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As Vivian scanned his tall, lean body, she could see that he’d been working hard, probably in the fields, definitely with the horses—or maybe just one in particular. As bad as she should feel about asking him to take the time away to escort her to the market, she needed the support too much not to.
“Nothing, but I thought it would be nice to have some company. Plus, it’s lunchtime. My treat?” she added, hoping to spice up the offer enough that he wouldn’t say no.
Suspicion colored his face as he studied her. “Is this about your husband?”
“Ex,” she corrected him. Then she sighed. “He’s been lurking around town, and I don’t love the idea of running into him.”
Nash smirked. “So you want to use me as a bodyguard?”
Vivian pursed her lips, playing at innocence. “In a manner of speaking.”
Nash watched her, his expression typically stoic and exceptionally hard to read. Finally, he said, “Fine, but I’m taking you up on lunch.”
“Deal,” she said readily.
“I’m in the mood for steak,” he warned.
“Only the best,” she promised, making a cross with her fingers over her heart.
“All right, you’ve convinced me,” he said teasingly. “Go hop in the truck. I gotta run something by Gretta and then I’ll meet you there.”
Vivian’s knee-jerk reaction was to ask what he needed to talk to her about, but she held back, not wanting to pry. Her nosiness had already gotten her into trouble once. She wasn’t eager to go for a second round.
Thankfully, Nash didn’t make her wait too long in the late-summer heat. Even with the windows down, she felt like a fried turkey.
With a small, friendly smile, Nash turned the car around, and they drove down the long driveway toward town. As the minutes ticked by, Vivian couldn’t help revisiting that conversation in the kitchen not so long ago. She still hadn’t gotten clear answers as to what he’d been discussing that had been bothering him so much, and she wanted to know.
Everything about Nash MacArthur was worth knowing about, and Vivian felt like, since they seemed to be growing closer, she had the right to ask. So she did.
“So…” She trailed off, and Nash raised his eyebrows in questions, waiting for her to continue. “You never did tell me what you and Gretta were talking about.”
“Just now?” he asked, somewhat confused. “I was just asking her what she wanted done with the pull barn. A few boards need replacing, but she seems right to keep it as is until next summer, which I think is a bad idea. Money’s tight, though, considerin’ the price of grain went up again.”
“No, not that,” Vivian stopped him. “I meant the other thing.”
He stared off down the road, and after a moment said, “You mean when you were listenin’ in.”
Vivian felt her cheeks heat. “Yes, that. What didn’t you mean to do? I mean, if it wasn’t about kissing me.”
Again, he didn’t answer immediately, but Vivian didn’t press, sensing he needed time to think over his response. Or maybe he didn’t want to respond at all. Maybe she’d been right—
“Gretta told you about my wife,” he stated plainly, and cast her sidelong glance, waiting until she nodded to continue. “I was talking about that. About what happened that day. And other stuff,” he said vaguely. “Nothin’ concerning you.”
“Can I ask…?”
“I’d rather you not. Gretta told you the gist of it, and I don’t talk about it. At least not with anyone but her.”
That was it, case closed. Nash hadn’t been rude about it, but Vivian knew when she was being shut out, and he’d just slammed the door on the subject and padlocked it closed.
She turned to stare out the window, lost for words. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to open her big mouth after all. Clearly, they hadn’t reached that level of comfort with each other when it came to certain topics.
“Hey,” Nash said, calling back her attention. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“You weren’t,” she assured him.
“Well, if I was, then I’m sorry,” he said anyway.
Appreciating the gesture, Vivian smiled back at him but quickly returned her attention to the scenery outside her window. She just couldn’t seem to stop embarrassing herself in front of him. It felt like she was forever overstepping or sticking her foot in her mouth. Would she ever just get it right?
