Confessions of a Girl-Next-Door (12 page)

Half an hour later, he was still sitting in his favorite lounge chair, staring out at the view, when she opened the sliding glass door and joined him. She’d pulled her hair into a simple ponytail and had changed into a pair of crisp tan walking shorts. The blouse she wore was red, with rolled-up cuffs that buttoned just above her elbows.

“So, what time did Hank say he would be here?” she inquired.

Nate glanced past her. Just inside the house was the same stack of luggage with which she’d arrived the day before.

Had it really been a mere day since Nate’s life had been turned upside down? In less than twenty-four hours he’d gone from wishing she’d never come to wishing she never had to leave. He’d never been much of a fan of roller coasters, but he’d ride this one to the end.

“He, uh, can’t.” Nate rose upon saying so.
It felt wrong to remain seated when offering a lie.

Holly blinked. “He can’t.”

“Sorry. No. His plane is booked. For the next few days, in fact.” Nate marveled at his talent for lying. If only he were this good when it came to playing poker with the guys. He would have been able to pay cash for the parcel of land just up the beach, rather than having had to jump through hoops to secure a bank loan.

“Another pilot, perhaps?”

“Hank said the pilots he would recommend are busy right now.” He hunched his shoulders. “Apparently, the storm threw schedules off.”

Holly’s expression darkened as reality set in. “Oh. Oh, my.”

“It’s all right. You can stay here until Sunday.” Nate felt the need to restrain his hands by putting them into the pockets of his still damp shorts when he added, “As my guest. In the, um, guest room.”

Also known as his boyhood bedroom. Fantasy central.

“I don’t know.”

She nibbled her lower lip. God help him,
Nate wanted to do the same. Instead, he reminded her, “You slept in there last night.”

“Yes, but …” She gestured with her hand. “Hank.”

Ah, yes. Their snoring chaperone.

Guilt nipped at him only a little when he said, “Holly, come on. Despite what just went on at the lake, you can trust me.”

She looked abashed. “Of course I can. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. It’s just …”

“Just what?”

They eyed one another for a moment. Then she leveled him with her words.

“I don’t know that I can trust myself.”

Nate did the only thing a man could do after a beautiful woman offered up a declaration like that. He hightailed it to his pickup truck and sped away. In this case, only a short distance away. Specifically, to the resort’s marina, even though it was close enough to walk.

Good God! What was he getting himself into? After slowly making its way to the top, that roller coaster he was riding was not only taking a steep plunge, but also threatening to go off the tracks.

Holly didn’t trust herself around Nate?

He’d be lying if he claimed that wasn’t
music to his ears. His ego wasn’t hurting at the moment, either, though other parts of him were damned uncomfortable, and not all of them could be found in his shorts. But he’d gone through this once before with her. He’d gotten involved, put his heart on the line. It had wound up good and busted.

The difference this time, Nate reminded himself, was that he would be going in with his eyes wide open, well aware that the odds were stacked against anything long-term. Sure, Holly was eager for a simpler life and confused about her supposed engagement to a man her mother had all but handpicked for her. But none of that meant she and Nate had a future together.

How would that work anyway? Which one of them would move? She couldn’t very well govern her country while living in his. And he couldn’t imagine giving up his blissfully low-key lifestyle to live in Morenci’s stylish capital city and run with the jet set.

The twins were at the marina when he entered the shop, which also served as the resort’s front desk. So was Mick Langley, who’d worked the main cash register since Nate was a toddler.

The man’s hair was solid gray now and his
big hands gnarled with arthritis. He was past the age of retirement. Well past it. But he put in a full day’s work five days a week and he never complained. Heck, even on his days off he could be found somewhere on the resort grounds. He loved the place as much as Nate did.

“Hey, Nate.”

“Mick.” He glanced out at the marina, where a couple of big cabin cruisers were moored in the outermost slips. “Those yachts get in without incident?”

“Yep. The Burns brothers might be young, but they’ve been taught well.”

“Thanks to you.”

The older man acknowledged the compliment with a shrug. “They’re an asset to the resort. So are you. You’ve done your folks proud.”

“Thanks.”

Nate wondered what his parents would think if they knew Holly was back. They’d liked her. They’d also witnessed his heartache.

