Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
“You have found your style at last.” ~Louisa May Alcott, Little Women
N at stood, hands on hips, in front of the wardrobe. How was it possible to own so many clothes and still have nothing to wear on a date? Yes, Duncan had seen her naked. No doubt, he maintained an entire mental catalog of her questionable high school fashion. The thought did nothing to quell the nervous flutter in her stomach.
The dark-oak wardrobe shined with a rainbow of bright-colored clothes. Not a single little black dress to be had. At that moment, all she wanted was a sexy little black dress like Audrey Hepburn or a sophisticated red dress like she was… well, anyone but her.
“Ugh!” She fell onto the bed. Why didn’t she own a fucking little black dress? Who bought her clothes? Sailor Moon? “Double ugh!” she groaned.
Twisting on the bed, she grabbed her phone and texted Elle for backup. While Summer was her go-to for most things these days, the former high school fashionista lived in jeans, cut-off shorts, and T-shirts. Thank the goddess for her fashion-forward, soon-to-be sister who always had the perfect outfit for any occasion.
Ten minutes later, Elle stood in front of the wardrobe. Nat’s clothes and a few pieces that she’d brought were strewn across the bed. Elle was a good five inches taller. In no Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants alternative universe would the clothes that hugged her trim, athletic curves and accentuated her long legs look good on Nat. Thanks to Nat’s petite figure and short legs, she’d appear like a little girl playing dress up in her big sister’s clothes.
If things progressed with Duncan, there’d need to be some future shopping trips with Elle to level up her clothing. The vision of a makeover montage to some sugary pop song danced in her head.
“I don’t know why you think you have nothing to wear. This is darling.” Elle pulled out a silky knee-length peach dress.
“Darling is for little girls,” she grumbled like the little girl she was complaining about. “I don’t want to be darling. I want to be sexy and sophisticated.”
“Don’t we all.”
“You are. As vomit-inducing as this is to say, Clayton looks at you with a mixture of respect and pervy intentions. I want Duncan to look at me like that.”
Elle sat down beside her on the bed. “I snuck a peek while you were at the bar talking with Duncan, and he already looks at you with very pervy intentions. I think that’s why Noah went over there to play guard dog.”
Nat’s eye roll could likely be heard at the farmhouse where Clayton was making dinner. “I’m sure Clayton didn’t like it and ordered Noah to come over.”
“Noah went over there on his own accord. After Duncan waved, I was distracting Clayton with…” she trailed off with a devilish lift of her lips.
“No, no, no! I don’t want to know,” Nat groaned, standing up and grabbing the red dress that Elle brought. Her nose scrunched as she held the dress to her body in front of the gold-framed mirror. This won’t do. The soft cotton fabric of the dress would swim on her smaller hips and breasts.
Damn clothes punctuated the cruel reminder that in Perry, she was still seen as girlish rather than womanly. Little girls wore peach-colored dresses. Women wore sexy little black dresses. She was no Audrey Hepburn. No Elle Davidson. She was just Nat.
“I’ve never seen you get nervous like this before. Of course, this is my first experience with you dating someone.”
Nat placed the red dress on the bed. “It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date. For the last year, I’ve been so focused on finishing my residency and establishing myself in practice, I kind of forgot to date or have a life.”
“When was the last time you dated someone?”
She tapped her right foot. “The last date was two years ago, the last boyfriend was four years ago, and my last one-night stand was a year ago. So, it’s been a while.”
“Are the nerves because it’s been a while or because it’s Duncan?” Elle asked, walking to the wardrobe.
She shrugged. This wasn’t like her to get anxious about a date. It wasn’t like her to fret over what to wear or to look at her clothes and think none of them would do. That she wouldn’t do. Self-doubt and second-guessing were a new bag of chips for her. The taste was sharp, like salt and vinegar in her mouth, but had, nonetheless, taken root since coming home.
She studied her reflection in the mirror. Where once she reveled in her wavy sandy hair, eyes the color of a stormy sky, and soft yet strong, petite frame, she cringed at what she saw now. The image seemed distorted, like a cruel funhouse mirror pointing out every flaw. Both seen and unseen.
