite. “Tastes great too. Though I can’t say I’ve had meat loaf before.”

“Probably for the best. Barry’s version puts all other meat loaves to shame.”

Sawyer’s mother had passed away early. Considering the residual frown on his father’s face, Natalie doubted there had ever been elaborate meals in the Nolan household.

“I remember serving you when I worked here after school,” she offered softly.

His smile finally reached his eyes. “Taking up space here was one of my favorite pastimes.”

“Strawberry milk shakes and a slice of pie. You must have ruined your dinner every night.”

“Worth it. Besides, I mostly came to see you.”

Her heartbeat quickened. “If you’re trying to flatter me into giving you pie, I should tell you I ran out an hour ago.”

Her spare pie reserves notwithstanding. But she wasn’t ready to give those up, even if he
had
admitted to coming around to see her. Even if he was adorable and sexy.
Especially
because he was adorable and sexy.

“Damn,” he said. “So I shared that deep, dark secret for nothing?”

“No, my sixteen-year-old self is thrilled right now. This is totally going in her diary.”

He grinned. “Do I already have a page in there?”

Please, the man had
chapters
. “You might have been mentioned. Check the index under
arrogant
,
cocky
—”

“How about
first kiss
?”

“Yes, there too.” Her goofy smile was back.
No
,
stop that.
The friendly neighborhood diner girl was her role here. Not a lost love. Not his love at all. She sobered. “And under
skipped town.
”

His smile slipped. “I should have said goodbye.”

“Yes, you should have. I didn’t even know you enlisted until your dad came into the diner.”

He blinked. “My dad never came here.”

“Only rarely.” Bearing morsels of information about Sawyer, and she’d accepted each one with thanks. Unlikely comrades, they’d traded tidbits about a man who didn’t call either of them.

The man currently wearing a dubious expression. “Well, sorry if he gave you crap about anything.”

She shrugged. Sure, Wilson Nolan had also complained about...well, everything. Plus he hadn’t particularly tipped well, but aside from the generous amount he’d left for his coffee yesterday, neither had Sawyer back then. In fact, she didn’t recall high school Sawyer ever tipping...or paying.

She’d never left him a check, either. It had been an unspoken rule with Gram. At the time, she’d chalked it up to a friendship, like when she’d had a sleepover at her friend’s house and they served her dinner. Only this hadn’t been Natalie’s house and Sawyer hadn’t been a girlfriend invited over.

Her heart sank. Under the glaring light of adulthood, she realized that her gram had never charged him because he probably hadn’t had the money. And because he’d needed a safe place with pastries more than they’d needed a few bucks.

He ate his meal, completely unaware that her axis had shifted. This was Dearling, where everyone worked hard to make ends meet, but where the ends
did
meet. No train track divided them into the haves and have-nots.

Sawyer and his father had lived in a decent-looking house with a medium-sized plot of land. And yet she remembered thin, threadbare clothing. A don’t-mess-with-me swagger. As a clueless girl with a massive crush, it had seemed cool and even daring. Looking back, it struck her as tragic.

No wonder he left.

He looked up. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing.” Were those tears in her eyes? Oh, God, they were. “I was just...thinking of Gram.”

His expression turned cautious. “How is she?”

“She’s okay,” she assured him, though even to her ears it sounded thin. She hated how
alive and well
had dwindled down to just the first part. She rubbed her eyes. “Honestly, she’s not really okay. She’s at an assisted living facility in Austin, but she doesn’t...she can’t really...”

“I’m so sorry, Natalie.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault or anyone’s fault. I’m just not coping great.”

His hand covered hers, the warmth and strength a welcome reprieve. “You look great to me. I mean, running the diner, keeping everything going. It can’t be easy.”

Her hand fisted within his. “When I go see her...I don’t know if she even recognizes me.”

“Jesus.”

“I just wish there was more I could do for her.”

A shadow crossed his face. “You’re there with her. That’s all you can do. I really...I admire that.”

She turned their hands, placing hers over his, feeling the soft rasp of hair on her fingertips. Sawyer hadn’t been here when his father had passed away from a heart attack in the middle of the afternoon. He hadn’t been here for years before that, either. He had built a whole life somewhere else, a life she knew almost nothing about.

This was the perfect opening to ask about it. The wheres and whys of his absence. Her curiosity sank deep into the earth, a fathomless well. On the surface, there was only her reflection. But if she leaned far enough, if she fell inside, she might never be able to climb back out.

“He understood,” she assured him, even though she certainly hadn’t. This was dry, solid ground. “You were saving the world, for goodness’ sake. No one would blame you for that.”

He snorted. “He would.”

“Maybe,” she conceded. “But I didn’t blame you.”

He looked skeptical. “Didn’t you?”

“Anyone could see how unhappy you were here at the end. I’d never have asked you to stay and be miserable.”

His smile was rueful. “That’s why I didn’t say goodbye. I was afraid...well, if you asked me to stay, I probably would have.”

Her heart did a little skip. She’d been crazy for him with the whole-hearted abandon of a teenager. It was good to hear she hadn’t been completely alone in that.

They’d meant something to each other once. Even if their relationship had been destined to end, a bond remained between them. Time had stretched it out, thin and translucent like the silken strands of a spider’s web. Seeing him again was like a spring rain, dotting the line with beads of water, reminding her it had always been there after all.

He stood up from the bar stool. “That was excellent, but I won’t keep you any longer than this. Thank you for staying, though. I really appreciate it.”

The formality was back, tucked in the slightly tilted set of his lips. The banked appreciation in his eyes. How much would it take to get past his defenses? More than she had to lose, she supposed.

He reached back for his wallet and handed her a twenty.

She started for the cash register. “Let me get your change.”

“No.” A slight flush colored his cheeks, a crack in his defenses. “Keep it.”

“It’s too much.”

“If I overpay every day I’m here, it still won’t cover all the food I ate when I used to come here.”

So he remembered. Well, of course he would. Something like that would seriously bruise a boy’s pride, and he’d had more pride than most. Forcing the change on him now would only make him feel worse.

“Heard you’ve had a busy day,” she said.

He gave her a blank look. “Sure.”

It was her turn to blush. “Word gets around. The lumberyard, the county offices. I’m guessing you didn’t get a chance to go to the grocery store yet.”

“Ah, no.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess they’re not open now either.”

“Let me put something together for you. So you don’t starve tomorrow morning, at least.” She held up the twenty. “We can call it even.”

“No, I—”

“If you don’t eat it, you can feed it to the raccoons. There’s no shortage of food around here.”

Without giving him a chance to object again, she retreated into the kitchen and busied herself preparing a couple of to-go containers filled with steak tips and mashed potatoes. Not exactly breakfast food, but she imagined they’d get eaten just the same. Her gaze drifted to the freezer. She could cut him a slice of pie and it would thaw in time for him to eat tomorrow morning.

She didn’t want to examine too closely why she felt compelled to look after him. Or maybe she was trying to keep him here a little longer. That was what she’d always tried to do, wasn’t it? And it hadn’t really worked out then.

No, she decided. No pie.

She pushed open the kitchen door and almost ran into him—again. Her breath whooshed out at the feel of his broad, warm chest and the firm grip on her arms that steadied her.

He took the bag with a low, rough word of thanks. There was that gratitude again, a cool shock of emotion in a desert of stoicism. As if he was surprised that someone did not, in fact, want him to starve to death. It made her ache.

He flashed her a quick smile before heading toward the door. Her gaze traced wistfully over the nice, neat curve of his ass—a consolation prize for the fact that he was leaving.