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“Wow, what smells so good?”
“Whole wheat rigatoni with my special roasted red pepper sauce.”
She came over and peered around him from behind. “You’re getting to be a regular chef these days.”
Her warmth behind him jarred his senses for a second, and he couldn’t help remembering their night together. Couldn’t help remembering twenty times every freaking day. He edged away on the pretext of rinsing the spoon and cleaning up some of his mess. Dishes and cooking ingredients were strewn from one end of the counter to the other.
“I’m trying to perfect the recipe. Joey doesn’t seem to think it’s all that great, though. He barely eats anything I make.”
“Have you asked him what he likes?”
Mac turned to face her. “Of course. You were there. He said he likes Froot Loops and peanut butter.”
“Maybe some traditional Middle Eastern food?”
Making a face, Mac said, “It’s not my thing. I like regular all-American food.”
“Like pasta?”
“You know what I mean.”
She arched a brow. “Ah, so it’s about what you like, then.” Grinning, she picked up the spoon, took a small spoonful of sauce and tasted it. “Mmm. Delizioso!”
He started to protest about her first comment, but thought again. He sighed. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. I’ll have to look up some different recipes.”
Natalia leaned her back against the counter, bracing herself with her hands. “And you could even ask him what kinds of food he ate back home when he was with his grandmother.”
Mac put napkins on the table. “I could, but I want him to fit in, and I want him to think of this as his home. I remember my mom’s home cooking was the best food ever. Even now when I think about it I start salivating. I want him to feel that way about being here.”
“Give him some time. It’ll all work out.”
Mac went over and stood next to her, shoulder to shoulder. “Maybe. But I think I need some help.”
She turned, narrowing her eyes. “Help?”
He prided himself on his problem-solving skills, but he was smart enough to know when he wasn’t succeeding. He’d already asked more of Natalia than he should, but he needed to make a connection with Joey somehow, and he needed to do it before she left. “I should say some more help, shouldn’t I?”
She waved a hand in dismissal.
“The thing is, I haven’t been able to get very close to Joey, and he spends a lot of time in his room. Sometimes I’ve noticed his eyes are red and I know he’s probably been crying, but every time I try to find out what’s wrong, he clams up and says, ‘Nothing.’”
“Really?” Her eyes softened. “He could be homesick.”
“For an orphanage?”
Mac heard a noise behind him, turned and saw Joey coming down the stairs.
“Are you going to be here tonight?” Mac asked Natalia under his breath.
“I can be.”
“Okay, then let’s talk later, after he’s in bed.”
“HI, SWEETIE,” NATALIA said as the boy came into the room. He beamed when he saw her, but didn’t say anything.
She’d been staying away as much as possible, going to work early and coming home late. The less she was around, the easier it would be when it was time for her to move out. But now Mac wanted her help again. Exactly what he wanted of her remained to be seen. Whatever it was, she’d have to weigh it carefully.
Dinner was quiet, with Joey picking at his food, but beforehand he’d showed Natalia his schoolwork, and she and Mac both praised his perfectly formed letters of the alphabet. The school, Mac had told her earlier, was going to test him to see if he might need tutoring, but so far it didn’t seem necessary. His printing was much better than she remembered from any of the five-year-olds she’d helped at the shelter.
After dinner, when Joey was in the family room watching cartoons, and she’d finished helping clear the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher, she said, “I’ve got some things to do for a couple hours, but I’ll be back early enough to talk.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes. You said you wanted to talk later, after Joey was in bed. Right?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’ll be back by then. Okay?”
The plea in Mac’s eyes said he’d rather she’d stay, but he said, “Sure. Fine.”
She didn’t have anything to do, yet knew that her being there would detract from Mac’s time alone with Joey. But she was tired of trying to find something to fill her evenings. Sometimes she’d go back to the airport, sometimes go to her condo or visit friends, and sometimes she’d just drive.
Natalia liked driving, liked to feel the wheel in her hands, the two thousand pounds of hard steel beneath her, moving at her will.
Mac had told her once that her love of driving was a power and control thing, and she was inclined to agree with him. The two places she felt most in control were behind the wheel of a car and piloting an aircraft. When she was here at the house with Mac, she felt fragile. Vulnerable. Caring about someone, being in love, did that. Being in love left you wide open for hurt. And yet she couldn’t get him out of her mind.
Once out the door, she got in her car and drove. She hadn’t known where she was going, but oddly, ended up at the Blue Moon Saloon. She felt the need for company. Human contact. Something she seemed to need more and more since moving in with Mac.
“Natalia?” a male voice called from somewhere in the dim recesses of the room. She blinked, allowing her eyes a moment to adjust and locate the speaker.
“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.” The voice, she realized, belonged to Brody Romano, and when she finally focused, she saw him and a dark-haired man in an army uniform sitting at the bar together. Her breath caught. A jolt of panic shot through her. She jammed her fingernails into her palms, blocking out everything else.
Walking over to say hello to Brody, she kept her eyes glued on him, avoiding looking at the man next to him.
