A Mother's Homecoming(56)

She pulled her legs up against her body and turned her head, resting her cheek on her knees. It gave her a strange, sideways view of his concerned expression. She appreciated that he was at least trying to understand her perspective rather than fuming at her for leading him on, not that Nick ever would.

He’d always been a gentleman … just, a gentleman who ended up getting her naked more often than not.

“You may have a point,” she conceded. After all, it wasn’t so impromptu, her being attracted to him. She’d felt that pull most of her life. “I didn’t realize the chemistry between us would still be so potent.” In a smaller voice, she confessed, “It rattled me.”

He held one hand out in front of him; they could both see his fingers trembled slightly. “I’m not exactly steady myself. I want you.”

“I want you, too. But not like this.” Sweaty and sore on a secondhand couch with bits of plaster and paint stuck in her hair? She’d been intentionally abstinent since joining the program. If she slept with him, it would be the first time she’d had sober sex in years, and she wanted to remember it as more than a savage haze. To savor it. To know that she was doing something deliberate and not just losing herself in a different kind of intoxication. “Go home, cool down. And after you’ve had a chance to think about it, ask me out. If you still want to.”

“So you’re not saying no?” he asked, looking cheerful again. “I just have to put some thought and effort into it?”

She chuckled. “That’s not exactly how I meant it, but okay.”

“You’re worth the effort. I used to love that, planning how to get you alone, what I would say, where I wanted to touch you first. It’ll be just like old times.”

“No.” She winced. They weren’t seventeen anymore. “It won’t be.”

“All right.” Nick leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It’ll be like new times, then. Even better.”



Chapter Thirteen


“Someone’s in a good mood,” Dawn commented with a raised eyebrow.

Pam looked up blankly from the pile of hair she was sweeping. “Why do you say that?” Had she been unconsciously beaming at the broom? She probably looked like an idiot.

“You were singing,” Dawn said. “Again. Third different song today. You’re better than the radio station—no commercials.”

They’d had a busy Saturday morning, but were enjoying a brief lunchtime lull. Nancy had run out to make a deposit before the bank closed at one, and Beth was getting sandwiches for all of them. Dawn had just finished with a customer and didn’t have another appointment for fifteen minutes.

“Huh. I didn’t realize I was singing.”

Dawn smirked. “So who is he?”

“A woman can sing without there being a man involved,” Pam replied, stonewalling. She tried not to think about the way Nick had kissed her last night. “I sang professionally for years.”

“Oh, come on,” Dawn pleaded. “I tell you all the romantic details about me and Jer.”

“Whether I want them or not,” Pam grumbled good-naturedly.

Dawn put her hands on her ample hips. “Are you really not going to tell me?”

“I’m not sure there’s anything to tell yet. Let’s just say that, for the first time in a long time, there’s a poss—”

The door to the beauty shop opened and both women turned automatically. It wasn’t the woman with the next appointment, however. It was a young guy with skinny legs beneath his khaki shorts. His top half was mostly obscured by the large flower arrangement he carried.

“One of you Pam Wilson?” he asked from around the blooms.

“That would be her,” Dawn said with a cat-who-ate-the-canary smile.

Oh. Pam’s face warmed; she could feel the rosy blush creeping up her cheeks. Nick, you shouldn’t have.

He apparently felt otherwise. The card read: Being with you is worth every effort, worth any wait. I’ll be in touch soon.

Instead of signing it, he’d simply drawn that elongated, not-quite-closed heart shape she recognized from school. Passing notes had been forbidden in class, and teachers were known to be merciless to those caught—often reading the private messages aloud. So she and Nick had never used names anywhere on their letters; instead his signature had always been this same heart. It was such a small thing to have tears pricking the backs of her eyes, but she was moved that he remembered and would think to do it now.