22. Natalie
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
NATALIE
Well, so much for that plan.
Hoping for a bit of joy in surprising Foster with her unexpected return, her eyes widened when she caught sight of him sitting on the front porch, smoking a cigar.
Foster Powell stood up, his face painted with confusion. He quickly pressed the tip of his cigar into one of the potted plants and walked out to meet her.
“But I thought …" he began the moment she stepped out of the car.
“Hi, Pop." Natalie completed her rideshare transaction on her phone, thanked the driver, then followed Foster into the house, the tiny wheels of her suitcases bouncing off the stone pavers of the walkway.
“You missed your flight? I'm so sorry. You kept telling me you needed to go and I kept holding you up." He brushed her cheek with a kiss.
"No, it's not you. The flight was canceled and rescheduled for tomorrow morning. Don't worry; I've already arranged for a ride, so you don't have to get up early. I'll sneak out and be on my way."
"I haven't slept past four-thirty in years, you know that. I'm more than happy to take you. Or you might ride in with Kate and Dash. Not sure what time they’re planning to leave but—"
"Wait, Dash is here?" Natalie interrupted, her insides now in flames, burning with anxiety. "I thought Kate said he was flying back to Houston tonight?"
"Well, we started talking about horses after you left. One thing led to another and before we knew it, we were back here at the barn. They're still down there. Pretty sure Mr. Benning will be leaving with a bill of sale for not one, but two horses. Hard to say no to my two beautiful mares.
Yes, he seems to have that problem.
"So, he's definitely staying the night then?" Natalie asked, her heartbeat galloping at warp speed.
"His suitcase is upstairs in the guestroom, so I assume so," Foster said. “Whaddya say we whip up a pitcher of margaritas and set up the old Scrabble board? Decompress a bit.”
Decompress? A laughable thought. Zero chance of that happening in the presence of Dash. Heck, Natalie doubted she could carry on a normal conversation without looking like some skittish cat.
You’re an event designer, not an actress. Fake an illness. Say you're not feeling well and turn in early. You're not emotionally ready to deal with a night full of eye sex between Kate and Dash.
“I know today was tough on you, but you handled it like a champ. I’m so proud of you, honey. And now, you’ve given me the best gift of all: another night with you and Kate.”
Foster smiled at her in the sweetest way, his eyes moist with tears. How on earth could she tell this wonderful man no?
“That sounds great, Pop.”
Together, they carried her bags upstairs to her childhood bedroom, still bedecked with outdated furniture and Beanie Babies in every corner.
Above her bed, the framed crown jewel: a poster from the famed Spiceworld tour, signed by all the Spice Girls, following their Nashville concert.
Natalie’s first concert, in fact. Somewhere in the house lurked a photo of her and Kate from that night.
Kate dressed as Scary Spice and Natalie as Baby Spice. A thought flashed across her mind …
I wonder what I could get for it on eBay?
Probably not enough to make a dent in what I’m gonna have to pay to the musicians, but every dollar counts.
“I’ll change and be down in a minute,” she said.
Foster nodded and left her alone. Natalie hoisted her suitcase up on her bed and examined her clothing options, the most ironic being Dash’s UT sweatshirt.
She’d tossed it in at the last minute, a way to feel close to him after he’d slipped through her fingers at the gala.
It had been stashed in a drawer since her return to Chicago, never once worn.
She ran her hand across the screen-printed logo, recalling the moment Dash drew it up around her shoulders …
and the tinge of sadness in his gorgeous baby blues.
Do I dare?
She pulled it on, along with a pair of yoga pants. Her hair still looked great, but her makeup needed serious attention. She took a minute to fix her face in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. As she tucked her feet into a pair of Birkenstocks, she took in her reflection again.
Let’s see if this gets a reaction.
Every muscle in Natalie's body tensed when she heard voices at the back door.
Sitting on the floor, head down in what she hoped gave the impression of unbothered concentration, she flipped Scrabble tiles over.
Foster sat a few feet away, kicked back in his favorite chair, nursing his second drink of the night and reading the newspaper.
"Who's hungry?" Kate hollered from the kitchen. "We've got dinner!"
"She cooked dinner? At the barn?" Natalie locked eyes with her father. "Are you kidding me?"
Foster responded with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Pop?" Kate's voice rang out again.
"We're in here!" Foster called out, folding and dropping his newspaper on the floor beside his chair.
Kate and Dash surfed into the living room on a wave of laughter with pizza boxes and beer cartons in hand.
