When Nick and Rafe drove away, Eva left her spot by the window. With no other noise to interfere except the rumble of Rafe’s truck, she’d picked up most of their conversation. When Nick started his truck, she’d heard Rafe’s question about whether things were over between them, but not Nick’s answer or any of their final words to each other.
But Nick’s answer was a foregone conclusion. Their hot affair had flamed out. Fun while it lasted. Hell when it was over.
Coming down from that high would give her the bends. Nick, too. They’d both pay dearly for their thirty-six-hour adventure.
After putting on a bathrobe, she reached under the bed and grabbed the box the candles had come in. She blew out the flames, still flickering merrily, and tucked the votives inside the box. Throwing them away was wasteful. Keeping them would break her heart.
Without the candles, the room was very dark. She couldn’t see the nightgown hanging on the closet door, but it had to go, too. She didn’t judge the width of the dresser correctly and banged her knee against it when she walked over to the closet.
Fumbling around, she grasped a piece of the material and followed it to the straps so she could lift it off the hook. She wadded it up and got most of it in the generous pocket of her robe.
With the candles and the nightgown in her possession, she headed downstairs. The nightgown would be trickier to ditch than the candles. Beth would never ask about it, but tucking her generous gift into a bag for charity would suck, anyway.
The Tiffany lamps gave her enough light to navigate toward the kitchen, where she’d left a light on over the stove, the way Aunt Sally always had. The contents of the cupboards were arranged the way they’d been in Aunt Sally’s house. A bowl of apples sat on the counter because Aunt Sally had always had an apple bowl.
But it wasn’t her aunt’s influence that dominated the space, now. Nick’s presence was everywhere—overfeeding him at the kitchen table, sharing food prep last night, sneaking down here at three a.m. to finish off the cinnamon rolls. He’d said it was a point of honor. They wouldn’t go stale on his watch.
She’d taken the cinnamon roll run as a sign that his appetite was back in full force. She’d confirmed it when they’d cooked breakfast together. He’d been ravenous, both for food and for her. Leaving hadn’t been easy for him, but he’d done it.
Leaving had been a snap for him tonight. When his truck hadn’t pulled away immediately, she’d fantasized he might be debating a plea to renegotiate. Then Rafe had arrived, making the situation clear. He hadn’t stayed because he was undecided. He’d stayed because his truck wouldn’t start.
She dumped the votives in the kitchen trashcan. Garbage day was tomorrow so they’d be out of here for good. The nightgown in her pocket was a different story.
She’d never owned nightwear this lovely. But she’d never wear it again. Maybe getting it out of sight was the best she could do for now. And she had the perfect place.
A nightlight on the back porch helped her navigate the hallway. She’d asked Nick to move the black trunk to the porch while she figured out what to do with the contents. She’d thrown away the disintegrating plastic storage bag in her outside trash bin.
Opening the curved lid, she lifted a section of the wedding dress and shoved the nightgown underneath it. Eventually she’d deal with the contents of the trunk, but it didn’t have to be now. Or tomorrow.
She had plenty of other items on her plate…like Nick’s freaking presence in every freaking corner of her house, including this one. How had she let that happen?
Turning on the floodlights that illuminated the back yard, she stared at the pile of stones and the freshly tilled earth where she’d plant her bulbs this week. He was out there, too, of course.
And in her claw-foot tub and most certainly in her attic. Where hadn’t he made his mark? Only the two bedrooms she hadn’t cleaned or done anything with were Nick-free zones. She couldn’t very well live in those for the rest of her life.
She was well and truly screwed. Good thing she hadn’t fallen in love with him. That would have been the icing on this fustercluck cake.
Eva slept fitfully but managed to get in a few hours, which she desperately needed to handle a full load of clients at the salon. Josette greeted her with a cheery question about how Sunday had turned out with Nick.
She’d fill Josette in eventually, but not now, considering the number of clients they’d each booked. She responded with an equally cheerful great which was true as far as it went.
The first two hours of the morning flew by. Because she loved her work and her clients, she could block out the tragic conclusion of her affair with Nick and simply do her job. Then her eleven o’clock arrived—Jake Lassiter.
He eyed her with caution as he settled into her chair. His how’s it going had an undercurrent of tension. Clearly the Buckskin Brotherhood hotline had sent out the word—one of their own had been wounded. And they were a protective bunch.
