A Town Called Valentine(36)

It was homey and feminine, which was why the sight of Nate sprawled across the too-small couch seemed out of place. His legs dangled over one armrest, and his hand rested on the floor. The ever-present cowboy hat was perched on his chest, rising and falling with his even breathing.

Emily tiptoed closer and stared down at him. Without her being able to see the knowing look he often wore, he seemed younger, more relaxed. The lines fanning out from his eyes were less evident. She found herself wanting to touch his unruly hair, straighten it.

And then he opened his eyes, and she jumped back with a gasp.

“God, you scared me!” she said in a loud whisper.

“I could say the same thing.” He swung his feet to the floor and sat up, setting his hat beside him and running his hands through his hair.

“It’s still sticking up,” Emily said, unable to help herself.

He rolled his eyes even as he absently fingered it again. Glancing at the grandfather clock standing guard in the corner, he said, “It’s past midnight.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Your point?”

“My sister’s cranky when she doesn’t get enough sleep.”

“She’s a big girl.”

He rose to his feet, six-plus feet of him, taking her breath away with his lean, rangy height and all that masculinity.

“You smell like beer,” he said.

And suddenly she remembered what had happened the last time she had a beer with him. The bar had had the same dark shadows as now enfolded them in the parlor, making her feel like they were alone in the world.

“I was much more careful this time,” she said.

The corners of his lips turned up with a touch of bad-boy humor.

“Do you dance as well as your sister?” she asked.

“Is that an invitation?”

The awkwardness she’d been hoping to avoid returned with a vengeance. “Sorry, I was only teasing.”

He ran a hand down his face. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be flirting. It’s a habit with me and the female of the species. You’ll have to break me of it.”

She laughed. “You’re probably not thinking straight, having just woken up. I guess I should’ve called your grandmother to let her know how late I’d be.”

“No curfew at the Widows’ Boardinghouse. That Mrs. Ludlow likes to party all night long.”

Emily covered her mouth although a snort of laughter escaped.

“I decided to hang around,” Nate continued, grinning. “There’s always something that needs fixing.”

“Really?” She wandered away from him, toward the front hall and the beautifully carved woodwork of the staircase banister. “From the way your grandmother talks—and from what I’ve seen myself—you did a superb job the first time you worked on this house. You really did it all yourself?”

He shrugged. “I grew up helping my dad in his woodworking shop.”

“There must be a lot of things to fix on a ranch.”

“I like making things work.”

She leaned against the banister even as Nate came closer, standing beneath the arched entrance of the parlor. “What did you work on tonight?”

He pointed to the banister behind her head, and she jumped away with a wince.

He laughed softly. “No, I was just teasing. That’s solid and well over a hundred years old. I sanded and stained it a couple years ago, but that’s all. The kitchen faucet had a leak. You didn’t notice this morning?”

She frowned and shook her head. “I was baking, too, so I think I would have . . .” She trailed off in realization.

“Yep. I think Grandma does it deliberately to get me over here. Makes me feel like a bad grandson,” he said with bemusement, “that she thinks I need to be coerced to be here.”

“No, don’t think that,” she said, laying a hand on his arm.

They both went still, and he looked down at her hand before meeting her eyes.

She patted him briefly and let go, glad of her outward calm even though her heart had picked up speed. “She’s very proud that you and Brooke and Josh call her on her cell phone. She knows you pay attention. Maybe she just likes seeing you.”

They looked at each other for a moment, and when Emily felt like she could get lost in his green eyes, she cleared her throat, and said, “Your grandma tells me you brought me something?”

“Oh, yeah, follow me.” He led her into the dining room, turned on the old-fashioned chandelier—that gleamed with newness despite its design—and gestured to the box. “You know how this house used to be your grandma Riley’s? When I remodeled, I found mostly junk in the attic, but I collected a few things that I thought someone might come looking for someday.”