A Town Called Valentine(96)
Emily had a lovely evening with Nate’s family, even if Nate, though smiling and occasionally cracking jokes, seemed a bit preoccupied. On the drive back to her apartment, she didn’t know how to ask him if anything was wrong—didn’t want to force him to talk when he wasn’t ready. After all, he wasn’t the one who’d invited her to the big family dinner. But she had to say something.
“Brooke and I went to the Royal Theater the other day. And no, it wasn’t for a film festival. I’m saving all those for you.”
His white teeth glimmered in the darkness of the pickup. “And I’m so grateful. That Bette Davis was some hot chick.”
She laughed. “Actually, we went so I could spy on Steve Keppel.”
He glanced at her. “Why?”
“Because Cathy Fletcher gave me his name as one of the teenagers who hung around at my mom’s family store.”
“Aah,” he said, nodding. He pulled into the alley behind her building and stopped the car, watching her with interest. “And do you think he’s a possibility?”
She shrugged. “He has red hair, but his manner seems so . . . serious. And Brooke said he was a stickler about curfews, hardly the kind of guy my mom would choose.”
“But people change.”
“You sound like your sister, but yes, you’re both right. I just didn’t get a . . . gut feeling about him. And then there are the eyes.”
He smiled. “The eyes? A window to the soul?”
Laughing, she said, “I found an entry in my mom’s diary after all, just one, from her senior year. Although she didn’t write his name, she focused on her boyfriend’s incredible blue eyes.”
“So that’s where you get them,” he said quietly.
She smiled and reached for his hand.
“And did you talk to him?”
“No, not yet. His eyes seemed too dark. Then there’s Hal Abrams, whom I’ve already met.”
He nodded. “Any gut feeling about him?”
“No, and I don’t remember his eyes behind his glasses, so they couldn’t have been all that memorable. We went to see Joe Sweet, another of the guys, according to your dad.”
“My dad?”
His head tilted back in surprise, but he didn’t release her hand, which made her relax.
“Yep. But Joe was headed out of town, so I didn’t even get to see him. Brooke told me about the painting in the lobby.”
“You don’t have to say anything more. Even I’ve noticed his eyes. You think he’s the one?”
“Maybe. I think so. I don’t know,” she added in a rush. “I’ll have to talk to him.”
“One of the players on my hockey team is his son, Will.”
Emily’s mouth dropped open. “Really? I wish I had known. Although it would have been strange to see him and wonder if he was . . . if we were related.”
“I know the family pretty well, and I have business with Joe.” He squeezed her hand. “Can I answer any questions?”
“Come on up and have a beer while I pick your brain.” She grinned. “Aren’t we lucky you don’t still live at home? Maybe you’re one of those guys who doesn’t want his mom to know the hours he keeps.”
Nate smiled, but he seemed . . . restrained, which echoed his behavior all evening. She let it go, fighting every impulse to ask him to confide in her. He followed her upstairs, and she brought out his favorite beer and the brownies she hadn’t taken to the ranch. As they settled side by side on the love seat, she listened to his summary of Joe.
“He’s not your average rancher,” Nate said, leaning his head back on the couch. “He’s actively involved in a coalition of organic farmers, and he’s their rep to a lot of the restaurants in the valley.”
“Organic farming? Now that sounds promising.”
His hand very gently stroked her thigh, up and down, making her brain feel fuzzy. “What else?” she asked.
“He’s a writer of local history, too, kind of a bohemian guy with a lot of interests.”
“Oh, better and better. He definitely would have appealed to my new age mother. I’ll go to the Sweetheart Inn. Maybe I’ll have better luck running into him with all his family around.”
Nate didn’t offer to introduce her, which surprised her—and didn’t. He thought his involvement would somehow hurt her, she knew, and he had a right to his feelings. But she shouldn’t let herself feel so . . . forlorn about it.