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Authors: Catherine Anderson

BOOK: Bright Eyes
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“Ah, honey,” Pete said. “We’re just going on. We don’t mean anything.”

“Well, I’ve had it up to my eyebrows,” Natalie cried. “My kids lost their father today, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Light from the kitchen bathed Pete’s and Naomi’s faces. Both of them looked ashamed. Natalie didn’t realize that Rosie had joined her in the doorway until the child piped in with, “Grammy never did the backseat tango with anybody, Poppy. You should just say you’re sorry, then kiss her and make up. Gramps says the Westfield pride is going to be the death of you. I don’t want you to die.”

 

Natalie’s parents called a temporary truce for the remainder of the evening, but no apologies were extended by either of them. Pop went off to bed. Gramps adjourned to his living room recliner to snore while he supposedly watched CNN. Naomi remained in the kitchen, pretending, for Rosie’s sake, that the quarrel with Pete had never occurred.

After getting her daughter to bed an hour later, Natalie felt as if her spine had turned to Jell-O. She sat slumped on a kitchen chair, so exhausted that just the thought of climbing the stairs again nearly overwhelmed her. “Where are you going to sleep tonight, Mom?” she asked sleepily.

Naomi glanced at the ceiling. “With my favorite granddaughter. She’s so small, the twin-sized bed will do for both of us.” She reached over to smooth Natalie’s hair from her brow. “Ah, sweetie, I’m sorry you’ve had such a bad day. You look as if you’ve been flattened by a train. Leave it to me and your father to make matters worse by getting into a fight. I don’t know what comes over me around that man.”

Valerie rocked back on her chair. “You’re still crazy about him. That’s the problem. When you’re around him, your brain takes a hike.”

Naomi puffed up like a little toad on a lily pad. “I am not crazy about him.”

“Give it up.” Valerie took a sip of wine. “Nattie and I both know you’re lying, that you never stopped loving him. We just didn’t know why you left him until tonight.”

“Charlie has a big mouth.”

Natalie yawned and patted her lips. “It’s not as if we’re children, Mom. What’s the big deal? You can’t talk to us honestly about our own father?”

Naomi glanced uneasily over her shoulder. “He might hear me.”

“He went to bed,” Valerie replied. “And I think we deserve an explanation. Our family got destroyed. You and Pop used to be so—well, perfect together, and all of a sudden, you left him. I didn’t get it then, and I don’t get it now. How could you throw away all those years of marriage over a silly misunderstanding?”

Naomi’s cheeks went pink with indignation. “He said horrible things—called me filthy names. I’d never been with anyone else, never even entertained the notion. There’s only been one man for me in my entire life.”

“Jeez, that sucks.”

“Valerie Lynn!” Naomi looked at Natalie. “Where did she come from?”

Valerie peeled her hair back from her forehead. “Recognize this mug, Mom? I’m you all over again.”

“I was referring to that smart mouth of yours.”

“Like you don’t have one?” Valerie darted another look at Natalie. “You heard her ripping on Pop tonight. Does she, or does she not, have a smart mouth?”

Natalie stifled another yawn. “ ’Fraid so, Mom. No offense intended, but you aren’t exactly reticent.”

Naomi played with the sugar shaker. After licking granules from her dampened fingertip, she flashed the dimple in her cheek and fluttered her long eyelashes. “Well, I swan, I just don’t know what y’all are talkin’ about.”

“Buh-ruther,” Valerie said with a groan. “It’s a lost cause, Nattie. Let them be miserable for the rest of their lives.” She took another swig of wine. “It’s your funeral, Mom. So what if he was a jerk? He was a good, faithful, loving husband for, what, twenty-two years? I can’t believe you left him because he had a brain fart. Didn’t he have one screwup coming to him?”

Naomi’s eyes went shiny with tears. “A screwup, yes. He had a dozen coming, as far as that goes. But he has yet to say he’s sorry for all the things he said to me. And, excuse me, little Miss Know It All, after twenty-two years of being a loyal and faithful wife, I didn’t deserve that from him!”

Naomi shot to her feet. Valerie rocked forward so suddenly that the chair legs struck the linoleum with a loud
whop
. From the downstairs master bedroom, Pop yelled, “Quiet it down out there! Damn fool women, getting drunk and raisin’ sand. Go to bed, why don’t you?”

