Behind Closed Doors. Debbi Rawlins

She’d been staring at it, too busy thinking to really enjoy the muscular roundness, and that pissed her off. He picked up the uncapped bottle of water he’d left on the bumper, tilted it to his mouth and drank.

      She tracked a stray drop running down his chin and wondered what it said about her eleven-months-and-counting dry spell that she was seconds away from dragging him inside and seeing what else that mouth could do.

      Of course, she knew he couldn’t actually read her thoughts, but when he swung a sudden glance at her, her struggle not to squirm turned pretty epic.

      “Well, all right, Cinderella,” she said. “I know you’re worried about the whole pumpkin threat, so don’t let me keep you.” God, sometimes she said the stupidest things when she was nervous. It wasn’t enough he seemed eager to bolt—now she was giving him a push.

      Except...

      Nathan was staring back at her, quite intensely, and she hoped she wasn’t kidding herself, but he didn’t look so anxious anymore. Finally he broke eye contact to look down at her feet. “Before I go, I have to ask...”

      With a resigned sigh, she followed his gaze to her short camo-patterned cowboy boots. Only they were pink and tan, camouflage objective be damned. “A birthday gift from my niece, so I feel obliged to wear them occasionally.”

      “Ah.” Amusement eased the tension around his mouth. “You’re a very good aunt.”

      “You have no idea,” she murmured, and stopped right there, deciding to avoid the topic. She suspected her earlier reference to family had darkened his mood.

      He took another gulp of water, then recapped the bottle. “Good luck tomorrow. I hope your guys show up.”

      “If they don’t, I’ll hunt them down.”

      He smiled, and she had the distinct feeling he wanted to say something, but he started toward the driver’s door instead. So that was it? He was leaving? Wishing her luck was a goodbye?

      “Nathan?”

      He opened the door but stopped to look at her, his face blank.

      “Thank you,” she said, wondering if she should offer to shake his hand. Normally she would, but now it felt weird. “I mean it. You could’ve easily blown me off, but you didn’t.”

      “No problem,” he said, his gaze slipping away from her. “Just being neighborly.”

      “I wish I could do something for you in return.” She focused on his chin, horrified by the dip in her voice. It sounded huskier than normal, kind of sexy, kind of as if she was offering sex. She wouldn’t mind a little harmless recreation, but being obvious wasn’t her style. “So...” She cleared her throat. “If you’re ever in town and feel like a beer, remember, I’m buying.”

      “I’ll keep that in mind.” His voice had lowered, too, and though she hadn’t met his eyes, she felt him staring at her.

      “That includes Woody, too. And Craig and Troy, of course. Please tell them.” She saw a brief smile tug at his mouth and slowly lifted her lashes.

      At that exact moment he turned away to toss his gloves onto the seat. “You don’t owe them anything. They were being paid.”

      “Guess it’ll be just you and me, then.” She shrugged, which he missed, along with her teasing grin. So she was back to feeling awkward again. “Or not,” she said, repeating the shrug when he looked at her before falling back a step. “Better hit it before the Food Mart gets crowded.”

      He looked momentarily confused and then tightened his mouth. Without another word he got into his truck. She waited until she heard the engine start and saw the pickup roll forward before she turned to go inside.

      If she were to glance back, she wondered if she’d find him watching her. Probably not. She might’ve only imagined the spark between them, but she didn’t think so. Maybe he was still in mourning and wasn’t ready to get back in the dating saddle. Had the tension between them made him feel guilty?

      She couldn’t stand it. She had to sneak a final look.

      He’d just made the turn onto Main Street. And now drove in the opposite direction of the Food Mart, toward the highway leading back to the Lucky 7. Proof of what she’d already known. He’d used the store as an excuse. It pleased her and made her laugh.

      “What was he doing here?”

      The snarl in Liberty’s voice had Beth jerking around to stare at her niece. She was coming from the stop where the school bus dropped off town kids. Candace and Liberty didn’t live nearby, but she got off in town on the days she worked for Beth—who’d somehow managed to forget today was one of those days.

      “Who?” Beth followed the spiteful gaze aimed at Nathan’s truck. “Nathan Landers?”

      “Yeah.” Liberty gave a surly huff. “What the hell did he want?”

      “How do you know—? Oh, God.” Beth finally realized why his name had sounded familiar. She’d seen it on the victims’ restitution list, the one that had been issued by the court. Nathan was one of the dubiously proud owners of Liberty’s wall art.