A Town Called Valentine(49)

“I made a sandwich.” But it was obvious he suddenly wanted to get away from her, and she was thankful that at least one of them hadn’t been mentally incapacitated.

“We’re working up a bigger appetite than that. The Halftime Sports Bar has a BLT so huge you can barely bite into it.”

“And is that supposed to sound appetizing?” Even though it did. “Look, Nate, it’s a nice gesture, but I have so much to do. You go on.”

“Now that you’re living on your own, my grandmother can’t watch over what you eat.”

“So she put you in charge? Did she call you the moment I left?”

When he hesitated, her mouth dropped open. “She did! Good Lord, those widows called Cathy Fletcher before I could get to her, too. Your grandmother is a wonderful woman, but she’s nosy—gee, I wonder where her grandson gets it from.”

“Cathy Fletcher?” He frowned. “Hey, wait—nosy? I didn’t call Grandma; she called me. And what about Cathy?”

She’d hoped his defensiveness would make him forget her slip, but no such luck. She lifted her nose in the air. “I’m interested in St. John’s. My grandparents were Catholic, so surely they were parishioners there.”

He studied her face as if he didn’t know whether to believe her. “Whatever. We’re going to the Halftime. It’s just down the street. My treat.”

She glared at him, feeling indignant. “You’ve done too much, Nate.”

He tipped her chin up until she looked him in the eyes. “It’s a BLT, Em,” he said softly. “If you want, you can pay.”

He shortened her name just like his sister did, and it almost hurt her inside that he could treat her so familiarly, and she could feel so desperately in need of that. Somebody treated her kindly, and she fell apart. Words tumbled out of her that she hadn’t planned. “Then perhaps—perhaps you can give me your ideas on where I can find a part-time job around here.”

He frowned, but said, “No problem.”

But maybe it was a problem. She didn’t want help, then she asked for it. He must think she was crazy. But he was standing too close, looking at her mouth. It was her turn to be the sensible one, so she quickly stepped away. “A BLT, huh? What if I’m a vegetarian?”

“You ordered a burger at Tony’s Tavern.”

The flush of heat she felt just looking into his eyes only intensified. “Oh, right, I keep forgetting about that.”

“I don’t,” he said shortly, and went by her to wash his hands at the sink behind the bar.

What was that supposed to mean? she wondered with exasperation. Well, she was just going to ignore it, as she was trying desperately to ignore the awareness that crackled between them whenever they got too close.





Chapter Eleven



Nate scrubbed his hands far longer than he needed to, trying to get control of himself. What the hell am I doing? He put his hands on her jeans like he was allowed to touch her. And every conversation they had seemed to lead back to that night at Tony’s, even if it was only in his thoughts.

She’d made it clear that she was leaving town. Was that some kind of challenge to him, one he couldn’t control? After all, he didn’t want a relationship with her either—of course that made her the perfect woman to date, no strings attached. Couldn’t he just be friends with a woman? he thought with disgust.

Yet here he was, teaching her about drywall, taking her to lunch—touching her. He hadn’t felt so out of control in a long time, and he knew what happened when he started to care too much. He’d screw up her life, and she’d hate him for it. And he’d hate himself.

But the alternative was to cut her out of his life, and he just couldn’t do that. Or he could treat her like one of the women he occasionally dated—even though he wasn’t dating her. He’d keep it light on the surface, no deep talks, no intimacy.

And he was hardly manipulating her life—he was lending her the tools she needed, showing her how to use them. That wasn’t forcing himself or his ideas on her.

Taking a deep breath, he turned around, only to find her missing. He walked through the swinging door into the kitchen, but she wasn’t there either. He heard the tapping of her feet down the steps, and she came in the back door a moment later. She’d changed into a flowered top that flattered her without being too revealing.

She blushed. “I needed my purse,” she said, a bit defensively.