Bring Him Home (10 page)

Her throat tightened, as it always did when she thought of father and son together. “When Lewis was little, we’d talk to Steve’s picture every day. I spent ages teaching him to say
dada
, except he said it to Dan instead…so funny. You should have seen Steve’s face.”

Nate looked over his shoulder. “So that’s why Steve taught Lewis to call Dan, Dumdum.”

When he smiled like this, she realized how much she’d missed him. Claire nodded. “And then he taught Lewie to call Ross, Rose.”

“Ross said if he was going to be called a damn rose he’d at least be an iceberg rose.” Nate’s grin broadened. “Over the years it was shortened to Ice.”

Claire laughed. “I never connected those two nicknames. So much for the hard-man reputation. I’ll have to tease Ice about that.… Did you know he’s got this big campaign going to get Viv to marry him?”

“Yeah, I heard. And that he’s finally given up on reaching operational fitness.” Returning to Afghanistan had been Ross’s driving ambition since the ambush, but his leg injury had proved beyond rehabilitation. He’d returned to the SAS in a noncombat role. Grin gone, Nate returned to examining the wiring. “How’s he handling that?”

Claire looked at the new tension across his shoulders. “Phone him,” she suggested gently. “Find out.”

But he didn’t respond, and she got no conversation from Nate for the rest of the morning.

CHAPTER TEN

“R
ECEPTION
’
S
FINE
IN
New Zealand,” Zander complained the next day. “I call my family there. Don’t pull that stunt again.”

Nate shifted the cell to his left hand and removed the last screws from
Heaven Sent
’s control panel with a screwdriver. “Fair enough.”

“We’ll frickin’ compromise—God, I hate that word—come home now and we’ll forget about it.”

That was a compromise? “I can’t.” Nate calmly attempted to explain it all again, but Zander cut him off.

“Okay, enough Mr. Nice Guy. If you’re not home within twenty-four hours, I’m making the stand-in permanent.” The rocker was renowned for threats and ultimatums, but this was the first time he’d tried them on Nate, who’d made it clear he’d walk if he did. Clearly the rocker had forgotten.

“You do what you have to do, Zee, and so will I.”

“Don’t go all war-hero noble on me, Nate. I hate that shit.”

“If the new guy doesn’t work out, let me know. I can recommend others.” Unlike his employer, Nate followed through on his ultimatums.

“Screw you, then.” Zander hung up on him.

“I guess that means no reference,” Nate said to the dial tone. And sighed. The rocker would regret his action but Nate didn’t have the patience—or the emotional reserves—to play games. He needed both for Claire.

“Everything okay?” Claire’s head popped over the gunwale as she climbed the ladder to
Heaven Sent
’s deck.

“Peachy,” he said. “Zander’s missing me.” Hell, some badgering from Claire for another story about Steve and his day would be complete.

Claire frowned as she donned gloves. “If you need to return to L.A.… ”

“Nice try.” She’d been in town all morning finalizing quotes. Not even pretending that he had a snowball’s chance in hell of influencing her decision. He ripped the control box from the wheelhouse wall, and rusty paint flakes showered onto the chart table. “Got another sanding job for you,” he invited.

“Nate, you’re here of your own free will,” she pointed out. “If you’d signed the papers when I asked you to, you could be in Hollywood right now.”

Yeah, pointing out the obvious really helped. Forgetting his vow of patience, Nate dumped the control box on the deck and returned to disconnecting the mess of wiring in the switchboard. “You gave me that message loud and clear two days ago—I’m here under sufferance.”

“I love having you here,” she said, surprising him. “You might not change my mind, but your advice is saving me money.… I’ve just confirmed that reconditioning the engine is a way better option than replacing it.”

He wasn’t in the mood to be placated. “So now you’re patronizing me.”

“Wow, you’re determined to pick a fight, aren’t you? Fine, put up your dukes.…” She started dancing from one foot to the other, fists raised. “C’mon, I can take you.”

Nate clamped his mouth against a smile. She’d pigtailed her hair and in those coveralls, dancing around, looked like a feisty kid.

“You’ve been sniffing paint, haven’t you?” She’d started varnishing handrails before she left for town; the acrid smell still lingered.

“Yep, I’m all varnished up.… C’mon, Buff Man, show me what you’ve got.”

His mouth twitched. “You calling me a poser now?”

“Yeah, whatcha gonna do about it?” She fist tapped him, once on the chest, once on the biceps. “After dealing with a sulky thirteen-year-old, a sulky thirty-four-year-old doesn’t scare me.”

“I’ll wake you at six with a cheery song and a smile,” he growled.

“That’s fighting talk.” She tapped him again, harder. Whaddya know, it actually had power.

Folding his arms, Nate affected a sneer. “Do you seriously think you’ll be hauling in game fish with those puny muscles?”

