Soul Weaver (21 page)
Her gaze slanted toward the window she’d left open, but Nathaniel had already left.
Once Chloe was alone, she climbed back upstairs and right into bed. She settled in with a book and a quick prayer that the rest of her weekend wouldn’t be quite as eventful as tonight had been.
The whine of a saw blade drew Chloe toward the window. The first day of the new week had crept in quietly, a welcome reprieve from the weekend’s drama. More dreamless nights left her outlook brighter. Or perhaps she had Nathaniel’s visit to thank for that.
Nathaniel was outside taking measurements of the porch, pausing to wipe sweat from his eyes every now and then. He hadn’t come inside the store this morning. Instead he had set to work immediately after he parked his truck. Nathaniel had thrown himself into his work. Did that mean Bran was feeling better or worse? After their late-night chat, could he be avoiding her? Did he already regret making a commitment to her? Nope. Not going there. Not today.
“You’ve been staring out that window off and on for the past two hours.” Neve walked over to the window and peered out. “I can see why.” She whistled, taking in the scene of Nathaniel working shirtless in the hot sun. “Nice view.”
Chloe faked a squint. “I think it’s getting too bright outside to keep the blinds open.” A twist of her wrist fixed the problem and just so happened to block Neve’s view of him.
The man should be told shirts were meant for wearing, not being used as sweat rags.
Neve followed her to the front door. “Why don’t you try talking to him?” She stared down Chloe’s line of sight, straight to Nathaniel. Her appreciative smile returned.
Jealousy flared, white hot and razor sharp, but Chloe crushed the unwelcome emotion. She jerked the cord and shuttered the blinds covering the door too. “Blasted sun is blinding me.”
“It must be getting hot out front without any shade.” Neve covered her mouth with her hand, but her eyes still crinkled at the corners. “Someone should bring him a drink.”
She made a step toward the mini-fridge before Chloe stopped her.
“Okay, I get it.” She shoved Neve toward the register. “You want me to talk to Nathaniel.”
“Hey.” She spread her hands. “I just said the guy might be thirsty.” She grabbed her purse. “I think I’ll head out for groceries early today. If you guys happen to kiss and make up while I’m gone, that’s up to you.” She pushed through the side door. “Be back in a few.”
Before she could change her mind, Chloe snagged a bottle of water from her office, then headed for Nathaniel.
She held the door open while staring a hole in his sleekly muscled back. An odd, raised tattoo marked his shoulder blade. Its silver shine caught her attention where three metallic ellipses interlocked. The symbol’s name escaped her. Sensing her gaze, he turned and ambled over, wiping more sweat from his eyes.
“I thought you might be thirsty.” She offered him the water.
He stopped an arm’s length away, as if he expected her to meet him halfway.
“I thought we talked about this.” Exhaling through the initial surge of panic, she gripped the sleek metal rail comprising the temporary stairs and took a step down. The way he watched, as if he were measuring the parameters of her world, nudged her into a second step that made her knees quake.
“I’m not clear about the boundaries.” He came to her, rubbing his hands over her arms. “Why don’t you outline them for me?”
“Boundaries—okay.” Her voice trembled, so she cleared her throat. “The store is good… no, the store is
great
. The porch is… doable. These stairs… I’m not loving these stairs to be perfectly honest.” She uncapped his water and took a long drink. “That’s about it. Welcome to my square of the world.”
Eyeing their surroundings, Nathaniel made a dismissive sound. “It’s more of a rectangle really.”
Another draught of water fortified her. “I haven’t been outside for this long in months.” Plastic crinkled in her hand. “It’s nice.”
“Stay awhile. I could use the company.” He indicated the far side of the frame he’d built for the new porch, to a section with a sheet of plywood acting as a temporary floor.
Chloe coughed, spluttered, and flung her arms out on reflex to shove him away.
Tricky man that he was, Nathaniel stepped into her embrace, wound his arms around her, and lifted. Cold sweat blossomed across Chloe’s back. Her lungs tightened and heart punched at her ribs.
She was
outside
. Not standing safe on the porch. Not in touching distance of the store. Her feet dangled over the sidewalk. Close to the road. Close to cars. Close to people in their cars.
