Nick's Long-Awaited Honeymoon. Sandra Steffen

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СКАЧАТЬ to nod, but Nick ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached. The only room he wanted to be shown to, dammit, was Brittany’s. There happened to be two very good reasons. One had to do with desire, the other with her safety. She would scoff at his mention of those two things in the same breath. When had one ever had anything to do with the other?

      From his position he could see two of the four doors on this floor. He glanced over his shoulder where the open stairway stretched toward a dark upper level. He wondered if he would hear an intruder from that far away. And if he did, could he get down here and into Brittany’s and Savannah’s rooms in time?

      “Come on, Nick,” Crystal said shrewdly. “You’re starting to look as green around the gills as poor Mertyl. Up we go.”

      Nick gave Brittany one last look, leaving her to make what she wanted of his dark expression. No matter what she thought, things weren’t over between them. They would talk again. Morning, noon and night if necessary. Maybe they had already tried to make their marriage work a hundred times. Somehow he had to convince her to try once more.

      For now, he helped Crystal get the elderly lady into one of the bedrooms upstairs. The cat hissed at him for his trouble. Coming out of her stupor, Mertyl did the same, squinting up at him with distrust. “Who’s he?” she asked Crystal.

      “This is Nick Colter,” Crystal said, turning back the blankets.

      Clasping the lapels of her pink cardigan sweater tightly in one hand and holding her cat in the other, Mertyl still managed to point a shaking finger at Crystal. “I don’t entertain strange men in my room, Missy, and neither should you.”

      Nick found himself backing from the room, Crystal right behind him. Laughing out loud, Crystal said, “Believe me, Mertyl, I’m with you.”

      The old lady gave Crystal a feeble good-night, glared at Nick and closed the door with a firm click. Within seconds a lock ground into place.

      “Why, Nicky, I don’t believe she trusts you.”

      Nick scowled. Nobody had called him Nicky since the third grade.

      “Which room do you want to sleep in tonight?” Crystal asked. “Perhaps I should rephrase the question. Which room upstairs? You can have your choice of the three that aren’t rented.”

      Nick stopped at the first door he came to. “Rented?”

      Dropping a stack of blankets and sheets she’d taken from a hall closet into his hands, Crystal said, “Yes, rented. By boarders.” At his blank expression, she said, “You might have noticed that motels aren’t exactly popping up all over town. In fact, this is the only boarding house in Jasper Gulch. Didn’t Brittany tell you she bought it?”

      Now that Nick thought about it he remembered the old man at the wedding reception saying something about a boarding house on Custer Street. But no, Brittany hadn’t mentioned anything about the fact that she’d purchased it.

      Suddenly the tedious twelve-hour drive from Chicago, the fear that came from looking over his shoulder and the seemingly impenetrable walls Brittany had erected converged into one huge knot between his shoulder blades. He really was exhausted, emotionally and physically. He needed a good night’s sleep. The bedroom next to Mertyl’s wasn’t his first choice of places to spend the night, not by a long shot, but at least it was near the top of the stairs and within hearing distance of the first floor. Dropping the sheets and blankets over the iron bed frame, he turned around. He expected to find Crystal hovering nearby, but a quick glance in the hall found it empty.

      Kneading the knot at the back of his neck, he closed the door and looked at his surroundings. The room could have come straight out of an old Western movie. The walls and ceiling were covered with faded wallpaper. The floor was hardwood, a throw rug the only thing covering the marred and scuffed surface. A lamp was perched on a painted bedside table, the only other furniture in the room a mismatched dresser and the double bed. He’d slept in a lot worse places, and supposed that for now any bed would do.

      He was in the process of stuffing a pillow into a case when a knock sounded on the door behind him. Hope that it might be Brittany sprang out of nowhere, only to die at his first glimpse of blond hair instead of brown. Crystal shouldered her way into the room and dropped his duffel bag and suitcase on the floor.

      With one eyebrow raised, she said, “Sorry to disappoint you.”

      The woman obviously read body language very well. Nick saw no sense in trying to explain, so he simply shrugged and said, “Thanks for bringing up my bags.”

      She turned to go. “Nick?” she said over her shoulder.

      He shook the sheet out. Holding it in midair, he waited for her to continue.

      “Brittany says good night.”

      His throat constricted and his eyes closed for a moment, the sheet falling to the bed. Crystal Galloway had a walk that could stop traffic, and probably had. She was unusual, to say the least. Instinct told him she would be a very loyal friend. He wasn’t surprised Brittany had chosen her. His wife had always had very good taste in friends. He couldn’t say the same for her taste in men.

      “By the way,” Crystal added, “don’t be alarmed if you see a curtain flutter in the window across the street.”

      Nick came to full attention. Crystal, however, didn’t appear to be the least bit concerned about being watched. Winking badly, she said, “Most of the old women in Jasper Gulch spend half the day on the phone and the other half spying on their neighbors. The eighty-one-year-old widow across the street is no exception. Mrs. Fergusson has a weak heart, so you’d better draw the shade. We wouldn’t want her to see more than she bargained for now, would we?”

      His jaw dropped in mild amazement. “The old lady in the next room locks her door because she doesn’t trust me and the one across the street is a window peeper. It looks as if I’m going to have to be on my best behavior at every turn.”

      Easing out the door an inch at a time, Crystal said, “Something tells me your best behavior could be very dangerous to a woman who isn’t immune. There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall. Don’t forget about your shade. Oh, and if it’ll make you feel any better to rattle Mertyl’s doorknob, be my guest.”

      Nick stared at the closed door for a full five seconds after she’d gone. Picking up where he’d left off with the sheet, he had an uncustomary urge to grin.

      

      “A watched pot never boils, Savannah,” Brittany whispered, turning on the tap at the kitchen sink.

      Savannah held her position in the doorway where she had a clear view of the living room sofa. “I’m not watching a pot. I’m watching Daddy. He looks different when he’s sleeping.”

      Brittany waited until the coffeepot was filled with water before allowing herself to turn around. Savannah always rose before the crack of dawn, and today was no exception. She was wearing her favorite flannel nightgown and the fluffy moose slippers that made her feet look huge. It was still dark outside, but the kitchen light stretched into the next room, falling across the sofa where Nick was sleeping.

      Brittany supposed Savannah was right. Nick did look different while he was sleeping. He was lying on his back, his feet hanging over one end of the sofa, Mertyl’s cat sound asleep on his thighs. One of Nick’s hands rested on the floor, the other arm was flopped СКАЧАТЬ