A Town Called Valentine

chapter Sixteen



Nate rode his horse across the grassy pasture. Off in the distance, the ground sloped away, with clumps of pine trees huddled around meandering creeks. The tops of the mountains rose up all around him, as if gathering all the meadows into its arms.

If only the cattle could have stayed gathered, he thought wearily. He was used to chasing them, of course. They could be damned ornery. But up here in the mountains, once free of their grazing lands, they could be mixing with someone else’s herd, or stumbling down a steep drop and breaking a leg.

The radio at his waist crackled as Josh and Brooke took turns calling in their reports.

Nate keyed his radio. “Anyone check where Jackson Creek meets the pond?”

No one had, so Nate rode that way, whistling for Scout to go on ahead. The other ranch dogs were working with Brooke and Josh, and they could find cattle even better than experienced ranch hands.

At the sound of an ATV in the distance, he twisted in his saddle to see if it was his father. Relieved, he waved a hand, then frowned as something seemed . . . different. He saw arms around his dad’s waist, and then a head peeking over his shoulder.

He recognized that wind-whipped strawberry blond hair trailing from beneath her helmet. What was Emily Murphy doing with his dad? Nate was used to keeping his private life separate from the women he dated—it had been that way ever since college. Now as they pulled up on the ATV, and he saw Emily’s wide-eyed excitement, he considered the way he’d always compartmentalized the people he was close to. But it was necessary. No one got hurt that way.

But he couldn’t frown long, seeing Emily’s happy grin. She waved to him, and he smiled and waved back. He saw the relief she couldn’t hide, and that took him aback. Did she think he’d be angry with her? He felt a bit defensive, then looked deeper, wondering if he’d made her feel that way.

His dad cut the power as Nate rode up beside him. Apollo showed no fear of the big machine, having spent his life around farm equipment. Scout jumped up on the rack behind Emily, his regular perch. She laughed and ruffled his fur, and something in Nate’s gut gave a funny squeeze.

Doug gestured with a thumb at Emily behind him. “She was making a flower delivery when you called. Thought she’d like a ride.”

Nate leaned on the pommel and grinned at her. “If I’d have known you liked four-wheeling, I’d have suggested a backcountry adventure.”

“I thought I could trust your dad to give me a more sedate ride than you, but I was wrong! I didn’t know a person could drive so fast!”

Doug glanced over his shoulder, wearing his usual small smile beneath his mustache. “Wait until we ride through a creek.”

“What?” she cried, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“Now you know why I made you borrow some of Brooke’s clothes,” Doug said.

Nate glanced down Emily’s legs and saw that she’d had to stuff the extra long material into waterproof boots. “New boots?”

“These are your mom’s. Her feet are more my size. Hope she won’t mind.”

“Nope, she’ll be glad we had an extra pair of eyes.”

Emily let relief flood through and settle her nerves as she watched Nate sober as he told his dad the various lands they’d already searched. She was still surprised and dismayed at how much Nate’s opinion of her mattered. It didn’t bode well for their simple dating—or more likely her reaction to it.

She couldn’t stop staring at him, with his cowboy hat shielding his eyes, the Carhartt jacket covering a flannel shirt, and fringed chaps over his jeans. The scarf at his neck was bright red and fluttered in the breeze. She was so busy admiring his fine form that she almost jumped when the ATV motor roared to life beneath her.

Mr. Thalberg glanced at her with amusement, and she gave him a sheepish grin. Her legs still trembled after the half-hour ride from where they’d left the pickup. Perhaps she was going to be sore tomorrow, but it was worth it.

Nate rode off ahead of them, and Scout jumped down and bounded after his master. Mr. Thalberg turned and went another way, and she clung to him as he raced through the meadow, high grass whipping against her legs. She turned her head and watched Nate, inhaling at the beauty of the scene as he headed across the meadow, the mountains framing him, the sky so blue above the snowy peaks. She felt almost hungry at the powerful way he moved so effortlessly with his horse.

