Nate’s face was stern and his eyes steady. If she had any sense about these things, she’d believe he was telling the truth.
He dropped into his chair beside her, joining her in staring out at the lake in silence.
Men were deceivers ever
…Why was Shakespeare going through her head?
Guilt swept her and she studied the beer can in her hands, rolling the chill smooth metal between her fingertips, struggling to dredge up the right thing to say. The bruises and cuts throbbed and her palms burned.
What had she seen? What he said happened or what she wanted to think happened so she’d have an excuse to break off this nonexistent engagement? What really happened?
One kiss. That was all.
One kiss and Olivia had started it, not Nate.
That was the truth of what she had seen.
True, but what about what you never see?
She was such an idiot, never worrying or thinking about what Nate was up to when they were apart. Now she was going to have this memory in her head all the time.
You don’t know what he’s been doing while he’s away from you. So he didn’t kiss her this time. This time.
Dad always lied. Lying was easy enough for Dad. Even easier for Nate. Who’s going to tell you halfway around the world?
You’re just like your mother after all.
If she weren’t so socially incompetent, she wouldn’t have needed that walk. If she hadn’t gone for that walk, she wouldn’t have seen anything, and she wouldn’t have this cloud of doubts stinging at her like hordes of mosquitoes. If she trusted Nate like everyone said she should, everything would be fine now. If she trusted anyone—
She sipped her beer, avoiding turning to him, avoiding the words piled in her throat, replaying that kiss with Olivia. Olivia had unsteadily toppled into Nate and kissed him. He’d just held Olivia, steadying the tipsy, brokenhearted woman. That was the truth.
A sigh told her she’d taken too long.
When Nate spoke again, his voice was all gravel. “I know you never said yes. I know you’ve never said I love you back…”
She flicked her gaze up to him.
He sat there somber and hurt. “But you also didn’t say no. I’ve hung all my hope on that.” He finished off his beer and shoved to his feet. He held out his hand. “I’m not whoever hurt you. Just give me a chance, babe.”
…
sigh not so, but let them go
…
She set her hand in his.
He gently raised her up and gathered her into his arms, his embrace strong and gentle. “You could always talk to me. That hasn’t changed. Ask me anything. Tell me whatever you want. I’m trying here, Kay. Trying to do the right thing. For both of us. Trust me.”
She owed him an answer. She couldn’t say no without hurting him. She couldn’t say yes without being absolutely sure. And his concept of love and her understanding of love…And what about trust?
But you’re going to have to say something at some point. You need to say yes or you need to say no.
“I believe us, together, is the right thing, for both of us.” He kissed her forehead. “Just give me a chance, babe.”
Going to bed was awkward for the first time ever, and it was all her fault she’d driven a wedge between them with her mistrust. She was too muddled from exhaustion and beer to get a full grip on her churning, fracturing thoughts, but she wasn’t so buzzed she couldn’t tell everything was an unresolved mess.
He kissed her and cuddled her as if she were made of spun glass, and that made everything worse.
Her tears leaked out, silent, slow, and impossible to shut off.
Nate sighed. “Just try to relax and sleep. Everything’s fine.” He hugged his arm around her as they lay spooned together. “Trust me. I’ve got you.”
He fell asleep with his arm trapping her against him. Kay fought the need to peel him off her and lay awake for a long time, listening to his soft snores, his relaxation luring and irritating. The familiar, primal quiet of the desert night failed to ease her. Her tear-raw eyes and scraped hands burned, her knees ached from the hard fall, her head throbbed and her chest stabbed with every beat, every pang and twinge of guilt, doubt and fear dug in like cat’s claw thorns.
You have to trust someone someday. Just go to sleep. Maybe things won’t look so bad in the morning.
Nate and the sun were both long up when Kay woke.
The tempting aroma of coffee lured her to get up, but her body was one big stew of aches from the simple scrapes, bruises, strained muscles, and a lingering hangover from her crying jag.
Sunshine, a pleasant breeze, and coffee—things should have looked better, but it was now Saturday, the day before Nate had to leave, and she had to face him after her wackiness last night.
Don’t be a chicken
. She couldn’t hide in here all day and she had to pee, badly.
She peeked through the tent netting. Nate was sitting at the table, drinking coffee and reading a paperback. She steeled herself and emerged from the tent.
The reserve and concern in his eyes blunted his welcoming smile. “Hey there. How’re you feeling?”
“Okay.” Her voice squeaked from a dry throat, embarrassingly small and shy.
She slunk away and took care of the bathroom business, and when she returned, her coffee waited ready at her seat.
“Are you going to paint today?” He hugged her with care, his tone all no-pressure. He was giving her an out.
Kay picked up her mug and winced at her sore hand. No, holding a brush today would be uncomfortable, and she needed to not wimp out. He would be gone tomorrow, and she was too torn over what she was going to do to focus on painting, however tempting the escape.
He pulled out her chair for her. She sat with careful casualness and drank the first mouthfuls of coffee too fast, scalding her tongue, but needing the pause and excuse for silence drinking allowed.
He’d hung his hope on her not having said no.
Maybe that should be a sign for herself, as well? She would focus on facts, not jump to emotional conclusions, and reclaim the decisive person she used to be. She practiced yes under her breath.
Say yes, say you’ll go with him
. She had to. She wanted to. Mostly. It’s normal to feel overwhelmed at times, JoAnn had said. So feeling mostly was a good thing, right?
Now all she had to do was get the words out of her throat. All she had to do was trust Nate with everything.
Oh, shit.
She cleared the lump in her throat. “No, let’s go hang with everyone.”