“This is an old college friend’s son, Brent Kimball,” Brody said. “He’s on leave from Afghanistan and decided Sedona was a great place for a little R & R for a few days.”
The uniform seemed to jump out at her. Her heart leaped. Her breathing got shallow.
“Nice to meet you, Brent,” she said. “Sedona is a great place to kick back and enjoy some stunning scenery.”
“Exactly what I have in mind, but I also plan to do some hiking. Brody says Devil’s Bridge is a good hike.”
She smiled and nodded. She wanted to bolt, to get the hell out of there, but she knew that facing down her fears, overpowering them by sheer will, was the only way to conquer them. And the fear of flashbacks was beginning to take its toll. “It is. Beautiful views from the top.”
“So, are you meeting someone here?” Brody asked, glancing toward the door.
“No. I left a jacket somewhere last week, so I just stopped by to see if I might’ve left it here,” she lied.
She turned to the bartender, Frank, a new guy she’d met only once. “Can you please check the lost and found for a black jacket, Frank?”
He lifted his chin in acknowledgment and went to a closet near the end of the bar.
Natalia was glad Ed wasn’t there tonight. He’d wonder what she was doing there without Mac, or at least without a friend. She wondered that herself.
“Nothing here,” Frank said, shrugging. “Sorry.”
Brody turned to his friend. “Natalia was a Firehawks search and rescue Medevac pilot in Iraq and now she’s the pilot for the Mountain Air Search and Rescue operation based in Prescott.”
“Wow. Firehawks,” Brent said. “Impressive.”
“No more than any other soldier,” she said, turning to Brody again. “Any news on the property?”
“No offers yet, if that’s what you’re asking.”
She smiled. Good. Very good.
“But—” he
gave her an apologetic look “—I expect one soon.”
Natalia’s heartbeat quickened.
“Any word from the SBA?” he asked hopefully.
“I should be hearing something any day now. And as soon as that happens…”
“I’ve never known the Small Business Administration to be quick, but I hope it’s soon. I have to present whatever offers come in, and if someone beats you to it…” He shook his head. “There’s not much I can do.”
That thought had been plaguing her since the property went on the market. “I know. Thanks for giving me a heads-up.” She’d never expected the loan to take so long. If it didn’t come through soon, she could lose out on buying the place. If that happened, all her plans—her safety net—would be down the tubes.
There had to be something she could do to make sure that didn’t happen. Just as she thought it, she had an idea. A last resort. She hated the thought of calling her parents, asking for their help, and she doubted it would work. But it was all she had left.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MAC HEARD THE CAR, HEARD the garage door close. It was 8:00 p.m. and Joey had been in bed for a half hour. As usual, his son had fallen asleep in the middle of the story Mac was reading to him. Sometimes he wondered if the boy was really asleep, or just pretending so Mac would leave.
He wasn’t getting through to his son.
“Hey, there,” he said when he heard Natalia’s footsteps in the kitchen. He turned from his position on the couch in the family room. “Did you get everything done that you’d planned on doing?” He paused. “Whatever it was.”
“I’ll be right back,” she said on her way down the hall, presumably headed for the bathroom.
As friends, they used to hang out, talk about whatever came to mind. As friends, she would have told him what she was doing, maybe even invited him along. As friends, they used to have fun together.
It was different now, and he had no one to blame but himself. He’d crossed a line when he’d made love with her, and he couldn’t undo it. He didn’t know if he’d want to.
He’d learned something important. He’d learned that making love with someone he cared about wasn’t all about the sex. It was about wanting to please more than be pleased. It was about sharing a part of him that he’d never shared before. But making that transition from friends to lovers had changed everything between them. As good as it had felt to be together, it would never work.
So why then did being with Natalia feel so right? Why did he think about her all the time? Want to be with her? Maybe he’d just been deluding himself with the friend thing because he knew there was no chance she’d want to be with him. That had been obvious from the get-go.
He smelled the faint scent of vanilla as she returned. Her scent.
“Okay. I feel much better now,” she said, rubbing her hands together.
“Good. Why don’t you come over and sit down. Can I get you anything? A glass of wine?”
“I can get it,” she said. “Do you want one, too?”
He nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”
And with that she traipsed over to the wet bar, grabbed the bottle of red that was already open, and two wineglasses, and came back and sat at the other end of the couch. She was so far away she might as well have sat across the room. She poured the wine, passed him a glass, then set the bottle on the coffee table. Slipping off her shoes, she curled her feet under her.
“The fire feels good,” she said. “It’s cool outside.”
The low flames flickered, casting a golden glow over the room. “The fireplace was one of the attractions when I bought the house,” he told her. “Every home should have one.”
“I don’t,” she said. “We didn’t when I was growing up, either.”
“So, where did you hang your Christmas stockings?”
Holding her glass in both hands, she rolled the stem back and forth. “We didn’t. There was only me and my parents. They thought buying presents was frivolous and hanging stockings was perpetuating a lie. We had a tree at Christmas and that was about it.”
