EIGHT
Rose
S urprisingly, I sleep pretty well. Like Kara warned, the bed is firm, but the room is so quiet . I’m used to hearing sirens and car horns throughout the night, but out here in the country, it’s silent .
The first thing I do when I open my eyes is reach over to grab my phone from the nightstand and check for service, but to my dismay, it still hasn’t been restored. So, I rub my eyes and climb out of bed to peer out the window. The ground is covered by multiple feet of snow, and it’s still falling gently from the sky. My car must be nearly buried by now. Apparently, spring has decided to hold off, and I wonder how long it’ll take street crews to get the roads plowed all the way out here in the middle of nowhere.
I decide I should take a quick shower before bothering Nate about getting me back to my car, so I grab my bag of toiletries and head down the hall to the bathroom. There’s a fresh set of purple towels on the counter. Kara must have picked them out for me. I run my hand across the soft fibers and smile.
The bathroom is dated, and the water pressure leaves a little to be desired, but it’s steaming hot, so I stand in the stream for just a few extra minutes before I step out and wrap a towel around myself. I didn’t bother to wash my hair, so I try to brush some semblance of a style into it and then apply my makeup in the mirror.
It's only when I’m finished that I realize I didn’t bring a change of clothes with me into the bathroom. It’s a stupid mistake, and now I’m stuck either changing back into my pajamas or sneaking to my room in my towel. It’s only two doors down, so I stick my head out and check the hallway. When I’m sure the coast is clear, I wrap my towel more tightly around myself, tiptoe out, and make a B-line toward my room. But just when I think I’m going to make it, another door opens abruptly, and I slam into the only broad chest in this house.
Nate grabs my bare shoulders before I lose my balance, and for an instant, I’m pressed into his shirt, and he smells like cinnamon and soap, just like he did in my office.
“Oh my God, I’m sorry!” I gasp into his chest. He’s so warm, and I don’t know why that stands out to me, but heat emits from him like a furnace. I step back quickly, remembering I’m wearing almost nothing, and tug my towel tighter.
“No problem…um...” He lets go of my shoulders as his eyes dart to my bare skin. He clears his throat and blinks away, moving aside so I can move past him. “I’m, ah, sorry.”
I blush and shuffle by. “Sorry,” I say again, breathlessly. Where did all the air go in this hallway?
I dart inside my room and lean against the closed door, groaning quietly. I’m not sure why I thought prancing through the home of an almost stranger in nothing but a towel was a good idea. He was so kind to let me spend the night, eat his food, and use his hot water, he’d probably appreciate a little prudence around his daughter. I glance down at my chest. It’s heaving even further over the towel than I thought.
I groan again and bring my hand to my forehead. Classy, Rose.
But I try to push the horrifying exchange from my mind as I change into my skirt and suit coat for my meeting with Mrs. Evangaline. I slip my flats back on too. The snow is still going to be an issue, so I’ll change into my heels once I get to St. Cloud.
As I wipe the lingering blush off my cheeks, I enter the kitchen to find Kara at the table and Nate at the stove.
“Good morning, Miss Rose!” Kara beams.
I sit down next to her. “Morning, Kara. You know, you can just call me Rose.” I glance at Nate. “If your dad’s ok with that.”
Nate shrugs but doesn’t look at me. “Sure.”
Kara grins like she just got invited into a secret club. “Did you see all the snow? We haven’t gotten this much all year!”
Nate turns around with a pan and puts two pancakes on my plate. As I pour myself a glass of orange juice from the pitcher on the table, I clear my throat. “When do you think we can head back to my car this morning?”
He shakes his head as he plates a pancake for Kara. “We’re not going anywhere today. Truck’s all blocked in. And they won’t be by to clear the streets ‘til tomorrow at least.”
I blink at him, confused. “But I thought your truck could handle the snow?”
He laughs as he sits down at his spot. “Not three feet of snow. We’re stuck here for now.”
