“You’ve been reading too many historical romance novels.”
“I can’t help it,” she says, sighing dramatically. “They itch my brain in the right way. It’s the forbidden-ness of it all. Meeting in dark corners at balls and stealing kisses behind curtains. Pretending you don’t want the other person because you know you can’t have them, but deep down you desperately yearn for them.”
For some reason my brain hitches on the word forbidden. That’s it—that’s exactly what the conversation I had with Nathan the other night felt like. Forbidden. Not because he’s Beau’s friend—though I doubt Beau would be thrilled about the conversation we had—but because Nathan is the type of man I shouldn’t want.
“That sounds pretty dramatic,” I say. “I’m not sure I’d want a romance like that.”
“Oh, but it’s the fun kind of drama. The kind of drama that ends with peacefully and joyfully growing old together.”
With a wistful look on her face, Jenny steers the truck onto the winding backroad that leads from our barn to the Star Mountain village center.
“Don’t tell me you’re changing your tune, Jenny. You always said you never wanted another man,” I say, trying to keep a note of concern out of my voice. If my friend wants to date again, then she should. But she has a complicated past, and I worry for her.
“I meant it,” she says. “Romance novels are just a fantasy. A lovely, wonderful fantasy, but not reality.”
“If you could have one of those rakes or dukes, would you want him?” I ask.
“I don’t think so. I think what I really want is a man who has some honor.”
“Well, I don’t think you’re going to find a man with any honor at the Neon Horseshoe.”
I don’t mention that the most honorable man we both know is Beau, through and through. He comes off as a taciturn grump because he’s not chatty or friendly, but he’s got a moral code that could give a superhero a run for his money. And a gentle heart to boot, though he tries to hide it. But I know Jenny well enough to know she’s not ready to discuss what might be between her and my brother.
She might never be.
Jennyand I get all of the supplies she needs, and find an adorable pink coat for Lila at the thrift store. She grows so fast that Jenny tries to buy everything for her secondhand. After, we head to Mountain Diner, and almost run into Sarah Palmer as she’s leaving. She doesn’t see us, luckily, though I almost wish she did. Nathan would definitely come up in conversation—Star Mountain is small and there’s no one else interesting in town right now—and I’d be able to pump her for information about their conversation. Nathan was really pissed when I suggested they had been flirting. That, combined with his comment about how no one will work with him anymore, makes me feel like something is up with him.
He may be my enemy, now he’s also my coworker and teacher. And student, weirdly enough. I want to know what is going on.
After Jenny and I sit down at the diner, she pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through the barn’s social media page. She is extremely invested in our social media growth and makes sure to like and share every post I make.
“Oh my God,” she says.
“What?”
“Candice, who took these photos of you and Maggie?” Her voice is high-pitched, which is always what happens when she gets excited.
“Um,” I say.
The waiter comes over and I order us two iced teas. I don’t care if it’s freezing outside and the first snow is on the horizon. Diner iced tea with lemon and crunchy sugar mixed in is my kryptonite.
“Candice!” Jenny whines.
“Oh, right. Nathan took them. I mean, who else? Beau barely knows how to use his phone and Nathan is helping me with the account. You knew that.”
“Yes I knew that, but I didn’t think you two were doing romantic photoshoots together.” Jenny is basically hyperventilating now and the other people in the diner, all of whom we know, are starting to look at us.
“Jenny, keep it down. I don’t need all of Star Mountain thinking Nathan and I have a thing.”
“Well from where I’m sitting it basically seems like you do,” she says, her eyes wild.
“Nathan and I?—”
“And that’s the other thing,” she says. “Why do you always call him Nathan rather than Nate?”
That question silences me. Because honestly? I don’t know. He just feels like a Nathan to me. It’s how he introduced himself to me. He said, “I’m Nathan Booth,” pasted on that charming smile of his, and then proceeded to ignore me for most of the evening.
“No particular reason,” I say. I leave out the part where Nathan specifically asked me to keep calling him Nathan, not Nate.
