Met Her Match Read online

  “Where do you want to live?”

  “I’m thinking about buying a cabin at the lake and remodeling it. Have you ever seen Terri’s house?”

  “No, I haven’t. Tell me about it.”

  “The whole front of it is glass. It doesn’t make me feel closed in. There are people around but I never feel exposed. You should have come to the party we had. We just left the doors open and people came and went as they wanted to.”

  “Is that the kind of party you and Stacy had in DC?” Jamie’s voice was quiet, and very serious.

  Nate turned to him in anger. “What are you hinting at?”

  “Absolutely nothing. I think you should go home with me and stay for dinner. Hallie’s better at talking than I am and she can—”

  “What time is it?”

  “Quarter to five. Why?”

  “I have to go,” Nate said. “Can you...?” He waved his arm at the gym.

  “Sure, I’ll clean up. You have an appointment?”

  “Yeah. I’m meeting Terri at five and we’re going to sort out Widiwick. She’s going to tell me—”

  Jamie didn’t hear the rest of it because Nate was already in his car and speeding away. He hadn’t showered or changed out of his sweaty shorts and tank top. He’d been so anxious to get to a girl who was like a sister to him that he’d forgotten everything else. “Poor Stacy,” Jamie said, then began racking the weights.

  Chapter 10

  As soon as Terri saw Nate inside his car, she knew he was in a bad mood. Since she’d never known him to be late, she was waiting for him when he pulled into the drive. His brows were drawn into a single line and turned down so much that he looked like an emoji.

  This could be interesting, she thought. Wonder how he deals with anger? The fact that a visit to his future in-laws had caused his bad temper made her feel good. When she remembered seeing Nate laughing and drinking beer with her friends and relatives, she had to suppress a smile.

  She went to the passenger side of the car, but Nate got out. He had on a tank top and big shorts that reached to his knees. And heavens! but he was pumped. Muscles bulged out on him like he was a toy action figure.

  Only he was real and he was sweaty. Glistening. Glossy with it. The curve of his muscles highlighted by sweat made her put her hand on the car to steady herself.

  “Here!” he said in a growl as he tossed a towel at her. “I didn’t have time to shower.”

  “Oh? I didn’t notice.” She did her best to sound sarcastic and not as though she was being consumed with lust. Bet the hood of the car would be very warm against my bare backside, she thought.

  Nate turned his back to her and peeled off his shirt, exposing about three acres of hot, damp skin.

  Terri put both hands on the car. Otherwise, her knees were going to collapse.

  He turned his head toward her. “Can you wipe down my back?”

  Could she...? Only your back? she wanted to say. Not any front bits? She said nothing as she picked up the towel and walked around the car. She stumbled only once.

  Nate bent forward so she could wipe his back.

  Control! she thought. Act like every cell in your body isn’t tingling. Act like you do not want to jump on him, knock him to the ground and tear at him with your teeth and tongue.

  She swallowed. “So what’s got you so riled up?”

  “Nothing,” he snapped.

  Ah, she thought. One of those. A man who had to be coaxed into telling what his problem was. Billy had been like that.

  As she ran the towel over him, her hands slowed. And then her left hand slid off the towel onto his skin. She wiped with the right, and followed on bare skin with her left. Her hand on his moist skin. She moved from his shoulder down to his spine, to his waist. The furrow that ran down his backbone was deep enough to run a boat in. A boat that contained just her.

  “Are you done?”

  Abruptly, Terri stepped back. “If you weren’t so fat it wouldn’t take so long.”

  Nate gave a grunt—then proceeded to slide his shorts off.

  Not thighs, she thought. Chest, back, arms, okay, but not thighs! “Do you mind?”

  He looked at her in surprise, as though unaware of what he was doing. He opened the back door of his car and stepped behind it, using it as a screen. “Didn’t mean to shock your delicate sensibilities. I didn’t want to be late to meet you, so I ran over here straight from the gym.”

  Terri was holding the towel, damp with his sweat. She wanted to bury her face in it. Instead, she held it at arm’s length between thumb and forefinger. “So I noticed.”

  Nate gave her a look over the top of the door as though he knew the truth. “Where do you want to eat?”

  “Depends on what you want.”

  “A sixteen-ounce T-bone and a potato the size of my foot. Plus a gallon of liquid.”

  “I know a place.”

  In minutes, Nate was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and he got in behind the steering wheel. As Terri sat beside him, he wiped his face with the towel.

  “I could get you a clean one.”

  “Don’t need it.”

  Terri didn’t reply to that, but told him where to turn to get to the local steak house. He drove in silence, a muscle working in his jaw, his eyes glaring at the road.

  “So tell me about this wicked thing.”

  At first, she didn’t know what he meant. “Right. Widiwick.” When she glanced at him, she could see that he wasn’t paying attention to her. But then, she didn’t dare say what was in her mind. He looked so good she wanted to rip his clothes off. Run her tongue—She took a breath. “We paint our naked bodies green and purple and run from house to house setting off firecrackers.” His angry expression didn’t change. “Turn here.” She pointed to the left but Nate went right. “This isn’t the way. You need to turn around.”

  Nate pulled into the big gravel parking lot of a two-story building with a rough wooden front. There was a sign across the front. Kale House.

  “This isn’t the steak restaurant,” Terri said. “This is new and I think it’s—”

  “Then we’ll eat something else here.” He got out of the car and waited for her.

  Inside the restaurant, it was like stepping back into the 1970s. Tables with red-and-white-checked cloths, Chianti bottles with multicolored candle wax running down them. Peace symbols everywhere. The three young waitresses wore long skirts and long peasant blouses. Their hair was straight and flat, their feet encased in sandals that seemed to have pieces of tires as soles.

  “Here’s what we have today.” A woman handed each of them a small chalkboard.

  “No menu?” Nate asked.

  “The food changes every day. This saves paper.” Her tone had a deep I-don’t-care vibe. She walked away without another word.

  The chalk on the board was difficult to read.

  “Is this...?” Nate asked.

  “Everything is made with kale. Soup, salad, bread, entrée.” Terri looked at him. “The steak house is about a mile away. They have two-inch-thick sirloins. Charred on the outside, red in the center. Last year we used the peel from one of their potatoes as a canoe. And cheesecake. Real cheese.”

  “Yeah?” Nate exchanged her chalkboard for his. They had different items on them.

  The waitress returned, pad in hand. Her sandals were so heavy she could hardly lift her feet. On her skirt was a long string of tiny bells that jingled with her every step.

  “Your mom put you in this getup?” Nate asked.

  The girl grimaced. “Grandma. But it was either raid her closet or skip college. She’s paying.”

  Nodding in sympathy, Nate handed her the two chalkboards. “We’ll take one of each.”

  The girl didn’t so much as blink at the huge order. “With or without bacon?”

  “With!