Always a Temp

But did Callie ever feel anything? He was really beginning to wonder.

THE NEON GAVE A COUPLE of ominous coughs as Callie drove home. Par for the course. Everything else in her life was going to hell. Why not the borrowed car, too?

Nate was still angry with her. And he wanted answers she didn’t have.

Why had she left?

Why does a horse bolt at a loud noise? Instinct. It was the way she was. She couldn’t put a name to the reason if she tried, since she didn’t fully understand it herself, but she did accept it. She panicked when she felt as if she was being tied down, and according to Grace, her father had been the same way. Hard to fight genetics.

So what had made her think she could explain tonight? Or that after their first encounter in his office, that Nate would listen? What had made her even try?

The need to be with someone who, even if he didn’t understand, might accept her as she was. After all, he was Nate. He’d once loved her. She’d thought.

Callie bit her lip as she considered all the things she should have said and hadn’t, because she needed more time to get them out.

She’d wanted to explain that he’d always been on her mind after she’d left, that ending their relationship had nearly ripped her apart, too, but the panic had been stronger than her feelings for him. How could she get that across to him?

She couldn’t.

Yet.

But with time…With some time, maybe he’d come around. She missed him and she needed a friend.

When she got home, the Hobart house was still dark inside except for the flickering glow of the television. No car was parked in front of the house or in the carport.

Was someone home with those kids?

A television also glowed in Alice Krenshaw’s living room, and there was no car parked in her drive, either, which was because Alice’s husband worked the night shift at the mine and they owned only one vehicle. The Hobart family probably had the same circumstances. One car and shift work.

No matter how she twisted it around, though, it still bugged the heck out of Callie that those kids had been out so late without supervision. Twice.

Uncaring adult? Zero supervision? Or were the kids masters at sneaking out?

Was it any of her business?

And here she was, sitting in her car, spying on the house next door. How creepy was that? Callie got out of the little Neon, trying not to slam the stubborn door too loudly.

She’d left the lights on in Grace’s house, but it looked anything but welcoming. Kind of a theme here in Wesley. Maybe that was the reason she hadn’t come back sooner.

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t.

CALLIE HAD DRIVEN AWAY half an hour ago and Nate was still keyed up, unable to focus for more than a few minutes, which was disturbing to a guy notorious for his ability to hyperfocus. He put the laptop aside and then absently ran his hand over the numb area of his thigh.

So what exactly did Callie want from him? Friendship? Forgiveness? Physical intimacy during a rough spot in her life? Perhaps all three. Who didn’t want comfort when life took a devastating turn?

Him. Physical intimacy had been out of the question after the explosion nearly destroyed his leg. He’d had no desire to share his battered body, and even when he finally had, it had been with the woman who was his nurse during the latter part of his hospital stay, a woman who was accustomed to seeing trauma and injury. The relationship hadn’t lasted long. Nate’s heart hadn’t been in it and he’d had a sneaking suspicion she was laying him just to get his confidence back up. He didn’t need mercy screws.

Again he ran his hand over his leg, felt the twisted tissue and deep dip where the destroyed muscles had once been.

No. Even though he wouldn’t mind showing Callie that he was no longer the inexperienced kid suffering from performance anxiety, there’d be no physical intimacy. He wasn’t the guy to give her comfort, because he wasn’t ready to put himself out there—especially with someone he couldn’t trust.

In fact, it really pissed him off that she was back, acting as if nothing had happened, wanting to pick up where they’d left off before she’d abandoned him.

We’re different people now, Nate.

In more ways than she knew.

Nathan got the laptop, settled it back onto his thighs and resolutely finished the article. He’d just shut the computer down and was ready to call it a night when his cell phone rang.

His leg had stiffened and it took a few minutes for it to cooperate as he crossed the room to the buffet table where the phone was plugged in, charging. He glanced at the number, expecting it to be one of his brothers, since it was so late, then smiled.

“Hey, Scoop.” Suzanne Galliano had been his best friend in Seattle. They’d collaborated on several stories and had been together the night Nathan’s investigation into the illegal import of pharmaceuticals ended in an explosion and warehouse fire. Fortunately for Suzanne, her hospital stay had been only two days, her recovery from the mostly superficial wounds rapid. Nate’s recovery, on the other hand, not so much. Hell, in a lot of ways he’d yet to recover from the blast.

“Are you still stuck in the middle of nowhere?”

“You mean my charming hometown? Yeah. I’m here.”

He could almost see her rolling her eyes. “Well, maybe I’ll be able to do something to save you. The paper just lost a reporter and they’re hiring. You’d have to throw some stuff together fast, get it up here, but honestly, I think you have a good shot.”

“No thanks.”

“Nathan…!” she whined. “Come on. You know you don’t belong where you are. You should be writing and reporting, not editing. I bet you’d make more money in this job than you do now, and it could be a springboard to bigger and better things.”

“Thanks. I’ll think about it.”

“No you won’t. I know that tone.”

“I will. Honest.”

She blew a raspberry into the receiver. “Fine. But you’re throwing away an opportunity.”

“I like being near family.”

“The same members of your family who tried to kill you more than once as a child?”

“The very same,” Nathan agreed as he shut off the living room lamp and walked into his bedroom. His brothers might have made a career out of attempting to do him bodily harm as a youngster, but he’d returned the favor. In spades. He might be the quiet brother, but he wasn’t a wimp.

“You need to rethink your priorities, you masochist. If I don’t hear from you by Wednesday, I’ll assume it’s a no and arrange for counseling.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

“No problem. I’ll make you see the light one of these days. How’s the physical therapy?”

Nathan smiled. “Over for the most part. I ride my bike. It keeps the leg strong and flexible.” Plus, he’d been able to buy a bitchin’ bike with the money he saved once the therapy stopped.

“There’s some good bike riding here,” Suzanne said in a sincere voice. “And I kind of miss you.”

“I’ll think about it. Hey, how’s Julia?” Her significant other, who had never fully forgiven Nathan for dragging Suzanne down to the warehouse with him that fateful night.