Second Chances (Nugget Romance 3) (12 page)

“You look good too.” They just stood there together, gawking at each other. Well, maybe it was just Harlee gawking. But God, was he delicious.

“I’m sorry your parents couldn’t make it,” he said. “And thanks for letting me bring Max.”

“Of course. I love Max. I hope you brought your appetite.” She moved into the kitchen, where she rummaged through a cupboard for a vase for the flowers and checked the oven. The turkey was just about done. She’d let it rest while making the gravy.

“What made you decide on this?” She pointed to his hair and beard.

He shrugged. “I wanted something lower maintenance.”

“Darla did a great job.” Harlee kept stealing peeks at him. “She’s having a difficult time making a go of the barbershop. Besides you, Griffin, and a few kids, she hasn’t had any clients to speak of. Hopefully you’ll be a walking advertisement for her.”

“I did notice the place was empty,” Colin said, taking the oven mitts away from her and hefting the bird onto the counter. “I thought the shop would be buzzing the day before Thanksgiving.”

“Colin, you think it has anything to do with . . . How do I say this?”

“The blue hair, the feathers, the dagger nails.” He smirked.

“Yeah. That.”

“No.” Colin shook his head. “I think it has everything to do with Nugget’s reluctance to accept change. When Maddy and Nate rehabbed the Lumber Baron, the town fought them tooth and nail. Now the townspeople have come to terms with the inn. I think most people really like it. The same will eventually happen with Darla. But in the meantime, Nugget is hanging on to Owen.”

“It would be great if you could talk her up.” Harlee whisked together a roux for the gravy and slowly added turkey drippings to the pan.

“I’m not much of a talker-upper. But I’ll do what I can.”

Once the gravy was done, Harlee checked the Brussels sprouts roasting in the oven. The potatoes had been kept warm on the stovetop. All she had to do was carve the turkey and they could sit down to eat.

This would be the smallest Thanksgiving in Harlee’s history. Usually her whole family gathered, and often the Robertses invited friends. The kitchen always bustled with people and the football game played in the background, which reminded Harlee to turn on her iPod. She knew Colin liked music and had made a playlist.

“What do you want me to do?” Colin asked.

She took another look at his chiseled face and thought,
Me
. Fat chance of that happening, given his past standoffish behavior. “You want to pour us drinks?”

“Sure.” He opened the bottle of wine and let it breathe and poured himself some of the cider.

She put serving bowls and platters on the dining table and told Colin to dig in. No sense standing on ceremony with just the two of them. She put a bowl out for Max with dog food and turkey drippings and she could hear the dog scarfing in the mudroom. Before Colin sat down, he stoked the fire.

“This looks great, Harlee.”

“A lot of food for just the two of us.” She surveyed the spread. “But I’ll send you home with plenty of leftovers. Turkey sandwiches for the next week.”

As he reached for the bread, his sleeve inched up and Harlee saw the quincunx tattoo again. He saw her looking at it and said, “Don’t ask about it, Harlee.”

She held up her hands in surrender. “Okay. I was just curious, because it’s so different.”

His face softened. “Is there anything you’re not curious about?”

When it came to him, she was curious about everything. “How come you’re single?”

He let out a breath. “Because I like being alone.” Harlee noted the emphasis on “alone.”

“Why are you single?” His gaze heated as his eyes moved over her sweater dress.

“San Francisco is a tough town for single women,” she said. “All the really good men are gay. The others are either tech nerds or unctuous hipsters. And the one thing I’ve learned from DataDate is you can’t trust any of them.”

She served herself up more cranberry sauce. In her family she was the only one who ate it. “So you’ve never been married or in a long-term relationship?”

“Nope,” he said, proceeding to inhale everything on his plate and going for seconds.

“What about . . . the uh . . . physical part?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Sex? Is that what you’re asking me about? I have sex, Harlee.”

Just not with her. “I’m sorry, it’s not my business.”

His mouth quirked. “Since when has that stopped you, Lois Lane? What about the reporter guys at your work?” She got the impression he didn’t really want to know but was trying to put her on the spot, the way she had him.

“A few,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong; I dated.”

For a minute she saw something flicker in his expression. Maybe sadness, but it was so fleeting she couldn’t make it out. “Oh, I almost forgot. My mom sold all three of the pieces you sent her. She wants more, Colin, especially for Christmas. She’s thinking about selling one of the log beds. That way she can do it up with handmade quilts and pillows.”

“I could do that,” he said. “Maybe I should deliver it, save her on shipping. I could also set it up for her.”

“Ooh, if you do that I’d like to go with you. We could stay at my folks’ house.” She got the feeling he hadn’t liked that idea. The man was so damn prickly.