I set my glass down and stare at my plate. “I’ll miss my meeting…”
“You’ll have to reschedule,” he says simply.
Kara sits up taller in her chair. “Dad already shoveled a path to the chicken coop! You can help me gather eggs, and then we can make snow angels!” She turns to Nate. “Can we make s’mores too?!”
“Let’s take one thing at a time. I’m not sure Rose is up for all that,” Nate says, taking a large bite.
Ok, so I’m stuck out here in the middle of nowhere with the grump and his daughter. This is my reality. I suppose I’d better make the best of it, so I smile at Kara. “I’d like to help with the chickens, but see, I don’t have any boots.” I scoot my foot from underneath the table. “I think my feet would be too cold in the snow.”
Kara stares at my foot for a moment, then turns her eyes to Nate. He sees her, dangles his fork, and chews on his lip. They’re both silent, and I’m not sure why, but eventually, he nods, stands, and abruptly leaves the room.
Kara grins. “You shoulda worn better shoes in the snow, Rose.”
I scrunch my nose playfully at her. “It wasn’t snowing when I left.”
She giggles and squeezes extra syrup on her pancake while Nate is out of view.
He returns with a pair of women’s snow boots and places them on the ground before he sits down to continue eating. “They should fit ok.”
“Thanks,” I reply hesitantly, not sure why he has women’s shoes lying around. Maybe he has a girlfriend.
This is getting more awkward.
Kara’s eyes linger on the boots for a moment, but then she goes back to eating. “I think you’ll like the chickens, Rose.”
***
By lunch, I’ve learned how to collect eggs from six ornery hens, watched Kara make snow angels while Nate shoveled his truck out, and played seven games of Guess Who on the rug in front of the fireplace. I also called Junie and my mom again and contacted Mrs. Evangaline to reschedule our meeting for next weekend.
Nate hasn’t said much to me since breakfast. Just the occasional jab at my lack of comfort in the wilderness that is his backyard. Waddling around in the snow with chickens trying to nip my ankles was not my idea of a perfect morning, but seeing Kara’s joy at the process made it incrementally less miserable. She talked to each of them like they had their own personalities. They’re her little feathered friends, and it’s clear she has a strong bond with them.
Nate spent most of his time observing silently while he shoveled. I’m kind of proud that I proved to him I can spend more than a few minutes outside in the snow without keeling over.
After lunch, I get some work done on my laptop, sans internet, while Kara draws quietly in her room and Nate watches football. Evidently, traditional cable has not been affected by the storm.
Without the internet to distract me, I actually find myself looking out the window for almost half an hour, watching the snow slowly begin to glisten as the sun warms it.
I only wish I could get back on Blindly. I open the app multiple times, hopelessly checking for a connection.
I miss him.
It’s silly. I barely know him. But he’s already started to work his way into my heart. In the almost twenty-four hours since we spoke last, I’ve become desperate to meet him. I plan to ask him as soon as I can message him again.
At six o’clock, I emerge from my bedroom and find Nate bundled up like he’s ready to head out into the cold. He’s helping Kara tie her own scarf around her neck.
“Rose!” she exclaims. “Do you wanna come?”
Nate looks up and sighs. “She doesn’t want to.”
“Yes, I bet she does!” Kara retorts.
Nate lifts his eyes to mine. “We’re walking up to the bar and grill on the corner. They’re holding a blizzard party. You can stay here, though, if you’d prefer.”
“What’s a blizzard party?” I ask.
Kara pipes up. “Mr. Nelson throws a party whenever we’re all snowed in!”
“He owns the place,” Nate confirms. “There’ll be burgers and drinks, probably. He’ll turn on the game. Usually, a couple dozen locals show up.”
I ponder for a moment. I suppose it sounds better than sitting around here alone. “Sure, I’ll come.”
“Yay!” Kara claps. “Go get your boots on!”
Nate passes me a green plaid scarf from the closet. “Put this on. It’s only a ten-minute walk, but I don’t want to listen to your complaining.”