For the next hour, Emily listened in awe at the coordination between the Thalbergs as they searched for each cow as if it were a member of the family—but of course, the sale of those cows was their profit at the end of the season. Nate’s voice over the radio was one of cool composure as he coordinated the rescue. Emily gasped with delight and awe when Mr. Thalberg veered toward the thundering cattle, who obediently changed their direction, swarming together almost like bees. Nate, Josh, and Brooke rode from different directions, adding cows and calves to the growing herd.

When every cow was accounted for and guided back through the damaged fence, shared grins appeared on Thalberg faces. Josh and Brooke dismounted and went to work with the spools of barbed wire that had already been stacked near the damaged fence. Josh smiled and tipped his hat to her, and she touched the brim of her helmet in reply.

To her surprise, Nate frowned at her, and she gave him a wide-eyed look of puzzlement, as if she didn’t know what was going on. But she knew—Nate Thalberg might be a little jealous over her. She felt giddy.

Then she sobered—she didn’t want him to be jealous.

The sky slowly darkened as speeding clouds caught up with the sun. Emily looked overhead in surprise. Where had the beautiful day gone?

“We’ll let you finish here and get your horses back to the trailer before there’s too much rain,” Mr. Thalberg called. “See you at the ranch.”

Emily looked back as they rode away to see Nate staring after them momentarily before dismounting and going to help his brother and sister. The rain began in earnest then, and she was glad for the heavier clothing Mr. Thalberg had insisted she wear. Once they were in the pickup, he blasted the heat, but she was still chilled through.

Back at the ranch house, she hurried into the bathroom in the hallway near the bedrooms. After discarding her wet clothes in a heap, she hopped into the shower and let the hot water soothe her. As she toweled off, she could tell by the voices echoing through the house that the others had arrived home. And then she realized that her dry clothes were in Brooke’s bedroom. She swore silently under her breath.

Nate opened the bathroom door. “Hey, Josh, I left my—”

She gave a little shriek, thankful he only saw her naked back before she yanked the towel higher and wrapped it around her.

“Jesus, I’m sorry,” Nate said, making no move to shut the door as his gaze took in her towel-clad body. “I thought Josh had arrived before me.”

She rolled her eyes. “No knocking in the Thalberg household?”

He grinned. “Well usually, but I did hear the water shut off, and just assumed.”

That cocky grin slowly died, and she felt as if she were wearing nothing at all, the way his gaze lingered on her damp skin. She should stop him; she should kick him out. But she stood still, basking in his admiration, wishing he’d come in and shut the door.

At last he cleared his throat and spoke in a husky voice. “Guess I’d better let you finish.”

“Oh, I’m finished,” she said, slipping by him, shivering as she brushed against his body. “I’ll be in Brooke’s room, so you might not want to accidentally walk in there.”

His chuckle sounded a bit strained, but she didn’t look behind to see. She finished dressing quickly, and although Brooke invited her to stay for lunch, Emily felt too guilty for abandoning Monica, so she headed back into town before Nate emerged from his old bedroom.

Nate worked hard all day, trying to rid his mind of the tantalizing glimpse he’d had of Emily. She’d been damp from the shower, her supple back bare of tan lines after winter. He’d had just a side glimpse of the roundness of one breast, and the image lingered.

He had dinner with his family, and when Brooke and Josh headed back to the irrigation dams, he hung back a moment, bringing the last of the dishes into the kitchen.

His mom stood at the sink, her cane resting against the counter beside her, her hips swaying a little to the radio she always played when she worked in the kitchen. She had his dark hair though she now had to color it to keep it that way, but her eyes were brown. Sometimes it made him sad that his green eyes were from the father he didn’t want to remember. Same with his height. His mom barely came up to his shoulders, but her exuberance always made her seem larger-than-life. She’d been dealt several terrible blows in her youth, but you never knew it to talk to her. When her MS flared up, she was the first one to wander the hospital, talking to kids in the pediatric ward or sitting with chemotherapy outpatients. There were times in her life she had to use a wheelchair, but she got up every day looking forward to whatever chores she could do.

