Confessions of a Girl-Next-Door (18 page)

“That’s all I know,” she shouted apologetically when the crowd of mostly locals started to grumble.

Melinda from the grocery store was among them and the first to offer Holly a hand down from the table.

Since Holly had already seen him, it was only polite to go over and say hello. Under other circumstances, he might have offered
to buy her a drink, but he had a feeling she’d already had one too many. Oddly enough, when he reached the table where she sat, Holly was sipping from a glass of plain old cola. The remnants of what appeared to be the pub’s famous bacon and cheddar-loaded potato skins were on a platter in front of her.

“Hello, Nate.” Holly pushed out the extra chair with her foot as an invitation for him to join them. “I was wondering if you got my message.”

“I … Mick spilled coffee on it. I wasn’t sure who it was from,” Nate admitted.

“Hmm.” She frowned. “But you came anyway.”

“I wanted a beer.”

She smiled around her straw. “And now? Is that all you want?”

“I …”
Hold on to some pride
, he ordered himself. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was dancing.” Holly set her beverage aside. “For the record, I was dared.”

As much as Nate wanted answers, he laughed. At the absurdity of the statement as much as the ridiculous amount of dignity she managed to muster in uttering it. “Gee, it makes perfect sense now why I should find you on a pool table in a pub doing a
tush-push when I thought you were back in Morenci.”

In a way, it did make sense. Holly never could turn down a dare. She reminded him of that now.

“You know I’ve come to hate being predictable. It’s nice to shake things up a little every now and then. I believe that’s the expression.”

“Uh-huh.” But Nate was sure of little else at the moment.

Holly went on. “The man standing next to the jukebox was a little surly with me at first.” She pointed to the big hulking man most locals left alone. “He told me they don’t play any opera in here. I think he was just having a little fun with me.”

Nate glanced over to where she pointed. Actually, Zeb Barlow probably hadn’t been teasing. The island’s only mechanic had a bad attitude when it came to tourists, especially those who looked the part, which Holly definitely did wearing a skirt, sexy sandals and a pearl necklace. She might as well have had on a tiara. Jeans and sneakers were dress code here—or, in Zeb’s case, stained brown coveralls and steel-toed boots.

“I told him I wasn’t interested in a night
at the opera. I was looking for some proper dance music,” Holly said.

Despite the fact he was dying for an explanation, Nate’s lips twitched at her
proper
tone. “I bet that went over well.”

“He dared me to show him my best moves. So, I was. It was the bartender’s idea that I get up on the pool table to do it. And then people just started joining in and asking me to show them more. I threw in a toe kick I learned in the Celtic step class Mother insisted I take, and the next thing I knew I was leading a line dance.”

She sounded amazed. And a little proud.

“You’re here,” he said. He stroked her arm, just to be sure she wasn’t a figment of his imagination. Soft skin warmed his fingers.

“I’m here.” Her smile wobbled.

He cleared his throat and pulled his hand back. “For, um, how long this time?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she admitted.

His bruised heart took a tumble.

The waitress came by and cleared away the empty potato skins tray, as well as a couple of empty drink glasses.

“Can I get you anything, Nate?” she asked.

“Whatever you’ve got on tap is fine, and another drink for the lady.”

“Nothing for me,” Holly corrected.

“You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

“I should think that would be obvious.”

Under normal circumstances and with another woman, perhaps, it might have been. Tonight, here, with Holly, Nate’s brain felt fuzzy and too slow to comprehend. And his heart was just a little too battered to hope.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “It’s too loud to talk.”

But she shook her head. “In a minute. I have one more dance. Maybe you’ll join me for this one.”

She marched to the jukebox and inserted a dollar bill before pressing some buttons. God only knew what line dance she would be leading the pub patrons in next. He had no plans to join her.

Zeb strolled over and commented, “She’s a pretty little thing.”

“She’s mine,” Nate shot back. And dammit if he wasn’t going to make sure she knew it. Whatever the obstacles, they’d figure them
out. They’d make this work, because nothing in his life worked without her.

He pushed to his feet as the first strains of music filled the bar. No country twang or do-si-do beat. Rather, Van Halen’s power ballad “When It’s Love.”

Nate grinned as he recognized the tune. That last morning, he’d been humming it in the shower while he’d washed her back … and then her front.

“I’ll make a hard rock fan of you yet,” he’d teased.

Apparently, he had.

The crowd around him melted into an indistinguishable kaleidoscope of colors and shapes as he made his way to Holly. She was smiling.

“It’s kind of catchy,” she said when he reached her. “Although not the easiest to dance to.”

“Maybe I’ll just stand here and hold you in my arms then.”

“Suits me,” she replied as he slipped his left arm around her waist and scooped up her right hand in his.

Holly settled her cheek against his and sighed.

“About the length of your visit this time,”
he began. He wasn’t going to take a week or ten days or so for an answer. It turned out he didn’t need to.

“I was thinking I’d stay … forever.”

He stopped moving and pulled back so he could see her face. “Holly?”

“I love you, Nate.”

“And I love you. But—”

She put her fingers over his mouth. “No buts. That’s where it ends.”

“You’re wrong.” He kissed the hand he planned to put a wedding ring on as soon as he could manage it. “This is where it begins.”

H
OLLYN
Elise Phillipa Saldani had been born a princess. Three years after her return to Heart, she was a bona fide islander with a new name. The locals not only had accepted Holly Matthews as Nate’s bride, but they also fiercely protected her from the prying eyes of outsiders, whether they be paparrazi, traditional journalists or merely nosy tourists.

For the most part, Holly found that while people—including guests at the resort—were often curious about her, they mostly left her alone. Especially now that the uproar over her decision to abdicate her claim on Morenci’s throne had died down.

Her cousin Amelia had been only too happy to take Holly’s place. As much as Holly had chafed under the public spotlight, Amelia seemed to enjoy it. And while
Holly’s parents weren’t exactly thrilled with her decision, they respected it.

And they had accepted Nate.

Three years married to a man she loved so deeply had confirmed one thing: her mother was right. No woman in love was ordinary.

Nor was a woman expecting her first child. Holly touched her stomach in wonder. She still couldn’t believe it. She was nearly three months along.

Nate jogged out to where she stood on the marina dock. Worry creased his forehead. She hadn’t been feeling well lately, which was why he’d insisted she go see the doctor.

“Mick said you needed to see me right away. Everything go okay at your appointment?”

“Better than okay.” She handed him the grainy black-and-white ultrasound photo. “They said it’s still too early to tell if it’s a girl or a boy.”

“A b-baby?” Nate eyed her blankly for a moment before his disbelief finally ebbed. Then he scooped her up in his arms on a whoop of joy. “We’re going to have a baby!” he shouted to no one in particular.

He tripped on one of the mooring lines. Just as he had that day three years ago when
he’d tried to carry her to shore, he lost his footing. They both wound up going off the side of the dock into the water.

They came up laughing, wrapped together.

“Looks like we’re in over our heads,” Nate said on a grin.

Holly grinned back. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”