Part 7 (2/2)
Todd ducked under the tent's awning with a plastic container under his arm and a m.u.f.fin clenched in his fist. ”If either of you tell Kathy how many m.u.f.fins I've eaten, heads will roll.”
Nate placed his clean mug on the upturned crate. ”Won't be from me. I can keep a secret.” He shot her a pointed look and walked toward the house.
Lauren sipped her tea, while Todd polished off his m.u.f.fin.
”What's this about secrets? Does he know who you were?” Todd brushed crumbs off his s.h.i.+rt.
”No. At least, he hasn't said anything.”
”You gonna tell him?”
”I won't take the risk and it's none of his business.”
Todd huffed air out of his nose, then tightened his tool belt. ”He's a reporter; he'll make it his business.”
”He specializes in war zones and riots. He won't pay any attention to some scarred n.o.body in the back of beyond. Not with other things on his mind.”
Todd grunted. ”I bet.” He tugged her to her feet and into a hug. ”Sis, you're not a n.o.body to me, and any man who only sees your scar instead a gorgeous babe with a big heart isn't worth spit.”
”Thanks.”
”I got your back.” He patted her shoulder with a calloused palm.
This time. Though the words remained unspoken, they wove through his solemn tone.
Lauren squeezed her brother tight. ”It'll be fine, and in a few weeks, he'll be gone.”
And well before then she needed to figure out how to change his mind.
Chapter 4.
Lauren approached the lion's den with only a chunk of steak between her and certain death. Except in this case, Nate represented the lion, and the steak, a plate of her beef chili. Still, her heart knocked and her palms slid greasily around the steering wheel as she drove toward Mac's place.
She hadn't chain-sawed any more for him when a storm blew in two days ago, but after another rainy afternoon cooped up inside, her son frothed at the mouth for action. When she'd suggested they ring Uncle Todd to drop a hot meal off to Nate, Drew looked at her as if she was nuts.
”Why can't we take him dinner?”
Good point. It wasn't as though they'd be eating with him, but she still tried to change her son's mind. ”Because it's pouring.”
”I've got gumboots, Mummy.” Exasperation in spades.
So here they were, pulling into Mac's driveway with rain pummeling the car roof. Dej vu to the max, but that didn't explain Lauren's racing heart and sweaty palms. She parked beside his Range Rover. Seemed safe enough to enjoy the little fizz of attraction that'd sprung to life. She savored the sizzle when their eyes met or as he said her name in his low, s.e.xy voice, because nothing could come of her attraction to him.
”Can I carry the plate?”
She unclipped Drew's safety belt. ”Yes. But remember you promised to be a good boy and have a bath when we get home.”
His nose wrinkled. ”Oh, all right.”
The rain splattered on their raincoats in relentless bullets as they hurried to the tent, Drew clutching the foil-covered plate to his chest. A soft glow illuminated the plastic windows, but Nate didn't come out to greet them.
”Nate?” she called.
”In here.” Movement from inside.
She unzipped the tent flap and shepherded Drew through. The conditions weren't much better than the outside. Rivulets of water trickled across the floor and the air smelled dank with wet oilskin. Nate hunched on a deck chair in the corner, his sleeping bag tucked around him.
Drew's gumboots splashed tiny sprays as he walked. ”We brought you dinner.”
Nate reached out for the plate, a slight tremor in his hands. A seismic impact s.h.i.+fted in her heart. She wanted him to give up and return to the city a.s.a.p., but for goodness sake, the man was miserable.
”Get your stuff together, and come back with us. You can't stay here in these conditions.”
Cool, heavy-lidded eyes met hers. ”I'm fine.”
”Tough guy, are you?”
”I've been in worse places.”
”I don't doubt it. But if you get over your tough-guy ego, there's a hot shower, hot food, and a dry futon in my workshop you can sleep on tonight.”
”You can play snakes 'n' ladders with me,” said Drew.
Hesitation as their gazes clashed again, then a glimmer of a smile emerged. ”Food, warmth, and a game of snakes and ladders with my little mate?”
Drew beamed at him.
”Guess I'd be crazy to turn down an offer like that.”
Yes. And she'd been crazy enough to suggest it.
After a shower, a double serve of chili, and a solid beating by a ruthless four-year-old board game shark, Nate considered himself human again.
He unrolled his sleeping bag on the futon couch and looked around the fluorescent-lit workshop with a sigh. His new accommodations were dry, un-cramped, and came with the luxury of indoor plumbing instead of the great outdoors. As an enthusiastic twenty-three-year-old who'd camped in central New Zealand's icy temperatures to cover an annual motorbike rally, he'd had no problem sleeping rough. But eight years later? He was too old for that kind of s.h.i.+t.
He flicked off the workshop lights, crawled into bed, and adjusted the laundry-scented pillow Lauren had thrust at him. He should've felt a sense of satisfaction, now that he had a warm place to sleep. Why, then, did he feel as if he wanted something more?
Nate woke with a start. Three o'clock in the morning, the glowing digits of his watch informed him. He stumbled from the couch to the bathroom at the end of the workshop. G.o.d, he felt drugged. He hadn't slept so well in a week. Yawning, he glanced out the tiny window as he washed his hands.
Lauren's lights were on.
Indecision glued his bare feet to the concrete. What if she was sick and too proud to call him for help? What if nightmares had woken Drew? What if he just admitted he needed to see her again, even though he'd only said goodnight six hours ago?
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