Now, as he set the dishes in the sink, she glanced at him with amusement. He immediately grew wary.

“So I missed meeting your Emily,” Sandy said.

Nate sighed. “She’s not my Emily. She’s a friend I’m helping out.”

“A friend?”

“Well, yeah. I know she stopped by today, but it was because of the flowers you ordered.”

His mom raised an eyebrow, but his father was the first to comment. “She had questions about her dad, of course. I told your mom all about it.”

“Hope she didn’t make you too uncomfortable,” Nate said, feeling more and more awkward. “It was probably good you weren’t here, Mom, or she might have grilled you, too.”

“ ‘Grilled’?” Sandy echoed. “Having a conversation has now become an interrogation? It almost sounds like you’re warning me away from her.”

“Not true,” Nate insisted.

“If I didn’t know better,” his mom continued, her mouth turned up with repressed laughter, “I’d think you were in charge of who I can visit with.”

“Of course not.” But he didn’t know how to explain his uneasiness, even to himself.

“You better get going, Nathaniel,” she said, nodding to the back door, “before I dissect whatever you’re not saying.”

He left quickly, hearing his mom and dad’s laughter.

After he and Josh had finished irrigating that evening, he took another shower back at his cabin and drove into town. He wasn’t sure what he meant to do, but he felt restless. Normally, he might meet a few guys at Tony’s Tavern and play pool, but the memories of Emily on that pool table were a bit too vivid. He could go dancing at the Outlaws and not lack for partners, but there was only one woman he wanted to concentrate on tonight.

He found himself parked in the alley behind Emily’s building, not knowing quite how he got there. This was probably a bad idea. Scout whined softly, as if sensing his uncertain mood.

“You stay here, buddy.”

He left the windows cracked open and rang the bell for the apartment. When he heard her voice, something inside him felt eager and randy and surprisingly uncertain about his welcome. He took off his hat.

She opened the door and smiled at him, her hair in soft waves about her shoulders. She wore workout shorts and a clingy t-shirt, and hell, he didn’t think she was wearing a bra. It took everything in him to keep his gaze on her lovely, expectant face.

“Nate, twice in one day?” she said, cocking her head.

“This one’s my idea, but earlier today, that was all your fault.”

She sighed. “Your father was very persuasive, saying no one should visit Colorado without riding an ATV.”

“And now you’ve done it. Next time, you’ll have to see it all from horseback.”

“Another date?”

“You’re not going to suggest a trip to the local history museum?” He was kidding, but her face lit up.

“I’d forgotten all about it! I love museums.”

He winced and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s really small. And I know the local history by heart.”

“Then you can elaborate on the skimpy displays.”

He let his gaze roam down her body, saw her nipples tighten for him, felt himself getting hard. “Speaking of skimpy displays . . .” He thought she might cross her arms over her chest, but she didn’t.

“Isn’t it kind of late for early-rising cowboys?”

He looked into her sky blue eyes, opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He felt like a horny teenager again.

Her gaze softened. “Come on up.” She glanced past him. “No Scout?”

“Nope.”

She hesitated as if waiting for an explanation, then gave him a small smile. He followed her up the stairs, admiring her lean runner’s thighs displayed by the shorts. Along the hall that ran past the bedrooms, he saw a framed photo of the Elk Mountains in winter, then another mountain picture in the living room, the high peaks of the Maroon Bells rising over the lake.

He arched a brow at her, and she blushed.

“Garage sale,” she explained. “Your sister is a master at haggling.”

There was a throw rug before the small couch and an upholstered wooden chair facing it. Though still spartan, the apartment was starting to seem more homey. He glanced at her swiftly, then away. What was wrong with him? He was usually the one so at ease, the one in control. And he needed that control, knowing his own weaknesses. But tonight . . .

