Atonement (16 page)

It was the theme song to her all-time favorite movie,
Dirty Dancing
. In a way, it did have a connection to ideas and memories she wanted to forget, but there was a larger sum of good memories. The first time Nic watched it and fell in love with the movie was the year Emma came into her life, filling a void that had long been empty.

“It's complicated.”

Con's eyebrows lifted. “Isn't everything with you complicated?”

She couldn't resist the laugh. God, it felt good.

He stole her fork and ate some of the cheesecake. “Humor me and tell me what it is about this song that's complicated.”

“Do you know what movie the song is from?” she asked, stealing back her fork. The man was way too comfortable around her, treating her like they were a married couple.

“Some chick flick. I think Farran loves it, and that's why the track is on the jukebox.”

“The movie is
Dirty Dancing
, and I love that ‘chick flick,' as you put it.”

Con stared at her like he couldn't believe what he just heard. She didn't blame him for being skeptical. From the moment they met, Nic hadn't exactly portrayed herself as a feminine woman. Chalk one up to The General for turning his eldest daughter into an extreme tomboy.

“Hard to believe, I know,” she said. “There was a lot about the movie that got to me, and I would watch that thing every night. When my stepmother came into my life, she'd make popcorn and chocolate malts for the both of us then we'd watch it together.”

“Whoa, did you just reveal something from your past?”

“Guess I did.”

She fiddled with a napkin, letting those memories wash over her. Emma had anchored her in a time when a young Nic was in serious limbo. While she never made any attempt to replace Nic's mother, Emma became the family Nic was missing. Especially after Cassy was born a year later.

“So, what was it about this movie that made you want to watch it every night?” Con asked.

Nic pressed her back into the booth seat, doubt about telling him the truth holding her tongue. They stared at each other until she broke eye contact. What would it hurt to tell him? After all, he'd revealed a dark secret about his family.

“I wanted The General to be like Baby's dad.”

There, it was out. Her confession hung between them.

“The General would be your da'?”

“If one could call him that. He acts more like the sperm donor.”

“That's harsh.”

Nic sniffed. “Actually, it's the nicest thing I can say. You should meet the man. Better yet, don't.”

Con's hand started to slide across the table, but then he hesitated. Snatching it back, he sighed and stood. “I better get back to my duties or my mam will have to nag at me.” He flashed a humorless grin and vacated the area.

With each step he took away from her, Nic's muscles uncoiled. She'd been prepared for his touch, his comfort, ached for it, in fact. His withdrawal cut deep. As he returned to his position behind the bar, Nic forced the pain into the mental box labeled “things men do that hurt me.” She couldn't let herself care about what a man thought of her or her past.

Her view was obstructed when Cassy returned, sliding into the seat across from Nic. “I swear that man's ego is the only thing keeping him upright.”

Dredging up her lagging good humor, Nic slipped on the mask. “Is our intrepid Agent Boyce Hunt acting like a knuckle-dragger?”

“Worse.” Cassy stabbed her fork into the cake. “If he thinks he can just pick up where he left off, he's got another think coming. At the end of my arm.”

“Where did he go? Or did you make good on your death threat?”

“He said something about needing to check in with the main office and then finding a place to sleep.” Cassy buried her face in her hands with a groan. “He's like a reoccurring infection. The minute you think you've cured it, it comes back.”

Nic snorted at her sister's analogy, nearly choking on her drink. Cassy dropped her hands at the chortle and gaped at Nic.

“Did I just hear you attempt to laugh?”

“Second time tonight.”

A smile brightened her sister's face. “I never thought I'd hear it again.”

Come to think of it, Nic couldn't remember the last time she laughed. For the longest time there hadn't been anything to laugh about. If she dug deep enough, she could recall moments she laughed with Aiden. He'd been one to crack her defenses and engage her humor. It was one of the perks that drew her to him, and it didn't hurt that he was easy on the eyes.