“I’ll buy an electric reel…or hire beefcake like you.”

“Made of money, huh?”

“I will be when you sign the damn papers.” Another hit, harder this time. His biceps started to smart. He gave her a head-to-toe inspection.

“Spend some on yourself and maybe I will.”

Self-consciously, Claire raised a hand to her hair and in a trice he’d grabbed her hand and spun her into a choke hold, his forearm pressed lightly across her throat. “Hey!”

“Too easy,” he teased, a pigtail tickling his nose.

In one smooth move, Claire leaned into his body, hooked a leg behind his and leveraged out of his hold, shoving a knee into the back of his legs and knocking him off balance. Nate found himself on his knees, one arm twisted behind his shoulder blades.

“Nice,” he approved.

“I’ve got a great business plan and you’ve read enough these past two days to suss that out. Admit it.” Claire twisted his arm harder. “You’re trying to gauge whether I’m emotionally stable.”

“And this is supposed to convince me?”

With a chuckle she released him. “Cards on the table, Nate.”

“You seem sane enough.” He circled his arm to return the blood flow as he got to his feet. “But I’m pretty good at fooling people myself, so maybe we should give this another couple of days.”

It was the closest he’d come to admitting he was still hurting. Instinctively, Claire wanted to put her arms around him and tell him his friends accepted him as he came, but she knew it wouldn’t be welcome. Nate would let her in so far, but no further. And crossing that protective space he kept around himself was too risky.

She didn’t want to lose him again.

“Well, it’s not like you haven’t proved useful,” she replied. “With your free labor, I’m ahead on the refit. And you can’t leave until you confess the big secret.”

For some reason, he froze. Claire studied his guilty look. “Nathan Wyatt, did you make that up to lure me in? Steve didn’t nearly get you all killed?”

“He did,” he insisted gruffly. But his attention had gone beyond her to the roller door, which they’d opened to take advantage of some spring sunshine. Following his gaze, Claire saw Ellie’s Audi pull alongside the boat shed. She turned back to Nate, but he was already gone.

With an exasperated sigh, she went to meet her mother-in-law. “Hello, there,” she said as Ellie opened the driver’s window. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“I’ve been visiting a new supplier, a farmer’s wife who does exquisite satin robes, and thought I’d drop by with afternoon tea.” She eyed Claire’s varnish-crusted coveralls. “Can you stop?”

“Sure.” She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. “Let’s go to the bach, it’s more comfortable there.”

Ellie undid her seat belt. “Give me a tour of the boat first.”

“You’re not dressed for it,” Claire said easily. “And we can’t risk wet varnish on that gorgeous coat.” Ellie wore a trench coat that was the same forest-green color as her car. Checking the lacquer smears on her coveralls were dry, Claire climbed into the passenger seat. “You make me feel like a scruff by comparison.”

Spend some on yourself and maybe I will.

He’d said it to distract her, but since Nate’s arrival she’d become conscious of her appearance in a way she hadn’t been for a while. Probably because he’d grown so stylish in Hollywood. Even in old work clothes, he looked put together somehow. Her thoughts touched briefly on the woman he’d brought home in L.A. before she gave herself a mental shake. Nate’s love life was none of her business.

In the bach she washed her hands and made tea, encouraging Ellie to chat about her latest seamstress. “Her robes are lovely, let me show you a sample.” She dropped a bakery bag on the counter and returned to her Audi.

Glancing after her, Claire noticed Nate’s shoes inside the patio door. Oh, hell. As she hurried to pick them up, she heard the slam of a car door, then the click of Ellie’s heels on the concrete path. No time. “I was thinking of painting the ceiling,” she called. “What do you think?”

Ellie looked up as she stepped inside. “Not just the ceiling. Honey, the whole bach needs a fresh coat of paint.”

“It’s in my game plan.” As Ellie rummaged in a carrier bag, Claire nudged Nate’s shoes under the couch. Crisis averted. The robe proved a slither of sensual white satin. Conscious of her roughened hands, Claire handled it carefully.

“It’s beautiful.”

“And in your size…keep it.”

“Even though I have no use for it?” But she stroked the satin again.

A pained expression crossed her mother-in-law’s face. “I never thought you’d lie to me, Claire.”

“What do you mean?” she said, startled. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Then why are you hiding men’s shoes?”

Her face heated.

Ellie folded her arms. “There’s a man’s jacket hanging on the dining chair, too.”

Clearly the game was up. “It’s Nate.”

Her mother-in-law’s jaw dropped. “Nathan Wyatt’s your lover?”

It was Claire’s turn to be shocked. “What? No, of course not! He’s home to dissolve the trust.”

“Nate’s here? Oh, I can’t wait to see him.”

“He doesn’t want to see anyone while he’s home,” Claire blurted.