“You must think I’m crazy to be decorating something that’s so temporary,” she said hesitantly.

“Not at all.”

“It’s just that . . . I like how it feels, having my own place. It’s mine, and I want it to look a certain way, without anyone’s influence. Valentine has helped me discover that.” She smiled and shook her head. “Can I get you something to drink? I have Dale’s.”

“My favorite beer,” he said.

“After you ordered it, I thought I’d give it a try. Go ahead and have a seat.”

She moved past him, and he inhaled her scent, saw the jiggle of her breasts, felt his control beginning to slip. He wanted her, he wanted to taste every part of her. Instead, he forced himself to sit down gingerly on the little couch, in case it creaked under his weight. Nothing happened, so he relaxed a bit, but not completely. He had a hard-on the size of Montana, and felt like a lumbering, growling bear in her pretty little apartment.

She emerged with a couple beers, and he didn’t say anything, just watched her set them on the coffee table. She gave him a curious stare but didn’t speak as she returned to the galley kitchen. This time she brought out a bowl of chips, salsa, and napkins. As she leaned over, the t-shirt gaped a bit, and he could almost see farther down her chest. To his disappointment, she straightened, put her hands on her hips, and studied him. Her breasts gave a bounce that was his undoing.

“Nate, what—”

He reached forward, caught her hand and drew her toward him, sweeping her legs out from beneath her and cradling her in his lap. She gasped, but didn’t protest, just looked up at him all wide-eyed.

“I’ve wanted to do this all day, heck for weeks,” he whispered, and lowered his mouth to kiss her.

To his relief, she flung her arms around his neck, which pressed her breasts against his chest, making him groan. He deepened the kiss, felt wild about her taste, and wanted to touch her everywhere. He licked and nipped his way down her neck, buried his face in her hair, used his hands to explore her lean back. He cupped the curve of her ass before moving up inside her shirt, along her ribs. Her heart pounded hard against his, and she seemed desperate as she cupped his face and brought their mouths together again. They kissed as if they’d never kissed before and might never again. She tasted like the sunrise to him, the promise of something new, fresh and full of possibilities.

And then his hand captured her bare breast, and her ragged moan made him shudder. He kissed her even as he trailed his fingertips across her nipple, over and over until she squirmed in his lap, gasping. Then he pinched her lightly before soothing her again.

He lifted his head and stared into her glassy eyes. “I want you, Em. Let me take you to bed.”

She rested her trembling hand on his chest. “I want you, too, but . . . it’s too soon for me.” She gave him a crooked smile. “We’ve only had one date.”

He groaned. “Doesn’t fixing fence count?” Her soft laugh made her breast jiggle in his palm. “Damn, you feel good.”

“So do you. Kiss me again.”

They kissed for a long time, and when her warm hands crept up under his shirt, he was the one who stopped it.

“Okay, okay,” he whispered huskily. “If you touch me much more, I can’t make any promises.”

Her eyes were soft with tenderness, even as she slid from his lap to sit beside him on the little couch. They were pressed together along their arms and legs, and he kept her hand in his.

They remained silent for a little while as he worked to get himself under control. He looked at the book beneath her lamp, a romance with a racy cover. The apartment was saying more and more about her. He liked being with her, whether it was putting up drywall or hiking up a mountain. And if she needed to wait until she was comfortable at the thought of sex with him, he’d be okay with that.

“So you’re not mad I came to the ranch today?” she suddenly asked.

He heard the hesitation in her voice, and it caught him by surprise, as he remembered this afternoon and her look of relief that he hadn’t been angry with her. “Why would you think I’d be mad?” he asked hesitantly, knowing he might be mad—if she were someone else. He worked so hard to hold women at a certain emotional distance, to not let them close—to keep them from being hurt.

Her gaze lingered on their joined hands. “Nate, you don’t exactly have a reputation as a man who brings women home to the family on a regular basis. And you might have thought it an . . . intrusion that I was there when you hadn’t invited me.”

