Predestined: Nathan McCoy's Story (Hell Yeah! Book 37) Page 18

  If the opportunity arose…and if she didn’t chicken out. Big pair of ifs.

  “Is it still snowing?”

  “Oh, yea.” Nathan pulled back the curtain so Clare could see. “It’s not letting up.”

  He’d redressed. Now, he was standing near the door wearing his coat and gloves.

  “You’re not going out in that storm,” she told him. “Not while it’s snowing like this.”

  “I want to check on the roof, make sure there’s not too much weight accumulating.”

  “This house was built to survive a snowstorm.” She came to look out the window next to him. “Gosh, it looks deep.”

  “It is. The forecast sounded pretty dire.”

  “I don’t have a computer or a television.”

  He gave her a cute smirk. “I know. You’re an off the grid hippie.”

  She giggled. “Hippie? I don’t think anyone uses that word anymore.”

  “They do in Texas. Most Californians fall into that category.”

  “Nonsense. My father called me Romy, a reference to the Romany people. He said I was his little gypsy. Unfortunately, I think that word is considered to be pejorative now.”

  “That’s unfortunate.” He turned to face her. “I’ve always considered the idea of a gypsy to be romantic. Wild and free. A beautiful woman in bangle bracelets.”

  “I do have a number of bangles.”

  “I bet you do.” He grinned at her, then looked outside. “I’ll sleep in the barn tonight.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “I’m not leaving you. Not again.”

  “I don’t want you to. You’re staying inside with me.”

  This got his attention, he looked deep into her eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” She pointed at the couch. “You can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “You’re too big.”

  “I will not put a lady out of her bed.” He’d join her in it, however. “I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to.”

  She huffed and rolled her eyes. “We’ll put pillows between us or something.”

  He couldn’t help but smile “Or something.”

  Clare chose to ignore the whispered comment. “Anyway, you’re not leaving until this storm blows over and you can get down the mountain safely. Until then, we’ll cohabitate.” She added her own whispered addendum. “One way or the other.”

  “I look forward to it. I’m sure we’ll find something to do to…amuse ourselves.” He chuckled as she threw a sofa pillow at him. “Meanwhile, I’m going outside to look at the roof.”

  “Don’t go too far and don’t get off the ground.”

  Her directions amused him. “Yes ma’am.”

  As soon as he was out the door, Clare walked to the couch and just fell forward on it. “Oh, my stars and garters! What have I got myself into?” She was about to have a man for a houseguest. And not just any man. But the one. The special one. He might never know it, but Nathan McCoy was the love of her life.

  She lay there for a few more minutes, then jumped up – a little too fast. A wave of dizziness almost knocked her down. “Whoa.” She made a grab for the couch, then slowly sank down, bending to put her head between her legs. “Not a good time,” she whispered to herself. Suddenly, it occurred to her that she hadn’t taken her medications that morning. She’d been too beside herself about the weather and Nathan's impending arrival.

  Before she could rise, in he walked. Seeing her pale face, he hurried over. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

  She perked up, determined he wouldn’t suspect anything. “Oh, yea. I’m good. How’s the roof?”

  “Okay, I think. The pitch is steep enough that the snow is sliding off when it gets to a certain point.” He was still watching her with concern. “Have you eaten anything?”

  “No.” She grabbed onto that explanation with both hands. “That’s probably the problem.”

  “Well, you sit right there, and I’ll fix us something.” He turned on his heel and made for the kitchen.

  “I’ll be all right,” she called to him as she made her way to the bathroom. Quickly, she took her meds, then turned in a circle trying to figure out a good place to stash them – just in case. “Ummm. Ummm. I don’t have enough hiding spots in this place.” Hearing footsteps, she hastily thrust them under the sink – way in the back.

  “Romy?”

  “Yes?”

  “I found some hamburger. Is spaghetti okay with you?”

  “Of course. I’ll come help.”