Elle went on. “I was so nervous with your brother, but it was that excited nervousness. Although, I never worried about what I was wearing because he loved me in anything.” Her hazel eyes sparkled.
“I think he loves you best in nothing at all.”
Pink rouged Elle’s cheeks. “My point is…dress for yourself. The right person will see you because you’re showing yourself. For the record, I think who you are is amazing.” Elle held up a spaghetti-strap fuchsia, fit-and-flare dress.
“Easy for you to say. You’re you.” She flinched as insecurity slipped out.
“For a long time, I thought I wasn’t enough. Your brother once said to me he wished I could see myself through his eyes. It took time, and it’s still a battle, but I see myself…not through his eyes but with my own. I see what he sees in me…and I like me. I can only hope you’ll see yourself the way the people that love you do. You’re a perfect summer day…warm, full of sunshine, and missed when away.”
With a small grin, Nat took the dress.
Thirty minutes later, Nat arrived at the Sea Serpent restaurant, parked her sunny yellow Jeep, and jumped out. The kitten heels of her white shoes kicked up loose gravel with each step toward the entrance.
Duncan waited just inside the door. In a fitted navy suit that molded over his muscular physique and those reckless blond waves smoothed with product, he appeared the dashing do-gooder attorney from a TV courtroom drama.
“Natalie,” he greeted her with a smile.
A flutter bloomed in her abdomen and wiggled across her entire body. “You look very fancy.”
He leaned in, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. “I came from the courthouse. My last case ran late, so I didn’t have time to change.”
“No problem for me. You look handsome.”
His bourbon-colored gaze dragged over her figure. “You look…cute.”
Cute? Her stare flicked down to the simple fuchsia cotton dress. Maybe I should have borrowed Elle’s red dress…and a belt. What twenty-eight-year-old doctor wanted to be cute? Hell, what twenty-eight-year-old period wanted to be cute?
Sigh. Ask Elle to go shopping for some pervy-intention-inducing clothes.
“Welcome.” The hostess appeared. “Let me take you to your table.” She pulled two leather-bound menus from below the hostess stand and motioned for them to follow.
Their corner table overlooked the serene waters of Silver Lake. A blood-orange glow permeated the room from the setting sun streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. On the table, light flickered from the jade-green sea glass candleholder like a witness to this second first date.
That knowledge released a strange swirl through her. This wasn’t the first time she bit her lip and fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, wondering what to say to Duncan on a first date. For a moment, she was sixteen again, smoothing down the satin fabric of her tea-length dress as they sat side-by-side on gymnasium bleachers at the homecoming dance.
He leaned across the table. “Nervous?”
The question was a balm for her nerves. It was like a diagnosis. Once you identified the problem, you can treat it.
She blew out a breath. “I know I shouldn’t be. We’ve done this before.”
“I don’t think we’ve done this before.”
“What?” she guffawed. “We dated for almost two years.”
“That was high school. We were kids. We barely knew what dating was.”
Her brows knitted together. “I think I barely know what dating is now.”
“Sounds like you’ve dated the wrong men. Good thing I came along to help refine your understanding of dating.” His low voice almost dripped with smooth caramel.
She arched an eyebrow. “Dating the wrong men? You remember I dated you, right?”
“I said men. I was a boy then. I’m not a boy anymore.”
Her lips curved up. “So, this is a date and not just old friends catching up?”
“Correct.” He closed his menu. “I’m not going to be coy with you. I’d like to date you. I won’t pretend that I haven’t checked up on you via social media a few times over the years and thought about reaching out. When I saw you Saturday, I knew it was my chance to do what I should have done a long time ago.”
“Ask me to dinner?” An uncomfortable laugh whooshed out.
“Win you back.”
Her forehead creased. Win me back? What did that mean? “I’m not a prize or a trophy,” she said in a clipped voice.
“I know.” He reached across the table, brushing his fingers over her hand. “Although, being with you did make me feel like I’d won every trophy.”
Gooseflesh bloomed with each soft stroke across her skin.
“I was a dumb kid when we dated. You were right to break up with me.”
