A Town Called Valentine(76)

“Of course not.” But he didn’t know how to explain his uneasiness, even to himself.

“You better get going, Nathaniel,” she said, nodding to the back door, “before I dissect whatever you’re not saying.”

He left quickly, hearing his mom and dad’s laughter.

After he and Josh had finished irrigating that evening, he took another shower back at his cabin and drove into town. He wasn’t sure what he meant to do, but he felt restless. Normally, he might meet a few guys at Tony’s Tavern and play pool, but the memories of Emily on that pool table were a bit too vivid. He could go dancing at the Outlaws and not lack for partners, but there was only one woman he wanted to concentrate on tonight.

He found himself parked in the alley behind Emily’s building, not knowing quite how he got there. This was probably a bad idea. Scout whined softly, as if sensing his uncertain mood.

“You stay here, buddy.”

He left the windows cracked open and rang the bell for the apartment. When he heard her voice, something inside him felt eager and randy and surprisingly uncertain about his welcome. He took off his hat.

She opened the door and smiled at him, her hair in soft waves about her shoulders. She wore workout shorts and a clingy t-shirt, and hell, he didn’t think she was wearing a bra. It took everything in him to keep his gaze on her lovely, expectant face.

“Nate, twice in one day?” she said, cocking her head.

“This one’s my idea, but earlier today, that was all your fault.”

She sighed. “Your father was very persuasive, saying no one should visit Colorado without riding an ATV.”

“And now you’ve done it. Next time, you’ll have to see it all from horseback.”

“Another date?”

“You’re not going to suggest a trip to the local history museum?” He was kidding, but her face lit up.

“I’d forgotten all about it! I love museums.”

He winced and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s really small. And I know the local history by heart.”

“Then you can elaborate on the skimpy displays.”

He let his gaze roam down her body, saw her nipples tighten for him, felt himself getting hard. “Speaking of skimpy displays . . .” He thought she might cross her arms over her chest, but she didn’t.

“Isn’t it kind of late for early-rising cowboys?”

He looked into her sky blue eyes, opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He felt like a horny teenager again.

Her gaze softened. “Come on up.” She glanced past him. “No Scout?”

“Nope.”

She hesitated as if waiting for an explanation, then gave him a small smile. He followed her up the stairs, admiring her lean runner’s thighs displayed by the shorts. Along the hall that ran past the bedrooms, he saw a framed photo of the Elk Mountains in winter, then another mountain picture in the living room, the high peaks of the Maroon Bells rising over the lake.

He arched a brow at her, and she blushed.

“Garage sale,” she explained. “Your sister is a master at haggling.”

There was a throw rug before the small couch and an upholstered wooden chair facing it. Though still spartan, the apartment was starting to seem more homey. He glanced at her swiftly, then away. What was wrong with him? He was usually the one so at ease, the one in control. And he needed that control, knowing his own weaknesses. But tonight . . .

“You must think I’m crazy to be decorating something that’s so temporary,” she said hesitantly.

“Not at all.”

“It’s just that . . . I like how it feels, having my own place. It’s mine, and I want it to look a certain way, without anyone’s influence. Valentine has helped me discover that.” She smiled and shook her head. “Can I get you something to drink? I have Dale’s.”

“My favorite beer,” he said.

“After you ordered it, I thought I’d give it a try. Go ahead and have a seat.”

She moved past him, and he inhaled her scent, saw the jiggle of her breasts, felt his control beginning to slip. He wanted her, he wanted to taste every part of her. Instead, he forced himself to sit down gingerly on the little couch, in case it creaked under his weight. Nothing happened, so he relaxed a bit, but not completely. He had a hard-on the size of Montana, and felt like a lumbering, growling bear in her pretty little apartment.

She emerged with a couple beers, and he didn’t say anything, just watched her set them on the coffee table. She gave him a curious stare but didn’t speak as she returned to the galley kitchen. This time she brought out a bowl of chips, salsa, and napkins. As she leaned over, the t-shirt gaped a bit, and he could almost see farther down her chest. To his disappointment, she straightened, put her hands on her hips, and studied him. Her breasts gave a bounce that was his undoing.