  “You can come watch. How’s that?”

  “We’ll see. I’ll be right out.”

  When she heard his footsteps leaving, she bent down to make sure the items were definitely out of sight. “Okay.” Standing up, she stared at herself in the mirror, waiting for her medicine to kick in. “Whatever happens, you need to get a grip. No passing out at critical moments.” She knew every day was a gamble for her. Yes, she was a virgin, but she wasn’t exactly an innocent in other ways. Clare grew up in the most vibrant cultured city in the world and attended the very best schools. She wouldn’t clarify herself as street smart, but she wasn’t naïve either. Yet, no matter how much normalcy she’d experienced in her life, everything changed for her the day she died.

  She’d been young, barely a teenager. One moment she was walking with her nanny in Central Park, the next she was floating above her own body. Talk about a shock. At that time, she’d never experienced a health problem. Yes, she grew tired easily, but the doctor’s answer for that was diet and exercise. After she was revived in the ER, Clare was told she had a bad heart. A weak heart. “Cardiomyopathy. Isn’t that a mouthful?”

  Once learning her days were most likely numbered, her whole outlook on life changed. She learned very quickly what mattered and what didn’t. Usually she was very Zen about everything, guided by her heightened intuition. On the subject of love, however, she’d developed a mental block. And it all had to do with Nathan.

  “Romy?”

  Speaking of… “Yea, I’m coming.”

  Taking two seconds to straighten her hair, she went to meet her fate – whatever that might be.

  “This is delicious. Who taught you to cook?” Clare licked her fork, truly enamored with the taste of his sauce.

  “My brother’s wives. Each one of them could be a professional chef, especially Cady and Libby. This marinara sauce is Jessie’s.” He wound some spaghetti noodles around his fork. “When she would cook this, I would help. We used an online recipe that had illustrations.”

  “How old were you when this was going on?”

  “Oh, thirteen, I guess. I had a challenging time in school.” He caught her eye. “I’m dyslexic. So was Jessie. She helped me a lot. We sort of learned some life hacks together, to make coping easier.”

  Clare knew about the dyslexia, she’d read where Nathan was awarded the Remy Johnson Certificate of Merit reserved for students with dyslexia who provide a good role model for others. That particular article occupied one of the pages in her scrapbook.

  “No one would know. You seem perfect to me.”

  “People don’t outgrow dyslexia, but you can learn how to overcome it. I guess that’s what I’ve done.”

  “Congratulations. I have no doubt you can do anything you set your mind to.”

  “I don’t know.” He gave her a teasing glance. “We’ll see.”

  As usual when they were together, he could make her blush.

  “So, I told you one of my secrets. You tell me one,” he encouraged as he stacked their plates and pushed them to one side.

  “Oh, my.” Clare was stumped. “I’m not sure I have any worth telling.” That she wanted to tell.

  “Oh, you can think of something. Come on. Wow me.”

  “Oh, gracious.” She tapped her lower lip, then snapped her fingers. “I wear contacts. I’m as blind as a bat.”

  As she bent her head to remove a contact,
Nathan exclaimed, “Don’t tell me your eyes aren’t that gorgeous color of purple.”

  She laughed. “Clear contacts, the eye color is mine.”

  “I’m glad.” He sobered. “I love your eyes. They’re gorgeous.”

  “Thanks. Okay. What’s another secret Nathan McCoy is harboring?”

  He stood to carry the dishes to the sink.

  “I’ll get that,” she told him, coming to join him at the cabinet.

  “Nope. Sit.” He pointed at her chair. “Off your feet. Now.”

  Clare grumbled, but she obeyed. “Spoilsport.”

  “Save your strength. You may need it later.” He gave her a slow, sexy wink. “Now, for a secret. Let me see.”

  “Make it scandalous. I need to live vicariously through someone besides my brothers.”

  “That’s tough. I haven’t dated anyone in a long time.”