“Mom, I’m sorry,” Valerie tried.

Naomi waved her hand as though erasing a chalkboard. “Take his side. See if I care. I will
never
forgive him for the things he said until he gets down on his knees and
begs
me. And even then I’ll have to think about it!”

Chapter Thirteen

N
atalie thought she would fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, but instead she followed Chad’s example and stared at the ceiling, her mind racing with concerns about the supper club, her chest aching with sadness for her son. Given her mom and dad’s behavior, how could she fault Chad for being terrified at the thought of being left parentless? In her heart of hearts, Natalie knew her folks would always be there for her kids, no matter what. But it might be a rough road to adulthood for Chad and Rosie, with Pete and Naomi acting like such idiots.

What if she did end up in jail? Natalie wondered. She wasn’t really afraid for herself. She’d survive, no matter what. But her children needed her. How could she possibly go to sleep while their future lay in the hands of Detective Monroe and his gut instincts?

A thumping sound brought Natalie upright in bed. Her first thought was that one of the kids had rolled off the mattress onto the floor, and she expected to hear a muffled wail. But then she heard another whisper of noise that jerked her gaze to the window. She saw the hulking black silhouette of a man coming through the opening. For an awful instant, she thought it was a burglar. Then she remembered the handsome second-story man next door, and her heart lifted with gladness.

“Zeke?” she said softly.

A raspy laugh, so faint she could scarcely hear it, drifted to her. “Who else are you expecting, the mailman?”

Natalie was so pleased to see him that she just opened her arms. He tiptoed across the room in his bare feet, put one denim-clad knee on her mattress, and caught her close to his wide chest. His arms locked around her, muscle and tendon tightening to a relentless hardness that made her feel indescribably safe. One of his big, work-roughened hands splayed over her back, the tip of his thumb nudging her shoulder blade, his pinky extending well below her bottom rib. When he shifted, he drew her along with him, seeming to expend no effort to lift her.

She pressed her face against his neck, loving the smell of him, a masculine blend of denim, leather, woodsy cologne, and another underlying scent that was exclusively masculine, a light muskiness that made her want to melt and be absorbed by him.

“Oh, Zeke, I didn’t expect you to actually come.”

His silken lips traced the shape of her ear. “Of course I came. Nothing could have kept me away.”

Coming from someone else, that avowal might have been meaningless, but Natalie sensed that Zeke meant it from the bottom of his heart. She’d needed him, so he had come. It was a simple thing—yet so beautiful it brought tears to her eyes. Robert had never been there for her, and over the years she’d come to believe that no man ever would be. Now, suddenly and inexplicably, she had Zeke.

“This has been the longest night on record,” he whispered.

“I can’t
believe
you climbed up the drainpipe.”

His warm mouth did incredible things to the sensitive hollow beneath her ear. “Drainpipe, hell. It’d never hold my weight.”

“How’d you get up here, then?”

“My secret.”

He fell back against the pillows with her clasped in his arms. A big hand settled over her head, and he applied pressure to nestle her cheek on the hollow of his shoulder. Then he tugged up the blankets to cover her.

“I love you. All evening long, I’ve been trying to remember if I thought to tell you that today.”

“Say it again,” she whispered.

He brushed his lips over her hair. “I love you, Nattie girl. I love you so much my bones ache.”

He felt so wonderful, so big and solid and
durable
. Natalie trailed her fingers over his hair, testing its thickness, loving the slightly coarse texture of the strands. At his nape, springy tufts tickled her fingertips. She ran her thumb down his neck, tracing the cords of muscle that bracketed his throat. Warm to the touch, his skin reminded her of silk when she ran her hand against the grain.

She sighed and closed her eyes, content to just lie there and let him hold her.

“How are you bearing up?” he finally asked.

“Fair, I guess. Just feeling stressed out and worried.”

“Worried about what?”

“How long have you got?”

She felt his mouth curve into a smile. “Forever.”

She liked the sound of that.
Forever
. It helped immensely, knowing that she’d never face life alone again. “I’m worried about the club, for starters. On the surface, it seems peripheral, I know. But it is paying my bills. Business will fall off if I’m not there, but I can’t see my way clear to leave the kids tomorrow night.”