She treated him as if nothing was wrong as she washed his hair and wielded her scissors. She asked about Millie and whether they’d set a date. Not yet.
He thanked her for her contribution to Raptors Rise and she asked about progress on the visitor center. Henri had hired Jake to manage the sanctuary and he loved the idea of working with wild birds. For several minutes they sailed happily along on that conversational river.
But as she was blow-drying his hair, he lowered his voice and dropped his bombshell. “Eva, Nick’s destroyed. Totally wiped out.”
She switched off the dryer and took a breath. Clearly he’d used the dryer noise to mask his comment. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He’d kill me for saying it, but I’ve been in his shoes.” He continued to speak in soft tones. The chatter between Josette and her client provided excellent cover. “I didn’t want anybody messing in my business, either, but if they hadn’t, I wouldn’t be with Millie now.”
Her chest tightened. “With all due respect, Jake, your situation with Millie is nothing like mine with Nick.” She squirted a dab of styling gel on her fingers.
“In most ways, that’s true, but I’ll go out on a limb and say one thing looks the same to me.”
She rubbed the styling gel into his thick hair. “I can’t imagine what.”
“The life Millie offered scared me to death.”
She fought to stay calm, stroking the gel through his hair, creating a sassy style that he’d ruin the minute he put on his hat. “I’m not scared of what Nick is offering. I simply don’t want it.” The tight band around her chest had gone from uncomfortable to painful.
He met her gaze in the mirror, his expression sober. “Then maybe I’m mistaken.”
“I’m sorry he’s hurting.” Between the lump in her throat and her shortness of breath, she could barely get the words out. She wiped her hands on a towel. “He’s a great guy.”
“He thinks the world of you, too.”
“He does? Even after—”
“That’s the way Nick is. Once you get the Nick stamp of approval, you’ll have it forever.”
She ducked her head and clutched the towel as tears pushed at the back of her eyes.
“I’ve upset you.” Jake’s kind voice threatened to open the floodgates. “But I—”
“Be right back. Something in my eye.” She dashed to the restroom and pressed the towel to her face. Bad idea. Gel residue. Something was in her eye for real, now.
Tossing the towel in the hamper, she turned on the faucet and splashed water in her eyes until the burning eased. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
Someone rapped on the open door. “Eva?”
Josette. She grabbed a hand towel from the basket on the vanity and blotted her face before turning around. “Stupid move. Got styling gel in my eye.”
Clearly Josette wasn’t buying it. “Jake asked me to check on you. He looked worried. Took off his cape and got out of his chair. If I hadn’t come back here right away, I think he would have.”
“He’s just… Nick and I…” She dragged in a breath. “Nick and I ended the shortest affair in history last night.”
“Oh, dear.” Josette started forward.
Eva raised both hands to prevent the hug that was coming. “I’m hanging on by a thread.”
“Right.” She backed up. “I’ll reschedule your appointments, including Ellie Mae’s. She’ll be back in town eventually, and—”
“Please don’t reschedule anything. Working is a good distraction. Especially with someone like Ellie Mae.”
“Yeah, but are you up for the processing party? That’s going to be—”
“What processing party?”
“Oh, jeez. You weren’t contacted?”
“No.”
“Classic case of me assuming it was covered. Ed invited the Babes to party at the salon during Ellie Mae’s appointment. Henri’s my four o’clock, anyway, and the rest are all available. Ed’s having it catered by the Moose.”
“Do we have room?”
“Ed’s bringing folding tables and chairs to create a little café area outside. We’ll prop the door open. I said the party was fine with me, and since you hadn’t said no I thought it was fine with you, too. I’m so sorry. We can still cancel it.”
“But it is fine with me. I warned Ellie Mae it would be a couple hours for bleaching and at least another hour for the blue to process. That’s probably why they thought of it. It’s a great idea for filling the time.”
Josette looked uncertain. “If you’re sure.”
“I am. Sounds fun.”
“Then I’m nominating myself as your assistant stylist after I finish with Henri.”
She smiled. “We haven’t double-teamed a client in a long time. Remember when we used to do that because we had so few clients?”
“And now look at us.”
“We’re a hit.” She dropped the hand towel in the hamper and held out her arms. “I’ll take that hug, now.”