  Clare made note of that bit of news. “Oh, surely there’s something.”

  “Not too long ago, I was invited to go skinny dipping with three hot chicks.”

  A tidal wave of jealously took Clare’s breath away. “Oh. Wow. Did you have a good time?”

  “Invited was the key word. I didn’t go. Too many chores and too many bossy brothers.”

  “Nice thought though, huh?” She sighed with relief. “Okay. My turn.”

  “Something scandalous.”

  “Fat chance. Hmmm. I’m a virgin.” Immediately, she covered her mouth. “Whoops.”

  Nathan turned around to look at her – slowly. “You’re a…”

  Great. He couldn’t even say the word. “Virgin. Yea. A dying breed.” She pressed her lips together, realizing her unfortunate correlation. “Gee, that was inappropriate. I’m sorry.”

  “No. No.” Nathan wiped his hands on a dish towel and came over to her. “I’m glad you told me.”

  “Really?” She felt exposed. Vulnerable. “Why?”

  He gave her a tender smile. “Because now I know we have something in common.”

  Chapter 10

  “Nathan McCoy is a virgin?” She was totally taken aback. Of course, it wasn’t like his local paper would have a deflowering column.

  “Shhh.” He held his finger over his mouth. “You’ll ruin my reputation.”

  “How can this be?” She looked him up and down. “You’re so…hunky.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem.”

  “I didn’t say chunky. Hunky is a good thing. You’re gorgeous. Sexy. Adorable.”

  His smile grew even bigger. “Thanks. So are you. I can’t believe you’re still unclaimed.”

  “Unclaimed? That sounds a bit archaic.”

  “Are you waiting for the right guy?”

  She felt her heart dip. “Yea, I guess you could say that.” She was looking at the right guy. “How about you? What are you waiting for?”

  “The right girl?” He reached out a finger to touch her hand. “Yea, but there was more to it than that.”

  “What? Another secret?” This conversation was becoming intense fast.

  “You could say that. Do you remember when I told you I died?”

  “I remember.”

  “Well, ever since that day, July 17, 2013, I’ve developed a few extra talents.”

  Clare’s heart almost stopped. For the second time. July 17, 2013 was a day she’d never forget either. “I’m sure you’ve got many talents,” she was able to mutter.

  He didn’t notice her shock. “No, not what you’re thinking. I’m talking special talents. Like that dream I had about you and knowing what people are thinking.”

  “Psychic abilities.”

  “Right. In my case, I tend to pick up more from people I’m close to, particularly if I touch them or they touch me. That ability has caused some friction between me and my family, for sure. Now…” He touched her hand again, turning it over so he could trace a pattern on her palm. “Imagine if you will, how my ability would work if I were trying to be intimate with a woman and I could read her every thought.”

  Even though she was still reeling from his revelation about the date of his accident, Clare was mesmerized by what he was saying. “I guess it could be good, if they were thinking sexy thoughts.”

  Nathan laughed wryly. “Unfortunately, that wasn’t my experience. Of course, we were young. Inexperienced, obviously. Sensing her anxiety so clearly didn’t help mine. Plus…and I don’t know if you can picture this, but a person thinks dozens of random thoughts every second or two and some of them can be very negative. So imagine you’re trying to be romantic, and you keep hearing your partner’s thoughts… Do I want to do this? Oh, that feels icky. I wonder if Derek is bigger. Nathan smells funny.”

  By this time, Clare was laughing so hard. “I’m sorry. That’s terrible, I’m sure. And you don’t smell funny.”

  “Well, that’s good to know.” Nathan chuckled, amused at his own expense. “Anyway, you can understand how difficult it would be to…perform or to even stay in the mood.”

  “Yea, I can imagine how that would be hard.”

  “Or not.” Nathan laughed at his own self-deprecating humor.

  As Clare looked down at her hand cradled in his, her eyes widened in horror. What if he’d been reading her thoughts all along? “How about me?”

