who could drive them around?” With a worried frown, Bethany was still looking after the car.
“I don’t think either of them married, but I’m not sure. They’re in their eighties, right around my grandmother’s age. She knows them.”
“Does she still drive?”
“Not for a while. But she lives on the ranch with my parents and two brothers. Plenty of people around to take her wherever she wants to go.”
“At the Lucky 7?”
“No.” He noticed the increasing number of vehicles crowding Main Street and knew he was in for a lot more small talk if he didn’t keep his head down. “On my parents’ ranch,” he said, moving away from the street. “About twenty miles from me.”
“Wow, that’s great having your family so close.” She reached the truck ahead of him and picked up two boards. “Assuming you get along with them.”
He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, or if he even should. Today was full of surprises. He’d kept to himself and the Lucky 7 for so long, he’d forgotten how to be social. How to talk to a woman and not second-guess himself. He’d been joking about the McAllister boys. Like them, he’d been one of the popular kids, the quarterback who’d led his team to the state championship twice, the guy who could’ve had a date every night of the week if he’d wanted.
College would’ve been no different if he’d had the time to socialize. He’d played football only to keep his scholarship alive, but spent the rest of his free time working to make his dream a reality. From the day he’d turned thirteen he’d wanted his own ranch. And at seventeen he was so confident of what lay ahead he could’ve carved his future in stone. At least the part about the Lucky 7. And marrying Anne.
“Nathan?” Bethany had already taken her load to the porch, and she stood there looking at him with troubled eyes. “Sorry, if I said something wrong. I know family stuff can be tricky.”
Not until three years ago.
Shaking his head, he forced a smile.
After the accident, the well-intended lies and hidden truths had come out in force. Even before the funeral, everything around him, including his relationship with his family, had started falling apart. He’d never felt so helpless in his whole life. But you couldn’t fix a marriage once the other person was in the ground.
“Hey, you still want that water?”
He blinked at Bethany. She hadn’t moved. Her smile was brighter but her eyes were even more troubled. Her hands were tightly clasped, her fingers entwined. Great, he’d dragged his black cloud with him.
When he noticed she was slightly up on her toes, he didn’t have to pretend to smile. He’d seen earlier that she was one of those high-energy types who tended to rock back on the balls of her feet when she wasn’t in motion. The complete opposite of Anne. Even he was more laid-back these days. He used to be full of ambition, hated that there weren’t more hours in the day. Maybe his new interest in breeding Arabians would bring back some of that drive.
“Ice cold, if you have it,” he said, glad to see relief pass across her face. “I bet you were a bouncer when you were a kid.”
She backed up to her new green door, wrinkling her nose. “A bouncer?”
“Not that kind—”
“Oh.” She snorted a laugh and tried to cover it up. “How did you know?” Abruptly she looked down at her feet. “I don’t still do that.”
He smiled but kept working. The sooner he transferred the lumber to her porch, the sooner he could get back to the Lucky 7. Sure, he’d admit it, he was enjoying Bethany’s company. Even knowing this little thing brewing between them would end right here. He glanced at what was left on the truck bed. In about twenty minutes, to be exact.
Ten if he worked faster.
* * *
BETH COULDN’T DECIDE if she should be insulted, mad or confused. Or perhaps she should just feel grateful that she had her wood for tomorrow and quit being a crybaby because she hadn’t expected Nathan to want to leave so quickly.
The whole time she watched him pull up the tailgate, jam it in place and yank off his gloves, she tried to think of a reason to make him stay. But she’d already asked him if he wanted a tour of the inside, which he’d declined. Then she’d offered to buy him a beer, which he’d also declined. She’d even suggested she whip them up something to eat since they’d both missed lunch. He’d declined that, too, which was for the best, now that she thought about it. As her niece had pointed out, Beth’s cooking sucked the big one.
The thing was, it had taken her no time to get his water. Just two minutes. Okay, maybe four, but only because she’d wanted to check her hair and see if she could use a dusting of blush. She’d resisted putting on lip gloss. Too obvious.
She couldn’t shake the feeling she’d said or done something wrong. Probably because he’d worked like a madman to get so much done in her short absence. Clearly he was anxious to leave. Admittedly, it had to be annoying to deal with all the nosy, intrusive questions from passersby, but she wasn’t suggesting they stay outside.
When he started to turn, she lifted her gaze from his butt. She’d been staring at it, too busy thinking to really enjoy the muscular roundness, and that pissed her off. He picked up the uncapped bottle of water he’d left on the bumper, tilted it to his mouth and drank.
She tracked a stray drop running down his chin and wondered what it said about her eleven-months-and-counting dry spell that she was seconds away from dragging him inside and seeing what else that mouth could do.
Of course, she knew he couldn’t actually read her thoughts, but when he swung a sudden glance at her, her struggle not to squirm turned pretty epic.
“Well, all right, Cinderella,” she said. “I know you’re worried about the whole pumpkin threat, so don’t let me keep you.” God, sometimes she said the stupidest things when she was nervous. It wasn’t enough he seemed eager to bolt—now she was giving him a push.
Except...
Nathan was staring back at her, quite intensely, and she hoped she wasn’t kidding herself, but he didn’t look so anxious anymore. Finally he broke eye contact to look down at her feet. “Before I go, I have to ask...”
With a resigned sigh, she followed his gaze to her short camo-patterned cowboy boots. Only they were pink and tan, camouflage objective be damned. “A birthday gift from my niece, so I feel obliged to wear them occasionally.”
“Ah.” Amusement eased the tension around his mouth. “You’re a very good aunt.”
“You have no idea,” she murmured, and stopped right there, deciding to avoid the topic. She suspected her earlier reference to family had darkened his mood.
He took another gulp of water, then recapped the bottle. “Good luck tomorrow. I hope your guys show up.”
“If they don’t, I’ll hunt them down.”
He smiled, and she had the distinct feeling he wanted to say something, but he started toward the driver’s door instead. So that
