Love on the Outskirts of Town Page 13

  Then he gave Matt a suspicious look and left them alone in the hallway.

  “That’s good news,” Matt said quietly as Natasha dropped her head against his shoulder, sagging in relief.

  “Very. Come on, we can wash up again in the ladies’ room.” She bumped the door open with her hip and made sure it was empty before ushering Matt inside.

  After they’d scrubbed their hands and arms, she needed some fresh air. That’s what she told herself as she led him out to the alley. It was chilly and dark, but there was something cleansing about the biting cold.

  But she needed something else, too. And she didn’t know quite how to ask for it.

  “I have to get back to the bar,” she whispered. “I feel like that’s a standard refrain in our few interactions.”

  “You’re a busy woman.”

  She gave him a rueful smile. “Yeah.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve got a lot going on right now.”

  “That’s okay. I just wanted to hang out with you tonight.”

  “I have to tell you, I was in a weird place when you arrived,” she whispered. “And then you had to go and be all heroic and brave.”

  “Nah. I just held a guy’s head while he puked and checked every thirty seconds to make sure he wasn’t dead.” He grinned as she looked up at him.

  “That was really scary.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m glad you were here tonight.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  She was staring at his mouth now, and from the way he let the silence pulse between them, maybe he knew what she wanted next.

  “Hey,” he said softly, his lips just so painfully perfect as he formed the word. “Don’t let that be the reason you want to kiss me.”

  She looked back at his eyes. “It’s not the reason I want to kiss you,” she confessed. “But it might be the reason I actually do.”

  “As long as it’s what you really want.” He gave her a gentle grin as he brushed his fingertips against her neck. Her skin sizzled under his touch. “Speaking of pulses, yours is still elevated.”

  She swallowed hard. “Is that professional concern?”

  “Very personal, actually.” He pressed a little firmer, his voice slowing down, getting huskier as he looked at her. “But you can tell a lot from taking someone’s vitals.”

  Kiss him already. But she couldn’t, so she licked her lips and kept playing along. “What does my pulse tell you?”

  “You’re nervous.”

  “I am.”

  “And you’re brave.”

  “It doesn’t tell you that.”

  “Oh, but it does. It’s steady. Fast, yes, but strong. That tells me you want this, even though it scares the shit out of you.”

  “How can you be so sure about all of this?”

  “Hey, we both know how nice it is to just hold someone, right? If you need something right now, take it. No questions, no expectations.”

  How many times had she done that? Offered that to others? Sex used to be her favourite way to exercise frustration, celebrate achievements, or just have fun.

  Now she was stressed about a simple kiss.

  But Matt was offering, and she wasn’t going to turn that down.

  The space between them shrank, slowly and deliberately, until she pressed against him. His hand slowly settled on her hip and it felt even better than she’d imagined. Big, solid, strong.

  He blinked twice as they looked at each other, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks. You are the most beautiful man in the world, she thought to herself, warmth flooding her chest. I want—

  And then his mouth was on hers, his lips soft.

  Yes. This. She wanted this, she wanted him, she wanted more.

  He smiled against her mouth and gave it. His lips teased at hers, brushing and parting just enough to invite her to take the next step.

  Her tongue slid out eagerly, just the tip, to trace the curve of his lower lip. Please, she said with her body. Let me take this.

  She didn’t need to take anything, though. He gave himself freely, deepening the kiss as they sank back against the wall together. His hands moved over her body, up her side, from her hip to her ribs, then got tangled in her hair again as he held her head.

  Their tongues surged, tasting and teasing.

  It was more than a first kiss should really be. More assuming, more demanding.

  It should be their only kiss, but she wasn’t that strong.

  “Another,” she murmured when he started to pull back.

  “Sure.” God, he was so agreeable. And talented. He’d promised her it would be good, and from the way she was quivering inside, he’d surpassed that high bar he’d set for himself.

  When was the last time a kiss had affected her this much? Never.

  She breathed his name. “Matt…”

  He groaned as she fisted the front of his shirt. “Yeah. You feel so good.”

  Their legs slid together, his heavy thigh pressing between hers, and she pushed herself right into him, so there was no more space, no room for anything but this. Lips and tongues and hands and skin.

  His touch felt so right, so deliciously, distractingly good. His hand curved against her bare waist, his thumb rubbing against the bottom of her rib cage, and she wanted his fingers higher.

  It wasn’t until he flexed his thigh and she felt it against her clit that she realized just how far they’d taken it past a simple kiss.

  With a gasp, she pushed away from the wall, then turned her back to him. “I’m so sorry. God, that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  He dragged in a ragged breath. Loud in the quiet night.

  She had to get back to work. How long had they been back there? Malcolm would come looking if he needed her.

  She turned around again, and Matt was just looking at her. Gently, even. No judgement, no pressure, and it cracked her chest open. “Too fast?”

  “Too much?” She shook her head. That shouldn’t have come out like a question.

  “I liked it,” he said slowly.

  “I liked it too. Stop looking at me like you want to do it again.”

  “I do want to do it again.”

