“I’m not doing anything tonight,” she said. “I could come by after Jess’s. That is, if you’d like me to.”
He gazed at her for a long time, and for a heart-stopping moment she thought he was going to turn her down, but eventually he replied, “Yeah, sure, tonight would be great.”
He looked and sounded normal, but something wasn’t right. Had she missed an important signal, interpreted something incorrectly?
…
Nate had to admit this was his favorite part, when Ally was all loose and sated from their love-making, and he could spoon her from behind and rest his chin on her shoulder. Then he could breathe in her scent, tickle his lips across her skin, and listen to the rhythmic ticking of her breathing as she slowly drifted off to sleep.
Ten days now, and the combustion between them hadn’t even begun to die off. He supposed it was only natural that sooner or later the fire would simmer down, but the prospect didn’t bother him. With Ally it was more than just the sex that kept him coming back. It was her. With every passing day she became a more important part of his life. When he analyzed his feelings, he detected a certain panic in himself, only natural for someone like him who’d always avoided attachment, but the panic wasn’t making him itch to flee. Rather, it was mixed up with a curious eagerness to see where all this would lead to.
He didn’t know if Ally shared his feelings. He suspected not. Judging by the way she’d reacted after their storeroom sex earlier that day, she still saw him as the old, good-time Nate. Great in the sack, but not someone you introduced to your family over a Sunday barbecue. He shouldn’t be too surprised, given he was at least partly to blame for fostering that impression, but it still stung.
Ally mumbled something before burying her head into the pillow. Surprisingly he wasn’t that tired himself. Maybe he was still bothered by the thought of Ally’s family barbecue and everything it symbolized. He eased her out of his arms, then slipped from the sheets and padded to the kitchen to pour himself some orange juice.
He found himself thinking about Seth. His cousin had called earlier that day from London and had seemed more excited about his new job than the brief honeymoon he’d shared with Paige. Seth’s jubilation at mixing with so many high-flying, daredevil traders worried Nate a little. His cousin wasn’t the most strong-minded person, and Nate could only hope he wouldn’t stray too far.
As he drained his glass, he heard Porkchop barking from next door. Mrs. Bennett kept early hours, and at ten at night the house next door was usually as silent as a grave, but not tonight. He frowned as the dog continued to yelp. Something wasn’t right. There was a frantic quality to the dog’s yipping.
Nate pulled on some clothes and shoes, found a flashlight, and left the house. He climbed over the fence and beat his way to Mrs. Bennett’s back door. Flecks of peeling paint came off on his fingers as he pushed it open.
The kitchen was dark, but a dim light glowed in the hallway. Porkchop was still barking.
“Mrs. Bennett?”
A faint moan sounded from the depths of the house. He pushed on, the beam of the flashlight cutting through the cloying darkness. In a stuffy, overcrowded bedroom he found Mrs. Bennett stretched out on her bed, gasping for breath, a felled giantess in a thin nylon nightdress. Sweat bathed her pasty face and pooled in the folds of her pendulous neck. The small ball of fur beside her snarled and bared its fangs at Nate.
“Scoot.” Bundling the dog aside, he crouched down next to the old lady. “Mrs. Bennett, it’s me, Nate. I’m going to call an ambulance.”
She couldn’t seem to speak or move, but her eyes rolled around in their sockets, a grateful, terrified expression in them. He patted her shoulder and went off to find the telephone. A few minutes later he returned to the bedroom to reassure her that help was on its way. The stale room was oppressive, the dog was getting on his nerves, and he had no experience dealing with sick old people. He wished Ally were there to help him, but Mrs. Bennett had latched onto his hand, so he felt obliged to sit with her until the ambulance arrived.
“Yikes!” one of the paramedics yelped as Porkchop sank his teeth into his trouser hem. “Could you do something about him, mate?” he appealed to Nate.
Nate grabbed the dog and locked him in the bathroom. He waited outside on the front porch until the paramedics wheeled Mrs. Bennett out on a gurney.
“Is it serious?” he asked.
