Bright Eyes (19 page)

“How long is Mr. Coulter going to chase Chester, Mommy?” Rosie asked.

“Until Chester stops trying to bite him, I guess.”

Thirty minutes later, Zeke walked home with far less energy and enthusiasm than he’d shown when leaving. Chester waddled behind him, quacking unhappily but no longer attempting to bite.

“I think we have an understanding,” Zeke said when he reached them. “Crazy, stubborn bird.” He swiped sweat from his forehead and gave Natalie a lazy grin. “You have an odd sense of humor, lady.”

Natalie nodded and brushed tears of mirth from her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she pushed out. “It just looked so comical. From now on, I’m calling you ‘Dances with Ganders.’ ”

His twinkling blue eyes narrowed in threat. “You’ll pay for that one.”

The growl in his voice made Natalie’s insides tighten. “Promises, promises.”

He ran his gaze slowly over her. “I’m a man of my word. Do you stand behind yours?”

A sizzle of desire tightened her chest. “You’ll soon find out.” She glanced meaningfully at her kids. Zeke followed her gaze. Then he clapped his hands. “Time to get cracking,” he said, his tone suddenly brusque.

Chester sat in the shade of the shop, quacking softly, his tone reminiscent of an old man muttering under his breath. Natalie went over to scratch his head. “Poor baby. You wore yourself to a frazzle.”

“That poor baby darned near took a hunk out of my backside.”

Two hours later, when the four of them stopped working to take a break, Natalie sat with Zeke in the shade of the building, their backs braced against the metal siding. After draining a glass of ice tea, he settled those amazingly blue eyes on her, his expression thoughtful, his firm mouth solemn.

“You didn’t sleep in.”

“I barely slept at all. I finally drifted off about five, and only a few minutes later, Lothario started crowing.”

“Lothario? The rooster that I hear crowing every blasted morning?” Zeke chuckled at the name. Then he sobered. “You didn’t get your rest.”

“Nope.”

Zeke studied her face. Those damned shadows were under her eyes again. He couldn’t, in good conscience, insist that she lose more sleep tonight. “Sunday,” he whispered. “I can wait.”

Her eyes danced with pure, unadulterated mischief. “No way, buster. I’m not staring at the ceiling all night again. I can think of more productive ways to spend my time.”

Chapter Ten

T
hat evening, Natalie left for work a half hour early, no easy feat when she had only thirty minutes to get ready after leaving Zeke’s place. She took the fastest shower in history, pulled her hair up on top of her head, slapped on makeup, shimmied into a dress, and left the house in a mad dash, blowing kisses to the kids on her way out.

Her first stop when she reached town was at a drugstore. When her business there was concluded, she stashed her purchase on the back floorboard and drove straight to Robert’s posh new home on Eagle Butte, Crystal Falls’s equivalent of snob hill. She ground her teeth when she pulled into the driveway, which encircled an elaborate stone fountain, a feature befitting the stately house with its pillared front portico, expansive front doors, and cathedral windows. The place was a mansion. It had probably set him back a couple of mil. How could he sleep at night, living in such opulence when his children were doing without?

Doing a slow burn, Natalie parked her old Chevy dead center in the drive, cut the engine, and then sat there, taking deep breaths to calm down. She wasn’t here to argue with Robert about money. Ever since the earring incident, she’d moved beyond that, her concerns more centered on Chad and how this mess between her and Robert was affecting him. Let Robert hoard his wealth. She honestly didn’t care anymore.

Zeke was largely responsible for Natalie’s change of heart. Loving him and knowing that he loved her had set her free of the past. Tonight when she made love with him, she wanted no ties binding her to that past. She needed to start over fresh, with no old grudges or grievances weighing on her heart. With Zeke behind her, she would see to her children’s needs without Robert’s help. If the club went under, so be it; she’d get a job. Chad and Rosie might not have the best of everything for the next year or so, but they’d have the essentials, and they would know they were loved, not only by their mother but hopefully by their father as well.

That
was the reason for Natalie’s visit here today—to talk with Robert about his failure to telephone or visit his children. A truce of sorts was her aim. To encourage Robert to exercise his visitation rights and keep in touch with the kids, she would forgo all child support, past, present, and future. No more snide remarks, no more hassles, no more threats to take legal action when she spoke to him on the phone. She couldn’t force her ex-husband to be a responsible, loving father, but she could at least encourage him to go through the motions. Just an occasional phone call would make Chad feel better. Even if Robert’s heart wasn’t in it, he could spare ten minutes a week to play the concerned, interested dad.

Natalie swung purposefully from the car. Her heels tapped sharply on the flagstones as she made her way up the wide, curved steps. When she reached the ornate double doors, she could hear the faint strains of Chopin coming from inside—the Berceuse, if she remembered correctly. The melancholy, Italianate sweetness of the piece almost made her shudder. On the rare occasion when Robert had deigned to have sex with her, he’d always played Chopin on the stereo.