Nic sobered. She and Aiden had been through a lot together, most of it hellish. If she'd truly loved him, she didn't know. The words were never uttered between them. If Aiden had loved her, it was a secret he took to the grave with him.

“Am I ever going to get the whole story?” Cassy asked.

Pursing her lips, Nic shook her head.

“You won't tell me, or you can't tell me?”

“Both.”

A shadow caught Nic's attention just as their booth was invaded. Patrick slapped the edge of the table and indicated for Nic to move over. She obliged as the younger man slid into the seat next to her.

“Break time,” he chirped.

“And we're your entertainment?” Nic asked.

He grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. Trying to fight Patrick's charisma was futile, because he had a personality that didn't leave any room to say no.

His gaze flicked to Cassy. Nic got the sensation that he was drinking in every inch of her sister. Patrick was young, but he wasn't that much younger than her sister.

“So, Ms. Rivers Number Two, what is it that you do for a living?”

With a grin, Nic made herself comfortable and listened to the two banter. Occasionally, her attention slid to the bar and the Irishman standing behind it. Now that Con had offered her a lifeline and weaseled his way into her life, what was she going to do with him? For a good chunk of her life Nic had pushed men away, locked them out of her heart and soul. She was battered and scarred and tired of trying to live up to unattainable expectations. From the moment they met, Con had pushed, but not like The General had, or Aiden. How had Con managed to wiggle past her defenses? Maybe it happened that day at Seth Moore's farm, or when Con took a leap of faith at Giselle Tomberlin's home and trusted Nic's instincts. Whenever it happened, she was certain of one thing. She must tread carefully, because she was a landmine field. Anyone who got close to her would end up in one of two situations: alienated or dead.

• • •

Con convinced Cassy to leave Nic at the pub when she went back to the house. After Mam closed up the pub, she took Farran home, leaving his sister's SUV behind for his use. Con, with Patrick's assistance, took over final clean-up detail while Nic nursed her last ginger ale.

They hadn't been able to finish their conversation, and he was hoping to probe a bit more into her life.

Right on cue, the first song he'd queued on the jukebox played, “She's Like The Wind,” another song from the
Dirty Dancing
soundtrack. His gaze slid to Nic to catch her scrunched face. Grinning, he placed the last glass in the drying rack and then draped the towel over his shoulder as he moved closer to her.

“Did you purposely set this up?” she asked.

“Premeditated all the way.” He took her empty glass to the sink. “I figured a moment of a few good memories was a better way to end the night than dwelling on the terrible ones.”

Nic left her stool and joined him at the end of the bar. Arms and elbows braced on the top, she leaned forward, clasping her hands. “Somehow I get the impression you have more self-seeking motives than that.”

His arms spread to their full length, Con gripped the edge of the bar and peered down at her. “Is that such a bad thing?”

Nic rocked back, staring at him, like she didn't know what to say or do.

The kitchen door squeaked open, breaking their connection. Patrick strolled into the dining room, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He paused and grinned. “Finished in the kitchen. You want to lock up, or do you need me to?”

Con waved the kid off. “I'll get it. Head upstairs and get some sleep. Got a big day tomorrow.” The Fall Festival committee was meeting at the Killdeer Pub to finalize last-minute plans for the weekend.

Patrick's gaze lingered on Nic before he gave a curt nod and headed for the back of the pub to the staircase to the apartment. A moment of weirdness went through Con at the young man's odd look, but he banished it quickly and turned his focus back on Nic. If they stayed longer than intended, it wouldn't bother Patrick's sleep. Mam had soundproofed the apartment to attract potential renters when she took over.

Sighing, Nic backed away from the bar. “Are you done, too?”

Con drained the soapy water and wiped down the counter. “Not quite.”

“What more is there to do?”

Rounding the bar, he moved to the large, open space he'd created in the center of the dining room when he shoved tables together for tomorrow's meeting. He turned to Nic and held out his hand, then crooked a finger at her.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on.”

The song changed to a slower one and realization dawned on Nic's face.