I glare at him while I pull on the boots, and then I wrap the scarf around my neck. It smells like cinnamon, and I’m instantly reminded of being pressed into his chest this morning. I inhale deeply.
Outside, we crunch our way through the snow. The top layer crystalized in the sun today, so we’re able to walk on top of it most of the way. It even holds Nate’s weight.
The sky is clear now, and a million tiny stars are starting to dot the deep evening blue. It’s quiet, apart from Kara’s commentary, and we pass seven or eight houses with smoke swirling from their chimneys before we arrive at a small brick building on a corner. Warm light pours from the windows and a blue and red neon sign flashes “Nelson’s Bar and Grill” on the exterior. Nate pulls open the door and loud music flows out into the street.
The moment we step inside, people are patting Nate on the shoulder or offering him a beer. There’s a bar on the left with football playing on a flat screen, a few tables and chairs are set up nearby, and a green pool table is lit by a stained glass pendant overhead. Kara sprints to the far corner where a few other children are playing board games at a card table.
Nate greets the few who have wandered over and steps aside to gesture to me. “This is Rose.”
There’s an elderly gentleman, a woman on his arm, and two younger men staring at me with inquisitive eyes. They probably don’t get strangers visiting very often. But there’s something else in their expression I’m trying and failing to read.
“She’s a client of mine,” Nate continues. “She got stranded in the snow last night, so she’s been staying with Kara and me until the roads clear.”
They all look at him. One of the younger men raises a brow.
“Rose, this is Rod Nelson.” Nate nods to the older man. “He owns the place. And this is his wife, Mary. And Chuck and Andrew. They all live in the area.”
“Hi,” I say quietly, giving an awkward wave.
Rod steps forward and outstretches his hand. “Glad to have you here, Rose. And glad you’re safe from the storm. We haven’t seen one quite like this in a few years.”
Mary shakes my hand too. She has kind eyes and wiry grey hair pulled into a bun. “You’re from the city?”
I nod. “Yes, I work for AWP.”
Her expression is blank.
“Astor Wealth Partners,” I clarify.
She still looks like she has no idea what I’m talking about when she glances at Nate. “Is that one of your bigger clients?”
He nods. “One of them, yes. Joe usually takes their calls, though.”
“Is he still up at the lake?” Rod asks.
“Yeah, he’s trying to get back tomorrow though,” Nate replies.
Mary wrings her hands. “Oh, I do hope he’s ok in the storm.”
“I gave him a call,” Nate confirms. “He’s doing just fine. They stocked up before the front rolled in.”
“Well, come in, come in,” Rod beckons us forward. “Take a load off. The burgers are just about ready.”
Nate clears his throat and glances at me. “You wanna sit? Watch the game?”
I shrug. I don’t particularly care about football, but I do like to people-watch, and there’s plenty of that in this small establishment. Beyond who I’ve met, there are about a dozen other adults here. A few are chatting at tables, and the others are engaged in a lively game of pool.
I slide onto a barstool next to Nate. “So, you guys do this every time there’s a storm?”
He takes a sip of his beer. “Any time there’s enough snow to have us all stuck at home, yeah.”
“And you know everyone here?”
“Yep.” He sets down his bottle. “You want anything to drink? I don’t think they have fine wine.”
I eye him with displeasure. “I’ll take a beer.”
He chuckles and signals for Mary to pass him one.
I start to pull out my credit card, but Nate shakes his head. “It’s all on the house. Rod doesn’t take our money at blizzard parties.”
I cock my head. “How can he be profitable that way?”
Nate shrugs. “He’s not. At least not on nights like this. But it’s a small town. And we all tend to tip really well any other time. This is his way of thanking us.”
After I take a sip of my beer, I observe the room, and I see nothing but smiles. People are happy here. If Rod stepped up his advertising and updated the furnishings a bit… It would have potential. “You know, he could expand. Open a place like this downtown. People would love the small-town atmosphere. He’d make a lot of money.”
“Don’t think he cares about that.” Nate checks the score on the TV.