Five years ago, Natalie would have trembled and felt heartsick, knowing he was inside with another woman. Now she was just glad it was Cheryl or Bonnie putting up with him. She leaned heavily on the buzzer, then rapped the brass knocker a few times for good measure.

For almost three minutes, Natalie cooled her heels waiting for Robert to answer her ring. She knew he was home. He never would have left the stereo on when he left the house; he was anal about things like that. She’d also called his office on the way into town, and his secretary had informed her that he was taking care of business at the house this evening.

Business, ha.
Since when did bonking a blonde qualify as work? Growing impatient, Natalie grasped the ornate door lever. She meant to speak with Robert whether he wanted to see her or not. He could forgo a few minutes of playtime to talk with her about the emotional welfare of their son.

To her relief, the door wasn’t locked. Riding high on nerves and determination, she barely noticed the gorgeous entry hall as she stepped inside. “Robert?” she called. “It’s Natalie! Can we talk for a couple of minutes?”

No answer. Natalie might have turned to leave, but the music playing on the piped-in stereo system emboldened her. Her ex-husband was somewhere in the house. She would have bet what remained of the Blue Parrot’s assets on it.

“Robert!” she called again, trying to inject a syrupy sweetness into her voice so he wouldn’t dread talking to her. “This won’t take long, I promise. I just want to talk to you about Chad for a few seconds.”

It was a huge house. If the interior walls were soundproofed, maybe he couldn’t hear her. Gathering her courage, Natalie decided to check the downstairs before she left. What could he do, have her arrested for unlawful entry? Not even Robert would be that petty, and this was a discussion long overdue.

Half expecting to walk in on a tawdry scene as she entered each room, Natalie quickly covered the first floor, calling her ex-husband’s name every few steps. The more she saw of his home, the more outraged she became. Robert wasn’t just selfish; he was without conscience. He had spent a fortune on furnishings alone. The place was so flashy it bordered on tasteless. He’d really gone all out. Grace undoubtedly hated it.
Nouveau riche,
she would say with a sneer.

As Natalie entered the study, she saw some papers lying on the edge of a vast cherrywood desk. No longer even mildly curious about Robert’s business dealings, she gave them only a cursory glance. The plush sitting area to the left of the desk did catch her attention, however. Two glasses of partially consumed wine sat on the glass coffee table, yet another sign that Robert had been in the room recently.

Her gaze coming to rest on the goblets, Natalie froze. Her grandma Devereaux’s crystal? Just like that, and her temper reached boiling point. She’d looked
everywhere
for those goblets, thinking that they’d been put in an unmarked box by the movers Robert hired and were in her storage building somewhere. She’d asked Robert countless times if he’d come across the glasses, and he’d said no. The rotten
bastard
. That crystal was a Devereaux family heirloom, mid-eighteenth century, straight from Bayel. The delicate fleur-de-lis pattern on the French-footed goblets was unmistakable.

Natalie stepped around the cushy leather sofa to pick up a glass. How dare he serve wine to some two-bit tramp in her grandmother’s irreplaceable crystal? She swirled the wine, took a sniff, and wished Robert were standing there so she could throw it in his face. Where, she wondered furiously, did he keep the rest of the set? She had a good mind to wrap the goblets in dish towels and take them with her now. Otherwise she might never see them again.

And why not? They were
hers
. Someday they should go to Rosie. If left in Robert’s possession, they might get broken. Decision made, Natalie collected both goblets and marched to the kitchen. After dumping the wine down the sink, she gave the glasses a cursory rinse, dried them, and began pulling open drawers, searching for clean towels.
Bingo
. Then, in the drawer below the towels, she found paper sacks, one of which would serve her purpose perfectly.

So mad she didn’t care if Robert came in and caught her, Natalie went on a crystal search. She finally found the other six goblets behind his wet bar. Carefully gathering them into her arms, she returned to the kitchen, wrapped each glass in a towel, and gently deposited them in the sack before spinning to leave the room with her loot.
Ha
. If Robert was hiding upstairs with his current flavor of the month, this would teach him. Next time he played these stupid games with her, maybe she’d swipe the silver.

As Natalie returned to the entry hall, she could have sworn she heard a door latch click. Her heart tripped and stuttered.
Caught red-handed
. She whirled and clutched the bulging paper bag to her chest, prepared to do battle.
Nothing
. She glanced upstairs. If he was up there, pretending not to hear her, the joke was on him this time.

Feeling like a common thief, Natalie rushed from the house.

