A Town Called Valentine(86)

“Wait, you don’t have a car,” he reminded her. He slid on his shirt and a pair of shoes, then followed her out to the truck, Scout trailing behind. He and his dog drove her home, and the silence was companionable and easy. He kept glancing at her as she leaned against the headrest, calm and faintly smiling.

When he would have escorted her inside, she touched his arm. “I’m okay. You can watch me open the door and guard against the Valentine criminal element.” Then she laughed. “Does the sheriff even have anything to do around here?”

“Cattle rustling.”

Her eyes sparkled as she left his truck. When she unlocked the door, she blew him a kiss and slipped inside.

Nate watched until he saw her bedroom light go on above the alley. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, disappointed she hadn’t invited him up. It was seldom he wished for an evening not to end, so he tried to laugh at himself. But it wasn’t easy. He was feeling the old pull too strongly, the one that always got him in trouble.

Emily looked out the window, moving the curtain only briefly, curious why Nate still hadn’t left. At last he put the truck in gear and slowly drove down the alley, and she pressed her face against the glass until his taillights disappeared.

This fling with Nate was supposed to be fun, to make her feel better, to start a new chapter in her life. And it had, to a degree. Every moment of the day had been enjoyable. They laughed at the same things, even liked the same foods—not that those were all you built a relationship on.

Yet . . . who was she kidding? Dating wasn’t a simple concept. Nate was using her for a good time, and she was using him . . . to forget. Always, lurking beneath her day was the reality that her future was murky, that she had yet to find a place for herself in it. Her past, everything she thought she wanted in life, was just as illusory. Every decision she’d made, every goal, had ended up wrong and full of heartbreak. Though it helped her to pass the time with Nate, in the end, she had to remember she was still alone. And she wanted it that way for now—she had to prove to herself that she didn’t need anyone else.

And she had a dad out there somewhere, a dad with blue eyes. He could be part of her future—if he wanted her.

In the morning, while Emily tried to carefully remove the paint that her tenants had splattered all across the lovely mahogany bar in her restaurant, she waited for Brooke’s response to her text.

Instead of a text, Brooke strode through the door at midmorning, wearing cowboy boots and jeans beneath a heavy rain slicker.

“It’s terrible out there,” she said, shaking off the rain as she stood just inside the door.

“Drape your coat over my only unbroken chair.”

Brooke grinned as she did so. “Thanks for getting me away from the ranch. Josh and Nate were working on mechanical stuff for the swathers.”

“You’ve lost me,” Emily said, pounding the tin lid back in place on the paint remover.

“Something about carburetors and oil changes. Swathers cut hay. It’s almost time, but this rain certainly doesn’t help.”

Brooke followed Emily into the kitchen while she washed up. “No more flooding the fields?”

“Hope not. And I can follow directions in the shop, but that’s about all. And they’re bickering about a meeting Nate’s supposed to attend although he says he can finish helping Josh first—and Josh thinks Nate should just leave. I think they were happy to see me go since they weren’t interested in my opinion.” Brooke smiled. “So what’s going on?”

“My biological father. I could use your help. I have three names now, and I’ve put off researching them long enough.”

“Researching? Can’t you just introduce yourself?”

Emily winced. “Hi, my name is Emily. Did you bang my mother thirty years ago? And are your eyes blue because she gushed about them in her diary?”

Brooke laughed. “Okay, I get your point. Nice clue, by the way. What’s your plan?”

“I just want to . . . see them first. Okay, see their eyes. I’ve already met Hal Abrams—”

“Mild-mannered Hal is a contender?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah, but that only confirms my doubt. He seems like a nice guy.”

“And he’s been with the same woman since high school, and they have one son.”

“Well, he hung around my grandparents’ store, flirting with Delilah, so he might not be all that innocent.”