Backwoods. Jill Sorenson
he’d stopped caring about the opinions of strangers, he didn’t want Abby to be afraid of him. Maybe because of their tenuous, broken-family connection. Maybe because he found her attractive.
Her cheeks flushed pink. She was embarrassed by her hesitation to let him in. “Is Leo expecting you?”
“No.”
“What are you doing here?”
She was direct. He liked that. “Lydia sprained her ankle this afternoon. She can’t hike or even walk.”
Her lips parted with disbelief. “What about Ray?”
“He’s staying with her. They asked me to come instead.”
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, propping a hand on her hip. “He does this every time!”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I’m sure your daughter will be disappointed.”
“Yes.”
Leo would also be disappointed. His son had made it clear that he didn’t want to see him, but Nathan hadn’t given up on reconciling.
Abby stepped aside. “Come on in.”
“Thanks,” he said, passing by her.
After she closed the door, they stood there, staring at each other. She was tall and poised. With her careful makeup and chic clothes, she didn’t strike him as an outdoor explorer. He couldn’t picture her hiking into the wilderness. But he couldn’t see Lydia doing it, either. His ex-wife was more of a yoga-and-latte type.
“I was wondering if Ray had invited you,” she said. “I imagined the four of us around the breakfast table, plus Leo and Brooke.”
Was she joking? He’d rather eat with wolves.
She cocked her head to one side. “Do you get along with Ray?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Why do you think?”
She smiled wryly, crossing her arms over her chest.
Nathan had forgiven Lydia ages ago, and he no longer wanted to beat Ray to a pulp. He could say hello and be polite, but he’d never be friends with the man who’d fucked his wife while they were still married. He wasn’t that evolved.
“Have a seat,” she said.
“I’ll stand.”
With a shrug, she retreated into the kitchen, which was separated from the living room by an island with a speckled granite surface. “I was going to make a drink. Do you want something?”
The hair on his nape prickled. “Is this a test?”
She took a mug off the shelf and held up a square package. Not a glass tumbler or a bottle of hard alcohol. Instant cocoa.
“Sorry,” he said, rubbing a hand over his mouth. It was an old gesture, back to haunt him. “I’m nervous.”
“Why?”
“You must not know Leo.”
“We just met.”
“He doesn’t like me very much.”
She filled her mug with water from the tap, not commenting on his parenting failure. Her daughter was a shining star at Berkeley. She’d been a straight-A student in high school. According to Lydia, the girl excelled in athletics, as well. Brooke was everything Nathan wished Leo would be.
“Is he a good driver?” she asked.
Nathan doubted it. The only activity Leo put effort into was getting stoned. “He’s never been in an accident.”
“You don’t want cocoa, I take it.”
“No.”
“Club soda?”
“All right.”
She put her mug in the microwave and filled a pale green cup with ice, pouring the clear soda on top.
“Thank you,” he said, giving her another once-over as she stirred the cocoa. Her legs were shapely, with smooth, suntanned calves. The leather straps around her ankles resembled Roman slave cuffs. Surely they weren’t meant to inspire bondage fantasies. He tore his gaze away, sipping his club soda.
Looking at her like that was a bad idea. If he wasn’t careful, he’d start entertaining thoughts about wife-swapping and poetic justice. Not that Lydia cared who he slept with nowadays. Nathan felt no particular urge to try to make her jealous, either. Hooking up with Abby wouldn’t close the circle of betrayal or right any wrongs. He felt dirty for considering it, which of course made the notion all the more appealing.
“Do you still drink?” she asked.
“No. I’ve been sober three years now.”
“Congratulations.”
He acknowledged her with a curt nod.
Silence stretched between them. “My sister just got engaged,” she said, showing him a photo on her cell phone.
He glanced at the image to be polite. “Is that a gray diamond?”
“Musgravite,” she said. “It’s very rare. She’s a geophysicist.”
That was impressive. “Are you a scientist, as well?”
“I’m a wellness director at a nursing home.”
“What does that mean?”
“I plan activities and interact with the residents.”
“Do you play pinochle?”
Her lips twitched at the question. “We play strip poker.”
The comment sounded suggestive, like an invitation to picture her naked. Somehow he resisted the urge. “You must see a lot of sock suspenders.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “What do you do?”
“You don’t know?”
“I know you used to play baseball.”
“I manage a college team now.”
“Is that like coaching?”
“Sort of. I handle recruiting and business decisions.”
“Where at?”
“San Diego State.”
The season had just ended and Nathan was happy with their performance. The Toros had done well in the play-offs. Maybe next summer they’d go all the way. He felt good about their future prospects—and his own.
Professionally, he had few complaints. Managing a talented young team was lucrative and rewarding. His love life was nonexistent and his son refused to speak to him. But hey, nobody said sobriety would be easy.
The sound of a motorcycle engine made his heart jump into his throat.
“That’s them,” Abby said.
Nathan set his cup on the countertop and proceeded outside with her. Leo parked what appeared to be a vintage dirt bike on the sidewalk by the driveway. It was an old Honda with a single headlight. The seat didn’t appear large enough for two, but they’d managed. Brooke clung to Leo like a second skin, her slender arms wrapped around his midsection. She was wearing a black helmet, obviously his.
She hopped off the bike and removed the helmet, pale blond hair spilling down her shoulders. She was tall and leggy, like her mother. Her jeans and tank top were tight enough to rev up any teenage boy’s hormones.
Leo grinned at her as he stomped down the kickstand and cut the engine. He took the helmet she offered, seeming a little dazed by her beauty.