Rainier Drive (Cedar Cove #6)(56)

After a minute or two of conversation, Rachel realized it was Nate’s mother on the phone.

“A political rally for Dad,” he repeated. He looked at Rachel and smiled reassuringly. “In October. I can request leave, but Mom, there’s no guarantee. Yes, yes, of course, I understand this is important. I’ll do what I can.” He touched his index finger to his mouth and kissed it, then pressed it against Rachel’s lips.

She smiled and brought his finger into her mouth and gently sucked on it.

Nate darted her a warning glance before he withdrew his finger.

“I’m with Rachel,” he said unexpectedly. “This would be a good time to introduce yourself.”

A feeling of dread washed over her. Nate’s powerful, wealthy family made her feel insecure. Her sole disagreement with him while he was away at sea for six months had been about the difference between their stations in life. In defiance of his father, Nate had enlisted in the navy and, through his own skills, had risen to the grade of warrant officer, the highest of any noncommissioned rank.

Apparently Nate had something else to prove to his father, and she was afraid that something was his relationship with her. Rachel’s biggest fear was that dating her was another act of defiance on his part, although Nate fervently assured her otherwise.

Nevertheless, Rachel kept a close guard on her heart. She was apprehensive, justifiably so, in her opinion. Still she found herself drawn to him despite everything. She treasured the hours they could spend together and looked forward to their conversations. Even when he wasn’t at sea, they e-mailed each other often. Rachel sometimes used the computer at the salon during her breaks, although privacy wasn’t exactly in great supply.

“Here, why don’t you talk to Rachel,” Nate said next and without warning handed her the cell phone.

She glared at him and shook her head, refusing to accept it. Nate insisted, however, and given no choice, she took the cell.

“Hello, Mrs. Olsen, this is Rachel Pendergast,” she said, making a face at him.

Nate smiled and brought her right hand to his mouth, sucking on her finger. She yanked it away and turned around so she could concentrate on his mother.

“Hello, Rachel,” his mother greeted her warmly. “It’s nice to finally get a chance to meet you, even if it is over my son’s cell. And please, call me Patrice.”

“All right, Patrice,” she said, nearly stumbling over the name. “It’s lovely to meet you, too.” Rachel’s heart felt lodged in her throat as she struggled to think of some appropriate comment.

“You certainly seem to have captured our son’s interest.”

Rachel glanced over her shoulder and exchanged a smile with Nate. “He’s wonderful.”

“I’m sure you know he broke off a long-standing relationship with the daughter of one of our dearest friends because of you.”

Nate had made it clear on their first date that he had a girlfriend back home.

“Yes, he did mention that. I hope it hasn’t caused any problems with your friends.” Nate had also mentioned that he was glad to be out of the relationship and that the girl—she didn’t remember her name—was already engaged to someone else.

Patrice’s returning laughter sounded a bit strained. “No problem at all. Please don’t concern yourself. Everything’s fine. I, uh, hear you’re a bit older than Nate.”

This, too, had led to arguments between Nate and Rachel. “Five years,” she murmured. “I’m five years older.” On their first meeting, Nate had seemed so young, and at thirty, Rachel had felt worlds older. But Nate had eventually convinced her that those few years meant nothing. Every now and then, she reminded herself that when she’d graduated from high school, Nate had been in seventh grade.

“Five years isn’t that much of a difference,” Patrice said reassuringly. “I didn’t know what to think when Nate said you were older. It would be just like him to arrive with a forty-year-old divorcée on his arm. He does things like that, you know? I swear, it’s just another way of defying his father and me. He did that as a youngster, too.” She laughed lightly, as if a little embarrassed.

“Did Nate tell you I’m a nail tech?” Rachel felt she needed to bring up her occupation. Might as well put it all out there.

“You’re in the navy, too?” Patrice asked, sounding surprised.

“No, I work in a salon and do hair and nails. That kind of tech.”

Silence. Then, “Oh.”

Her reaction told Rachel that Nate hadn’t said anything about it.

Patrice recovered quickly. “No, but that’s our Nate. He likes to deliver his little surprises. I’m sure you’re very talented with hair and, ah, fingernails.”

“Thank you,” Rachel managed. “Perhaps I should pass the phone back to Nate.”

“Yes, please.”

Rachel gladly returned the cell phone, and while Nate ended the conversation, she started walking. She needed to think about the emotions this brief conversation with his mother had brought to the surface. She was afraid she’d made a terrible impression. His mother’s attitude was clear and unmistakable: Without even meeting her, Patrice Olsen had decided Rachel was an inappropriate choice for her only son.

Nate caught up with her a few minutes later and she was grateful to see he was no longer talking on his cell.