I unwrap my scarf and shrug off my coat. Mary is at my side immediately, taking them from me and hanging them on a hook near the door.
“Burgers are up!” Rod emerges from the kitchen with a plate full of patties and buns.
The children attack first, clearing out a third of the offering, then the adults slowly filter by to pick up their servings. The burgers are greasy and probably outrageously fattening, but tonight, I don’t really care. They’re delicious, and they fit right in with the jovial ambiance of this place.
Soon, the man named Andrew approaches from across the room. “Nate, wanna get in on the next game?” He points at the pool table.
Nate raises a brow. “You’re not tired of losing to me yet?”
Andrew ignores him and looks at me. “Rose?”
I shrink back. “Oh, um…I’m not very good.”
Nate chuckles as he stands. “Oh, come on, Ms. Astor . We’ll go easy on you.” He pulls a pack of Big Red from his pocket and pops a stick in his mouth.
With a groan, I follow him to the table. I came for the burgers and beer, not to embarrass myself on a game I already know I’m bad at.
Andrew racks the balls. “Alright, the game’s Eight Ball. Two teams. Me and Stacey.” He points to a woman at the other end of the table. “And Nate and Rose. Don’t forget to call your pocket on the eight.”
Nate hands me a cue and leans in. “Andrew will break. Whatever he pockets first—a stripe or a solid—determines what his team will be aiming to pocket for the rest of the game. And once a team pockets all of their kind, they go for the eight ball to win.”
I squint at the table. I’ve hit a few balls around at parties before, but never played an actual round. I hate to admit it, but if he hadn’t explained the rules, I’d be completely lost.
“The eight’s the black one,” he murmurs with a smirk.
“Wow…thanks, genius,” I reply sarcastically, picking out a cue stick. I’m not that dumb. In fact, numbers are my strength.
He laughs as he chalks his. “The only reason I’m helping you is because you’re on my team.”
Andrew breaks and sends two balls into a pocket. He shoots again, pockets a solid, and then misses on the third.
Nate gestures to me, but I tell him he can go first, so he steps up and studies the table. He leans forward and steadies his cue. I can tell just by his posture that he’s good at this. He easily pockets a stripe. And then another. He misses the third.
Stacey sinks two solids, misses the third, and then I’m up. I’ve been watching each of them trying to memorize the correct stance, but I’m still pretty clueless. The eleven looks close to a pocket, so I lean forward and brace my cue on my left hand. I pull it back and slide it poorly into the cue ball, which then completely misses the eleven.
I stand up and eye Nate apologetically. “I told you I was bad.”
He shakes his head, but he doesn’t look mad. “I guess we know who’ll be pulling this team.”
Crossing my arms, I lean against the wall and raise a brow. “Shoulda picked up someone else on the side of the road.”
He chalks his cue again and smirks at me.
That smirk. Junie is right, I’m realizing. He’s hot. I scrunch my nose and try to pretend I’m not allowing myself to admit this, but I’m standing a few paces behind him when he takes his next shot, and my eyes slide down to notice the way his jeans pull so perfectly across his...
I gulp and avert my gaze.
“So, your car is still stuck?” Andrew asks as Stacey takes her turn.
“Yeah,” Nate replies for me as he stands. “Just off county road eight. Almost in the ditch.”
Andrew shakes his head. “Glad you’re ok. What do you drive?”
“A Lexus LS,” I reply proudly.
Andrew cringes. “Yeah, you were bound for trouble then. On these roads in the snow, you’re not getting anywhere without a truck.”
“Well, I don’t spend much time out on these roads ,” I almost snap back. I don’t know why I’m suddenly on edge. Maybe because I’m still thinking about Nate’s ass and it’s throwing me off balance.
When it’s my turn again, I step forward and study the table. I know I’m going to miss again, but I attempt to look like I’m trying.
Nate clears his throat. “I’d go for the fourteen if I were you.”
I take his advice and circle the table to get the right angle, then I lean forward and rest the cue on my hand, but it doesn’t feel natural at all.
