it was right then that she knew she was in very big trouble when it came to Patrick Hurley.
“SO REALLY, HE’S JUST... It’s like I keep telling myself I need to lose ten pounds before my high school reunion, but he’s a dozen doughnuts. Ooooh, Natalie, you know I’m delicious. Just one bite. I’m so good with coffee.”
Tuesday, Natalie’s housemate and best friend, broke out laughing. “I know how much you love doughnuts, too. So why not eat one? Or six? My point is, who freaking cares if you get a taste of Paddy Hurley? This isn’t Little House on the Prairie. You’re not going to get fired for premarital sex by the town elders.”
“It’s not that.” She made no bones about liking sex. Natalie considered good sex as important to her life as doughnuts and coffee. Paddy came with too many complications and too much noise. He had complicated written all over him.
“Then what is it?”
That wasn’t it, either.
“It’s just...” Natalie licked her lips. “He’s messy and complicated. He’d take so much time to handle, and I’m over handling other adults. I don’t want to be a nursemaid, a psychologist, and I sure have no desire to parent him while I’m fucking him, too. Ugh. I spent years and years stepping over people passed out in my house. I had to call the paramedics more than once because some random stranger, or my dad for that matter, had overdosed. I’ve had enough cleaning up puke and pretending not to smell liquor on breath at nine in the morning.”
She’d lived a life utterly out of control until she’d finally left home at seventeen, and even then it wasn’t until college that she finally got her shit together. Control meant everything. It meant you lived a life of your own choosing and not at someone else’s mercy, and it meant not being responsible for keeping grown-ass people from driving off a cliff.
It was the leaving that had been the key. The ultimate act of taking control of her life was walking away from that house. That pretty, solidly upper-class shell that was rotting inside. Just like her childhood had been.
“He comes with too much shit that pushes my buttons. Hot in bed or not, I just don’t want to chance it.” Paddy was a walking-talking advertisement for out of control.
Tuesday was careful to keep pity out of her eyes, but she sighed heavily. “All I’m saying is that life is made from chances you take. How do you know he won’t be worth it?”
Easy for Tuesday to say. Then again, her best friend sat in the house making gorgeous jewelry or hiking instead of going out on dates for her own messed-up reasons. Still, being someone’s friend meant knowing when to call bullshit and when to leave it alone. Tuesday wasn’t ready to confront those demons yet.
“I can’t deny knowing he lived here. I found out about six months after I bought the house here.” The fact that the dudes from Sweet Hollow Ranch lived in town and were locals who continued to make the city their home was a point of pride to Hood River. The town tended to be protective of the entire Hurley family. People didn’t call the paparazzi when one of them ate in their restaurants or shopped in their stores. There weren’t pictures sold to the tabloids of them going about their daily business.
When she’d discovered it, she’d been mildly worried, but she’d already begun to put down roots. She had no plans to run off simply because some old lover was in the same area.
And then Tuesday happened upon a storefront on Oak that she’d decided to run a business from and share half of Natalie’s house. Hood River had been a new start for both women.
“All this time I’ve lived here, and I never bumped into him or caught sight of him. I guess I had just hoped our paths wouldn’t cross.”
Tuesday made a dismissive sound. “Well, they have, and he’s clearly looking for a taste. I’m gonna guess he’ll eventually give up if you keep ignoring him. But what I’m saying is, why not see what he’s got to offer?”
Natalie wasn’t ready to admit out loud that maybe she was curious.
“Hand me the potatoes, and let’s change the subject please.”
Tuesday rolled her eyes but passed the bowl. “You did a pretty good job with these, by the way.”
Natalie’s cooking was an utter disaster, but over the years since she and Tuesday had roomed together in college, Natalie had developed a few not-awful dishes. Mainly easy stuff like sandwiches and soup, but she’d been working on mashed potatoes for a year or so, and she’d gotten to the point where nothing caught fire, and they actually tasted good.
“Now I can make canned soup, ham sandwiches and mashed potatoes. Maybe that’s what Paddy is after. He’s been waiting for a woman to make him mashed potatoes his whole life.”
They both cracked up.
“At least between the two of you, you have enough money to get takeout every night. Or maybe he can cook. That would be a bonus to the good looks and success stuff.”
“He’s probably spoiled. He lives up there on the ranch with his family. Maybe his mother cooks for him or something.”
“Maybe. But somehow I doubt it. But you won’t know unless you let him in.”
“I don’t need to know to mock him, duh. Just let me have my fun imagining him eating overcooked Hot Pockets or clinging to his mom’s apron strings.”
* * *
“SO HERE’S THE THING,” Paddy said as he sidled up to Natalie the next morning at the coffee shop. “I dig that you don’t have to be at work until nine.”
“Why?” She handed some money to Bobbi, who took in the daily Paddy show with apparent glee. “So you don’t have to get up so early to come down here and pester me?”
He laughed at that. “I’ll have you know I’ve been up since six-thirty when I helped my oldest brother deal with a fence problem. Have you ever dug a post hole? It totally sucks. Ezra is sort of insane because he seems to actually like it.”
Natalie moved to grab some honey for her latte, but he kept talking. “It’s good because I can get my work done and come down here in time for you to actually have breakfast with me sometime.”
“See you tomorrow, Bobbi.” Natalie waved and started for the door, which Paddy now held open for her.
“I don’t like getting up early. Also, I don’t eat breakfast very often.”
He took up beside her, and she didn’t stop him. “You have a muffin in that bag.”
“That’s not breakfast. Bacon and eggs with toast and maybe hash browns, that’s breakfast.”
“You’re serious about breakfast.”
“Not really. If I was, that’s what I’d be eating. Mainly I have doughnuts or muffins or a toaster-pastry thing.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Really? Those are like cardboard. Also, you don’t look like you eat doughnuts all the time.”
“I’m
