Nick's Long-Awaited Honeymoon

She came back to the present slowly. Nick was breathing through his mouth, a muscle working in one cheek much the way it had when he’d walked her to her door that night all those years ago. She still sighed when she thought about how reluctant she’d been to allow the night to end.

Crystal cleared her throat, reminding Brittany that she and Nick weren’t alone. “How old were you two when you met?” Crystal asked.

“Brittany was seventeen,” Nick answered. “I was two years older.”

“You went together for a long time, didn’t you? You must have known each other pretty well.”

Brittany didn’t know how to answer. She’d thought she’d known him. As the years had gone by, she’d begun to realize that knowing someone wasn’t always enough. Suddenly feeling as if she could use a stiff drink herself, she gave herself a mental shake and said, “I should take Savannah home.”

She reached for their child, but Nick beat her there. It required little effort to lift Savannah into his arms. She was petite like her mother, but he pretended to stagger beneath her weight. “She’s grown.”

Brittany nodded. “She just turned six.”

Nick knew how old his little girl was. He remembered every detail of the night she was born, just as he remembered every detail of the night she was conceived.

She stirred, smiling at him before her eyes had completely opened. “Daddy.”

“Hi, Savannah-banana.”

“Are you still mad at Mommy and me?” she asked.

Nick closed his eyes and shook his head. “I was angry, Savannah, but never at you or Mommy.”

He was almost glad when Brittany didn’t meet his gaze, not that she was fooling him with the way she pretended that all her attention was trained on getting Savannah into a small red coat. She was aware of the strong emotions between them, and so was he.

A helluva lot more people noticed Nick’s exit than had noticed his entry into the room. He could practically hear the speculation behind their stares. After all, he was leaving with a beautiful woman who happened to be his wife.

“Where’s your car?” he asked from the top step.

Brittany went down to the sidewalk before answering. “I came with Crystal.”

It was the end of March, and officially spring. A person couldn’t prove it by the snow clinging to the ground or the wind cutting through his clothing. Anxious to get Savannah and Brittany inside where it was safe and warm, Nick said, “Come on, my car’s over here.”

He made short work of the drive to Custer Street, thanks to Brittany’s simple directions. Her house was located in the middle of the block on one of the streets that didn’t have a sign. He’d driven past it earlier, just as he’d driven past every other house in town. While Brittany helped Savannah from the car, Nick reached into the back seat for his duffel bag and a battered old suitcase. With a case in each hand, he took a moment to study his surroundings. The house looked as old as all the other houses in town, but this one was larger than most and had a high roof, a long front porch and burgundy siding that set it apart from the others.

Brittany took a key from her purse and unlocked the front door. Eyeing the mechanism, Nick wondered why she bothered. The lock was old and could have been jimmied with a screw driver, a credit card, or a bent paper clip, for that matter.

“Mommy said you weren’t coming until Monday,” Savannah said, still holding her mother’s hand.

Nick’s gaze swept his daughter’s face. He knew before she batted her eyelashes that he was a goner. He could interrogate hardened criminals, yet one innocent statement from that little scrap of a girl had him scrambling for an explanation. He had planned to arrive on Monday. But he hadn’t planned on this driving need to get here sooner. Saying the only thing he could think of that was still the truth, he said, “I’ve missed you.”

“Are you going to stay, Daddy?”

He glanced up and found Brittany watching him. “For a while,” he said quietly, and left it at that.

All three of them walked inside, Brittany turning lights on as she went. “It’s past your bedtime, Savannah. Tell Daddy good-night.”

“But Daddy just got here.”

Nick almost smiled at the shrillness in Savannah’s voice. It was definitely an improvement on the nightmares followed by long stretches of silence she’d been having a year ago. Going down on his haunches, he said, “Mommy’s right. We’re all tired tonight. Tomorrow, when we’re rested, we’ll spend the whole day together.”

“Promise?”

His throat convulsed and all but closed. How many promises had he failed to keep these past seven years? “I promise, Savannah.”

Her smile finished the job to his throat, her arms winding shyly around his neck. “Good night, Daddy.”

He must have answered, because Savannah allowed her mother to lead her from the room without a struggle. Nick hovered in the doorway until they were out of sight. Then, testing the shakiness of his legs, he strode into the next room and the next. There was an old-fashioned kitchen with a monstrous antique stove and a round oak table, a bathroom with a claw-footed tub and green tile floor. A door led to the backyard via a laundry room. Another door led to the side yard off the kitchen. In fact, as far as he could tell, there were three exterior doors on the main floor. And enough low windows with faulty, or no, locks to make him shudder. The house had all the security of a chicken coop.

The floor creaked slightly, alerting him to Brittany’s presence behind him. “What are you doing, Nick?”

Trying for nonchalance, he crossed his arms and slowly turned around. “Is Savannah asleep?”

At her nod, he realized he’d been lost in thought longer than he’d realized. Shrugging, he said, “I guess I was snooping. This is quite a house.”

“It has seven bedrooms,” she answered. “That’s a lot of rooms to heat, believe me.”

Nick thought they were a lot of rooms for someone to hide in.

“Isn’t it incredible?” she asked, spreading her arms wide to encompass the entire house.

The light was on in the kitchen behind him and in the living room behind her, but not in the tiny alcove where they were both standing. As if she didn’t think it was wise to stay too long in a darkened room with him, she took a backward step, then deftly led the way through another door.

Nick followed as far as the doorway. Leaning one hip against the oak trim, he watched her switch on a low lamp.

“At one time this was used as a study,” she said. “It’s my favorite room. This house was one of the first to be built in Jasper Gulch and belonged to the first doctor to settle in this part of the territory.”

She strode to a low table where she turned on another lamp. The soft bulb cast shadows into the corners, delineating the curve of her hip through the thin fabric of her dress. She was talking about the history of the house, but Nick couldn’t stop thinking about the history between them. He took a step toward her, propelled by the need to be closer and something else he’d never fully understood.

Her hair looked even darker in the soft lamplight. Tendrils curled over the collar of her green dress and clung to her cheeks, accenting the delicate hollows below her cheekbones and the darkness of her eyes. She slanted him a look, then immediately started to speak, as if she thought talking would break the pull that had always been between them. He could have told her there was nothing she could do to accomplish that, but he didn’t want her to stop talking. Lord, he’d missed the clear, sultry sound of her voice.

“See those books?” she asked, gesturing to a tall bookcase. “Some of them are the very texts Doctor Avery used to treat patients. I think he used this room as an examination room when he first started his practice.” She moved again, this time to sweep a thick curtain aside. “Look at this. Fur traders and Indians and later gold seekers and cowboys could come right in without traipsing through the rest of the house.”

Nick stared at the narrow oak panels behind the curtain. Make that four doors leading directly to the outside.

“Nick, what is it?”

Nick heard the hesitation in her voice, saw it in her eyes. He didn’t know what to tell her, how much to tell her, if he should tell her at all. He waited a moment too long to come up with an answer, because she straightened, bristling.

“I was hoping you would try to keep an open mind.”

Ignoring the stiffness he’d acquired during his twelve-hour drive from Chicago, he tried to decide whether to be relieved or angry that she’d automatically jumped to the wrong conclusion. “Don’t I always keep an open mind?”

“Pu-lease.”

“What?”

She was staring at him, mouth gaping. “Since when have you been open-minded about anything?”