His Surprise Son (2 page)

She seemed to be primed to say “thank you,” but no sound emerged. Instead, she stared back at him, breathing through her open mouth, silky brows arched, and he recalled the way she
used
to look at him, as if she’d been hungry for the very sight of him.

His glance dropped to her torso. Couldn’t help it. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew that beneath the bulky costume was the body he had gotten to know well. Too well, let’s face it. He had seen it in sunlight, moonlight and the stark light of a doctor’s office. He remembered it all.

Did she?

He shouldn’t feel a damned thing for Izzy Lambert after all these years. Their relationship was a cold case. It had begun as a summer love and ended the way most everyone had predicted it would—with Nate leaving for college in another state and Izzy...

Well, he wasn’t certain exactly what had happened to Izzy. All he knew for sure was that between the beginning and the end of their relationship, they had lived a lifetime, bonded in ways some couples never did. In one summer they had been forced to grow up, whatever innocence they’d once enjoyed gone for good. Maybe that was why the feelings weren’t completely dead, at least not for him. In all the years since, he hadn’t lived with that much intensity. Or passion.

With his blood feeling too hot for his veins, Nate wondered if he should have stayed away despite the passage of time. Then, just as suddenly, as if someone had turned on the air-conditioning, the heat of resentment cooled.

She’d planned to make a mark on the world, yet here she was:
a pickle.

An angry pickle, coming to the defense of her coworker.
Suddenly, he couldn’t prevent the quirk of his lips.
Izzy, Izzy...
Somehow, the ridiculous situation suited her. She’d always been unpredictable, always surprising.

Nate glanced again at the sheriff. Who was he? Friend? Lover? Something more? Maybe.
But if she is, I wouldn’t want to be in your boots, pal.
Izzy was still looking at him, not at the lawman.

Nate’s relationship with Isabelle Lambert might be fifteen years dead and buried, but he could feel the current running between them right now, and suddenly Nate knew in his gut: returning to Thunder Ridge was either a mistake or the best decision he’d made in a long, long time.

* * *

Gridlock.
That was the state of Izzy’s brain.

Nate’s fingers were wrapped around her upper arm as he and Derek lifted her to her feet. It might have taken one second or ten minutes. All she could feel was Nate...and fear.

His touch ignited a flash fire of memory. The years disappeared and once more she was standing between his arms, her back against his truck, feeling his heartbeat and his heat, inhaling the amazing, perfect scent of his skin as he pressed against her, his whisper warm in her ear:
“Do you know what the feel of you does to me?”
He’d been the only person who’d ever made her feel truly special. More than a decade later, parts of her body that had been in hibernation a long, long time suddenly woke up. That was not good.

To regain her composure, she tore her gaze from his. She needed time to think. Even after all the years of looking for him, of fearing she might run into him somewhere, he’d still managed to catch her completely off guard now that it had actually happened.

And then, the worst...

Big Ken, the affectionately named clock tower in front of City Hall, struck two.
Boom...boom...

Oh, dear Lord.
She didn’t have much time at all. Seven minutes if she was lucky.

Her heart galloped as one thought rose above all others:
Get rid of him!

“Nice to see you, Nate. I have to get back to work. Meal’s on the house.”

Izzy considered that a nice touch...friendly, but Nate’s blue eyes narrowed. “We haven’t eaten yet.”

“Oh. Not a problem. We’ll get you a sandwich to go.”

Nate’s frown deepened.

“You know what
I’d
like?” Jack, the jerk Izzy had seen groping Willa, stepped forward. “An apology for ruining my boots. Maybe even a reimbursement.”

Izzy stared at the man. She’d caught him
fondling
her employee, a woman so buttoned-up and proper that Izzy never told a blue joke in front of her.

