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Rafe wasn't worried when Natalie didn't show up at his house on Sunday. As they'd stood next to her SUV in The Crag's parking lot, she'd warned him she probably wouldn't.
With a weary expression, she'd regarded Shyla, still passed out in the back seat. “I'll take her to my place tonight. I can't leave her until she's sobered up.”
“I understand.” Though the drive to Quesnel and back had taken just over three hours, it wasn't yet eight o'clock. The climbing gym was still open, the lot full of vehicles. His own had a healthy layer of snow and he used the remote to start the engine. “You'll call if you need anything?”
Natalie's mouth widened in a smile that didn't reach her eyes. “Don't worry. We'll be fine.” She had slipped into the driver's seat and driven away.
Monday morning she had sent a text saying she'd be working from home, with no mention of her sister. He'd wanted to ask how things were going, but hadn't wanted to pry, so simply sent back a one-word acknowledgment.
He'd received no other messages and left his house Tuesday morning with the hope he might come home to one of her chatty, breezy notes. When he drove up the street on his return from the lab, however, her grey SUV was still parked out front.
A voice inside him whispered yes.
Half-ashamed of his reaction, he exited his car and raced inside. Her boots rested on the mat by the garage door and he relaxed a fraction more at this additional evidence of her presence. Slowing his steps, he paced deliberately up the flight to the second floor and down the hall to her room.
He paused in the doorway. She sat at the table that held his mother's ancient computer, frowning at her laptop, an age-battered folder open next to it. Her mug was within arm's reach and he caught the whiff of herbal tea. One dark wing of hair was tucked behind her ear, revealing a white earbud. He wondered what she was listening to.
Since she hadn't yet seen him, he took a moment to scrutinize her. Was she paler than normal? Were there circles under her eyes from sleepless nights? His fingers itched to turn her chin toward him so he could ascertain for himself that the worry and sorrow etched on her face Saturday had disappeared.
She reached for her phone and woke the screen. “Damn it.” Pushing her chair back from the table, she plucked the earbuds out and tossed them on the desk.
He didn’t want her to leave. “Stay for dinner.”
With a shriek she launched out of her seat, spinning around and clutching her chest. “Rafe! How long have you been there?”
“Not long. Honest.” Great, now she thought he was a stalker. “I didn't mean to startle you.”
Her palm pressed flat between her breasts as if holding her heart in place. “My alarm went off, but I wanted to finish one thing. I guess I got caught up.”
Why had she set an alarm? It wasn't like she was being paid by the hour, so there was no set time for her to clock out.
His mind made the leap. She wanted to ensure she’d be gone before he got home. He swallowed down the hurt. “Don't leave on my account. I'll stay out of your way.” He took a step back.
“Wait.” She lifted a hand, and then dropped it heavily, like a stone.
His heart rate sped up. She worried her lower lip with her teeth and his attention was drawn to the plushness of her mouth. A tingle in his fingertips presaged the desire that flared in his belly.
“I never thanked you. For Saturday.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her fingers flexing at her sides.
“It was nothing.”
She shook her head. “Don't. Don't brush it off. Shyla was rude and demanding and ungrateful. I don't want you to think the same of me.”
Her large brown eyes stared from behind her dark frames, her expression sober. He wanted to put the smile back on her face. She didn't look like his Natalie when she looked this way. He missed her sparkle, her cheerful charm.
Three quick strides put him in front of her. She lifted her chin as he cupped her jaw in his palms. Her soft inhalation checked him, but only for a moment. “I didn't do it for Shyla. I did it for you. And I would never think you ungrateful. You ask for so little.”
Her hands came up to rest on his forearms, her touch warm through the fabric of his shirt. “I don't like to be a bother.”
He wanted to tell her she could bother him any time, day or night, but something stayed the declaration. “You look tired.”
She huffed a breath that tickled under his chin. “Just what I wanted to hear.”
His thumbs traced small circles on her cheeks. She didn't seem to mind. Was it his imagination or was she letting her head rest in his hands? “Is Shyla still with you?”
Tiny muscles flexed as the corners of her mouth turned down. “No. She left Sunday.”
“Where did she go?”
Her fingers clenched his wrists then relaxed. “I don't know. I took a shower and when I came out she was gone. Along with—” She cut herself off. “She hasn't called since.”
He didn't press her on her unfinished comment. He could guess what she'd been going to say. Shyla had probably helped herself to easily sellable items or handily available cash. “You haven't answered my question.”
A wrinkle creased between her brows. “Which question?”
“About dinner.”
“That wasn't a question. That was a statement.” This time, her smile was reflected in her eyes, but it faded quickly. “Are you sure, though? Do you really want me to stay? I don't want to disrupt your plans.”
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NATALIE SEARCHED RAFE'S expression for the pity she was certain she’d see. He had to have asked her for dinner because he felt sorry for her. What other reason could there be?
All she saw was welcome—and a glimmer of something deep in his eyes she wasn't ready to examine.
“Yes. I'm sure.” His tone was firm. “I wouldn't have asked otherwise.”