“Take me back.” Her hands turned into desperate claws as she climbed up him and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Take me back
now
.” When her pleas fell on deaf ears, she buried her face in his sweet-smelling neck. “Please, Nathaniel.”
“Shhh.” He cupped her bottom with one hand and crossed her feet at the ankles behind his back. “There. Is that better?”
She peeked through a crack in one eye. He was picking his way through debris to reach the store. Her hand shot out. She touched brick and that contact grounded her. “Much.” She trailed her fingers along the store’s side as Nathaniel walked. She thumped him on the head. “Next time, ask or I’ll start screaming. I might be the town crazy, but people will come running.”
“I think we should talk more about boundaries so I learn not to cross yours.” He turned around and sat down on the plywood ledge with his long legs swinging and her balanced on his lap.
“Let’s not.” Chloe sighed. “I’m tired of talking about me.”
“What if I’m not tired of hearing about you?” He sounded earnest. “You fascinate me.”
“Yeah.” She picked at his shirt. “My life story is riveting. Everyone wants to hear about my life under glass.”
“I do.” He shifted her higher and his breath caught.
Chloe flushed when the juncture of her thighs brushed a particularly stiff denim ridge. “What are you doing?”
He grinned. “Nothing you’ll get in trouble with the neighbors for.”
She frowned with what must be relief. She couldn’t be disappointed. “Why isn’t that reassuring?”
He shifted her weight back so only their less interesting parts touched. “I’ve dealt with something similar to your situation before.”
She snorted. “Yeah, because agoraphobics are so common.”
“You might be surprised.” His smile faded. “What happened… changed my life, my brother’s and nephew’s as well. The story is a bad one. I would understand if you didn’t want me to tell you.”
His fingers bit into her hips, but he hadn’t noticed. His eyes were unfocused, far away from the here and now. Somehow she understood the cost of him reliving the memory for her. Whatever happened must be important to him. Her arms wrapped around his waist, locking them together, giving him support he probably didn’t realize he needed.
“You wouldn’t have offered if the story didn’t matter.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “You can tell me.”
She felt rather than saw his nod. “Bran’s mother was murdered when he was very young.” Chloe jerked upright and her lips parted, but he silenced her with a look. “He saw her killed. She had hidden them so well, we spent days looking before we found him, and her body.”
A shudder worked beneath his skin. “Afterward, his father fell apart, so I brought Bran to live with me while my brother grieved.” He sighed with so much regret she ached for him. “Bran was so young to be so afraid. I made him promises, lied to him when I had to, but I didn’t know what else to do. He wouldn’t leave his room.” His voice turned rough. “He would sit in his doorway and cry for his parents, for me, but he wouldn’t cross that line.”
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” Chloe rested a hand over his heart. “Is he doing better now?”
He blinked a few times, separating the past from the present before nodding. “He’s adjusted well. His phobia was short-lived, six months at most, but it felt like years at the time.”
She could imagine. “The adjustment must have been very difficult for you both.”
“It was, but we had no other choice. Bran needed me, but my job… I had to work. It was either bring him along or leave him alone.” His expression turned grim. “Sometimes I wonder if he wouldn’t have fared better if I’d left him home instead of teaching him my trade.”
“Single parents make tough calls all the time,” she said. “You can’t blame yourself for doing what you had to do.”
Quiet filled with old doubt-laden guilt hung between them long enough her conscience prickled from his pain. Hoping to shake him out of his mood, she rubbed his arm. “How did you help him get over it?”
“I didn’t,” he said. “I did what I could. I gave him a safe place, love, acceptance, but none of that mattered until he chose to overcome his fear.” Turning to her, he said, “He told me later what frightened him most was learning to love someone new. So many bad things happened so fast, he believed he would lose me next. He worried every time I left the room I wouldn’t come back. He was terrified of being left alone again.” He met her gaze. “One day he realized I would always be there, that he could count on me, and he let go of the fear. His recovery didn’t happen overnight, but once he made up his mind, he worked toward his goal until he overcame it.”
“He sounds very mature for his age.” She frowned. “How old did you say he was again?”
“Old enough to give me gray hairs.” His eyes filled with pride. “The boy has a chip on his shoulder. I worry someday someone is going to come along and knock it off the hard way.”