When they finished dinner, Harlee insisted that they leave the dishes and relax in front of the fire with a slice of pie. They were halfway into it when he got a call on his cell phone. Harlee figured it must be his sister to wish him a happy Thanksgiving. But she could hear a man’s voice on the other end and it didn’t sound good.

When he got off the phone he said, “I’ve got to go, Harlee.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Sophie and Mariah took some of their dinner guests over to the new house to show them the progress. It turns out the roof is leaking. Snow’s getting inside. I’ve gotta see what I can do to cover it until Monday. I’ll come back afterward to help you clean up.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Harlee waved her hand dismissively. “Darla is planning to come over. She’ll help. I’ll keep Max for you.”

“I hate to leave this way. That was the best meal I’ve ever had. I mean it, Harlee.”

“I’m glad you liked it. I’ll have the leftovers packed up for you when you pick up Max.” She ran to get his jacket and watched as he put it on. “Thanks for the flowers, the wine, and cider.”

“You’re welcome.” He took off out the door, but came back a few minutes later. She’d already begun doing dishes but could hear him in the foyer.

“Harlee,” he called. “Come here.”

She returned, thinking that maybe he couldn’t start his truck. That’s when he pulled her hard against him and kissed her. A heart-melting kiss, raw and sensual, that went on forever and ever. She could feel his need pressing against her and his low growl of pleasure made her cradle his neck to drive him deeper. His tongue, tangling with hers, made her hot as molten lava. If not for the strong arms that held her, Harlee would’ve wound up on the floor, in a puddle. Colin pulled her even closer and she could feel his heart pounding. In that single, solitary moment, Harlee had never felt more desired—or more wonderful.

Then, just like that, he stopped kissing her, let her go, and left.

O
n Monday Sophie came into the barbershop. Even eight months’ pregnant, Darla thought she looked stunning. Whoever did her hair was a true artist.

“Hi, Soph. What can I do for you?” she asked, figuring that she was passing out some Neighborhood Watch pamphlets. Sophie and Maddy had organized the merchants on the square ever since last winter when some dope dealer terrorized the town.

“Maddy said you were selling hair-care products.” Sophie turned to the large set of display shelves and blinked. “And boy, are you ever. This is good stuff, Darla.”

“Thanks.” Word was finally spreading. “What are you looking for?” Darla came off the barber chair where she’d been clipping in an
I Dream of Jeannie
ponytail. She’d dyed it pink to match her latest hair color.

“Shampoo and conditioner. But nothing with parabens.” Her hand went unconsciously to her belly and she looked at Darla skeptically, like she probably didn’t know what parabens were.

Darla felt Sophie’s hair. “Very healthy. But you’re prone toward oily, aren’t you?”

“You’ve got it.”

Darla rummaged through the shelves until she came up with two red bottles. “These will regulate your extra sebum without damaging your hair. There are no preservatives in it, so you don’t have to worry about hurting your baby’s development.”

“This is wonderful,” Sophie said, obviously impressed. “It’ll save me a trip to Reno. And Darla, I saw Colin today. What a fantastic job you did. The man has been talking you up like you’re the Second Coming.”

“He has?” It didn’t seem like Colin’s style, since the man barely spoke. Maybe her career was looking up after all.

Sophie paid for the shampoo and left. Woo-hoo! Her first sale. She was dancing around the shop when Griffin came in.

“What up, Pink?”

“I just made a sale. Sixty bucks in shampoo and conditioner. And my dad thought the products would be a big flop.”

Griff smiled. “Your dad is driving me batshit. He and the mob won’t let the bait thing go.”

“What bait thing?”

“They want me to sell fish bait at the gas station. They think it’s the best idea since the Snuggie.”

She laughed. “Just humor them. Tell them there’s a world shortage on night crawlers. What did you do for Thanksgiving?”

“I went to McCreedy Ranch. Emily killed it with her deep-fried turkey. There were a ton of people over there, including your boyfriend, Wyatt.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. Did Lina go?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, sensing trouble in
Romper Room
paradise. Darla didn’t think the girl was old enough to vote.

“Uh, she’s dissatisfied with our arrangement.” he said.

“And what’s that?”

“Friends.”

“With privileges?” Darla arched a brow.

“No. She’s too young. I want her to get the full college experience, not have a boyfriend waiting in the wings. But I don’t like making her unhappy. She’s important to me.”

Ah, Griffin was one of the good ones. “What are you planning to do?”

“Stand firm. Luckily, her brother will kill both of us if we start something. I hear he’s a good shot.”

Everyone knew the police chief was a good shot. Last winter, Chief Shepard killed that meth dealer. Darla had lived in Sacramento then, but even she had heard the details. It had been the biggest news in Nugget since the eighteen hundreds, when the Donner Party got stranded in the Sierra and turned to cannibalism to keep from starving to death.

