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Her chin angled up. “But I don’t have to.”
“No. You can hold it all in until you explode. Which is a great coping mechanism, assuming the people around you can handle the shrapnel.”
“You trying to play therapist?”
“Maybe. Mostly, I’m trying to be a friend.”
Which was, mostly, the truth.
He also wanted to have her naked, in his bed, writhing under him, scratching at his back. As all kinds of hot visions shot through his head, he prayed he still had a good poker face and that she wasn’t a mind reader. Because he was damn sure she’d bolt down the mountain at a dead run if she knew what he was imagining.
He was trying to play his cards right. Considering how she’d shut him down after their first kiss, he’d been careful to give her plenty of space, hoping that she would come around, come to him. Unfortunately, she gave him a wide berth during the day. And every morning he woke up having not been disturbed.
After a week of unrelenting, lusty yearning, he’d cracked. He couldn’t stand staying away any longer. Which was why he’d asked her to go up the mountain with him. A little time alone…another chance to kiss her…
He rearranged his body on the rock, feeling his shorts get tight.
Trouble was, as much as he wanted to take things in a carnal direction, it was more important for them to talk right now. She’d been clearly thrown by the visit to the graveyard and he wished like hell he could help her. He knew there was no way she was going to open up about her parents. So business was a second-best alternative.
“Look, I promise to keep my mouth shut,” he said, trying to get her to talk about her problems. “And you can fire me if I don’t.”
The corner of her lips twitched as she leaned forward and locked her arms around her knees. He wanted to pull her over against him and tuck her head into his shoulder. But given how stiff she was, she didn’t look as if she’d accept anything of the sort, so he stayed where he was, hoping she’d give him a chance to say the right thing. He wanted to tell her she was doing the best she could. That she was giving it her all. That if the place failed, it wasn’t for her lack of trying.
Because he’d do just about anything to take back that idiotic comment he’d made the night he’d first met her.
She cleared her throat. “We’ll survive somehow. We always have. I’m scraping the bottom right now, but that’s nothing unusual for the start of the season.”
“Do you owe a lot on the place?”
“Too much.” She shifted. “The yearly taxes are huge, the upkeep is ongoing, and business has been off. And we’ve got a big debt burden because the house had to go through my father’s estate when he died.”
“It wasn’t left to your grandmother first?”
She shook her head. “Her father still hadn’t forgiven her for marrying someone he considered beneath her so it went to my dad when he was twenty-two. He was the one who decided to turn it into a B B a couple of years later. Back then, business was good. Not enough to make the family wealthy again, but certainly enough to keep us comfortable.”
Frankie looked up at the sky.
“I keep hoping things will improve. And I have thought about selling, but not seriously. Always in the back of my mind I think, if I stop now, I’ll cheat us out of the salvation that’s coming any minute.” She laughed awkwardly and flashed him her eyes. “But that’s optimism for you. A rose-colored torture chamber.”
He admired her grit. “What kind of assets are left?”
“You mean art and jewelry? Not much. Not enough. I sold off a set of sterling flatware and the last of my grandmother’s rings to send my sister to college. Joy finished UVM in three years.” The warm pride in her voice quickly faded. “Although I think that was because she knew money was tight and Grand-Em was having such difficulties.”
“Where did you go to college?”
“Middlebury. I didn’t graduate.” There was no apology in her voice. “I’d had some good plans, but they didn’t work out. Though I don’t know how well I would have done in the real world, anyway.”
“Real world? So what do you think you’re living in here?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Saranac Lake is hardly the big leagues. It’s not New York City.”
“Is that where you wanted to end up?”
There was a long pause. “That’s where I thought I was going to end up.”
“What happened?”
She stood up abruptly. “Let’s go back. I have to get the dining room set up.”
“Why? It’s Tuesday. We’re closed.”
She seemed to stall out. “The plumber. The plumber’s in my office. He’ll need to be paid.”
Nate told himself that pushing her was not the answer. Patience, on the other hand, might just get him where he wanted to go.
Yeah, and where was that exactly?
The idea that he’d made a destination out of her concerned him. Just like that pit in his stomach, which, in spite of the chicken he’d just eaten and the fact that he wasn’t looking at the lake, was still with him.
Nate stared up at her. “I’m glad you talked to me.”
“I don’t know why I did.” She started bouncing from foot to foot as if warming up for the trip down the mountain.
He stood, brushed off his shorts and grabbed the bag. He kept his voice causal. “We all need a friend at one time or another. You can pay me back in kind sometime.”
He started for the trail and was surprised when she didn’t follow. He looked over his shoulder to find her staring at him, a hard light in her eyes.
“I meant what I said, Nate. We aren’t going to get close.”
“So we’ll just have sex. And I won’t ask anymore prying questions.” He smiled, even though getting the stiff-arm from her hurt.
“I’m serious. I don’t want anything from you.”