  “Well, that’s the amazing thing, you see. You’re only the second person I’ve ever met who I couldn’t read at all. Peaceful silence. You don’t know how wonderful it is not to be bombarded by someone else’s thoughts all the time.” He continued to caress her palm with his thumb. “So, don’t think anything bad about me just cause I can’t hear you. Okay?”

  “I’ll do my best.” Clare swallowed, unable to stop looking at his lips. She kept replaying their kiss from last night over and over in her mind.

  “What are you thinking about now?”

  Jerking her gaze from his mouth to his eyes, she licked her own lips. “Nothing.”

  “Are you telling me the truth?”

  “No.”

  He laughed joyously. “Are you thinking about making love to me?”

  “No!” She jumped up. “Come on, let’s go talk in front of the fire. I’m chilly.” Moving quickly across the room, she stopped to look out the window. “The snow’s still falling. Faster than before if that’s possible.”

  “Yea, I’m so glad I put out extra food and water for Lobo.”

  “Is he safe?”

  “I left the heat on in my cabin and extra newspapers on the floor.” Nathan moved next to her. “This is some storm, the biggest I’ve ever seen by far. Where I’m from, we’re lucky if we have one or two days of snow a season.”

  “Well, we needed it. We’ve been so short on rain. When this melts, the ground will soak it up like a sponge.”

  When he wrapped his arms around her from behind, she gasped.

  “You’re cold. I’m warming you up.”

  “Yes, you are.” Certain parts of her especially. For a moment, Clare shut her eyes to just bask in the delight of being held in his arms. “Nathan?”

  “Yes, Romy?”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me too.” He kissed the side of her face, then led her to the fireplace. “If there were marshmallows we could roast them.”

  “How about chestnuts? I have some already soaking in water.”

  “Why not? I’ve never tried them.”

  “First time for everything.” As soon as she said the words, she realized how they related to what they’d discussed earlier. “Forget I said anything,” she mumbled as Nathan laughed. Clare was thankful for something to do to give her nerves time to settle down before she returned to the fireplace with a long handled roasting pan full of chestnuts.

  “Excellent. As the man, I’ll handle this technical operation.” Nathan took the pan and settled in front of the hearth. “Come sit by me.” He patted a pillow next to him.

  “Okay.” She settled at his side. “This will be fun. I’m sorry I don’t have a television or anything.”


  “No problem. I’d rather look at you than any program.”

  Before she could respond to his flirtation, the lights blinked out. “Oh, no.”

  “It’s okay. Do you have any candles?”

  “Yea, I do.” She stood, then turned to walk smack dab into Nathan. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay, doll.” He held her a moment. “Do you have a flashlight.”

  “Yea, on the top of the mantle.”

  “Okay.” He turned to see if he could locate it in the dark. “One flashlight coming up.”

  She turned it on, and the batteries were pretty weak. “I’ll hurry and get the candles. There’s a lighter on the hearth.”

  “Do you have a generator?”

  “No, but the barn does. At least the horses will be safe in this freezing weather.”

  “So will we. I chopped plenty of wood,” Nathan assured her as he pulled the chestnuts off the fire.

  Clare found the candles and brought them over for Nathan to light. “I’m sorry about this.”

  “Don’t apologize, this is to be expected. Besides, candlelight is romantic.”

  She didn’t know what to say, so she walked to the window to look for the light in the barn to make sure the generator was working. “Nathan, come here. Do you see the light?”

  He came to her, peering out the window. They both stared for a good thirty seconds before they could detect a glimmer of light. “Yea, there it is.”

  “Thank goodness.” She hugged herself and returned to the fire. “With no central heat, we’ll have to get up during the night and replenish the wood.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

  “I’m not. I’ve been through storms before, but…never this intense.”

  “This was forecasted to be a particularly cold winter. I think the Old Farmer’s Almanac is calling it The Season of Shivers.”