My Name is Nell. Laura Abbot
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for the more intimate. The bistro sounds good.”
The more intimate? The mere word rendered her speechless. Fortunately, that wasn’t a problem because after he helped her into his Escalade, he filled her in on his further explorations of Fayetteville. At the first major intersection she gave him directions to the restaurant. She wasn’t worried about dinner, or even the movie. But afterward… What if? She’d been too busy recovering from the divorce, working on her master’s in library science and rearing Abby to worry about dating. After what Rick had done, men weren’t subjects she viewed with optimism.
She looked over at Brady, admiring the muscles in his forearms and the way his large hands caressed the steering wheel. What did he expect from her? Was she supposed to invite him in after the movie? Did she even want to? And could she handle her own feelings, which were confusing the daylights out of her? The way they’d met should feel creepy—his coming to the forum, then appearing at the story-time the next day and, if she wasn’t mistaken, observing her. Somehow, though, it didn’t.
“You know that first morning in the library?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“I had the distinct impression you were watching me.”
“I was.” He glanced at her, a grin forming. “You’re a very watchable woman, Nell.”
Defenseless, she couldn’t hold back her smile. “I—I…thank you.”
Fun? Oh, yes, but fun shouldn’t feel so momentous.
DRIVING NELL HOME from the Cineplex, Brady reflected on how long it had been since he’d had an evening of laughter and companionship. Not since that last weekend when he and Brooke… He quickly censored the thought. Too painful. Yet he couldn’t help kicking himself for taking his best friend and mate for granted while he spent twelve to sixteen hour days in pursuit of the American dream—or at least an upwardly mobile male’s dream. Why hadn’t he spent more time with her and Nicole? Had they known how much he loved them?
“I think that compromise worked well,” Nell commented.
“What?” Lost in his thoughts, had he been rude?
“I enjoyed the movie. Believe me, casting my eyes on Mr. Pitt was no hardship.”
“I’m glad.” She’d scored two major points so far this evening. First, she’d declined wine at the restaurant. Second, he appreciated that she’d willingly given up the romantic comedy at the theater, because he hadn’t been sure how much sentiment his unstable emotions could handle.
She grew even more quiet as they neared her neighborhood. When he pulled into her driveway, she cleared her throat and said, “Would you like to come in for coffee?”
He sensed those had been difficult words for her. Was she nervous? Merely being polite? Yet he already dreaded the return to his motel and the loneliness. “I won’t stay long,” he said by way of reassurance, “but I’d like that.”
She settled him in the small added-on family room at the back of the modest one-story house while she bustled in the kitchen. In one corner stood a 1930s pie cabinet, doubling as a TV stand and repository for CD’s and books. The sagging sofa was covered in a maroon-and-tan plaid fabric that looked as if it had seen better days. A wooden rocker painted bright blue sat at an angle to the sofa. Propped in the corner were oversize pillows next to a basket holding a colorful assortment of yarns. The combination shouldn’t have worked, but instead of looking like a fleamarket display, it had a welcoming, cozy feeling. Brady couldn’t help making the comparison to the chrome and leather big-screen viewing room in his house.
“Here you are.” Nell set a small tray on the planked coffee table. “I hope you like oatmeal cookies.”
“No red-blooded man could refuse,” he said, helping himself.
She picked up a mug and took a seat in the rocker. “My husband always liked them.”
He studied her, noting her downcast eyes. “Your divorce? Is it amicable?”
“I suppose. It’s hard work, though.”
“Oh? How’s that?”
“My daughter resents having to go to Dallas to visit her father.”
Brady said nothing, giving her an opportunity to add whatever she needed to.
“She blames me.”
“For what?”
“For all of it. I guess I’m a convenient scapegoat. There was…um…another woman.” He noticed her jaw tense. “Abby apparently believes I did something to send her father away. If I had done whatever she thinks I should have, she reasons her father would still be here and she wouldn’t have to fly to Dallas monthly.” She shrugged. “So you see, it’s my fault.”
“You know better than that,” he said gently.
“I’m willing to accept my share of the responsibility for the breakup of the marriage. It’s rarely one-sided, but I don’t know how I failed so badly that Rick had to find another woman.”
“Aren’t you being hard on yourself? I don’t know Rick, but did you ever consider perhaps he has a character flaw?”
She cupped her mug in both hands. “I felt so stupid. How could I not have seen it coming? What was the matter with me?”
Her misery was evident, yet he felt helpless to address it, not without stepping over the line he’d set for himself. “Sounds as if you were devastated.”
She nodded. “Do you have any idea what that does to a woman’s self-esteem? I try hard, but it’s difficult not to become bitter or vindictive or to poison Abby against her father.”
“One day she’ll understand the situation. In the meantime, it’s got to be rough on you.” Pain? No doubt about it, she’d had plenty of firsthand experience.
Smiling sadly, she glanced at him. “I didn’t mean to get into this. It’s just so nice to have a little sympathy.”
“I know what you mean.” But did he? He hadn’t been open to any himself. At least not until now.
“Look, I’m sorry. My problems are nothing compared to your loss. I can’t imagine how you can carry on.”
“It’s been—” he cursed the gruffness in his voice “—pure hell.”
“How does a person ever get over something like that?”
“I’m not sure that’s possible, but Brooke and Nicole wouldn’t want me to give up.” He set down his mug. “So I do the best I can, but it isn’t easy. Ever.”
“It’s odd how two lost souls like us happened to get together, isn’t it?”
Now was not the time to confess that their meeting had not been a result of chance. “I’m glad I met you, Nell. Talking with you like this makes me feel half-alive again.”
“It is nice,” she agreed.
Lost in their own thoughts, they sat quietly for several moments. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Quite the contrary. Finally he stood. “I’d better be going. You have to work tomorrow.”
Rising to her feet, she said, “And I have an early meeting before work.” She walked him to the front door where she paused and, still holding her mug, smiled up at him. “Thank you, Brady. I enjoyed the evening.”
“Enough for a repeat?” He wanted more of this comfort of home and companionship and easy affection.
In a nervous gesture, she smoothed the front of her dress. “Yes,” she said.
“Would tomorrow night be rushing it?”
“Not at all. In fact, that suits me since Abby will be gone until this weekend.”
He wasn’t