He toyed with a curl at her temple. “Maybe we should put the downtime to good use.”

“How?”

“Close the doors for a few nights while I rip that damned wall out. I can get my brothers to help me. Get some advertising started. Get a karaoke machine brought in. When you can go back, the place will have had a face-lift, and your time spent at home won’t be wasted. You’ll have to close the doors during renovations, anyway.”

“You’d do that?”

“Give me the go-ahead, and it’s as good as done.”

“But the money.”

“Don’t go there. We’ll discuss the financial aspects later. I’ll stop by in the morning for your keys.”

It was amazingly easy to snuggle deeper into his arms and leave it at that. He stroked her hair, his touch soothing the knots of tension from her muscles and making her feel deliciously languorous.

“How’d it go with the kids tonight?”

“Awful. Chad is having a terrible time. And my parents acted like total idiots.”

“How’s that?”

Natalie related the events that had occurred in the kitchen. “It’s so
stupid
. How can two people who love each other so much throw it all away over a misunderstanding? No wonder Chad is feeling so insecure.”

“Insecure?” he echoed.

Natalie told him about the conversation with her son. “I assured him that he and Rosie will never be left alone, no matter what may happen to me, but I can see why he worries. My parents aren’t exactly the epitome of love’s unshakable devotion.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Zeke whispered.

“About what?”

“About never being alone. I’m going to marry his mother. That isn’t a worry.”

Natalie stiffened. As deeply as she yearned to spend the rest of her life with this man, she wasn’t sure now was a good time to broach the subject to Chad. “Oh, Zeke, he just lost his father. Maybe we should keep our relationship under our hats for a while.”

“Trust me,” he said huskily. “I won’t upset him. Don’t worry about that. Okay?”

If any other man had told her that, Natalie might have argued. But Zeke had a wonderful way with kids. He seemed to understand Chad in a way even she couldn’t. If anyone could talk with her son about the future without upsetting him, it had to be this man.

Natalie lifted her head. “Excuse me, sir, but I don’t recall your asking me to marry you.”

“Can’t.”

That wasn’t the answer she expected. “What?”

“Can’t ask. Not yet. I have to ask your son for your hand first.”

“What?”

“He takes precedence over your father,” Zeke said matter-of-factly. “I have to ask him for your hand. If he says yes, we’re home free.”

“That’s archaic. Men don’t ask for a woman’s hand anymore.”

“This man does.”

“But what if Chad says no?”

“Then we’re sunk.”

“What?”

He chuckled and kissed her temple. “He won’t say no. And it’s important for him to feel he’s got a vote. Just trust me, all right?”

She trusted him. She’d never thought to trust anyone so completely again. She sought his mouth with hers. They shared another soft, incredibly gentle kiss that worked on her nerves like a balm. She hitched herself higher. As exhausted as she was, she knew he hadn’t scaled the roof of a two-story house to take a snooze in her bed.

When she kissed him again, more deeply this time, he made a hard fist in her hair and said, “Not tonight, sweetheart. I have a headache.”

Natalie almost strangled on hysterical laughter and weakly punched his shoulder. His chest jerked on a silent chuckle.

“Sleep,” he rumbled near her ear. “You need to rest. I just want to be with you.”

Natalie couldn’t just blink out with six feet plus of sexy cowboy stretched out atop her coverlet. After three years without lovemaking, it would be a shameful waste. “I want you,” she whispered.

“No,” he replied. “That isn’t why I came.”

She tightened her arms around his neck and kissed him again. When she drew up for air, she said, “Changed your mind yet?”

“No. You’ve been through one hell of a day. No expectations. I just want to be with you.” In the moonlight, she saw his eyes warm with a smile that didn’t touch his mouth. He lightly ran his fingers over her cheek. “Here’s some news to distract you. I looked your song over, and I absolutely love it.” He softly hummed part of the tune and whispered a few of the words. “The lyrics are fabulous.”

Natalie leaned her head back to stare at him in surprised wonder. “You can read musical notes?”

“What? Do you think you’re the only musician on earth? I can’t write lyrics or create my own tunes, but I do play a fiddle. I’m damned good, too, if I do say so myself. I played all the music at my sister, Bethany’s, wedding.”

“How fun. Someday we’ll have to jam together.”

