Hawks Mountain - Mobi (12 page)

Good God, he was bragging about his injury to impress Becky! Nausea stirred in Nick’s gut. He thought of all the guys who’d gotten injured under similar conditions and how none of them really wanted to talk about it, much less brag, and the guys whose only medal was given to their mothers or their widows. Quickly, he averted his gaze from the man’s leg.

“Oh, where are my manners? Jim this is Nick Hart. Nick lives in a beautiful cabin he built himself on the ridge above Granny’s house.”

Nick dipped his head in acknowledgement of the introduction, but noticed
Madison
refrained from extending his hand. Instead, he glanced at Nick, nodded briefly, and then returned his attention to Becky.

“I can’t believe your grandmother sold off part of the mountain.
Geeze
, ya leave for a couple of years, and all kinds of things change. Some change for the better.”
Madison
was staring hard at Becky when he said the last words.

Male instincts told Nick that
Madison
meant Becky and not the mountain. What was this guy’s game? Was he making a pass at Becky right here in front of Nick?

Then
Madison
did something that Nick had only seen in movies. He lifted Becky’s hand to his lips.

That did it. The green monster jealousy reared its ugly head. But he had no ties to Becky. No right to object to the attention. No right to feel jealous of this guy. Still the anger churning inside Nick would not be calmed.

Nick bolted to his feet, his fists curled at his sides. He couldn’t sit here and watch this for a second longer without doing something he’d regret.

“I’ll see you later,” he threw over his shoulder and stalked off.

Shocked at his sudden departure, Becky watched Nick stride across the main street and climb into his truck. What in blazes had gotten into him? One minute they were having a nice conversation, and the next he’d run off like Jake chasing a female dog in heat. The only difference was she would have known what Jake had on his mind. As for Nick, she didn’t have a clue what his problem was.

As Nick maneuvered his truck over the deeply rutted dirt road, he thought about his impetuous actions back at the church grounds. What had gotten into him? He had no right to be jealous of the guy being attentive to Becky. He had no claim on her. Besides,
Madison
was nothing more than an old acquaintance of Becky’s bent on renewing their friendship.

Still he was confused. Jealousy had never been a part of Nick’s nature before. Why now?

Part of it undeniably was because Becky was coming to mean something very special to him. But that was not all of it. Something about
Madison
had gotten to him, and it wasn’t just his bragging about his injury, how he’d gotten it and the medal he’d won as a result. Although just thinking about that still had the power to turn Nick’s stomach. Something else bothered him, something he couldn’t put his finger on, something
that .
 . .

That what?

It took another mile of having his kidneys battered around inside his body on the bumpy mountain road to find his answer. In Jim Madison’s face Nick had seen the faces of the thousands of wounded he’d treated or dragged to safety on the streets and roads of
Iraq
. Jim Madison, quite simply, was a reminder of all Nick had been working for months to forget.

He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. He’d been so sure that after he met Becky that her brilliant smile, her gentle touch and her understanding ways would block out the reminders. And they
had .
 . . for a while. But coming face to face with
Madison
and the aftermath of his injury brought it all back, just as vividly as before. Would he never find peace? Would the haunting recollections of putting men back together or watching them die never go away?

As she drove up the mountain,
Granny glanced away from the road to her silent granddaughter. Since they’d left the church, Becky hadn’t said more than a half dozen words. Granny wasn’t one to pry, but the frown on Becky’s face gave her pause. She’d been enjoying herself from the time Nick arrived at the social. What had changed that?

The car bounced over a significant pothole in the road, and Granny switched her attention back to getting around them without losing the entire undercarriage of her car. But she hadn’t forgotten her granddaughter.

“Child, what is it? What’s got you looking so out of sorts?”

Becky jumped as though awakened from a daydream. She smiled weakly.
“Nothing.”

Granny gave an unladylike snort.
“My foot.
Nothing doesn’t put a frown like that on a body’s face.”

A deep sigh issued from the girl. “Something set Nick off at the social, and I’ll be darned if I can figure out what it was.” She sighed again and twisted in her set. “Granny, are all men so hard to understand or is it just Nick?”

Granny had to laugh at Becky’s question. “Lord, child, women have been trying to figure out the male species for centuries, and all they ever got for their troubles was a headache for trying. But as far as Nick goes, it’s as plain on the nose on your face what was bothering him when he stormed off.”

The frown returned to Becky’s face. “Well, I missed it then, ’cause I don’t have any idea what happened to send him charging back up the mountain like
a .
 . . like a . . . ”

“Jealous man?”

“Jealous?” Becky’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Nick?
Of who?”

Granny laughed. For a college girl, Becky sometimes couldn’t see the way of things even when it was staring her right in the face. “Why, he’s pea-green jealous of the attention the
Madison
boy was showing you. What else?” She glanced at her granddaughter, then back at the road just in time to miss the next pothole. “That man is as smitten as they come.”