Nat’s face pinched with remorse. Awkward regret twinged with the memory of his stricken face and croaked, “Okay,” when she’d whispered, “I think we should break up.” Not because she broke up with him but for the impact on him. Despite her reasons, she always regretted hurting him.
“It was just all too much then. Evan had just died. My family was…” A dull ache choked off her words.
Moving her hand away from his, she unwrapped the silverware and unrolled the cloth napkin. The action anchored her in the here and now. Reminding her that she was ten years away from that night, even if the pain sometimes felt like it was right now. Like a thief, that night crawled into the room and replaced the muffled chatter of other patrons, the clank of dishes, and the soft instrumental music. The voices from that night echoed in her heart.
You’re making a mistake.
We’re sorry, Dr. and Mrs. Owens.
Not my son!
I’ve got you, Nat, I’m coming.
She pushed the echoing voices of that night down…deep down.
“Hey.” Duncan uncoiled her fingers from the napkin, wrapping his warm hand around hers. “It was a tough time for you. I didn’t understand then. I was a selfish asshole only thinking about why my girlfriend didn’t want to spend time with me. I didn’t consider what you were going through. I can’t change the past, but I am sorry I wasn’t who I should have been. Who you needed then.”
“Thank you.” Her voice wobbled.
It wasn’t just him. She’d pulled away from him then, and she knew that. Everything had changed when Evan died. She’d changed. She wasn’t the girl he first asked out. He deserved that girl and she couldn’t…or wouldn’t be her ever again.
“We were both kids, and neither of us knew how to navigate what was happening,” she offered.
“We’re not kids anymore.” He squeezed her hand, his lips flexed into a soft grin.
Her eyes met his. The searching gaze of a slightly clumsy boy had been replaced by the confident certainty of a man.
“Hello, folks. Do you know what you’d like?” the server asked, interrupting them.
“I do.” Duncan’s eyes almost smoldered as he gazed at her.
Am I on the menu? Her mouth went dryer than the Sahara.
Crisp pear cider bathed her bloodstream in a fizzy happiness while Duncan filled in the blanks of the last ten years between sips of scotch. After they broke up, she did the very mature thing of unfriending and unfollowing him on social media. So much of the last decade of his life was an untouched piece of plain paper.
He had fewer questions and more knowing statements about her life. Unlike her, he followed her on Instagram. Followers were something she never paid attention to, so she had no idea he knew about her many, many posts about crafty activities, dishes eaten at restaurants, and endless snapshots of Fitz and Lizzie.
“I see from Instagram that you do a lot of crafting projects,” Duncan said, wiping his mouth.
“Wow, you really did your homework,” she teased, spearing a green bean.
“Ninety percent of being a good attorney is research.”
“What’s the other ten percent?”
“A pact with the devil,” he said with a wry grin.
“Funny, and they say most doctors have God complexes.”
“Guess we’re two sides of the same coin.” His voice was seductive and buttery.
Nat cleared her throat. “Back to your original question. Yes, I’m still a crafter. It helps me relax and destress. I’d be lost without my hot glue gun.”
“Boxing is my stress reliever. I started boxing my freshman year. It helped channel my anxiety in a constructive way.”
Laughter rumbled through her. “By punching someone’s face?”
“Ha!” he barked. “Most of it is with a punching bag. There’s a small boxing gym in Geneseo that I go to a few times a week. You should come. Great stress reliever and a workout.”
“That explains the muscles.” Her mouth dropped open. “Did I say that out loud?”
Pleased smugness lit his expression. “Yes.”
Her face scrunched. “Sorry.”
“I’m not. I like that you noticed my muscles. I’ve noticed a few things on you, as well.”
“Oh…care to share?” Her voice came out a high-pitched squeak.
“In time.”
“Tease.” She offered a sassy waggle of her eyebrows.
“I’m only a tease if I don’t follow through.” His fingers skimmed the rim of his glass in slow sensual strokes. “And I always follow through.”
Oh my!
After dinner, he escorted Nat to her Jeep. The mid-August night air was still warm, but goosebumps pricked her skin when his hand came to rest on her lower back. Her body reacted to him in a way it never had when they dated. Even when they had sex. It had been the first time for both of them. Just like her decision to have sex with him, it was clumsy and quick.