At precisely nine thirty that evening, Zeke stepped into the Blue Parrot. Natalie was in the middle of a number, and the glare of the stage lights made it difficult for her to see beyond the bright pool of light that surrounded her. The rear tables, cloaked in shadows, were especially difficult for her to see. Nevertheless, she felt the air change when Zeke entered, almost as if a surge of electricity had come in the door with him.

She continued to sing, never missing a beat, but the same couldn’t be said for her heart. Straining to make him out, she followed him with her gaze as he walked to a table. He had the lazy, loose-hipped stride of a man who’d spent years in the saddle, the heels of his boots lightly scuffing the floor with each step. He wore the Western-cut brown sports jacket again tonight, this time over a dark blue shirt. The brim of his chocolate-colored Stetson cast his face into shadow, making it impossible for her to see his features. Not that she really needed to. Somehow, in a very short time, each plane and angle of his countenance had been engraved on her memory.

He sat at a back table, just as he had the other times. After settling on a chair, he propped one boot on his opposite thigh and removed the hat. Raking his fingers through his dark hair, he hooked the Stetson over his bent knee. His every movement was deliciously masculine. In Natalie’s estimation, he was the handsomest man in the place.

When he realized that she’d spotted him, his firm mouth tipped into a slow, lopsided grin. He touched two fingertips to the sable forelock that lay in waves over his high forehead, the mock salute serving as a silent hello.

Natalie wasn’t due to take a break yet. She had four more numbers to get through before she could go to him.
Agony
. She wanted to be sitting across from him. She wanted to hear the deep, husky timbre of his voice. She wanted to see his eyes light up with laughter or glint with teasing mischief.

To get through her routine, she sang directly to him—songs about love and forever, her heart in every word. Last night, she’d foolishly believed she could shut down her feelings for him, and she’d desperately wanted to do just that. Madness. She’d been waiting for him all her life. And he was right; this magic between them was very special. He couldn’t turn his back on it, and neither could she.

As she ended her last song, Natalie took a sweeping bow, laid aside her guitar, and went down the stage steps. Zeke pushed to his feet as she approached his table. “Hey, cowboy,” she said with a glad smile.

“Hey, yourself.” He leaned around to draw out a chair for her. “Have I told you today that you’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen?”

“Yes. But don’t let that stop you.”

He grinned and sat back down. The waitress delivered his drink just then. Natalie glanced up. “Next time out, could you bring me a water, Becky?”

“Sure.”

The slender blonde cast a curious glance at Zeke as she sidled away. Natalie gazed after her and smiled. “My employees are starting to whisper about you, Mr. Coulter. If I walk into the bar or kitchen, everything goes absolutely silent for a second.”

“There’s a bar here?”

She pointed to a closed door to the left of the front entrance. “Right through there. I wanted the dining room kept separate, so I had a wall put in when I leased the place. The atmosphere in here is more dignified that way.”

He studied the door, frowning thoughtfully. Then his expression cleared and he smiled. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

“Just that my employees are wondering about you.”

“Uh-oh.”

“This is your third visit, and I’ve always sat with you during my break. They know something’s up.”

He arched a thick, winged eyebrow. “Does that bother you?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

He chuckled. “You are. I just hate to make tongues wag. I have employees myself. I understand the importance of keeping your private life private.”

Natalie sighed and took in the room. More tables were empty than not, and she’d had a particularly stressful time earlier in the evening, trying to juggle funds to pay for tomorrow’s deliveries. “The way things are going, I may not be open that much longer. Let my employees speculate.”

“Are things that bad, honey?”

Natalie fiddled with the drape of the tablecloth. “Take a gander at the crowd, and you tell me.” She let the linen slip from her fingers and straightened her shoulders. “But enough about that. It’s a special night. I don’t want to ruin it, fretting about business slumps and money problems.”

A smoldering heat flashed in his eyes. “It is a special night,” he agreed. “And I don’t want to ruin it any more than you do.”

“Do I hear a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence?”

His mouth twitched. Then he settled his sharp gaze on the crowd again. “Business before pleasure, as the old saying goes. If the club is in that much trouble, you need to act quickly.”

“And do what? I’ve cut back on the menu. I’m operating with a skeleton crew. I’m buying cheap sour mash and refilling popular-brand bottles so people think they’re drinking the good stuff.”

He flicked a glance at his glass. “This isn’t Jack Daniel’s?”

Natalie touched a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell anyone. I come in once a week to pull the switches when no one else is here. Not even my help knows.” She shifted nervously on her chair. “I think it’s against the law. I don’t want my liquor license pulled.”

Zeke tasted the drink. His blue eyes danced with laughter. “You little crook.”

“Needs must. I’m barely managing to pay my suppliers as it is. You can’t operate on credit in this business. You either settle up front, or you go under.”

“That’s rough.”

“It’s the nature of the business. Do you have any idea how many restaurants and bars in this town go bankrupt each year? The wholesalers would go down with them if they extended credit.”