This time, Becky laughed. “Smitten? Is that even a word, Granny?”

Granny slapped playfully at Becky’s arm. “Don’t be making fun of your old granny. Nick’s taken with you.” When she got another blank stare, she made it as plain as she could. “Everybody at the social saw it. Seems you and him were the only ones who didn’t know it. Nick’s in love with you, Becky.”

Hours later,
staring up at her bedroom ceiling, Becky thought about what Granny had said. Nick in love with her? Could Granny be right?

Then she recalled their kiss and his gentle smiles and his laughter, and the fact that he came to the social at all. Was it really just to be with her?

And what about her?
If what Granny said was true and Nick loved her, how did she feel about it? Did she love him? And if she did, was she ready to start another relationship so soon after Sonny’s betrayal?

Coming home and finding Sonny in bed with another woman had felt like a knife being thrust through her heart. Could she risk that again?

Then she smiled into the darkness. Somehow, deep inside where it counted, she could not imagine Nick doing anything like that. But then she’d trusted Sonny and never dreamed he would hurt her that way either.

And what about Sonny?
Had she really loved him if she could feel this way about Nick? Or had he just
become .
 . . comfortable?

So many questions and no answers.

Becky rolled over, punched her pillow and tried to sleep, but Nick’s face kept intervening.

On Sunday night,
Becky looked in her mirror at the third outfit she’d put on in the last hour. On her bed lay a red dress—discarded as being too garish—a lavender blouse with a deep V neckline—too suggestive—and several skirts. She’d finally settled on black slacks and a white crocheted tunic top shirred in just below her breasts.

Then had
come
the challenge of her hair. She’d pulled it back into a clip and, not really knowing why, rejected that style. Twisting it atop her head had been rejected as well. Finally, she settled on leaving it loose around her shoulders. She added a light dusting of makeup and lipstick and as a final touch, tiny gold hoops to her ears.

As she surveyed the end result in the mirror, she began to have second thoughts about not only the outfit, but having dinner with Nick. She really wished Granny hadn’t told her about Nick being in love with her. True or not, it was going to be very difficult not to think about it while with him.

She glanced at the clock.
Six forty-five
. If he was coming at all, and she had to wonder about that after the way he’d stormed off yesterday, he’d be here soon. Taking one last look in the mirror, she decided this would have to do and hurried downstairs.

Granny sat in her favorite chair, a well-used recliner that had belonged to
Grampa
Earl, in the living room surfing the TV channels, her crocheting lay in a colorful heap on her lap. “Darn reality shows. Why would anyone want to let the world see what goes on within the walls of their home?” Without looking up at Becky’s entrance into the room, she continued to talk to herself and clicked through a few more channels before settling on a game show where contestants answered questions for money. “That’s better,” she said and laid the remote aside.

Only then did she look up and see Becky there. Becky turned in a circle in front of her grandmother. “Well, what do you think?”

Granny’s gray eyes grew misty. “I think my little girl has grown into a beautiful young lady, that’s what I think.” She yanked a tissue from a box on the side table and dabbed at her eyes.

Leaning down, Becky kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Granny. I hope Nick thinks so, too.”

Pulling her emotions together, Granny straightened. “He’d be blind if he didn’t.”

“That is if he even comes.”

Granny grinned, and then winked. “Oh, I got a feeling he’ll come, alright.”

Funny, Becky had a feeling he wouldn’t.

Just then, car headlights washed over the walls. A few moments later the second stair on the front porch squeaked loud and clear.

A flock of nervous butterflies took flight in Becky’s stomach. She stared toward the front door. “That’s him.”

When she didn’t move, Granny laid aside her crocheting and pulled herself from the chair then hurried to the door. “I’ll get it.”

Becky waited, hands clasped in front of her to keep them from shaking. She felt like a school girl going on her first date.

“Come on in, Nick. Becky’s in the living room.”

Her first glimpse of this Nick stole her ability to speak. Dressed in a navy suit, white shirt, and burgundy tie, he resembled a model from a magazine ad for men’s clothing. The snowy shirt accentuated the tan he’d gotten working outside. His dark eyes looked fathomless and, his hair, still damp from his shower, glistened in the lamp light. Did she look half as good to him as he did to her?

Nick had no idea what to expect. After his unceremonious departure from the social yesterday, he wasn’t even sure Becky would want to see him, much less go out with him. But whatever he’d expected, it certainly wasn’t what he saw when he stepped into the Hawks’ living room.

She was breathtaking. Her copper hair hung over her shoulders in deep waves, making his fingers itch to feel it curled around them. Her pale salmon-colored lipstick brought out the pink in her cheeks, and she wore just enough mascara to accentuate the blue of her eyes. The black slacks hugged her slim hips, while the shirring of the blouse accentuated her breasts.

Reminding himself that they were not alone, he had to drag his gaze away before he did something he’d regret.

“You
look .
 . . nice,” he stammered.