  She groaned.

  He stared at her for a long, pulsing stretch.

  Crap, she shouldn't like this—like him—so much.

  “There’s nothing weak about grabbing what you want with both hands,” he finally said. He hooked his thumbs through the belt loops on his jeans and gave her a soft, understanding look she didn’t really deserve. “And you never need to apologize for grabbing me. Kissing me. Or even pushing me away. I want to be your friend, whatever that looks like.”

  “I’m sorry I’m so skittish.”

  “Something traumatic happened and you needed an outlet for a minute. I think that’s a totally acceptable exception to the ‘just friends’ rule.” He held out his hand and she took it, letting him lead her back to the entrance to the bar.

  “You weren’t wrong,” she whispered just before they stepped inside. “It was really good.”

  He kissed her temple. “It’s all good. The talking, the teasing, working together to save a life. And it’s only going to get better.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Matt showed up on Monday for cooking class, Three Ways to Make Chicken Soup Amazing for Cold Season!, and spent the whole time colouring with Emily. Natasha wondered if anyone could tell they’d made out Saturday night, or if the scorching memory was her deliciously dirty little secret.

  Their secret, really, but Matt was on his best friends-only behaviour for the entire class. Then they had to skip the park because it was raining. Tasha felt weird inviting him back to her sister’s place, but Matt didn’t skip a beat. He said a quick goodbye to them in the bistro where that week’s class had been held and promised to text soon.

  He sent his first message before she got home.

  Matt: You make Mondays so much fun.

  She waited until Emily had disappeared into the living roo
m, then she leaned back against the wall in the entranceway and let herself blush.

  Natasha: And you elevate the entire cooking class experience to something…really lovely. And distracting.

  Matt: Did I distract you today?

  Natasha: Uh, yeah. Hello, forearms.

  He sent a picture of himself, parked in his truck, with his arm flexed in the foreground.

  Matt: They say hi back.

  She laughed. It should be too much, too fast, like the mistakes of her past. But it only felt good and right, and she found herself taking a quick selfie to send back.

  Natasha: Have a safe drive home.

  Matt: Will do. See you soon.

  They spent the rest of the week exchanging text messages. Definitely flirty, definitely not just friends, but zero pressure.

  Which was good, because the closer she got to Thanksgiving, the more worked up Natasha got about David’s sudden desire to be a part of Emily’s life.

  She also had a house to find, but nothing had come close to the one in Wiarton. More than once she’d thought about ways she could stretch her budget to make it work, before convincing herself that the right house at the right price would eventually pop onto her radar and the waiting would pay off.

  By the time Sunday night rolled around, she’d shifted her real estate browsing to the rental listings. It was good that Bailey’s wasn’t busy, what with everyone traveling and prepping for Thanksgiving, because she was in a weird mood.

  She wasn’t sure what she was trying to do by looking at apartments for rent. She didn’t want that.

  Her sister was right.

  She should dream big. An inn had been her dream before Emily was born. It was time she embraced it again.

  Putting away her phone, she pulled out the notebook she’d stashed under the bar. She still worried she was letting her impetuous heart make a terrible decision because it sounded exciting, but that worry didn’t have any foundation, so she let the fear drift away as quickly as it puffed to life. The more she planned, the more lists she wrote, the more confident she got that this could actually work.

  She just needed to find the right place.

  It’s in Wiarton, and still on the market.

  When the door chimed, she shoved her notebook under the bar and straightened up with a welcoming smile on her face.

  Speaking of terrible decisions, this one was wearing four-hundred-dollar jeans and a smooth smile.

  “David,” she said as she leaned back. “You’re fifteen hours early, and in the wrong place.”

  Her ex shrugged. “We decided to drive up tonight instead of tomorrow morning.”

  “We?” She exaggerated her curious glance at the empty space on either side of him. “You seem very much alone at the moment.”

  “Don’t be like that.”

  “Okay, I’ll ask straight-up. Where's your girlfriend? If you’re here, I might as well meet her before she meets Emily.”

  He just shrugged again, because he was an asshole like that, and she forced herself to take a deep breath. “Why are you here tonight? Do you want a drink?”

  He shook his head. “She’s waiting in the car.”

  She. Did he even hear himself? “That’s…weird.”

  “We had a long drive and I knew this stop wouldn’t take long.”

  “Gotcha. And do I get to know her name before tomorrow?”

  A ruddy stain darkened his cheekbones. “Sable.”

  That’s not a real name. Good lord, her conscience was catty. “Tell Sable I look forward to meeting her.”

  “I will.” He hesitated again. “Do you think, since we’re here early, we could take Emily for a few hours tomorrow? We’d stay close.”

  Her heart lurched in her chest, but then she nodded, knowing there was only one answer. “Uh…yes.” Except, no no no no. Not before she met Sable. And also, Emily needed time to warm up to both of them.

  It had been months since she’d seen David, although Natasha did her best to keep him present in her daughter’s mind. She had a couple of pictures of him on her phone and Emily liked to look at them—asked often enough for Tasha to keep trying to build a bond where one clearly didn’t exist.