“Oh, no. I'm not dancing.” She held up her hands and waved them. “I don't do dancing.”

Con inched toward her. “Not ever?”

She stammered, backing right into the bar. “It's not my thing.” Averting her gaze, she went mute, letting the music in the background fill the void between them. The female vocalist begged the listener to be her baby. Nic wrapped her arms around her body and finally looked at Con.

Maybe he was moving too fast for her. It had only been a few hours earlier that he'd managed to talk her down from an emotional explosion that could have gone so wrong. The last thing Con ever wanted to do was arrive at Nic's home and find another suicide scene.

“You loved this movie, and you don't dance?”

“I didn't say I had to like dancing to love this movie.”

“Hmm.” He reached out and took hold of her hand. “Give it a chance. For me.”

She licked her lips. The action made his blood thicken and lit a fire in his gut. Damn, she was sexy when she didn't realize it. She tried so hard to repel men—and now he had a little understanding of why she did it—she came across as brash and untouchable. But underneath it all, she was still a woman with needs. Hopefully, he'd be the one she leaned on to fill them.

Slowly, he pulled her toward him, and she allowed it, gradually inching closer to him until their bodies touched. Nic stared at a button on his shirt, gnawing on her lip. Con tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her head up.

“It helps when you look up.”

He felt her shiver as their gazes locked. He wanted to kiss her. Instead, he took her hands and settled one on his shoulder, then held the other out as his mam had showed him. A spark flared to life in Nic's eyes. She was clearly remembering the scene in the movie where Johnny taught Baby how to hold her frame as they danced. This was one of Con's perks for being forced to watch that movie a thousand times with Farran.

“Ready?”

Nic let out a choked laugh.

“I'll take that as a yes.” He stepped out, and surprisingly, she followed suit.

As the song faded and moved on to the next, they transitioned with the change in tempo. Nic slipped closer and closer until she was pressed against him. She might not have liked or wanted to dance, but she was capable of doing it.

“Seems you know what you're doing,” he whispered in her ear.

“I never said I didn't know how to dance. My mother made me take dance lessons so that when I rode horses I would have better balance.”

“A shame to waste all that talent.” He lipped her earlobe.

Her breath came out in a shudder. With her full length touching every inch of his front, Con couldn't douse the desire coursing through him. He placed her other hand around his neck and let his hands slide down her curves.

Nic's eyes shuttered as she seemed to take pleasure in his touch. Her head tilted to the side, exposing the length of her neck and her fluttering pulse. Con lowered his lips close to her collarbone, brushing them against the skin, savoring the satiny feel. She trembled in his arms and leaned into him, pressing his lips against the tender part of her throat. Breathing in her cinnamon and spice scent that was so like her personality, he wrapped his arms around her back and crushed her to him.

Clinging to him, Nic laid her head in the juncture of his neck and shoulder and swayed in rhythm with the music. He rested his cheek against her forehead and swayed with her. They stayed that way until the song faded and the jukebox switched to a mournful love song. He forgot about those songs—he should have set up the playlist to skip them.

“Why did you tell me about your dad and brother?” she asked.

When he didn't answer right off, she lifted her head to look at him. Her features weren't closed off or suspicious—if anything, she appeared curious. A first for him. She didn't seem like the type to be curious; it was as if that childlike wonderment had been stripped from her from the moment she was born. Judging by the snippets he gathered between the Rivers sisters, it was a trait their da' had drilled out of them. Which was odd considering their choice of careers.

Shrugging, he stopped dancing. “To be honest, I have no idea. It felt like the right thing to say at the moment.”

They stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, staring.

A loud thud from above startled them. Nic backpedaled out of Con's reach right into a table, where she bumped a chair, and it slid off. Reacting quickly, she grabbed a leg and kept the chair from crashing to the floor. Con moved to help, but she waved him off.

“Don't.” She replaced the chair, then rubbed her arms as if to ward off a sudden chill. “Can you just take me home?”