Courage (Heroes of Big Sky #1) - Kristen Proby Page 0,15
sick of it, and it drove me nuts, so it’s a good thing.”
“But?”
“But does it mean that people are forgetting them?”
“You’re an overthinker, Natasha Mills.”
“Yeah.” She shrugs and reaches for the bread, then bites into it. “I always have been. This dinner was a nice surprise. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” I sit back and watch her, feeling something stir inside me when she licks her bottom lip. “That dress is nice on you.”
“Oh, thanks.” She glances down as if she doesn’t remember what she’s wearing.
But I’ll never forget it.
A pink sundress with thin little straps on the shoulders. No bra straps.
This is the second time in only a few days that the thought of Natasha’s bare breasts has gotten me all hot and bothered.
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“I asked if you were ready to head out.”
“Oh, sure.” I stand and offer my hand to help her out of the booth. When she walks ahead of me, I keep my hand on the small of her back.
I like touching her—more than I thought I would.
She could become addicting.
I haven’t decided how I feel about that, exactly.
Tash takes a deep breath and lifts her face to the sky. “It’s such a nice day. I’m glad we walked.”
“Me, too. I need to walk off the tiramisu.” I slip my hand into hers as we stroll along the sidewalk, through the heart of downtown Cunningham Falls. Mrs. Blakely steps out of Little Deli to pull her sign in for the night and sees us, her gaze immediately falling to our clasped hands.
But she doesn’t say anything. She just winks and walks back into her shop, locking the door behind her.
“Interesting,” Tash murmurs and looks up at me. “Did you say something to her?”
“Nope.” I laugh when she stares up at me, daring me to lie to her. “I promise. Maybe she just learned her lesson.”
“Maybe.”
It’s late into the evening now, but the sky still hangs onto a bit of light, and the birds sing in the trees as we make our way through town.
Tash lives in an older house in one of the first neighborhoods established in Cunningham Falls. If I remember correctly, I think she’s renting from Ty Sullivan.
But that’s not what I want to discuss with her tonight.
“Tell me about Gage.” Her hand immediately stiffens in mine, but I hold strong.
“We’re just not close.”
“Bullshit.” It’s not said with force or anger, just conversationally.
“I don’t know him,” she finally says with a sigh. “Gage and I haven’t been close since we were little. And once he went into the Army, we drifted apart. We stayed in touch for a while, but it didn’t last long.”
“Why not?”
She blows out a breath. “You’re damn nosy.”
“Curious.”
“My parents and I do not get along. At all. Thankfully, they don’t live here anymore. They moved to Hawaii because my dad’s sister got a teaching job there, and my parents decided that island life was for them. And, to be honest, I don’t miss them a whole lot.”
“I thought they were dead.” I frown. “Since you never talk about them, and I don’t see them around town, I just figured they were no longer with us.”
“They’re alive and well, last I heard. I don’t think I’ve spoken to my mom in about eight years. I talked to my dad a few weeks ago when he called to give his condolences about Monica. When I told him I’d be raising the kids—with you, of course—he just said, ‘Good luck with that.’ Not, ‘Can we help in any way?’ Or ‘Do you need anything?’ So, there’s no love lost there.”
“What started it?” I ask.
“I went to nail school.”
I blink down at her, certain I heard her wrong. “What?”
“Yep. They’d saved up a bunch of money over the years for me to go to college. I didn’t need even a quarter of it for my schooling. I wanted to do nails. They accused me of choosing something cheap, so I could pocket the rest of the money.”
“What the hell?”
“I know, right? The best part is, I didn’t use any of it. Not even for school. I paid it off myself because I’d be damned if I used anything from them.”
“Where did they want you to go to school?”
“Oh, they absolutely expected me to go to the University of Montana, just like they did. They’re alumni. Dedicated doesn’t even begin to describe their love for their alma mater.”
“You seriously don’t speak to your parents because you didn’t go to the college they wanted you to?”
“No, they don’t speak to