“They comin’ for a visit anytime soon?” Mick asked.

“I spoke to my mom a couple days ago. They’re thinking the end of July, but no firm
plans have been made yet. Dad’s playing in a local golf tournament.”

It seemed his dad was always playing in a golf tournament these days, Nate thought fondly.

“Be good to seem ‘em.” Mick nodded.

“Yes.”

Eager for something to occupy his mind, Nate went behind the counter and scanned the day’s receipts. They’d rented out two fishing boats and a handful of canoes thanks to the calm waters after the storm. Bicycle rentals were up, too.

He tucked the receipts back in the drawer. “Anything else I need to know about?”

“Not really.” Mick scratched one wiry sideburn then and snorted. “Gave out a lot of free bait today.”

Nate nodded. “I figured our guests deserved a little perk after the storm knocked out the cable.”

“I’d say that was a good call. Been a lot of fishing from the dock today. Adults, kids … In my book that sure beats sitting around watching the boob tube anyday.”

Holly had liked fishing. She’d even baited her own hook back in the day.

“They catch anything?” Nate asked.

“Sure did. Saw a few of them haul in some serious keepers.”

“Yeah?” Half his mouth crooked up in a smile, even as his mind wandered again to the “keeper” he’d pulled out of the bay a few hours earlier.

“A couple twelve-inch perch,” the older man said.

“Hmm. Not bad.”

“And a sixteen-inch rock bass.”

Nate blinked at that. “Off the marina dock. Really?”

Mick was nodding. “A kid of about ten hauled that one up, and with a bamboo pole of all things. No proper reel even. Even the old-timers who camp out at the end of the dock were impressed.”

“And a little envious, I bet.”

“Yep. That kind of luck and the good memories of today will bring the family back next year.”

Which gave Nate an idea.

The older man’s expression soured, but Nate was only half listening as Mick launched into a lengthy complaint about the cormorants he’d seen earlier on a sandbar a hundred yards off the marina. The diving birds could ruin a good fishing spot.

Nate was busy putting together some supplies. The rod he selected offered good flex. The reel wasn’t top-of-the-line, but it would do the job. He had bobbers, sinkers and hooks in the tackle box back at his house. As well as the other equipment necessary to do a little recreational fishing.

Meanwhile, Mick had wound himself up good. “Damned birds are pests!” Next he would be declaring that they should be shot on sight regardless of their protection under the federal law as migratory fowl.

Nate glanced over at him when Mick became silent. A frown wrinkled the older man’s forehead.

“What are you doing there? Something happen to that fancy rod and reel of yours?”

“This is for someone else. A guest.” Nostalgia had him smiling. “She used to be one hell of an angler.”

“She forget to bring her stuff this trip?”

“Something like that,” Nate replied.

Mick seemed to accept the explanation. Then he remarked. “I saw you out driving with a girl today. The Burns boys told me she was an old friend of the family.”

Nate cleared his throat. “Old friend. Exactly.”

Mick looked about as convinced as Nate felt in offering the description. He tried again. “Holly. You remember her.” How could anyone forget her? “She, um, used to come here with her grandmother when she was a kid.”

Mick’s eyes narrowed. “That skinny little kid with the funny accent?”

Nate nearly choked on his laughter. He figured Holly would be as amused by the description as he was. “That’s one way to describe her. She wasn’t from around these parts.” He coughed and added a vague “Europe.”

“Europe?”

Let’s not go there. So, Nate redirected. “Yes, but her grandmother was from Texas. Add those two locations together and it’s no wonder you thought she talked a little funny.”

The older man was nodding, “Sure, sure. I remember her now. The grandmother was a looker. I seem to remember some talk …” Mick’s words trailed off and he glanced sharply at Nate.

“The island gets under people’s skin.
Once they’ve come here, experienced it, they always find their way back.”

“I’d say so.” Mick’s expression was knowing.

S
HE
was the one seated on the deck enjoying a beer when he arrived home a couple of hours later. Any awkwardness she might have felt evaporated when she spied the fishing pole.

Her eyes lit up like a kid’s at Christmas. “Is that for me?”