He narrowed his eyes, thinking about their kiss. “You sure about that?”
“Positive.”
And just what was so damn wrong with him, he wondered grimly.
She brushed a piece of hair out of her face. “I don’t want you as a lover or a friend.”
“Oh, that’s right. Because you’ve got so many of both.”
“Just leave me alone.”
Two long strides had him next to her. He was of a mind to point out that relying on others wasn’t a capital crime, but she stepped back in alarm, as if he might force himself on her. It was like getting slapped. That she thought he was that kind of man.
Nate lifted his arms, holding his hands away from her.
“You want to be left alone? You got it, lady,” he growled. “Just give me a five-minute head start so we don’t have to walk down together.”
He turned and headed for the footpath, not at all surprised when she did nothing to stop him.
Ah, hell. Instead of fighting for her, he should let her go. She wasn’t interested in a casual lay and that was all he could offer her because he didn’t do relationships. As for the friends bit? What a load of horse manure that was. As far as he was concerned, they could be lovers or nothing.
Nate dragged a hand through his hair, not real impressed with the way he was thinking about the situation. Lovers or nothing? God, he sounded like such a guy.
But damn it, if he was honest with himself, her rejection hurt. And he wanted to lash out at something.
So maybe he should go for a run when he got back to the house.
Yeah, like to Kentucky and back.
Several days later, Frankie surveyed the dining room from the mahogany hostess stand at the door. It was Friday at eight o’clock and they had fifteen out of twenty tables filled. The surging volleys of talk cut through the classical music playing from the stereo.Word about Nate had gotten out around town and the locals were coming to sample the new chef’s food. People she hadn’t seen except for when she was doing errands in the square were coming back to eat at White Caps. As she looked at all the filled seats, she had to remind herself not to get excited, not to find the lifeline she was looking for in what might only be a one-time tryout for the patrons, not a trend.
But there were plenty of new things for them to try. Nate had completely reinvigorated the menu. It was all nouvelle cuisine now and the words were in French with English translations he’d written out for her. She’d typed the text up on the computer, bought some heavy, creamy paper usually used for resumes and printed out new inserts for the leather bound menu folios they’d been using for twenty years.
As a couple came through the door, Frankie smiled, unsheathed two menus, and led the way across the room. Generally, Joy played hostess because she was better at it. Looked better, too. But Grand-Em wasn’t doing well tonight so Frankie was picking up the slack as well as busing tables. The two college girls she’d hired as waitresses were working out well, but if business kept up, they might need even more help.
Although this time she’d try and hire a guy. Because watching Rachel and Theresa drool over Nate was wearing thin and the girls had only been around for a week. God, the constant giggling and jiggling was driving Frankie nuts.
Although she was not jealous. Or being possessive. Really.
She was on the way back to the hostess stand when a woman reached out and waxed poetic about the chicken she was eating. As the guest insisted her compliments be sent along to the chef, Frankie smiled, nodded and thought that short of slipping Nate a note, she wasn’t sure how she was going to do that.
Nate had given her just what she’d asked for. He hadn’t looked at her or spoken more than three words to her since he’d left her on the mountain. His inventory reports were on her desk in the morning and he was always busy at the stove whenever she came through the kitchen. When she’d given him his paycheck and tried to thank him for all his hard work, he’d nodded curtly and walked out on her.
Typhoid Mary had gotten more attention from a man.
This was really not what she wanted. They needed to have a good professional relationship and the silent treatment was making work uncomfortable. She also couldn’t really understand the total cold shoulder and wondered if maybe she’d hurt his feelings a little. But that seemed like a really arrogant assumption. Especially considering he had a fan club of nubile twenty-year-olds.
At the end of the night, she went back to her office and added up the business they’d done. Thirty-five meals, plus drinks, plus tips. Over twenty-five hundred dollars. More than they’d brought in over a single night in a long time.
All because of Nate.
She looked up from the receipts. If this continued, she was going to catch up with the mortgage just fine by the end of October. And the timing was great. The meeting with Mike at the bank had been tense, even though he’d assured her that he wasn’t going to foreclose. She figured she’d call him in the morning, share a little good news and take some pressure off of him.
Joy stepped into the doorway, looking worn out. “Grand-Em’s finally asleep.”
Frankie could imagine how her sister had spent the night. Distraction was the only thing that worked when the delusions got really strong and it was hard to come up with games and tricks for hours straight. Grand-Em might be losing her grasp on reality, but her mind was as quick as it always had been.
“How are you holding up?”
“I’m pooped. She’s still obsessed about finding her ring. She keeps insisting it’s in the wall in her old bedroom. We also had more noise than usual downstairs so I think that kept her going, too. We sounded busy.”
“We were.”
“Nate’s really wonderful, isn’t he? We’re so lucky he came by. He’s made such a difference.”
Frankie nodded and glanced down at the evidence.