“Looks like a mild stroke,” the paramedic replied. “Are you a relative?”
“No, just a neighbor.”
“Okay. We’ll sort out who to call when she gets to the hospital.”
Mrs. Bennett made a gargling noise as she was trundled past Nate. Her eyes rolled so violently he told the paramedics to stop. “You’ll be fine in the hospital.” He patted her shoulder. “They’ll take good care of you.”
In the background Porkchop continued to yap, his bark now hoarse. The old woman’s eyes widened, the appeal in them too obvious to be ignored.
Nate groaned silently. No, not him. He didn’t want to look after the aggressive little mongrel. But there wasn’t anyone else, and Mrs. Bennett was practically begging him.
“Don’t worry about Porkchop.” He sighed. “I’ll look after him.”
The battle-axe teared up before the paramedics wheeled her away. They were loading her into the ambulance when Ally emerged from the shadows, sleepily rubbing her eyes.
“The flashing lights woke me up. What’s going on?”
He explained the situation in a few brief sentences, and they watched together as the ambulance drove off.
Ally snuggled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s cold out here. Let’s go back to bed.”
The invitation of her warm curves lit an instant response in his body, but then he remembered Porkchop. For a second he contemplated leaving the dog to his own devices, as the old Nate would’ve done, but he knew he couldn’t do that. Sighing, he tugged Ally toward Mrs. Bennett’s house. “There’s something I have to do first.”
Porkchop should have been exhausted by then, but when Nate opened the bathroom door the little tyke still had enough energy to have one more go at Nate’s ankles.
“No, you don’t!” With a deft maneuver he gripped the animal by the scruff and carried him out the house at arm’s length. They went back to Nate’s place, where he pondered what to do with the menace.
“He doesn’t look too friendly,” Ally remarked as Porkchop glared at her, his body vibrating with his low-pitched growling.
“He’s just tired and worried. Get me a bowl of water, would you? I’m going to try and settle him in the laundry room.”
Keeping clear of Porkchop’s needle-sharp teeth, Nate folded an old blanket into a sleeping pad and placed it on the tiled floor of the laundry. The dog was still snarling, but by now he was too exhausted to put up much of a fight. He lapped at the bowl of water Ally set before him, and then collapsed onto the blanket, his scruffy ears drooping. Nate turned off the light and shut the door.
“How long are you going to keep him?” Ally asked once they were back in the bedroom.
“Until Mrs. Bennett comes home, I suppose.”
She paused in the middle of drawing back the sheets and stared at him. “That could take a while.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have much choice. She doesn’t have any relatives or friends, or none that I’ve ever seen. She lives pretty much all on her own.”
“Poor thing.” Ally got into bed and drew the sheets up to her chin.
“Poor thing, my arse. She’s a mean old biddy. When I was living here with Robbie she’d complain about anything and everything we did. And since I moved back, she’s been no better. We can’t stand each other.”
“And yet you’re willing to look after her vicious dog.”
“Well, Porkchop is all bark and not much bite. A bit like Mrs. Bennett.”
She was gazing at him with a strange expression on her face. “I never knew you could be so…neighborly.”
He shrugged. “I intend to stay here a while. Might as well get on with her.” He reached for Ally across the pillows. “Now…where were we?”
The odd look in her eyes intensified as she laid a hand on his shoulder, holding him off. “Are you trying to make amends somehow with Mrs. Bennett?”
“Now, why would I want to do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you feel bad about the things you did to her? The things Robbie did to her?”
The amber lamplight highlighted the curve of her cheek and the tips of her tousled hair. He frowned at her. Why were they yakking instead of getting naked again? And why did she have to be so perceptive about things?
“Yeah, okay, I feel a bit bad about some things I’ve done. Doesn’t everyone?” Turning away from her, he leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms over his chest.
“But it’s not just what you’ve done.” She nibbled on her fingernail, her eyes deep and thoughtful. “It’s also about what Robbie’s done. That’s why you’re reviving his landscaping business, why you’ve moved back into this house, isn’t it? You’re doing all this because it’s what Robbie would have wanted?”