“Make a bridge with your hand,” Nate suggests.
I try, but the stick rolls off my fingers.
“Steady it with your thumb.”
Again, I fail, so with a sigh, I stand back up and slump my shoulders. “You guys make it look so easy.”
Nate’s leaning against the wall biting his lip. He studies me for a moment before speaking. “Want me to show you?”
I raise a brow. “If you think it’ll help.”
He pushes away from the wall and leaves his stick behind, then comes to stand next to me and points his arm at the table. “See, you want to hit the cue ball at this angle so that it strikes the fourteen on the left. You won’t need to put that much speed on it.”
I shift my angle slightly and lean over the table. “Ok, and how do I hold the stick? Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Like this.” He touches his left hand to mine. It’s large and a little calloused. And again, it’s so warm. I think even if it were below zero outside, he’d still be scorching.
He adjusts my hand until it’s in the correct position, and then steps closer behind me and rests the tips of his fingers on the hand that grips the stick. “You’ll pull back just a little and then slide it smoothly and firmly into the cue ball.”
But I barely hear him, because his chest is now almost fully pressed into my back and his breath tickles the hair on my neck. It’s cinnamon, spice, and heat. I can feel how broad he is against me, and if I turned my head even slightly, I’m sure I’d feel the brush of his beard against my cheek.
“Just take a breath and move the cue as cleanly as you can,” he says, low and quiet next to my ear.
My heart is beating fast and butterflies come to life in my chest, but I don’t know why, because this is Nate. All he’s done since I met him is grumble annoyances or make fun of me, so there’s no reason he should be turning me on right now.
Except, he is.
I swallow, inhale, and take my shot. Somehow, it’s smooth as butter, and the fourteen rolls cleanly into the corner pocket.
“Ayyy!” Andrew cheers.
Nate steps back, and I shove my hand through my hair and turn to the wall, worried I might be flushed.
“Great shot,” Nate says from behind me. “You’ve got another one.”
“Oh, great,” I laugh. “There’s no way I’m doing that twice.” I reluctantly turn around and eye the ten. It’s already lined up with the corner pocket. An easy shot.
“You got it?” Nate asks.
I nod. But truthfully, I want him to help me again. I want him to press himself firmly into me all night until I’m a pro.
“Watch out, Rose is gonna clear the table,” Andrew says.
I take another breath and line up my shot alone, trying to remember the exact position Nate showed me, and it works. The ball slides easily into the hole.
“You’re a quick learner,” Nate congratulates me with a laugh.
No, teach me more.
“Now our stripes are gone. So go for the eight,” he directs. “And call your pocket.”
I call the corner and try my shot, feeling confident now, but I miss to the left. My beginner’s luck has run out.
Andrew clears the table of his solids, and then just the eight ball remains. He makes a good try at it, but misses, so Nate’s up. He calls a side pocket and has no trouble declaring us the winners. He’s great at the game, and I’m simultaneously impressed and not surprised at all. If he comes here so often, he’s had plenty of time to practice.
We shake our opponents’ hands, and then Nate calls to Kara, who comes bouncing over happily.
“It’s past your bedtime,” he looks at his watch. “Time to get your coat on and say your goodbyes.”
She sticks her bottom lip out. “We were just gonna get Candyland out.”
“You can play Candyland next time.” He gives her a firm look that I’ve seen before from my own father.
She slumps her shoulders, but when she looks at me, she seems to remember something that makes her smile. “Can we have s’mores when we get home?”
Nate scratches his beard and looks at his watch again. “ One s’more. Then it’s bedtime.”
She jumps up and down. “Yay! Rose, are you staying overnight again? You can have s’mores with us!”
I smile and nod. “That sounds like a great idea.”
With a turn of her heel, she sprints back to say goodbye to her friends and then grabs her coat and scarf from the hook by the door.
Nate passes me mine, puts on his own, and then we all thank Rod and Mary and head out into the cold.