That she believed. He would never do anything he didn't want to. It should have been reassuring, but instead it made her feel weak and indecisive. Her relationship with Shyla had always been a tug-of-war between what she knew she should do and what she ended up doing. Standing firm while watching her sister destroy herself was impossible, especially since the single instance she’d tried tough love, she’d only caused pain for her whole family.
“Well—” The thought of her empty apartment was suddenly too much to bear. “If you mean it, then, yes, I will.”
Pleasure softened his harsh features. “Great.” His gaze dipped from her eyes to his hands, still cupping her face. Heat scorched her cheeks when she realized she was leaning into his caress in a display of embarrassing fragility. She stiffened her neck, drawing back.
He immediately let go and tucked his hands in his pockets. “So, are you done here? Or do you need to finish up?”
“I'm done.”
“Come with me, then.”
She followed him down the stairs, wondering if she'd made a mistake agreeing to dinner. She hated baring her vulnerabilities, especially to someone as self-sufficient as Rafe. But after the last two days, she needed the comfort of rational adult companionship, even if it was offered from such an unexpected quarter.
She'd spoken nothing but the truth when she'd told him Shyla had left while she was in the shower, but she hadn't made a complete confession. Shyla had definitely vanished—along with what little cash Natalie had in her purse and all her credit cards. Though a tiny, guilty voice whispered the theft covered only a portion of what she owed Shyla, she had cancelled them immediately. She simply couldn’t afford any further debt and would never turn her sister in for using the cards illegally. Yet, that hadn't been the worst of it.
She had taken her laptop, too.
Lightheaded at the thought of all the work she might have lost if she wasn't compulsive about backing everything up on the cloud, she gripped the stair rail for support. Though total disaster had been avoided, purchasing another computer and setting everything up again had resulted in an entire day lost—and forced her to spend money she didn't have.
When she'd discovered the theft, she'd been so furiously distraught she'd considered giving up on the whole project. Shyla obviously wasn't committed to the treatment program, so Natalie's most pressing reason for the job was moot. In the end, it wasn't her reluctance to break her contract with Otto and Rafe or her own need for income that prevented her from backing out. It was her growing fascination with Eugenia herself. Every day she learned something new and she wanted to write her story now more than ever.
That determination had prodded her back to Rafe's that morning. She had fully intended to be long gone by the time he arrived home. Not only did it keep true to the schedule she'd set the first day, but it had the added bonus of preventing her from having to face his rejection.
Now he knew about Shyla, he would treat her differently. How could he not?
Her subconscious had played against her, however. She'd been following a fascinating thread about Eugenia's involvement in the several multimillion-dollar infrastructure programs that had been enacted during her time in office, and her alarm hadn't been strong enough to pull her away.
Instead of the cold shoulder she'd been expecting, though, Rafe was now escorting her to the kitchen and gesturing to one of the chrome and leather barstools tucked under the high ledge of the island. “Wine? Sparkling water? Something else?”
“Red wine if you have it.” She used the brace encircling the stool's legs a few inches from the floor as a step and hitched herself up onto the high seat. Wriggling to get settled, she folded her arms on the white and grey quartz counter. Other than the sounds of Rafe selecting a bottle of wine from the rack and retrieving a corkscrew, the house was hushed, the air heavy with awkwardness. She racked her brain for something innocuous to talk about and settled on the safest subject she could think of. His mother.
“I was reading about Eugenia in her role as Transport Minister. That's what kept me here late.”
––––––––
RAFE WAS GLAD HIS BACK was to Natalie. It made it easier to hide his shock at her words.
His pleasure at her decision to stay for dinner drained away. She'd be furious with him if she knew he was keeping secrets. Despite the deep well of forgiveness she offered Shyla, he didn't expect her to extend it to him.
He finished pouring the rich red wine into two large goblets and placed the bottle on the counter with precise motions while his brain cycled frantically. He had to know what she’d learned. Picking up the glasses, he took a moment to compose his face before turning to her. “What was so fascinating?”
“It was an era of huge change in the province.” Her expression rapt, she accepted the glass he held out, clasping the stem with her thumb and forefingers. “Infrastructure that had been thrown up quickly during the booming sixties was no longer enough for the growing population. Your mother was at the forefront of that change, making decisions that would affect us for decades.”
You have no idea. He grunted noncommittally and then sought refuge from her enthusiasm by opening the refrigerator. Luckily, he had taken four chicken breasts from the freezer that morning, intending to use the extra in future meals.
A thought struck him. He closed the door and turned back to Natalie. “You didn't eat your burger on Saturday. I never even asked before I ordered for you. That was very presumptuous. I’m sorry. Do you have any dietary restrictions or preferences?”
She made a moue. “I wasn't hungry on Saturday. I'm sorry I wasted the meal. I try to keep my carb intake low, but I'm not fanatical about it. Other than that, I'm good.”
“Grilled chicken breasts, rice, and a green salad okay?”
“Perfect. What can I do to help?”