A Town Called Valentine(102)

It was a relief when he took her to their room, with its fireplace and curtained four-poster bed. Their little balcony overlooked the mountains they couldn’t see at night, and she thought about the decadence of sitting there in the morning.

Nate came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “You seem quiet.”

She glanced back at him, resting her hands on top of his for a moment. Then she turned into his arms and kissed him, not wanting to talk about anything else.

When Nate suggested a dawn hike to the hot springs up behind the inn, Emily practically had to be dragged out of the comfortable bed. But when she saw the little built-up rock pool along the bank of a tumbling stream, steam rising in the flickering light between the trees, she gave a little gasp. There was even a little bench, and an overflow of bushes and plants and flowers for privacy. Nate stripped and waded in, while she looked back down the path in indecision. But upon hearing his satisfied sigh as he settled into the hot water, she took off her clothes and joined him.

They relaxed for an hour, enjoying the sun and the steam and each other, before returning to the inn for breakfast on the stone terrace.

They’d only just sat down when Nate called, “Joe!”

Emily stiffened and turned her head to see a lean man wearing a white cowboy hat raise his hand to Nate and smile. As he walked toward them, Emily studied him and saw a good-looking older man with a day’s growth of light stubble on his face. And those eyes, as clear and bright as if they could see past the horizon. He swept off his hat when he saw her, displaying his unruly white-blond hair, long enough to brush his collar.

“Hey, Nate,” Joe Sweet said good-naturedly.

Emily just stared at him.

“Joe, I’d like you to meet Emily Murphy.” Nate hesitated, then without asking how she meant to proceed, added, “Her mom was Dorothy Riley.”

An immediate change came over Joe’s face, cheerfulness turning into wary interest. He studied her with an intensity that made her feel all charged up and strange inside. Oh, God, it’s all true.

“That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” Joe finally said, nodding to her. “Emily, it’s nice to meet you, although I think I met you once when you were a little girl.”

“You did?” She swallowed and gestured to a chair. “Would you mind joining us?”

Joe kept looking at her, and she kept looking at him, and she didn’t know what she felt—was she supposed to experience a bang of revelation? An instant yearning? Instead, she simply felt anxious and intrigued all at the same time.

Nate signaled for the waiter, who filled all their coffee cups. “You want coffee?” he asked Emily in surprise.

She stared at her cup. “Oh, of course not.” She smiled distractedly at the waiter. “Could I have a glass of orange juice, please?”

When he’d gone, she watched Joe put cream but no sugar in his coffee. “So you . . . met me?” she began cautiously.

He smiled at her. “One of the rare times your mom came back to town. You were only a couple years old at the time. Cute as a button then, and you’ve grown into a pretty young woman.”

She smiled nervously at his compliment. He couldn’t possibly know he was her father, not by the way he was acting.

“Mr. Sweet—”

“Joe,” he said affably.

“Joe.” She was almost glad when her orange juice arrived, and she took a sip. Nate said nothing, letting her take the lead. Joe seemed to realize she needed a moment, for he remained silent, too. “Joe, I don’t know if you know this, but my mom died last year.”

His face clouded over. “I heard about the accident. You have my condolences, young lady. No one should die so young.”

She nodded. “Thank you. When I returned to Valentine to sell the building I inherited from her, I discovered that she’d lied to me my whole life. The man she married when she left here wasn’t really my dad.”

His sympathetic expression faded into confusion.

She rushed on. “I recently discovered she was pregnant when she left town at eighteen.”

Now Joe’s skin turned pale, mottled with red. “Son of a bitch,” he murmured. “Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Emily stared at him, not certain what he was thinking. Was he angry?

Whatever struggle was going on inside Joe’s head, he seemed to shake it off with a sigh. “How’d you get my name?” he asked. “It’s obvious you came to speak to me.”