One in a Million (8 page)

“
Simple pleasures," she said as she turned to
ward the sink. "If only life stayed that easy."

“
Complicated comes with growing up," Nash
said as he also approached the sink. He was closer
so he got there first.

As she watched, he turned on the water and began
rinsing dishes. Just like that. He even used the
sponge to clean off the worst bits.

Stephanie wanted to pinch herself to see if she
was dreaming. He was helping again.
Helping.
Without being asked, without complaining. Just doing it.
-
Some of her confusion must have shown on his
face because he looked at her and asked, "What's
wrong?"
She wiggled her fingers toward the dishes. "You
don't have to do that."

“
I don't mind."
He didn't mind. Wow. Every time she had asked Marty to help, he'd howled like a wet cat, then had
a list of fifty reasons why he couldn't. However hard
she pushed, he pushed back harder. He threatened,
cajoled, or had a temper tantrum to rival a three
year-old's. His goal had been to make the experience so miserable that she would stop asking. Eventually it had worked.

“
So who trained you?" she asked. "I happen to
know that most men aren't born being so handy
around the kitchen." He finished rinsing the dishes, then opened the
dishwasher and began placing them inside. "I was
married for a while, but most of my 'training' as
you call it, came from being raised by a single mom.
She worked a lot of hours and came home beat. I
pitched in to help."
Wow times two. "You give me hope," she said.
He straightened. "In what way?"
For once her reaction wasn't about sex. "You
seem like a great guy. Successful, articulate, not a
serial killer—at least not as far as I can tell. You didn't have a father around, either. So maybe my
boys will turn out okay, too."
He gave her another slow smile. "They're going
to be great. You're doing a terrific job with them.”

“
I try."

“
It shows."
The compliment left her feeling flustered and flut
tery. She had to clear her throat before she could
speak again. "If you don't mind me asking, what
happened in your marriage?" He put the last three glasses into the dishwasher.
"Tina passed away a couple of years ago.”

“
I'm
sorry."
The words were automatic. She figured Nash was
in his early thirties, which meant his wife would
have been around the same age. What would have
taken such a young woman? Cancer? A drunk
driver?

“
What brought you to Glenwood?" he asked.
"Or are you a native?"
The not-so-subtle change in subject ended any
thought she had of actually asking her questions. "Dumb luck," she said.

Nash picked up the dishcloth and rinsed it, then
started to wipe off the counters. She was nearly
dumbstruck. Rather than stand around with her
mouth open, she forced herself to get the detergent
out from under the sink and pour some into the dishwasher.

“
We always moved around a lot," she said, try
ing not to stare as he finished up with the counters.
"Marty had wonderful ideas of fun places to live
and we wanted to experience them all."
Not exactly the whole truth, she thought sadly.
This was the made-for-TV version of her marriage.
The one she told mostly everyone. Especially her
children.

“
We spent eight months living in a forest and
nearly a year working on a ranch. There was a sum
mer on a fishing boat and a winter in a lighthouse."
Nash leaned against the counter and folded his
arms over his chest. "With the kids?"

“
It was a great experience for them," she said,
trying to sound enthusiastic when all she felt was
tired. "They have great memories." All good ones. She'd done her best to ensure that.
Whatever her feelings about her late husband might
be, she wanted Brett and the twins to remember their father with a lot of love and laughter.

“
I experienced worlds I didn't know existed."
And would have happily died in ignorance of, given the choice. She pushed the Delay button on the dishwasher, setting the start time for midnight.

“
I'd homeschooled Brett through third grade,
which went well. He's very bright. But Marty and I
were worried about socialization. We knew it was
time to settle down." It hadn't exactly gone that way, she remembered.
Marty had wanted to keep moving, but she'd de
manded that they settle. Despite having an eight
year-old and four-year-old twins, she'd flat-out told
him she would leave him if necessary. The previous
winter Adam had spiked a 105-degree fever while
they'd been stuck in the godforsaken lighthouse.
With a storm raging around them, there'd been no
way to get to the mainland and a doctor. She'd spent
thirty-six hours in hell, wondering if her son was
going to die. In the dark hours before dawn, right
before his fever finally broke, she'd vowed she
wasn't going to live like that anymore.

“As luck would have it, the day we arrived in
Glenwood we got word of an inheritance. We fell
in love with the town right as we found out we had enough money to buy a place and settle down." She
offered a practiced smile. "This house was on the
market and we couldn't resist. It was the perfect
opportunity to have both a home and a growing
business."
Nash glanced around at the remodeled kitchen. "You've done a great job."

“
Thanks."
What she didn't tell him was that there was a
mortgage on the old Victorian house. She also didn't
mention the fights she'd had with Marty. There'd
been enough money to buy a regular house outright
instead of this place, but that had been too boring
for him. As the inheritance had come from his side
of the family, she hadn't felt she was in a position
to argue too much.

“
It was all coming together," she said. "We
closed escrow and started the remodeling. The boys
started school. We were just settling into the com
munity when Marty passed away."
His dark gaze settled on her face. "So it's been
a while."

“
About three years. Marty was killed in a car
accident."

“Leaving you with three children. That had to be tough." She nodded slowly because agreement was the
expected response. It's not that she'd wished Marty
ill, and she certainly hadn't wanted him dead, yet
by the time he was killed, any love she'd ever felt
had long since died. Only obligation had remained.

“
Brett mourned the most of the boys," she said.
"The twins were only five. They have some memories and Brett tells them stories, but it's not very
much. I wish they had more."
She meant that. What did it matter if Marty had
refused to grow up and be responsible? He was still
the boys' father. She wanted them to remember him
as fun and loving. To think the best of him.

“
You're doing great," he said. "They're good
kids."

“
No potential serial killers?"

“Not a one."

“
I hope they're okay. I worry about them grow
ing up without a father. I was an only child, so my experience with boys was limited to those I knew in
school.
I'm
trying to encourage the whole 'be ma
cho' thing, while still keeping them on this side of civilized."

“
You mean no spitting indoors?"
She shuddered, then grinned. "Exactly. No spit
ting, no writing on the walls, no dead animals'
skins."

“
Pretty strict rules." One corner of his mouth
twitched slightly. "How about a couple of skulls?”

“Animal or human?"

“
Does it matter?"

“
Of course. Animal is fine, as long as they're
small and we bought them from a store. I want clean skulls."

“
Typical girl. Dirt is fun."

“
Easy for you to say. You're not stuck doing the vacuuming."
Nash dropped his hands to his side and took a
step toward her. Just one step, but her breath caught
as if she'd just climbed a mountain. He was closer.
Much closer. The light mood their conversation had
created suddenly thickened. Air refused to flow into her lungs. She felt hot, shivery and more than a little
out of control.

When his eyes darkened, she told herself it was a
trick of the light, nothing more. It had to be that, because thinking that Nash might also be feeling
some flicker of sexual attraction was more than she
ever hoped for. It was also outside the realm of possibility.

She wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg
him to kiss her. She wanted to rip off her shirt and
bra, baring her breasts. Surely that would be enough
of a hint. Not that he would be interested in her
breasts. She'd had three kids and parts of her were
not as perky as they once had been. Miracles could
be worked with an underwire bra.

So she could just rip off her shirt and leave the
bra on. Still a good hint for him.

Right, she thought with humorous resignation. He
would respond by ripping off his shirt, too, right
after he wrote her that check for a million dollars.

“
I don't want to keep you," she said at last. It
was the mature thing to say. The right thing. How disappointing when he nodded.

“
I'll see you in the morning."