“Wow. No presents from Santa?”
Her mouth strained at the edges. “You can’t get presents from someone who doesn’t exist.”
He couldn’t imagine. “Did you feel like you were missing out?”
She studied the wine in her glass, swirled it around. “You don’t miss what you don’t have.”
“I don’t know. If I saw all my friends celebrating and getting presents, I’d probably feel I was missing out on something.”
She didn’t respond, so he said, “I want to make sure Joey has traditions, wonderful holidays with all the bells and whistles. Including Christmas.”
“Do you know if he even celebrates Christmas?”
Mac nodded. “Of course. His mother was a Christian.”
“I guess something like that could be a problem.”
“It could be, but it’s not.” He shifted sideways to look at her. “And thank heaven for that. I’ve got enough to worry about.”
She remained silent, as if knowing he was about to ask her to do something else.
“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, but I can’t seem to get through to Joey. He’s always going off to his room, and when he’s with me, he barely says two words.”
Natalia glanced at Mac. “I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. Everything is new to him. His whole world has been turned upside down.”
Mac looked at her from under lowered brows. “So you think I’m worrying about nothing?”
“No, but I do think he needs time to adjust.”
“I hope you’re right. I remember my dad as the greatest dad ever, and I want to be that kind of father for Joey, but I don’t know what to do.” Mac shoved a hand through his hair, feeling more frustrated by the moment.
“What did your dad do that made you think he was so great?”
“It’s hard to describe. It wasn’t what he did, but more that he was just there. I knew he was always there for me.”
“As you are for Joey.”
“But he doesn’t know that. I haven’t been there for him his whole life, and now he won’t let me get close enough to show him that I will be.”
“I think you’re blowing it out of proportion,” Natalia said. “All any child wants is to be loved. Show him you love him and everything will fall into place.”
If only it was that easy. Mac got up and went to the fireplace, leaned both hands against the oak mantel.
She went over to stand next to him. “Why don’t you plan to do some things together away from the house? That way he won’t be able to opt out.”
He looked at her. “Can you come along? He seems to be more comfortable when you’re there.”
Apprehension flickered in her eyes. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said. “In fact, I think it’s a very bad idea.”
“I know. But it’s the only thing I can think that might help him right now. You wouldn’t have to stick around all the time, just hang out with us a little more than you are. Maybe go a few places with us.”
She pursed her lips, with that frowning, squinty look that he knew meant she was thinking about it. “I know I’ve asked way too much of you already, and I wouldn’t be asking this if I didn’t think it was necessary. What if he tells people he doesn’t want to be here?”
She straightened, her expression incredulous. “He wouldn’t do that.”
Mac shook his head. “Right now, I don’t know what he’d do.”
NATALIA TOSSED AND TURNED in bed, with dreams of Mac and Joey invading her sleep. It would be impossible to spend more time with them and still keep her distance. It would be too easy to delude herself, to start believing that the three of them could be a family—a real family where people loved and cared about each other, no matter what.
All these years she’d told herself that marriage and children weren’t for her. That it was too difficult to pursue a career and have a family. Which was true. Even just
being with Mac and Joey part-time put a strain on her schedule. What would it be like shouldering even more responsibilities? But the idea wouldn’t go away.
Mac wasn’t asking that of her, either. All he wanted was a little more of her time to help Joey feel comfortable enough to open up to him. He wasn’t asking for her hand in a real marriage. He wasn’t even asking her to be a friend with benefits. He didn’t see it as a big deal for her to spend more time with them; he only saw it as inconveniencing her a little more. As far as he knew, that was it.
He didn’t know that the more she hung around, the more likely it was that she’d want to stay, and the more she stayed, the more likely he’d find out about her flashbacks. If he found out, he’d have no choice but to report her, and that would be the end of her flying career. If they took away her wings, she might as well be dead.
But he didn’t know any of that. He was simply asking her as a friend. His best friend. He had no reason not to think she’d help him out.
And she would. Of course she would. She’d just have to keep one part of herself removed—and pray that she had no flashbacks when they were together. She’d had the beginnings of one at the bar, seeing Brody’s friend in uniform, and there was no way to know when the next might occur. The only certainty was that it would.
The sleep she so needed wasn’t happening, so she got up, put on a robe, then went to get a glass of milk. As she passed Joey’s room, she thought she heard a sound. She backed up, heard it again. Crying. Joey was crying.
Her heart wrenched. She knocked very lightly, hoping she wouldn’t scare him. When he didn’t respond, she slowly turned the knob and opened the door a couple inches. “Joey?” she said softly.
No answer, but as her eyes adjusted to the night-light’s glow, she saw him in bed, his back to her. He was hugging his pillow, his small body shaking. “Joey,” she said again, stealing closer. “What’s the matter, sweetie?”
Sliding quietly onto the edge of the bed, she placed a hand on his shoulder and felt him try to squelch his sobs in the pillow. She knew—and her heart ached for him.