Although not one of Frost’s most famous poems, the themes of pure, simple pleasures over consumerism, and the appreciation of country life versus city life, resonated with him on a profound level. It certainly wasn’t a poem he’d expected Miss Proust, with her Bentley and pricey pearls, to know by heart.
She met his gaze, equally startled. “You like poetry?”
“Some. Classics, mostly. A lot of the newer stuff doesn’t make sense to me. I read one in theSan Francisco Chroniclethe other day about a moldy orange that seemed to be a metaphor for a midlife crisis. By the end of the poem, the orange had become an eagle that somehow laid a dinosaur egg that cracked open, revealing a newly ripened orange. I’d never been more confused in my life.”
Cupping a hand to her mouth, Juliet burst into laughter—a deep, boisterous, belly laugh that shook her petite frame.
What had she found so funny? His inability to understand the poem? “What?” he asked gruffly, trying not to be offended.
“Sorry, it’s just—” She giggled again, then, collecting her breath, she confessed, “My dad wrote that poem.”
Oof.Way to go, Nate. He grimaced. “Shoot. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“It’s fine.” She gave a don’t-even-worry-about-it flick of her hand. “There’s no way you could’ve known. Besides, between you and me, I had no clue what he was talking about, either.” She grinned, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye with her fingertip.
The woman was full of surprises.
“So, your dad’s a poet. And you’re an author. Quite the literary family.”
“Debutauthor, actually. I’m working on my first novel. That’s why I said you wouldn’t have read anything I’d written.”
Ah. That makes sense now. “Gotcha. That’s exciting.”
“Try terrifying. Your debut sets the tone for your career. There’s a lot of pressure to make a big splash right out of the gate, and my editor has particularly lofty expectations.”
Did he detect doubt in her voice? And why did he have a sudden urge to put her mind at ease? “I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. If you have an editor, you’ve already had to prove yourself. They don’t hand out publishing contracts to just anybody.”
She grimaced. “They do if your father is a famous poet and your mother’s a prestigious English lit professor with connections in the publishing world. My editor is a close personal friend of my parents’.” Looking embarrassed, Juliet resumed her stroll down the row of trees, brushing their branches with her bare hand as she walked.
“So you had an advantage. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. As long as you try your best and make the most of the opportunity.”
She paused beside a bushy fir with perfectly shaped branches and met his gaze. “And what if my best isn’t good enough?”
Her raw, humble vulnerability rendered him momentarily speechless.
He usually had a knack for pinpointing a person’s character within the first fifteen minutes. But when it came to Juliet—and labeling her a shallow, self-absorbed snob—he’d grossly missed the mark. This woman had depth, with real fears and doubts, who genuinely seemed to care about others.
What else had he gotten wrong about her?
CHAPTER 12
JULIET
Juliet flushed. Why had she bared her deepest fear to a complete stranger?Ugh. How embarrassing. Maybe she could redirect the conversation, and they could pretend like it had never happened?
“How about this one?” Quickly turning her back to Nate, she fluffed the branches of the fragrant fir planted directly in front of her. “It’s seven feet tall, has sturdy ornament-hanging branches, and I don’t see any bald spots.”
When he didn’t respond, she stole a glance over her shoulder.
Nate studied her, his expression contemplative, as if enmeshed in an internal debate over whether or not to let the previous topic of conversation drop.
Thankfully, he made the right decision. “Sure. It’s nice.”
“I saw some bow saws hanging on hooks by the entrance. Can you grab one?” she asked, pleased when Nate looked surprised that she knew the proper term for the crescent-shaped saw.
He hesitated a moment, then headed back in the direction they came, leaving her alone to collect herself. Filling her lungs with the crisp, piney air, she shook out her arms and legs, getting the blood flowing again.
Something about Nate made her feel off-balance and unsettled. She usually kept her insecurities tucked tightly away, locked deep inside herself. She never even shared them with previous boyfriends, not wanting to reveal her flaws.