“It’s a date,” he promised. “Although you may be too busy and have to stand me up. It truly is a fabulous song, Nattie. Snappy and catchy. I know it’ll sell if I can find an agent to shop it around.”

“How will you find an agent?”

“The same way writers and actors do. Agents are listed in publications. If our local library is a dead end, I’ll get on the Internet and find you one.”

“The trick will be in finding one who’ll bother with my work.”

He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. “Piece of cake. Any agent who won’t jump at the chance doesn’t know pure gold when he sees it.”

“Oh, Zeke.”

Knowing that he believed in her enough to try to find her an agent touched Natalie deeply, and in her opinion, it was too romantic for words, making her want to make love with him even more. When she tried to convey that to him with a searching kiss, he broke the contact.

“Behave yourself. I’m just here to hold you, remember?”

As much as Natalie appreciated the thought, she wanted more, needed more. She’d been having difficulty falling asleep. He could cure that problem. She trailed the tip of her tongue over his bottom lip and pressed her pelvis against the bulge of hardness behind his fly. “Please. I’m so uptight. You could help me relax.”

His breath hitched in his chest when she nipped his chin and then licked the sting away. “You sure? I honestly didn’t come over expecting—”

“Shush.” Natalie tasted his mouth again, wanting him as she’d never wanted anyone. “Please?”

Zeke could only withstand so much persuasion. He consoled himself with the thought that he’d do more than help her to relax. He’d love her until she went limp and couldn’t connect one thought to another. He’d just settled in to savor the taste of her mouth when she pressed a hand to his shoulder. He drew back to give her a questioning look.

“Are you carrying protection?”

“What do I look like, an idiot?”

She smiled, her face as sweet as an angel’s in the moonlight. “I thought you only came to hold me.”

Zeke just grinned and kissed her again.

 

After making love to Natalie until she lay in a sprawl, Zeke tugged his britches back on and slipped into bed with her. Daylight wouldn’t come for a few hours. He meant to spend every minute until dawn holding her in his arms. He’d sneak back home before the kids awakened, he promised himself.

That was his last conscious thought. The next thing he knew, a light tap on the door brought him awake to discover that it had turned broad daylight. “Mommy?”

Zeke vaulted off the bed, grabbing his shirt as he went. Before he could dash to the window, the bedroom door pushed open. He dove for the floor, catching his upper body with the flat of his hands. Scooting in close to the bed, he turned onto his back.

“Mommy?” Rosie whimpered. “I had a bad dream.”

Zeke could almost feel Natalie’s confusion. She’d surely felt the bed shake when he jumped out. He heard her sit up and straighten the covers. He was damned glad now that he hadn’t pulled her nightshirt off. At least she was dressed.

“Oh, sweetie.” A patting sound on the mattress drifted down to Zeke, and he imagined Natalie indicating the place beside her. “Come here. We’ll cuddle.”

Zeke winced. Natalie clearly thought he’d left.
Shit
. How did he get into messes like this? He should have just let Rosie see him and come up with a plausible reason for being there. Too late now. If the kid discovered him, what the hell was he going to say, that he’d come over to collect dust bunnies from under Natalie’s bed?

While Natalie and Rosie snuggled down together under the blankets, Zeke struggled to slip his shirt on, no easy feat while lying full length on the floor. But he was motivated. Under no circumstances did he want that precious little girl to find him half-dressed in her mother’s bedroom.

“What’s that?” Rosie whispered.

Zeke froze with one arm stuck partway down a sleeve.

“What’s what?” Natalie asked.

“I heard a noise.”

The mattress creaked, and the next instant, Rosie’s darling little face appeared just inches above Zeke’s nose. Her eyes went wide with surprise. “Hello. How come you’re on Mommy’s floor?”

Zeke told the first lie that popped into his head. “I’ve been trying to catch a mouse.”

Rosie sprang to her knees and leaned farther over the edge of the mattress. “A mouse?”

“A mouse,” Zeke confirmed. “Your mom called me for help. It ran under her bed, and she didn’t know what to do.”

Rosie got a speculative gleam in her big brown eyes. Not for the first time, Zeke decided the child was too smart for her own good—or his, for that matter.

“There’s no phone in here,” Rosie pointed out.

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