Griff changed the subject. “What did you do for Thanksgiving?”

“We had dinner with Ethel and Stu, Dink, and Grace and Earl from the Nugget feed store.”

“So pretty much the entire Nugget Mafia?”

“Yep,” Darla said, chuckling. “Afterward I went over to Harlee’s. Colin left before I got there because of an emergency at Sophie and Mariah’s construction site.”

“Is everything all right?”

“I think so. Sophie was just here and didn’t say anything.”

Griffin straddled one of the chairs in the waiting room. “Let’s do another bowling night. That last one was fun. This time we should invite Wyatt. What’s the deal with you guys, anyway?”

Darla had decided she wasn’t going to talk about him anymore. After unloading on Colin the other day, she’d felt pretty bad. Her and Wyatt’s business should stay private. “We had a thing once. It’s ancient history now.”

“So you don’t mind if I invite him?”

She did, but what could she say? “No.”

“I was thinking that we should include Colin too, since he’s been hanging out with Harlee a lot. But then we’ll need more women to even up our numbers.”

Darla didn’t know that many women their age. When she used to come to stay with her dad it had always just been Wyatt. “I’ll see what I can do. What about Lina?”

“She’s not coming back until Christmas,” he said. “Hey, I sold another Sierra Heights house. Nate Breyer bought one of the midsize ones. Right on the golf course. I guess with Sophie due, he wants to have a place here.” Everyone knew that Nate was the biological father of Sophie and Mariah’s baby.

“That’s great.” And here she was throwing a ticker-tape parade for a bottle of shampoo and conditioner.

Griffin checked his watch. “I’ve gotta bounce. A guy’s delivering my car-wash equipment. Talk to Harlee about our bowling night. Pick a good date.”

“I will,” she said, and walked out with him for a breath of fresh air. It had stopped snowing and the sun had peeked out from behind the clouds.

Across the square, someone was blowing leaves off the Lumber Baron’s expansive porch. A group of teenagers lined up in front of the takeout window at the Bun Boy. And Darla almost threw up in her mouth when she saw Wyatt Lambert come walking out of the Ponderosa with his arms draped around a woman’s shoulders.

 

Colin drove back to Nugget from his second acupuncture appointment not feeling any less phobic than he had the day before. Of course he wasn’t in a large crowd or even in a tight spot. So to be fair, who really knew? But wouldn’t he at least notice the cells in his body coming alive with Qi, or whatever crap was supposed to happen to him after being stuck with needles?

Nope. All he had was a scratchy throat and throbbing headache. Colin hoped like hell he wasn’t getting a cold. He’d been coughing and achy the last couple of days. But he didn’t have time to get sick. Not with furniture to make for the Christmas rush and construction projects to finish.

At the last minute, Harlee hadn’t been able to come with him to the appointment. One of her clients needed soothing after finding out that the “divorce lawyer” she’d been dating for the last six months had actually been disbarred two years earlier for having sex with his clients—men and women.

It was probably for the best that she hadn’t been able to accompany Colin. Ever since the kiss, he’d been on shaky ground where she was concerned. Too much temptation. But he couldn’t seem to give her up either. He was a masochistic bastard.

Before reaching Nugget, he pulled off on McCreedy Road. Emily Mathews had called earlier and wanted him to give her a bid on a kitchen. As far as work, this town had been good to him. He never went long without a job and his furniture had begun to take off. He wasn’t what you would call wealthy, but he had enough to live comfortably. At least by his standards.

One of the reasons he liked Nugget so much was the people here were self-sufficient and humble. Lots of mom-and-pop businesses, artisans, farmers, and ranchers. Take Clay McCreedy. The man owned a fortune in land and cattle, yet he wore faded old Levi’s, dusty boots, and the same brand work shirts as Colin.

As he pulled into the driveway, the two McCreedy boys waved to him. Colin didn’t know them well. He’d heard through the Nugget grapevine that the older one had had some behavior issues, but was currently riding the straight and narrow. Colin sincerely hoped the kid’s problems were behind him. Bad things happened when they got out of hand. He knew that from experience.

Clay greeted him at the door. “Thanks for coming over, Colin. I know you’re busy with Sophie and Mariah’s place, especially while the weather holds.” He popped his head outside and gazed up at the clear sky. “Lord knows how long it’ll last.”

“You looking at a new kitchen, huh?”

“Emily is looking at a new kitchen. I just write the checks.”

“Oh, be quiet, you.” Emily came up alongside them and blinked up at Colin. “You look fantastic. Maddy told me Darla cut your hair.”

“Yeah. It was getting out of control.”