“You made a flower delivery, Em,” he said. “And then my dad invited you for a ride. I’d never expect you to say no. But . . . I know what you’re saying, and I admit, my reputation isn’t without cause. It’s been pretty deliberate.”

“I get that impression,” she murmured, watching him.

He looked into those blue eyes, and knew he had to tell her the truth. “It’s because I know myself pretty well. I hurt women, Em. I don’t mean to, but it happens, and not just to women I’m dating.”

Though she’d stiffened at his first revelation, now she looked bewildered. “Nate, I know you’re not after any kind of commitment. I’m not either—I’m leaving Valentine soon. But surely the women around here know that you’re not interested in marriage. You made it very clear up front. And they still let themselves be hurt that you keep things casual?”

“That’s not why they get hurt,” he said, running his hand through his hair even as he leaned his head back against the couch.

She said nothing, only continued to look at him expectantly.

He had never talked about this with a woman, hell, with anyone. But he took a deep breath. “I . . . don’t know when to stop, Em,” he murmured. “When people need help, I . . . help them. Over and over again, until they don’t know when my helpful suggestions are doing more harm than good. I don’t know either, until it’s too late.”

He looked at her at last, braced for the worst, for her laughter or her disbelief. But she was studying him with intensity, with compassion.

“Tell me what happened, Nate,” she said at last, taking his hand.

He pulled away and stood up, beginning to pace. “The usual,” he said shortly. “Bad breakup with a girl I loved in college. Romantic baggage and all that. I learned my lesson.”

“One bad breakup in college?” she asked with quiet disbelief. “ ‘Romantic baggage’? Don’t trivialize whatever happened. She doesn’t deserve that.”

He winced and closed his eyes, remembering Lilly’s face, the uncompromising fury and bewilderment in her voice when she called to tell him she wasn’t coming back to school, that she didn’t love him anymore. “I didn’t see what I was doing,” he said, his voice harsh. “Over and over I helped her with every aspect of her life, from her classes to her homework, to what sorority she might enjoy. I never let her do anything on her own, to the point that she depended on me, and when I couldn’t be there, I let her down.”

Emily came and stood in front of him. “So you’re saying she resisted all your helpful advice.”

“No, never.”

“You were helping her when she asked for your advice, and that was wrong?”

“I was smothering her,” Nate said, feeling the cords in his neck go taut as he ground his teeth together. “I should have seen what was happening. But I didn’t, until she dropped out of school because she felt like such a failure.”

Emily put her hand on his arm and he let her, though he felt tight with tension.

“Nate, that wasn’t all your fault. It sounds like she didn’t know what she wanted. I’ve been there—we’ve all been there. To blame you was wrong.”

“I know what you’re saying, Em, but if it was just that, then okay. But it kept happening over the next couple years. It’s like I couldn’t distance myself, I couldn’t see where other people ended, and I began. And it wasn’t just the women I dated. My cousin came to visit for a summer to work on the ranch, and he was so lost on what he wanted to do with his life. He followed me around like my word was gospel, and we mapped out a plan together because I thought for certain he wanted the discipline and life of a soldier.”

She winced.

“You can see it coming, though I didn’t,” Nate said bitterly. “He hated the military, almost got himself dishonorably discharged, but held it together until his enlistment was up. Good old Nate jumped right in to solve every problem.” He stared down at her. “Sound familiar?” He waited for her to deny it, but when she hesitated, he could only sigh. “I fight it, Em, and I win that battle now.”

She put up a hand. “Stop talking and listen to me. All I wanted to say was that I can see your kindness, Nate, and how much you care about people. But you haven’t stepped over your bounds with me, and I won’t be letting you. I spent years of my life ignoring the warnings I kept telling myself—I’ll never do that again. I make my own decisions, and I have enough ‘romantic baggage’ that started in college, all of my own making. And if you lend me tools or your knowledge, or kiss me senseless, it’s because I’m allowing it. And your girlfriends and your cousin? They didn’t know themselves yet, and I’m sure they learned to stand on their own two feet. I did.”