Puzzlement wrinkled Ellie’s brow. “But why?”

Claire scrambled for an acceptable reason. “He doesn’t want the publicity,” she said hastily, refolding the robe. “Remember how much he hated the fuss when he was awarded the medal. The press was all over him. He’s worried it might happen again.”

The whole country had been captivated by his story, and couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t return for the medal presentation. The current-affairs show
Sixty Minutes
had even tracked him to L.A., wanting an interview with the man they called the reluctant hero. Nate had told them briefly and politely to go to hell. That only made people more fascinated by his story.

“I can keep a secret,” said Ellie. Which meant she only told other people in confidence. “Of course Nate will want to see me.… Won’t he?”

She couldn’t hurt Ellie. She just couldn’t. Steve’s mother adored Nate, always had. “My second son,” she’d called him. But Claire had no idea if Nate would cooperate. She hesitated.

* * *

N
ATE
HEARD
C
LAIRE
RETURN
and called, “In here.” He’d retreated to the cabin, and was fitting the sink.

Then he heard a second person climb the ladder and froze. Claire wouldn’t do that to him. Steve’s mother popped her head around the door. “Nathan Wyatt, I could smack you, I really could.” Advancing into the cabin, she threw plump arms around him. “I can’t believe you’ve been here a week and haven’t called me.”

“Ellie,” he said flatly. Over her head, he glared at Claire.

“She saw your shoes,” she said cheerfully. “I told her you didn’t want to attract any publicity while you were here, which is why you didn’t contact her.” Her eyes pleaded with him.

Ellie pulled away and he thought she’d aged ten years.

“You look exactly the same,” he lied, and she knew he lied because she smiled sadly as she patted his cheek.

“Who cares about me, let me look at you.” Nate suffered her scrutiny, a smile fixed on his face. “My goodness, you’ve been having facials,” she said. “I can tell by your pores.” She picked up his hands, inspecting his nails like a mother. “Manicures, too. And your haircut.” She ran a trembling hand through his hair, desperately trying not to cry. “Nathan, you’ve gone pretty on me.”

Without a word he put his arms around her, and she sobbed into his chest. Claire hugged herself.

“I’m sorry,” he said helplessly. “Ellie, I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what he apologized for, Steve’s death, his remoteness of the past eighteen months, only that shame filled him. Claire was strong, he’d known that when he’d left. Ellie, he realized now, wasn’t—despite her bravura. She was a mother who’d lost her son and needed support. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“I know, Nathan, I know.” She fumbled in her bag for a handkerchief, finding none. He found a clean rag and gave it to her and she mopped ineffectually at her cheeks. Her mascara had run into the laugh lines around her eyes.

“Let me.” Gently, Nate cleaned her up.

“I had no idea that was going to happen,” she said, embarrassed. “I did this constantly when Steve passed.” She gave Claire a watery smile. “We both did, didn’t we, honey, but not so much now. I guess it’s the shock.” She turned away to compose herself and Nate glanced at Claire.

“Thank you,” she mouthed. Her eyes were wet, too. Or maybe it was his. He blinked hard.

“This is such an improvement.” Inspecting the cabin, Ellie mustered her old enthusiasm. Nothing had changed since he’d worked on it close to two years ago—clearly, she hadn’t been on
Heaven Sent
since Steve’s death. “I only bought two cream buns.” She added gaily, “So we’ll have to share. Come back to the bach with us for afternoon tea. I want to hear everything you’re doing in Hollywood.”

He had no option but to go along. Ellie seemed to sense his reluctance because despite her demand for information, she carried the conversation with lots of anecdotes about her little dog—“You remember Collette, don’t you?” And her shop. All the while watching him, her gaze soaking him up until Nate felt desiccated from her need. With Claire’s help they managed an hour together and conversation got easier.

“So we’re keeping my visit a secret,” he stressed as he and Claire walked Ellie to her car. “Next time I’ll see everyone else.”

“But Lewis has to see you.”

Claire threaded her arm through her mother-in-law’s. “Nate can’t catch up with everybody in such a short visit and he doesn’t want to offend anyone,” she said. “He’ll be back soon, won’t you, Nate?”

“Sure,” he lied.

When Ellie drove away, he looked at Claire. Too raw for the gratitude he saw, he said bluntly, “How much time have we got?”

Wisely she gave him space. “If I prick her conscience with daily phone calls, maybe three days.”

He frowned. “Couldn’t you have passed my shoes off as Lewis’s?”

“Too expensive and too big.… Nate, does it really matter?”

“Yeah, I’m not here for a reunion.” He thought fast. “You asked me to lay my cards on the table.” He gestured to the outside table and they took a seat. “Assuming you’re doing this for all the right reasons, my biggest concern is the meager amount of money left after you’ve set up the business. There’s no buffer should things go pear shaped.”