And she laughed, too. “It’s only what I’ve heard.”
“Just because people love to gossip doesn’t mean they know what they’re talking about.”
“So none of it’s true, then?”
He admitted, “It’s true, for the most part.” Strangely, today, he was finding her candor charming—then again, today he wasn’t on his way to North Dakota to keep his annual appointment with all that he had lost.
She asked, “What parts did I get wrong?”
He should tell her to mind her own business. But she was so damn pretty and she really did seem interested. “Well, the mayor’s race?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m over that. And it’s a long story about me and Collin and Cindy, one I don’t have the energy to get into right now—and your cup’s already empty.”
“It was really good.” She smiled at him coaxingly.
He took the hint. “More?”
“Yes, please.”
Each pod made six cups. All he had to do was put her mug under the spigot and push the brew button. “You’ve collected a lot of information about me. Should I be flattered you’re so interested?” He gave her back her full cup.
She doctored it up with more sugar and milk. “I think about that day last winter now and then....”
He slid into his seat again. “I’ll just bet you do.” Especially today, when it’s time to collect.
Her big eyes were kind of dreamy now. “I wonder about you, Nate. I wonder why you had to get to Bismarck, and I keep thinking there’s a lot going on under the surface with you. I love this town more every day that I live here, but sometimes people in a small town can get locked in to their ideas about each other. What I think about you is that you want...more out of life. You just don’t know how to get it.”
He grunted. “Got me all figured out, don’t you?”
“It’s just an opinion.”
“Yeah, and that and five bucks will get you half a dozen cinnamon buns over at the doughnut shop.”
She shrugged, her gaze a little too steady for his peace of mind. Then she asked, “So, what about Bismarck?”
He was never telling her about Bismarck. And, as much as he enjoyed looking at her with all that shiny hair and that beautiful smile, it was time to get down to business. “Excuse me.” He rose and turned for the door to the foyer, leaving her sitting there, no doubt staring after him.
In his study at the front of the house, he opened the safe built into his fine wide mahogany desk and took out what she’d come for. Then he locked up the safe again and rejoined her in the kitchen.
“Here you go.” He set the two crisp one-hundred-dollar bills on the table in front of her. “I get it. You like it here. You’ve made some friends. They all say you’re an excellent nurse, kind and caring to your patients. You’re staying. I was wrong about you.”
“Yes, you were.” She sat very straight, those soft lips just hinting at a smile now. “I like a man who can admit when he’s wrong.” She glanced down at the bills and then back up at him. “And I thought I told you way back in January that money doesn’t do much for me.”
Okay. Now he could start to get annoyed with her again. “Then what do you want?”
She turned her coffee mug, slim fingers light and coaxing on the rim. “I’ve been staying in one of the trailers they brought in for newcomers, over on Sawmill Street.”
“I know,” he admitted, though he hadn’t planned to. Her pupils widened slightly in surprise. It pleased him that he’d succeeded in surprising her. “Maybe I think about you now and then, too.”
She gazed at him steadily for a moment. And then there it was, that hint of a smile again. “I’m tired of that trailer.”
“I can understand that.”
“But as I’m sure you know, housing is still kind of scarce around here.” So many homes had been damaged in the flood the year before, and they weren’t all rebuilt yet. “I really like the look of the empty house next door to you. And I heard a rumor you might own that one, too.”
The woman had nerve, no doubt about it. “You want me to give you a house just for sticking out a Montana winter?”
Her smile got wider. “Not give it to me, Nate. Sell it to me.”
Sell it to her....
The former owners of both houses had chosen not to rebuild after the flood, so Nate got them cheap. He’d been a long way from rich at the time. His plan then had been to fix the houses up slowly, starting with the smaller one next door. He’d figured he would put money in them when he had it to spare, getting his brothers to lend a hand with the work.
But after his big win, he found he could afford to renovate them both without having to drag it out. With everyone believing his cover story of a windfall on the stock market, he’d told himself it was safe to go for it. He could fix them up and do it right.
He should have been more cautious, probably. Not spent so much on the finishes, not redone both houses. Or at least, if he had to go all out, he should have had his lawyer advise him, maybe put them under the control of the trust he’d established to make sure he would remain an anonymous winner.
Callie kept after him. “Oh, come on, Nate. You can’t live in two houses at once, can you? I’m guessing you fixed that other one up with the intention of selling it, anyway.”
He thought again that she was one aggravating woman. But she did have a point: he’d bought both houses with the idea that he would eventually turn them around. And really, she didn’t seem the least bit suspicious about where his money might have come from. She just wanted to get out of the trailer park. He needed to stop being paranoid when there was absolutely nothing to be worried about. “Finish your coffee.”
“And then what?”
“I’ll give you a tour of the other house.”
Those fine dark eyes gleamed brighter than ever. She pushed back her chair. “I can take my coffee with me. Let’s go.”
An hour later, after he’d shown her the property and then gone ahead and fed her breakfast, Callie made him an offer. It was a fair offer and he didn’t need to quibble over pennies anymore. She stuck out her soft hand and they shook on it. He ignored the thrill that shivered along his skin at the touch of her palm to his.
* * *
On the first of July, Callie moved into her new house next door to Nate Crawford. The day before, she’d had a bunch of new furniture delivered, stuff she’d picked out in a couple of Kalispell furniture stores. But she still had to haul all her other things from the trailer park on Sawmill Street.
Emmet DePaulo insisted she take the day off from the clinic and loaned