"Nat!" Kate squealed and came to an abrupt stop. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be back in Chicago."
"Flight got canceled and rescheduled. I fly out early tomorrow morning."
"This is perfect!" Kate flopped down on the floor and gathered Natalie into a tight hug. “Except for that sweatshirt. Pop, how can you allow her to diss you like this in your own home?”
“The things we do for love, my dear.”
“It’s the only clean thing I had left in my suitcase,” Natalie fibbed.
Kate’s eyes flicked to Dash. “I know someone who’ll give you full points for it.”
“Hook ‘Em,” Dash said.
His gaze latched on to Natalie. Was the gleam in his eye a spark of true recognition?
Foster held up a hand. “Okay, okay … one Hook ‘Em is all you’re gonna get in this house. You two up for a game of Scrabble?”
“Absolutely. I was just telling Dash about Board Game Night when we were kids. Nat, I say we take them down. Ladies versus Gents?” Kate winked at Dash. “What sayeth you, Mr. Benning?"
Natalie's gaze bounced between her sister and Dash. She watched his smile widen … and felt herself go numb.
Dash spoke to Foster. "Exactly how cutthroat are these daughters of yours, sir?"
"Let's just say these apples had an extremely short fall from their old tree," Foster said with a chuckle. "In a word: ruthless. Worth seventeen points, by the way."
"I'm sure we can take 'em," Dash said with a nod.
Natalie stood. "Y’all give me two seconds. I'll be right back."
"Hurry, Nat. I'm ready to commence with the ass-whooping,” Kate said.
Natalie disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes to engage in an emergency staff meeting …
with herself. Out of view from the others, she braced herself against the sink.
The lights at the barn and the practice arena shone bright.
She took in the view while her mind preached a familiar sermon.
And you thought facing Hart in a public airport would be hard? Oh, babe, you thought wrong! Now you have to sit here and watch your sister flirt her ass off with the man of your dreams while you try to be cool and charming and not make an absolute fool of yourself.
You'll never make it.
She grabbed plates and napkins for their casual dinner and returned to the living room.
The coffee table had been shoved closer to Foster's chair, deep divots in the rug from the table’s legs now visible.
Boots off, Dash sat parked on the floor, twisting the top of a longneck.
Kate stood at the stereo, loading up the CD player with a collection of Foster's favorite country artists.
"Plates and napkins!" Natalie announced, flashing a ridiculously large grin while holding up the wares.
"We're all set then." Foster rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Hand me a beer, Dash, and we'll show these ladies how it's done."
Natalie tossed several pillows from the couch onto the floor. Because they were playing in teams, she had no choice but to sit between Dash and her father, directly across from Kate.
Eyes on the board, Nat.
Concentrate.
You survived the showcase and that turned out to be the worst case scenario. You can make it through one little game of Scrabble.
Natalie lined up seven tiles on her wooden rack. She sighed heavily with the realization she'd chosen nothing but vowels.
E-i-e-i-oh, shit. This is gonna be a long night.
"Dash, you're our guest. Why don't you go first?" Foster suggested.
Dash's forehead wrinkled as he eyed the tiles in front of him. Natalie's hands began to sweat as she considered how close they were to each other. If she wanted to, she could reach out and touch him. She lost herself for a moment, remembering the feel of his strong hands on her body.
Please, God, give me a sign that everything’s going to be okay.
"Natalie has a flight to catch in the morning. Do we need to set a time limit, Mr. Benning?" Kate asked, her mouth curling into a grin.
Dash kept his head down over his tiles. Dolly Parton's voice filled the air around them, begging Jolene not to take her man. Natalie stole a look at Kate, filled with the same sentiment.
A few seconds passed before Dash finally spoke, his voice still raspy. "No, I don't think so, but if you think it will give you an advantage, then by all means. I'll even let you borrow this."
From his pocket, he removed the silver antique stopwatch and placed it on the edge of the coffee table. Natalie’s insides turned molten. Dash leaned forward with a handful of tiles and arranged them in the center of the board, catching Natalie's eye for a split second as he spelled CROWN.
I prefer Scrabble … but only to spell out the dirty words.
This snippet of their conversation blasted through her mind like a test from the Emergency Broadcast System. A ringing filled her ears. If her sweatshirt put him in check, his stopwatch and Scrabble play were clearly checkmate.
Not only did Dash remember her, he made damn sure she knew it.