Nate nodded. “I didn’t figure you had remembered to pack your fishing pole.”

He’d attached the reel at the marina. It just needed tackle and some bait and she would be ready to cast the line into the bay.

“It’s perfect.”

“It’s a fishing pole.”

“Yes, but you’re the only person I know who would think to give me one.”

From her tone and glowing expression he knew she meant that as a compliment.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Can we go fishing?”

“Right now?”

Some of her excitement dimmed. “I’m sorry. You probably have other things to do.”

He couldn’t think of one. For that matter, even if he did, he would have cleared his schedule, just to see her eyes light up again.

“It’s not that, Holly. It’s the license. We used to sell them at the marina, but since the state Department of Natural Resources and Environment started leasing office space from us last summer, we decided to leave that to them.”

“They’re closed for the day,” she ventured.

“Besides, the best fishing around here is in the morning off the marina dock.”

“I guess I can wait.” She leaned the pole against the cedar siding. “Patience is a virtue, or so I’ve been told.”

Patience. Nate was feeling anything but at the moment. Need growled along with his stomach.

“Dinner,” he blurted out. “We should eat.”

Holly claimed not to be hungry, but she was a guest in his home, under his care, and he
knew she hadn’t eaten much all day. Now it was past seven o’clock.

Briefly, Nate considered making spaghetti. He was quite capable of boiling water, cooking pasta and heating up sauce from a jar. Chop up some lettuce for a salad, add in some garlic toast and it was a tasty and filling meal. One that had been a staple of his diet during college. It still was when he chose to eat in. But spaghetti—even paired with a salad and some garlic bread, neither of which he had on hand—wouldn’t address the main issue.

If they stayed in, they would be alone. No chaperones. No excuses to heed. As much as Nate wanted to be with Holly, he didn’t want to rush things. That roller coaster be damned. She wasn’t the only one who didn’t trust herself.

“How about we go out?” he asked.

“If that’s what you want.”

What he wanted? Nate bit back a groan. He wasn’t going to go there.

“Out. Definitely.” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m just going to change my, uh …” He motioned to his clothing, wondering what he had in his closet besides T-shirts that didn’t require an iron’s attention.

Her brow crinkled. “Should I change as well?”

“No.” She was perfect just as she was.

Upstairs, Nate decided on a quick shower and, after a glance at his reflection in the mirror, a shave. He took a little extra care with his hair, adding in some styling gel that the woman who regularly cut his hair had recommended. He was overdue for a cut, so he hoped it would tame the worst of his waves. While he was at it, he gargled with a mint-flavored mouthwash and slapped on some cologne whose cap was layered in dust from disuse.

In his bedroom closet, he found a pair of khaki shorts. No cargo pockets on the sides of these. He added a pale blue button-down shirt. He could have left it untucked, but he decided to go the more formal route, which required him to add a belt. Sandals and sneakers were out. Nate had a pair of deck shoes … somewhere. He found them under his bed surrounded by dust bunnies.

“You look very nice,” Holly said when he came downstairs. “And do I smell cologne?”

Nate felt heat gather in his cheeks. “I showered,” he said by way of explanation.

“Your hair looks different, too.”

He shrugged. “Combed it.”

“Very debonair.” She tucked away a smile. She was teasing him.

“I may not be Prince Charming, but I don’t always look like a beach bum.”

It sounded like she said, “Who wants Prince Charming?” But she’d turned away to collect her purse from the couch.

In the truck she asked, “Are we going to the Fishing Hole? I wasn’t old enough to get in there the last time I was on the island.”

Nate shook his head. “I was thinking of something a little less rowdy. There’s a place called Beside the Bay that has a great outside patio.”

It catered to the yacht crowd and high-end tourists who rented out high-end homes, such as the one Holly would be staying in. It was by far the fanciest establishment on the island, with a Cordon Bleu-trained chef and a stellar wine selection.

“Is the restaurant new?”

“Pretty new.” He nodded. “But it’s been in business for half a dozen years.”

Beside the Bay was done in what designers would call rustic chic. The building itself was Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired with an iron roof. Hanging baskets and pots that
were overflowing with flowers welcomed diners to its entry at the end of a flagstone path that led from the parking lot.