“He has you, so I think he’ll grow out of it one day.”
Now he really did smile. “Hope springs eternal.”
Before this smile crumbled, she teased, “Isn’t it cheating to borrow from the classics?”
He frowned at her.
“You know, the old
you can do anything you set your mind to
speech?” She cupped his face. “I’m working my way off my meds, one day at a time. It’s… hard. Maybe the hardest thing I’ve ever done because I’ve seen what can happen when you need medication you aren’t getting. My mom…” Her chest constricted. “She stopped taking her meds after Dad died. Her condition deteriorated. By the end, there wasn’t much left of the woman who raised me. She was a husk of her former self. I see the accident pushing me down that path, and I can’t go there. I won’t go there. But for now, I’ve had all the upheaval I can stand.” Glancing up at the store, she smiled at the familiar outline. “One day, I might be ready to spread my wings, but I’m not there yet.”
“Fair enough.” He kissed her temple. “I should let you get back to work. Are you ready?”
“Yeah.” Her legs tightened around him as he stood and crossed to the temporary stairs.
He unhooked her legs and let her slide down the front of his body until her feet landed on the same step he’d plucked her from. “I’d like to formally ask you out on a date, Ms. McCrea.”
Chloe backed up a step. “What do you have in mind?”
“The new posts are set. I’ll have the rest of the frame knocked out tomorrow. You’ll have a new porch in a week, give or take a day.” He gripped her hips to stop her backward ascent. “How about we christen the porch?”
Flames shot through her cheeks and her retort fizzled. “Um, what?”
“A date night, you and me.” He tugged her down a step, closer. “We’ll stay well within your comfort zone.” He grasped her collar and bent her down to his mouth. “What do you say?”
“Okay.” One inhale drew his scent deep in her lungs. Another and she felt resolve take root. “One week.” Plenty of time to scrap up her nerve to go through with what she was about to agree to. “Mr. Berwyn, you’ve got yourself a date.”
His answering smile made her breath catch.
“In that case”—his lips met hers, warm and soft and full of promise—“I’d better get back to work.”
“Work. Yeah.” That thing she did from eight to five daily. “We should get back to that.”
With effort, Chloe hauled herself back up the stairs. She stepped inside the store and her stomach unknotted… mostly. Shutting the door behind her, she slumped against it.
One week ago, her life had been turned upside down when Neve walked through that door.
One week from now, Chloe would walk
out
that door and into Nathaniel’s arms on her first date ever.
Funny the difference a week made.
Chloe popped the cap off a permanent marker and stared at her calendar. With a squeak of satisfaction, she circled the date as one to remember. She replaced the cap and chewed on the end.
Underneath her scribbles, in bright red ink, she wrote “date with Nathaniel.”
Her stomach fluttered at the idea.
The door to her office swung open. “Look what I have…”
She turned and found Neve holding a cupcake with a half-melted candle stuck from the center. After one failed attempt, Neve got the burned wick lit and held it out to her.
Chloe blew out the flame, then licked icing from the wax. “Thanks. What’s the occasion?”
“As if you don’t know.” Her gaze touched on the calendar, then the mauled marker cap. “Sorry about the slightly used candle. It’s the only one I had on hand.” At Chloe’s questioning glance, Neve said, “I thought a few cupcakes might lure in some business for the literacy booth.”
“Good plan.” She bit into chocolate so rich she barely noticed when Neve plucked the candle from her fingers. “The fair starts tomorrow, right?”
“Yep, and I have three dozen, minus one, of these iced and ready to go. The gift bags are packed, the books boxed, and our signs loaded in my car.” She smiled. “It should be fun.”
“Are the kids excited?”
“You know it.” She wrapped the candle in a scrap of paper and put it in her pocket. “The question is, are you?”
A resurgence of nerves almost soured the cupcake in her stomach. “Should I be?” When Neve’s lips clamped shut, Chloe’s eyes widened. “You know what he’s got planned.” No wonder she looked so smug.
“It’s possible he
might
have reserved my services as caterer for the festivities.” She rolled her eyes. “Okay, more like I volunteered once he told me his, um,
misguided
intentions.”