Clay grabbed his Stetson off a hook. “You two get started without me. I’ve got a few things to do in the barn.”

When he left, Emily said, “He grew up in this house and is a little nostalgic about the kitchen. So I want to keep the general feel of it. But for my work it’s a bit antiquated. You have a good eye, Colin. Hopefully, you’ll know how to make it modern and old at the same time.”

“What about the barn? Why don’t you use that for working on your cookbooks?” Emily had moved here last summer and had rented a barn that Clay’s late wife had converted into a beautiful apartment.

“For the most part it’ll be my office, but I’m constantly testing recipes and I want to be here for the boys when they get home from school. I love what you did with the Lumber Baron kitchen and have actually used it a few times for photo shoots. Speaking of”—she broke off, disappeared for a few seconds, and returned with a book under her arm—“it’s out.”

She showed him the cover of Della James’s new cookbook, quickly flipping to two facing pages showcasing pies and featuring his farm table and rocking chair. The photographs credited Colin as the craftsman. Emily turned to the back of the book to a resources page and showed him where Colin Burke Furniture and his website were listed.
Pretty cool
, he thought as he leafed through the book.

“That’s yours to keep,” Emily said. “Della signed it for you.”

“No kidding.” He was quite taken aback, knowing full well that Emily was behind the kind gesture. “Thank you.”

“I hope it brings you business. You do such phenomenal work.”

He brushed off the praise with a sheepish smile. “Thanks. Let’s take a look at your kitchen.”

Two hours later, Colin headed for home, his head throbbing worse than ever and his chest burning like a chemical fire. He still had to pick out a few pieces of furniture for Harlee’s mother and hadn’t decided whether to ship them or drive them himself. The trip was four hours each way, which would burn a day. And it sounded like Emily wanted the kitchen work done as quickly as possible, which meant Colin would have to fit it in between Sophie and Mariah’s job. He needed to be flexible if he wanted to continue getting work.

When he pulled into his driveway, Harlee’s Pathfinder was there. She stood off to the side, playing fetch with Max. Colin sat in his truck, watching her for a while. She didn’t seem to mind that the ball Max returned was covered in slobber. Harlee just scooped it up while the dog stared up at her in expectation with those multicolored eyes, and pitched as far as she could. Colin thought she threw like a girl.

Eventually, she came up to his driver’s door. “How was acupuncture?”

He tried to appear enthusiastic because she wanted it to work so badly. “Good, I think.”

“Is it too soon to go somewhere? Maybe try a restaurant to see if it’s working?”

“Yeah, too soon,” he said, unable to keep his eyes from moving over her. Today she wore painted-on jeans and a short, fitted jacket that hugged her curves. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with little wisps falling around her face. A face that could launch a thousand ships, he thought, because she was that beautiful.

He wanted to kiss her again, but instead shoved Della James’s cookbook into her hands. “Check it out.”

She let out a little squeal of delight. “This is the one you’re in, right?”

“Not me,” he corrected. “My furniture.”

Flipping through the pages, she found the spread with Colin’s table and chair. “Wow! This is huge. I’m calling my mom.”

She followed him into the house with her phone pressed to her ear. Colin went into the kitchen and rummaged through a lower cabinet, looking for a bag of dog food, while Harlee talked to her mother. She spoke in a stream of exuberant non sequiturs and Colin found it difficult to track the conversation. Something about how Harlee’s mother should buy Della’s book and display the furniture pages in her shop.

“My mom wants to know when we’re coming down.”

He stopped what he was doing and stood up, the motion making him dizzy. God, he felt like hell. “I got another job today, remodeling a kitchen,” he said. “It looks like I’ll have to ship the furniture.”

“That’s great, Colin.” She got back on the phone. “Mom, did you hear that? Okay, I’ll call you later.”

She reached down, grabbed the dog food, and put it up on the counter. “Whose kitchen?”

“Emily and Clay’s,” he said, and crossed to the other side of the room, needing air. “I’ve got to check my email.”

“Okay.” She got Max’s bowl and replenished his food. “You want me to heat up leftovers?”

He should’ve told her to go home, that he needed to go to bed, but he liked having her around so much that he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Sure.”

“Are you all right? You seem a little weird,” she called to him in the office.

He rested his forehead against the window, letting the coolness from the glass revive his damp skin. “I’m good,” he called back, but he wasn’t. He felt weak, clammy, and like an eighteen-wheeler was speeding through his head. “Probably just a little tired.”

She came into the office holding a dishtowel. “Any new orders?”

“Let’s see,” he said, and started to walk to his desk so he could turn on the computer. But he felt like his feet were nailed to the floor. And where had the strobe lights come from? All he knew is that they were flashing and whirling, making his eyes feel like they were going to burst.