Tidal Falls (Wounded Hearts Book 1) (5 page)

He was a good-looking man, c
ame from a great family and had been asking her out for months now, with no success. Maybe she needed to try again. And it certainly had nothing to do with her silly attraction to Nick. As a matter of fact, the more she thought about it, the more it made perfect sense. She was lonely.

A
lready regretting it and not sure why, Sara nonetheless gave him the answer he was looking for. “What time?”

CHAPTER
FIVE

Pulling up to the curb in front of Grits and Grace, Sara turned off a grumbling Mirabelle, all the while arguing with herself over saying yes to a date with Ty. She wasn’t ready to jump back into the dating world. It’d taken her months after Tom to get to the point where she could even converse normally with a man.

She was perfectly
satisfied with the status quo, thank you very much. Well okay, maybe not exactly…satisfied, per se. But she could certainly make do without men. Walter, her battery-operated boyfriend worked if she found herself desperate. The problem was Sara hadn’t realized until
The Kiss,
how much she’d missed some of the intimacies to be found between a man and a woman. Maybe it’d do her good to go out and test the dating pool. Have some fun, before her ovaries shriveled up like year old prunes.

Ignoring Miss Doom and Gloom
going on inside her head, she pushed open the door of the diner, smiling as bells above sang out a tinkling welcome. Stopping for a moment, she was hit with a sensory overload of frying bacon, coffee, the clang of the till and chatter of happy patrons. Popular with the locals, it was much like stepping into a past era. A beautifully preserved Jukebox stood sentinel in a corner of the room, a slightly scratchy rendition of
Teddy Bear
emitting from its large speakers
.
Red leather seats, Formica tabletops and black and white checkerboard flooring were all straight out of a fifties sit-com. Looking for Nick, she found him at one of the window booths. He reminded her of bad boy, James Dean as he sat there with an arm over the back of the booth, flirting with Grace Martin, the diner’s owner.

One of her
favorite people, Grace was every bit as tall as she was round. She epitomized the old adage,
Never Trust a Skinny Cook
. Blessed with a face that never seemed to age, she was one of those people you meet once and feel like you’ve known forever. Her diner was the perfect place to sit, have a thick slice of homemade apple pie topped with a generous scoop of slowly melting vanilla ice cream, and catch up on all the juicy gossip which made small town living so unique.

As she s
lid into her seat across the table from him, Nick cast those gorgeous lake blue eyes in her direction, and the sparkle lighting their depths reeled her in effortlessly—the man was lethal.

“Well, well, if it isn't my
, Sara Sunshine. Where you been hiding, girl? Old Gracie hasn’t seen you in far too long. And where is little, Jessica Bean?” Grace’s smoky voice drifted over her like a warm blanket.

Dragging her gaze away from Nick,
Sara smiled at her friend. “Hi, Grace, and you’re right, it has been too long. Jessica is over at Tess’s house, probably baking up a storm.” They both grinned, well aware of Tess’s infamous messes whenever she got it in her head to bake. No dish was safe. “I wanted to drop in and see Annie for the paint I’d ordered, and thought I’d better stop for some of the delicious food you always spoil me with.”

“We
ll darlin’, I'll get right on that, but first, who’s this young stud muffin? He’s been busy trying to sweet talk me into running away with him,” she smirked, her cheeks rushing up to meet her eyes. “It's about time sugar-pie. I was beginning to think you needed me to find you a nice young man, but looking at him, you did a fine job all by your little lonesome.” Grace grinned at Nick, and Nick grinned back, looking already half in love, and he hadn't even tasted the food yet.

“Oh no, it's nothing like that.” Her cheeks warm, she hurried to clarify, “Nick's my
neighbor. He’s been doing some repairs on my house for Tess.” She caught a look that flickered across his face. How did he expect her to introduce him? She squirmed in her seat as his gaze dissected her for a long moment, his eyes now deep, reflective pools.

Then
his mouth quirked, “Sweetheart, you’re going to give Grace here the wrong idea. You know I'm at your house more than I'm at my own.” Stretching across the table, he lifted up one of Sara's hands and ran his thumb in a slow caress over the tops of her knuckles, causing goose bumps to erupt and her nipples to tighten.