****
“Sounds good.” Nate sipped at his tepid coffee, trying once again to swallow his heart back down into place. Now, time to ease into real talk. No pressuring her into an answer. Just talk.
“You don’t talk much about your family.” He sucked in his breath.
Uh, Quinn, what happened to the ease into it plan
?
She shrugged, her eyes focused into the depths of the mug. “We’re not close. Not much to talk about.” She drank her coffee down.
He scrambled for another question. “Why didn’t you go to your mom’s wedding?”
Kay winced, her fingertips whitening on the ceramic between them.
Oh, bugger it. You’re as smooth as a bulldozer today. Brain ever connect with your tongue?
“She didn’t tell me. She didn’t ask me.” Her voice was cool and casually dismissive as she pushed out of her seat, but her body vibrated with tension as she fussed over pouring more coffee.
Ah, shit. “I’m sorry.” Before he could think—or say anything else stupid—he was standing and had her in his arms.
She shrugged casually, in contrast to her rigid spine against his chest and the cool hurt in her voice. “I shouldn’t have been surprised. As I said, we’re not close.”
He pressed a soft kiss to her hair. What next? Two feet in mouth already, might as well keep going. “What about your dad?”
“Why so many questions?”
“I don’t know much about your folks. I never asked.”
“There’s not all that much to know.” She groaned. Giving in to answering his questions, or groaning at having to speak?
She ducked her head, focused on the coffee cup in her hands. “My mother is a serial bride still looking for her Prince Charming and happily ever after. My dad is still the autocratic perfectionist, still travels nonstop, and still chases the deal and the women. My sister won’t leave the abusive jerk she married because he ‘loves’ her. I live in Tucson and stay as far away from them as possible because I can’t deal with all their drama. If you’re wanting some sort of traditional everybody-comes fantasy wedding, it’s not happening. It can’t happen. I don’t want them.” She set the mug on the table hard and half-heartedly tugged for him to let go.
Nate had never heard such bitterness in her voice before. Sadness for her filled him, even as his heart was leaping like a fool with hope at the hint Kay was considering a wedding as an actuality for them. He kept her in his arms. “But they’re your parents, your sister. You’ll tell them…”
He felt her edgy twisting of his ring on her finger. “I’ll tell them, out of courtesy, but I don’t want them. So please don’t be thinking of a nice family get-together at a wedding to mend fences or anything. It won’t happen. Can’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” This time when she shrugged free, he released her.
Kay sat at the table and picked up her coffee mug. She sipped pensively, staring past the mug’s rim somewhere toward the tranquil water.
Nate refilled his mug and took his seat.
Her next few words came hesitantly, then rolled like an open floodgate, “My parents managed to stay married for twelve years. They probably only stayed together that long because Dad was always traveling. Love was a wild, grand passion to them. They fought all the time, and made up loud and angry. They had a routine: Dad would blow in home from one of his trips, sweep her off her feet, swearing he missed her, swearing his love and showering her with gifts and attention. Mother would be blissed for a few days, then one of his girlfriends would call, or Mother would get tired of his autocratic ways, and the glow would fade, and the arguments, fights, and shouting would begin again. My sister and I learned to take cover, fast. I was ten when they officially split. Dad just stopped coming home from his trips. They hooked up a few brief times after the divorce was final, claiming it was ‘for the kids’ and again occasionally between Mother’s marriages, but Dad never moved back home. Dad can’t stay faithful, despite his promises of love, Mother isn’t a forgive-and-forget kind of woman, despite her promises, and they still can’t give up the fighting.”
That wasn’t love. That was insanity. Nate clamped his mouth shut against blurting that opinion. Let her get it out.
Kay’s tense shoulders sagged. “It’s a family tradition, I suppose. The same routine for my grandparents on both sides, except they never divorced, just separated loudly and got back together a lot even louder. My sister is just like my mother. Drama queens. Her husband, Anthony, is an abusive, control-freak creep, but Claire won’t do anything but cry and complain. I can’t live like that. I won’t. Love’s too crazy.”
The pain in her eyes was breaking his heart. She really believed that. “Babe, that’s not love.”
“It is in my family.”
“Kay, that’s not you. That’s not us. You’ve known me for six years. Heard about me for three years before that. Come on, look at me. If I was going to start acting like an asshole control freak, I would have done it by now, right?”
Shaking with fine tremors, she stared fixedly at her mug. “I’m just such a mess. You’ve got this fantastic opportunity and you’re going to be traveling and I’ve become this person I don’t understand—I was totally not expecting this, and we were supposed to have more time together.”
“Kay, look at me.” He stroked his hand over her sun-warm cheek and tipped her face to his. He locked his eyes on hers. He loved her. She loved him. He knew this.
And her anxieties were real fears to her.
“We will have that time together. I am not going to travel forever. I don’t want to. I’ve made that decision.”
Hope, doubt and longing churned across her face and settled into resignation.
“You know Kincaid will love your work. Are you going to say no if he wants you for his next project? Are you going to say no to traveling for another book after this new one?”
He wanted to shout,
haven’t you heard a word I’ve said
? and bang his head against the table. “Kay, I’m tired of traveling. I’m done with not having a home. I’m done with being alone. Hell, yes, it’s been exciting and fascinating and fun, but it’s not enough anymore. I want more out of my life. I want you. I’ve been working my ass off these last six years to get to the place where I can stop the travel and give you everything. I was done with it. Kincaid’s offer, this is an unexpected, one-time, longtime dream for me. It’s a one-shot deal. This trip and I’m done and home. For good. My plans after that include setting down roots, being home. Being with you.”
“This job is a wonderful opportunity and your work’s going to be a success, like always, and they’ll want you to do more.”