that had been all he’d been dealing with, Nick could have sucked it up and dealt with it. But it wasn’t. For the last few months, Rissa had been buying bridal magazines and discussing an outdoor summer wedding versus a Christmas-themed wedding. Even Marcus had been calling him “son” more and more. On paper, that had been the plan—marry the boss’s daughter and take over the family business. No doubt about it, Nick would have arrived. No one would have been able to take that success away from him.
Nick should have proposed to Rissa before he left to seal the deal. Should have, but didn’t. He had always enjoyed Rissa’s company, but he couldn’t wrap his head around Rissa and the Red Creek Reservation in the same thought. Rissa wasn’t exactly high-maintenance, but she required a certain amount of upkeep—shopping, spas, servants. Nick had enjoyed the hell out of being on the receiving end of that upkeep, but the moment the tribe had barged back into his life, his expensive lifestyle had suddenly felt forced. Almost unreal. Untrue, at the very least. Up until that exact moment, he’d been so certain of his plan, but now…he didn’t know if he loved who Rissa was or the fact that she had been born a Sutcliffe. Which meant he was in real danger of being the world’s biggest living hypocrite.
So he’d taken the job. He’d given Rissa a little talk about how some time apart would be good for them, help them know for sure if they were meant to be together. She’d taken it well enough, he supposed. “So you won’t mind if Jenkins takes me to the Parade of Sails, then,” she had said, her voice needle-sharp and her words just as pointed.
But Nick had already made up his mind. He was a big fan of clean breaks anyway. He’d reassured Rissa that she was free to see whoever she wanted, and when Nick’s case was over, they’d “catch up” and “reevaluate” where their relationship stood. He needed a break from the whole lot of them—Jenkins, Rissa and Marcus. As much as he told himself he was back on the rez involuntarily, a small, hidden part of him was relieved to be here. Even though he was no longer the same man who’d left this rez behind, he still felt more like himself just being here.
The case would probably take a year, maybe two, before all the dust settled. That left him plenty of time to catch up with his family. He could look up Tanya Rattling Blanket for starters. True, he hadn’t seen her in—man, it had to be almost two years—but he knew she was still here. She was one of those idealistic people who was determined to make a difference. She had made her preference for the rez over the real world clear back when they were dating. But if she was here and Nick was here, he didn’t see any reason why they shouldn’t be here together. As he remembered her, Tanya was whip-smart, bitingly funny and the kind of beautiful that most women spent their lives chasing and never catching. Thinking of Tanya was like watching the stars—he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her until he’d crossed the South Dakota state line.
In this distracted state, Nick walked into the tribal headquarters.
“Good morning, Mr. Longhair.” At the sound of that voice, Nick tripped over his own foot and came to a stumbling halt. He looked up and saw Tanya sitting behind the front desk, wearing a fake smile and a pale pink blouse. “How are you today?”
For a moment, all Nick could do was stare. He hadn’t seen her since the last time he’d come home to the rez, to celebrate his little brother’s high school graduation. She’d been there, as radiant as he’d ever seen her. They’d done a little celebrating together—one more time, for old time’s sake. Despite the fact that that had been almost two years ago, he suddenly felt as if it had been just last night. He remembered her as beautiful. He hadn’t done her justice. His pulse began to pound. No, he’d been a fool not to realize how much he’d missed her—but now he did. “Tanya? What are you doing here?”
The fakeness of her smile grew more forced. “I’m the receptionist. Would you like some coffee?”
They’d dated all through high school, but their contact since then had been sporadic. Intense. Satisfying—but only when he’d come back to the rez. He’d always been glad to see her, and this time was no different. Except this time, she didn’t seem happy to see him. What—was she mad that he hadn’t called? This wasn’t the 1950s—she could have picked up the phone just as easily. But not calling was a small thing, and Tanya seemed one shade short of furious. They’d lost contact before. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but it felt huge. What were the odds that he’d wind up with coffee thrown in his face—or worse, his lap? Not in his favor. “No, thanks.”
She stared at him for a few more seconds until he thought that smile was going to crack right off her face. “Ms. Armstrong is running late, and Councilwoman Mankiller is on a call. They asked me to show you around.”
When he’d been here, Nick and Tanya had had the most intense, passionate relationship he’d ever been in. In the beginning, especially when they’d started having hot-and-heavy sex, he’d dreamed about taking her with him when he left. But Tanya wasn’t the kind of girl who would blindly follow a boy to the ends of the earth. As much as he’d wanted her to go, she’d wanted him to stay. They’d had huge fights about it, then had the kind of makeup sex that made a man willing to admit that he’d been wrong.
In the end, the sex—and his feelings for her—hadn’t been enough. He’d left. She’d stayed. Those were the choices they both had to live with.
Still, that wasn’t enough to explain the animosity he was picking up on right now. The last time he’d seen her, she’d welcomed him back with open arms—and much more. The sex had been amazing—as passionate as anything he’d experienced with her before. He’d sort of been expecting the same kind of reception—but it was clear he wasn’t going to get it. He hadn’t exactly been burning up the phone lines during the years before he’d last been with her. She couldn’t possibly have expected him to start calling just because they’d spent another night together—could she?
Nick squared his shoulders. He’d gotten very good at pretending he belonged someplace he wasn’t truly welcome. Why should this be any different? “That would be fine, Ms. Rattling Blanket.” He didn’t need a tour—he’d been here before, in high school, when he’d come to talk to Rosebud about law school—but he wasn’t about to stand in the lobby in total awkwardness until hell froze over.
She stood, her eyes cast down. She had on a slim gray skirt that hugged every inch of curves he didn’t remember. She’d filled out—more generous breasts, a sweeter backside. Her hair was pulled away from her face, but it hung loose down her back. She looked good, in the primal sort of way that brought back memories of that last night together. What did those new curves look like? More important, what did they feel like? He had to physically restrain the urge to pull her into his arms. If he tried that right now, odds were good she’d deck him.
“This way.” Without so much as a dirty look for him, she headed down the hall and opened a door on his right. “The conference room.”
Why wasn’t she glad to see him? As she stood with her back to the door, he leaned past her. His lawyer instincts told him to keep a safe, respectable distance from her, but he couldn’t help himself. Her scent swirled around him—something soft and citrus and clean, all at once. Every second he was around her made him miss her that much more. All of a sudden, he found himself wondering how the hell he’d managed to survive the last two years without her smell, her voice, her face in his life. How had he survived without her? “I want to talk to you,” he whispered in her ear.
A ruddy blush sprinted across her cheeks. Maybe he was imagining things, but he swore he felt the heat radiate off her skin. She’d missed him, too. He could tell by the way her pupils dilated and her breathing grew shallow. He knew that look. She’d been looking at him like that for as long as he could remember—usually right before she had begun ripping off his clothes.