Oh
, man.

Pulling her over
-sensitized hand out of his, she crossed her arms over her chest and chastised, “Nick, quit goofing off and let’s order. I'm starving.”

His low,
“Me too, honey, me too,” sent quivers of lust shooting through her belly. She had a feeling he wasn’t talking about food anymore.

Grace gave them both a “get a room” look, but thankfully refrained from commenting on it. “Okay chickies, specials today are Broccoli and Cheese stuf
fed Tilapia, My Grace of God Meatloaf, or a Sloppy Joe Grilled Cheese. And for dessert, we have To Die for Strawberry Rhubarb Pie or Momma's Recipe Pumpkin Bread Pudding with a warm caramel sauce drizzled over the top.”

“Well, I can't turn down m
eatloaf, and the bread pudding sounds perfect. What do you think, Sara?” Nick asked, skimming a knowing look at her arms.

“I think I'
ll stick with a nice salad, maybe with some grilled chicken on top. I need room for your strawberry pie, Grace; you know I can't leave without having some of that.” She laughed.

“No wonder you
’re so skinny, child. You need food if you’re going to put some meat on those bones.” Shaking her head, Grace waddled into her kitchen, no doubt intent on performing gourmet miracles.

***

Now that they were alone, Nick sat back enjoying the easy ebb and flow of conversations around him. A cute old couple in a booth across from theirs sat on the same side of the table sharing a mountainous piece of pie. A man about his age rested his back against the wall in the corner by the jukebox, green eyes flashing as he talked on his cell phone. And a group of men, ages ranging from fifty to about a hundred by the looks of the one shrunken old guy, were solving world issues at a booth in the back. One of the servers, he guessed a lifer by the coordinated ease that she lined loaded plates along her bony arms, sassed Grace at the kitchen window and got an earful for her trouble. He grinned, it’d been a long time since he’d felt so relaxed in a public place.

Even after being back for as long as he had, he still sometimes suffered from flashbacks and night sweats, and knew he was one of the lucky ones.

Seeking lighter thoughts, he turned his attention to the woman sitting across from him, nervously twisting her cup in its saucer. He liked that he made her nervous. Lord knows, she did things to him, also. Things best not thought about in public places.

A pa
inting of Grace's diner on the wall behind her caught his eye. The Cascade Mountains made a perfect backdrop for the little cafe. Its brick façade, complimented by baskets of summer flowers hanging between the windows, and on the walkway below, managed to convey a feeling of welcoming warmth. Squinting to make out the name, S. Reed, in the bottom corner, Nick realized he was sitting with that gifted artist right now. “Did you paint that, Sara? It’s brilliant.”

Flushing
at the sincere compliment, she nodded. “When we first moved here, Grace and Tess were kind enough to take us in under their wings. I wanted to give a little something back, so I did a painting for each of them. Grace has had plenty of offers, but refuses to part with it. She said it's going with her all the way to the Pearly Gates.” Her eyes lit up with laughter, her glistening lips tilted upward full of warmth and fondness.

She shoul
d do that more often. Smile. It lit her up from the inside out, making her truly gorgeous. She was attracted to him. The signs were there in the blooming color on her cheeks whenever she looked at him. How her gaze met his, and then flitted away.

And then there was
that kiss
.

He knew about passion, had been in his
fair share of relationships. Hell, he’d even been married once. But their kiss? It’d done something to him. Purely, in a field of its own. He’d even forgotten there was a kid in the house, for crying out loud. And when she’d kissed him back? He couldn’t have recited his own name, even at gunpoint.

The white picket fence and two-story house thing complete with wife and kids had never been for hi
m. He’d seen, first with his parents, then later in his own life, happy-ever-after was mostly a lark. Didn’t happen, at least not very damn often. And the kids were almost always the ones to pay the harshest for those screw-ups. He swore that wasn’t going to be him. Not again. He was fine on his own, anyway. It was better this way. And if he was a little lonely occasionally, he could call a friend. He had his dog.

He was good
. Fine. Perfect.

