Page 63 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

“Just doing my job, ma’am.”

She shook her head. “You go above and beyond your job description every single day—driving little Carolyn Shetler home and comforting her yesterday when her dad forgot it was his turn to pick her up at the bus stop.”

He jerked his shoulders in a dismissive shrug. “This is my town. These are my people.”

She smiled again, finding herself falling deeper for Nate every day. “I know.”

“Your eyes are all dreamy right now—so pretty.”

“I’m thinking about how happy I am. About how happy you make me.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “That’s a nice compliment.”

“I don’t want to go back to New York,” she said in a rush, finally confessing what she’d been wanting to say for several days. “Or at least, not yet. I still have a month left on my lease, but maybe I could stay a little longer. A week or two.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I want you here for as long as you want to stay.” He played his fingers through her hair. “Because I’m happy too. Happier than I knew I could be. That’s because of you.”

She hugged him.

He returned her embrace. “You know, you’re going to have to talk to Marion,” he mumbled against her skin, nuzzling her ear.

She sighed, not wanting to think about life outside Sanderson. “Tomorrow.”

He lifted his head and smiled. “That’s what you said yesterday—and the day before that.”

“I know.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s just—I owe her another exhibition. I’ve avoided making calls because I don’t know how to tell her that I have nothing for her. Not one single piece to show.”

“What about blurting it out—like ripping off a Band-Aid? The sooner you talk to her, the better.”

She groaned and rested her forehead against his chest, dreading the idea. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.” He slid his hands up and down her back. “Wise beyond my years, really.”

She laughed and looked up. “It’s good to know self-confidence isn’t an issue for you.”

Chuckling, he took her hand. “Come with me for a second.”

She walked with him to the garage. “What are we doing?”

He grabbed a set of keys off a hook by the door. “Car shopping—or truck shopping. Sort of.”

She frowned, not understanding what he meant.

He flipped on the light and stepped onto the concrete floor.

She followed, staring at a dark-blue single-cab Toyota Tundra. “I didn’t realize you had a truck too.”

“This is mine. The Tahoe belongs to the town, but I’m always in it.” He handed her the keys. “I want you to take this while you’re here.”

“I—What about you?”

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve driven it. I start it up every once in a while to keep the engine going, but…”

Why was it suddenly hard to breathe? She struggled to swallow as her gaze tracked from the Red Sox license plate on the bumper to the new-looking front tires. Panic. She knew the sensation well. Because in this moment, it didn’t feel like they were following their day-at-a-time approach to their relationship. She’d been contemplating extending her vacation by a couple of weeks, but something about this seemed different. “I shouldn’t.”

“Sure, you should. Summer’s over. It’s getting darker earlier, and colder with it.” He gestured toward the huge metal door as the wind gusted against it. “Plus you’ve got the centerpiece stuff you need to bring to Molly’s, and you’re always going to the grocery store. The bike doesn’t make a whole lot of sense anymore.”

When he put it that way… “This is really all right?”