“I had a wonderful time, Natalie.”
Propped against the driver’s side door, her eyebrow ticked up. “You keep calling me Natalie. You used to call me Nat in high school.”
“We’re not in high school anymore.” He stepped close and the low timbre of his voice caressed the space between them.
“No, we’re not,” she whispered.
He raised his index finger to her face, outlining her lips. “I remember how nervous I was to kiss you for the first time after that homecoming dance.”
“You don’t seem nervous now.” She almost gulped.
“That’s because I’m not going to kiss you now.” He released her and stepped back.
“What?” Her face tipped up, eyes blinking.
“I have to give you something to look forward to on our second date.” Mischief glinted in his gaze.
“What makes you think there’ll be a second date?”
Those full lips of his lifted in a cocky grin. “Oh, there will be a second date.”
“Aren’t we confident?” Smirking, she pulled out her keys from her purse and unlocked the door.
He stepped closer, holding the Jeep door open for her. Bending, he pressed a kiss to her cheek and murmured, “Not only will there be a second date, but I’ll kiss you in a way that will obliterate anyone’s kiss that came before… even mine.”
The air caught in her lungs, stifling her ability to say anything. Oh, my goddess.
“Good night, Natalie,” he said, shutting her door and walking away.
Her gaze followed him into the shadows of the parking lot. Not once did he turn back to look at her, but her eyes remained transfixed.
Had that just happened? Shaking her head, she started the Jeep and headed home.
Frustration and giddy expectation battled for control as she drove up the driveway to the Little Red Barn. Duncan had left her topsy-turvy. She was both wanting and angry. How could he declare he wanted her with one breath and walk away when he had her with the next?
Sliding out of her Jeep, she shut the door and leaned against it. Her stare was drawn to the glow of white light from the farmhouse porch. The turquoise door opened, and Noah emerged.
“What is he doing here?” she asked aloud to the inky sky, which remained tight-lipped.
No doubt, he was heading home after an evening with Clayton. Through the darkness between the farmhouse and the Little Red Barn, Noah’s trademark dimple-punctuated smile popped. Hands in his pockets, he descended the stairs. Bypassing his parked SUV, he strode down the stone path to her.
The rapid thump, thump of her heart rattled in her chest. Why is he coming this way?
“Nat.” He grinned, reaching the border of the stone path and gravel driveway.
He calls me Nat. Her fingernails dug into her palm. Was she Nat or was she Natalie? More importantly, which did she want to be? Nat was the girl-woman in a flirty fuchsia dress. Natalie would be the sophisticated sexy woman in a slinky black dress. Nat was the girl who pined, while Natalie would be the woman who devoured lovesick men.
With each jackhammered beat of her heart in his presence, she knew she was still Nat. All pining. No being pined for.
He cleared his throat. “How was your date?”
“Did Elle tell you?”
Elle had likely told Clayton, who told Noah. The two men may be plotting Duncan’s demise. No wonder she’d not dated since returning home. One hard-to-impress giant big brother was bad enough. Let alone his Marine Corps veteran best friend. Together, they’d intimidate any man who dared to date her.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Did you have fun?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” His tone was quiet.
Strangled stillness enveloped them. The silence between them was pierced only by the shuffling of his sneakers at the edge of the stone pathway. Each movement seemed to communicate indecision; whether to step over to her side or not.
“You look beautiful.” His earnest blue eyes shimmered with regret.
Why is he looking at me like that? Fidgeting with the skirt of her dress, she looked down. A languid want in her belly pushed her eyes back to his as if starved for his gaze.
“Thank you.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, hoping the motion would calm the anxious whirlwind inside her. What the actual fuck was happening?
“I…” He stopped and swallowed thickly. “I should go. Goodnight.” His soft footsteps tapped on the stone as he walked away.
“Goodnight, Noah.”
It was barely a whisper, but he stopped and turned back to face her. His mouth opened and then closed. With a nod, he pivoted and left.
For the second time tonight, she was left confused by a man.