  And she’d try again tomorrow, because her daughter deserved a relationship with her father. “Or maybe, since we’re eating early, you could have the time after dessert until bedtime?”

  “Which is eight o’clock.”

  She nodded, relieved he remembered this time. “That’s right.”

  “Thanks.” He gave her a tight smile, then left.

  Her hands shook as she wiped down the bar. It was only a few hours, and probably just to impress a woman. Don’t use my baby like that, she wanted to scream. But for better or worse, Emily was his baby, too. Regardless of his reasons, as long as he was a responsible grown-up and didn’t hurt her, Natasha couldn’t say no to visitation.

  Instead of reaching for her notebook again, she thought about grabbing a bottle of rye. Then she thought better of both of those options and grabbed her phone.

  Natasha: Happy early Thanksgiving.

  Matt: Same to you.

  Natasha: Are you working tomorrow?

  Matt: No. Family dinner, but I can get out of it. There are a million of us, nobody will miss me.

  Natasha: We’re eating a late lunch. Mid-afternoon. And Emily’s dad is taking her after that for the evening.

  Matt: Where do you want me to meet you, and what time?

  Just like that. She didn’t even need to ask him. She sagged against the bar in relief.

  Natasha: I hadn’t thought that far ahead.

  Matt: I’ve got a terrible idea.

  Natasha: Don’t say it. If you say it, I’ll probably say yes.

  Matt: In that case, how about I find a private place in the country for us to meet up?

  Private. God, yes.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her phone to her chest, barely able to contain the ridiculous glee rioting through her body.

  It really was a terrible idea.

  And she couldn’t wait.

  Natasha: Three-thirty. You pick the place and I’ll be there.

  The next day, David and Sable showed up right on time. They brought wine, and Sable—who was exactly as young as Natasha expected—brought Emily a stuffed bear. But she seemed nice enough, and got right down at Em’s level to say a quiet, tentative hello. David was awkward with Meredith and Dan, who barely managed to contain their disdain when it was only adults in the room.

  By previous agreement, none of them told David about the upcoming move. She felt a flash of guilt about that, but it went away when he talked about working ninety-hour weeks now that he was trying to make partner. It wasn’t her job to bend her life around his. And he’d opted out of hers as soon as she’d told him she was pregnant.

  Mer outdid herself with the feast, and the kids were mercifully on their best behaviour—especially Emily, who could have acted out. But after her initial quietness, she was curious about Sable in a sweet way, and David’s girlfriend answered every single question the three-year-old threw at her. When the topic of going to the park with her dad came up, Emily nodded enthusiastically, blissfully unaware of any tension Natasha felt.

  It didn’t make the ache in her chest go away at all, but it made it more manageable.

  Still, Tasha let out a sigh of relief when they cleared the dessert plates from the table.

  There was a bit more small talk, but it didn’t take long for Sable to poke David, and David to clear his throat. “We should get going, then. We’ll bring her back around eight?”

  Natasha nodded. “Text me if you’re going to be earlier than that, though, because I’m going out for a few hours.”

  She ignored the question in David’s eyes. It was none of his business.

  She knelt next to Emily so she could zip up her daughter’s fall jacket. “You have a great time, okay?”

  “Okay.” Emily wrapped her arms around Tasha’s neck and squeezed.
“Love you, Mommy.”

  “Love you too, baby. So much.” She followed them outside and carefully watched as David buckled their daughter into a brand-new carseat.

  As soon as they were gone, she dashed downstairs. She checked her hair, fixed her makeup, and changed her top three times before putting on the same fitted flannel shirt she’d worn earlier.

  Meredith gave her a knowing wink on the way out the door, and her cheeks heated up.

  Matt went back and forth on whether or not to tell Dani and Jake he’d be skipping the big Foster-Minelli-Howard dinner at their place. He ended up going over there mid-day.

  Dani hollered for him to let himself in when he knocked, and he found her in the kitchen, prepping the turkey to go in the oven.

  “Where’s my brother?” Matt asked as he snagged a carrot slice from the cutting board.

  She waved her chef’s knife at him. “What are you doing here so early?”

  “Answering a question with a question, interesting tactic.”

  She rolled her eyes. “He’s in the backyard with Calvin, trying to teach him how to play soccer.”

  “Seriously?” The baby was eleven months old.

  “Dead serious. You should go and help. Or stay here and help. Do you want to roll dough for the apple pie?”

  “Uh…” He stuck his tongue in his cheek. “Yeah, I’ll help here first.”

  She gave him a curious look as she handed him the rolling pin, then fetched a chilled ball of dough from the fridge. “What’s going on?”

  “I actually came by to say that I wouldn’t be staying for dinner.”

  “Oh.” Her eyebrows jogged north, then she shrugged. “Okay.”

  “You aren’t interested in knowing why?”

  She made a confused frown. “Do you want me to know why?”

  “I don’t know.” He huffed out a breath as she laughed at him and pointed to the pie dish on the island. “Hey, I didn’t come here to be mocked.”