Nate’s friend was a big hulk of a guy. Izzy didn’t recognize him, but she knew his type. Her mother had dated men like him: big, arrogant and dumb as rocks. Convinced you were as impressed with them as they were with themselves.
Forget the jerk. Get rid of Nate
, her brain counseled wisely. Her temper, however, which tended to get the best of her under stress, kindled.

“A reimbursement. Sure.” She nodded. “Check’s in the mail.”

“All right. That’s more like it.”

“I was being facetious.” Forgetting that from the neck down she was still dressed as a dill, she waddled up to the man to take him down a peg. “You know what
I
think? I think you need to apologize to Willa.”

“To Willa?” Derek was beside her in a flash. “What happened?”

“Nothing!” Twisting a ring on her right hand, Willa shook her head. “It was all just a misunderstanding. It won’t happen again.”

“What won’t happen again?” Derek squared off, ready for a showdown, which made Izzy realize instantly she should have kept her big mouth shut. Derek’s history was dotted with confrontation, and he tended to be even more mulish than she.

“The lady said it was a misunderstanding.” Nate stepped in. Unintimidated by Derek’s badge, his stature or his expression, Nate spoke in a tone at once mildly appeasing and strongly cautionary. “Let’s take her word for it. Jack, apologize to Willa.”

Jack spoke up from safely behind his friend. “Why should
I
apologize?”

“To save your life.” Nate tossed the wry reply over his shoulder while maintaining eye contact with Derek, who now directed his glower toward Nate.

“Who are you again?” Derek demanded, his hands on his hips. “And how do you know Izzy?”

Izzy’s heart began to pound. She and Nate had kept their personal business private. Because of her home life, Izzy had not socialized much, and because she and Nate had both had jobs, they’d reserved their limited time together strictly for each other. With the exception of Henry and Sam, who owned the deli and knew almost everything about her, most people had assumed she and Nate were just a fleeting high school crush. Here today, gone tomorrow. Which was exactly what she wanted them to assume.

I should use Gorilla Glue instead of lip gloss.
If she’d kept her mouth shut, Nate and his friend might be out of here by now.

His gaze fell on her as he answered Derek. “Izzy and I are...old friends.”

Was it her imagination, or had Nate hesitated a hair too long before he said “old friends”? In addition to Derek, half her crew had rushed over to help when she fell. She did not want to court their curiosity.

Addressing herself to Jack, she said, “Never mind. You know what? Check
is
in the mail.”

“No, it’s not.” Nate turned toward her, his expression uncompromising. “He owes Willa—and you—an apology.” The steadiness of his gaze made her skin prickle inside the hot costume.

“Whose side are you on?” Jack complained. “She got water on you, too, man.”

Nate didn’t glance his friend’s way. His attention and low, intense words were all for Izzy. “Stand your ground, Isabelle. Don’t let some jackass push you around.”

“Hey!” Jack protested behind them.

Locked in a battle of gazes with Nate, anger blazed through Izzy like a brush fire.

Fifteen years ago, she would have given almost anything to have Nate Thayer on her side. To hear him stand up for her, stand up for
them
. But his supportive words were a decade and a half too late.

“You’re giving me advice, Nate? No, thank you. What I want is for you to take your friend and go.” She wasn’t a weak, starry-eyed girl any longer. “I want you to go
right now
.” The last words were so choked, so intense, Nate may have been the only one to hear them.

The surprise on Nate’s face offered a modicum of satisfaction. He seemed to be on the brink of saying something more before his expression shuttered, concealing his thoughts.

Slowly, he turned to his loudmouthed friend. “Apologize, and let’s go.”

“Apologize? For being friendly?”

“Do it,” Nate said. “I’m sure the sheriff would like to kick your ass, Jack, and if he doesn’t, I might. Stop arguing and start apologizing.”

“Fine. Who do I have to apologize to? The cucumber or the waitress?”

Hands resting just above his gun belt, Derek got in Jack’s face. “She’s a pickle.”

Nate shook his head. “Apologize to both of them,” he ordered.