“It’s nice of you to say that, Em.” But he didn’t believe he was blameless.

“Then we’re okay?” she asked.

“We’re okay.”

To his surprise, she leaned against him and rose to her tiptoes for a kiss, as if he hadn’t just warned her off.

“Guess you better go,” she said. “Scout will be worried.”

At the door, he cocked his head. “Aspen?”

“Aspen,” she answered dreamily, surrendering to another kiss. Then her eyes snapped open. “Aspen! Our next date.”

He chuckled. “What about tomorrow?”

“I have to work until after lunch. You could pick me up at two, unless you think that’s too late. I can skip painting for a single day.”

He couldn’t stop touching her, fingers caressing her waist, or down her soft arm. He almost forgot what they were talking about, so he linked their hands together. “That’s fine. We can wander town for a few hours, then have dinner.” He bent down to kiss her one last time. “See you tomorrow,” he whispered against her lips.

When Nate had gone, Emily leaned against the door and contemplated what he’d told her. It would be so easy to feel like a giddy teenager again. But she was a mature woman of thirty who knew her own mind, and he was a mature man who’d made mistakes and wouldn’t repeat them. All the better for her. His attention, his sweet consideration of her feelings, and the way he made her feel like the most desirable woman ever to inhabit the planet . . . those things were a balm to her spirit. The fact that he had such a weighty reason not to go any further reassured her.

But she felt sorry for him, too. He was still hurting about things that weren’t all his fault. She’d tried to tell him, but she guessed he didn’t believe her, not after long years of thinking the worst.

With a sigh, she sank onto the love seat and let her mind drift back to the moments spent in Nate’s arms. Then she shook herself, saying aloud, “Get yourself together, Emily Murphy. Emily Strong. Whoever you are.”

She might have had a different last name, if things had turned out differently. That put her back to the three men who might be her father—and if she were honest, there could be other candidates, but she couldn’t think about that right now. She’d almost told Nate about them, but decided to stand on her own two feet for a while and do her own investigating. Good thing, too, after what he’d just confided. There were only three likely men, after all, one of whom she’d already met. When she went in for more paint supplies, she would talk to Hal Abrams, try to get a feel for him. As for the other two men—she’d have to subtly ask questions.

She thought of the yearbooks then, and went to look at the black-and-white pictures of each. Fresh eager faces, and Hal Abrams looked different without a beard. Neither he nor the other two men seemed familiar to her at all, as if their genes might be part of hers. She couldn’t believe there was nothing here to give her a clue. With a groan, she flipped open one of the middle-school diaries and riffled the pages, Delilah’s handwriting a blur of schoolgirl penmanship. But right at the end, just before the book closed, she saw different ink, different writing.

Surprised, she opened it back up to the last written page. It was Delilah’s handwriting, but not the same. And the date—the date was April of her senior year. For some reason, she’d added an entry to her old diary. Even the page before was dated four years earlier.

Excited, nervous, Emily spread the book wide on her lap and began to read. It was about a boy, and her mother almost gushed about meeting him in secret down by the creek, or in a barn. But she never said his name! Over and over, she melodramatically mentioned his blue eyes seeing into her soul.

Blue eyes, just like Emily’s, but not her mom’s. There was only the one entry. Closing the book, she put her hand against it, and said, “Thanks for the clue, Delilah. At least it’s something.”

Brooke and Monica would be a good place to start. She was already relying on Nate enough, and it was obvious he didn’t want her to lean on him. It seemed . . . confusing to turn to him for entertainment, for renovations, for . . . hell, for foreplay, then consult him about her biological father. She wouldn’t get too dependent on him. He’d be hurt as badly as she would. She’d spent the last ten years being dependent on a man who’d given her every indication that he was dependable—until the worst happened.

She refused to go back to that woman who couldn’t seem to leave her bed last year. She was going forward one step at a time, and that was all she could ask of herself.