Thinking he should come clean and explain his
short-term presence in Tidal Falls, Nick began, “You know…”

At the same moment, Sara
confessed, “You know, I’m a…”

They both stopped.
Looked into each other’s eyes. Smiled.

“Ladies
first.” He offered, more than happy to put off mentioning his looming departure.

“I was just going to say
I think I'm something of a closet romantic. I think it’s what drew me to this town. Everyone I’ve met has been kind-hearted and welcoming. I appreciate it so much.”

“What about your husband? You must miss him.”
The more he came to know her and her daughter, the more he wanted her to confide in him. Tell him the truth about what was going on so he could help her. But watching her shoulders slump inward and her face lose its animation, he was sorry he’d brought it up.

She ignored him for a long moment as she stared out the window
into her past. When she did begin to speak it was almost in monotone, all the vibrancy sucked from her voice. “I guess I was too young and vulnerable when I met Tom—that's his name you know. Sounds harmless, doesn’t it?” A choked laugh escaped, and Nick reached across to grasp her hand as it fluttered near the tabletop like an injured bird. Lost in the past, he didn’t think she even noticed. He cursed his stupidity.

“I’d lost someone
close to me that year, my foster father. And then Tom came along and swept me off my feet. He seemed like perfect husband material, charming, handsome, and intelligent. At first we had a good life together. We were happy, or at least I was happy. Then something changed. He changed.”

She turned away from the window to stare defiantly at him, a trace of tears turning her eyes to
glistening amber. “So, in answer to your question, I would have to say no, I do not miss him. In fact, I’d be grateful never to see him again. You must think me callous right?”

Actually, he thought she was
pretty fricken amazing—and beautiful. The sun streaming in through the glass shot her hair with strands of burnished copper and gold. Her summer dress gaped slightly on its way down to her breasts, teasing him with glimpses of soft, smooth skin, and a hint of lace.

He knew how hard it must be
to admit to the breakdown of a marriage. He’d never even copped to his own. Preferring to push it under the table, hidden.

“No, I don't think you’re callous. Love is a fickle bitch at the best of times. I think you probably gave it your best shot and it just wasn't enough, that's all.”

***

Sara looked away, blinking rapidly. She couldn’t believe she’d dropped
all that on him. And he’d accepted it. Sometimes she still wondered if what happened was her fault. If she could have done things differently. She’d read about other victims of domestic violence saying the same thing, but hadn’t really understood—until it happened to her. Maybe if she’d skipped lunch that day, or maybe if she’d taken the time to call Tom. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Thousands of scenarios had run through her mind since then. But, she was slowly coming to grips with the realization that even if those things were true, he’d still had no right to do what he’d done. It was wrong. Tom needed help.

Determined to set aside
ugly thoughts of her marriage, she refocused on the man sitting across from her. The high-back leather seats accentuated Nick’s dark, wavy hair and swarthy skin. He must have grabbed her hand while she’d been talking, though she couldn’t recall it, and was now rubbing his thumb in a soothing motion as he smiled up at the shy young server who’d come along to refill their coffee cups. Nodding her thanks to the girl, she pulled her hand back, and received a soul-piercing gaze in return. Turning away she gazed out the window at the downtown core, absently listening as Nick asked about working at Grace’s and received the server’s enthusiastic response.

The street lay north to south like a flowing gray ribbon
. Flowering Mayday trees, their elegant branches dancing in the slight breeze, lined the walk. The delicate white flower’s perfumed scent drifted into the diner whenever the door chimed open. A meridian filled with an assorted rainbow of happy-faced pansies interspersed with impatiens and Gerbera daisies ran down the center of the street to the intersection, where they flowed into a roundabout highlighted with a sparkling fountain.

The downtown businesses all pitched in with hanging baskets and planters filled to the brim, a profusion of
color and textures. Sara could see all the way to the front door of Annie Campbell’s store, the Craft Shack. She’d been happy to find a kindred spirit in Annie, a potter and single mother. Chris was Jessica’s age, a doll, with copper hair and freckles across his still chubby cheeks. They’d developed into close friends. She hoped it wouldn’t have to come to an end.