Face reddening, Jack turned first to Willa. “Okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He raised his hand to show off the gold band. “I’m married.” A resounding “ugh” circled through the small group of onlookers. Redder still, he looked at Izzy. “I apologize for making a big deal about the Wallabees. But they are new, and—”

Nate’s hand clamped down firmly on Jake’s shoulder. “I think you can stop there.” His gaze returned boldly to Izzy. He nodded. “Good to see you, Isabelle.”

With her heart pounding against the foam costume, she gave a jerky nod.

He seemed to hesitate a moment longer, which made her nerves flare, then apparently deciding there was nothing else to say, he turned and walked toward the deli’s glass door.

“Time to get back to work,” she muttered, feeling slightly out of breath.

Her busboy Leon, and Oliver, the cook, returned to their jobs. Willa hurried after them.

Derek watched the petite redhead for several seconds, then looked at Izzy. His eyes narrowed. “Explanation, please. Who was that guy? ’Cause your face is as green as that ridiculous costume.”

Chapter Two

“S
hh.” Izzy waved her hand, indicating that Derek should lower his booming voice. “I’ll tell you later, I promise, but—” She stopped, her breath catching painfully in her throat.

As Nate and his friend reached the deli’s entrance, a teenage boy pulled open the door.

Izzy’s heart took off like a startled colt. For perhaps the second time in her life, she understood the term “blind panic.” A cold sweat covered her body.

She wanted to run to the door, but her bones felt weak and rubbery, and she wouldn’t know what to do once she got there. She watched helplessly as the boy held the door. Nate must have thanked him, because the teen smiled and nodded.

As Nate walked down the street, he glanced back through the broad window fronting the deli. Could he see far enough into the restaurant to note that she was still watching him? It seemed that he looked right at her before his friend drew his attention and they disappeared down the block.

“You look like you’re going to be sick.” Derek’s voice boomed beside her. “What the hell is going on here today?”

“Not now.” Her mouth was so dry, she could barely speak. “I’ll tell you later, but—”

“Mom!”

Eli, her beautiful son, nearly as tall as she was now, with the same fair skin and straight brown hair as hers, loped toward them. The sight of his gangly body and broad smile never failed to make her feel as if she’d taken a hit of pure oxygen. Today the sight of him filled her with anxiety, too.

“Hey, Uncle Derek.” Eli’s speech was somewhat marred by the hearing impairment he had suffered as a baby.

“Hey, buddy.”

“I’m staying,” Eli announced, then used his expressive hands to sign the question
What’s for dessert today?

Instead of asking him whether he’d eaten lunch, Izzy both spoke and signed back, “There’s strawberry cheesecake in the walk-in fridge. Help yourself.”

Eli’s eyes, hazel-green, like his mother’s, widened in surprise. “Cool.” She never offered him dessert before a healthful meal or, at the very least, a snack. Eli taught swim classes at the local parks and rec. She was always harping on him about healthful refueling. Now he trotted toward the kitchen, stopped and looked at her.
I had a sub sandwich with lettuce, tomato, spinach and pickles
, he signed.
In case you were wondering.
With a grin, Eli said hello to a waitress, dodged around her, then rounded the counter and disappeared into the kitchen calling, “Yo, O!” to Oliver, the lead cook, who had once bought Eli a set of child-sized saucepans and played “chef” with him for hours.

Oh, God, how she loved her little family. Nate’s presence here could threaten everything she’d defied the odds to build.

“I’m on duty tonight,” Derek said, keeping his voice low, “but I’ll see you tomorrow. I expect a full debriefing.”

He had never asked about Eli’s father. Derek had too many of his own ghosts to request that Izzy dredge up hers, but once, during a vulnerable moment, she had told him a little bit about the summer she was seventeen.

“Tomorrow?” Derek had been a good friend for years, but would she be ready to tell him—or anyone—the truth by tomorrow night? Not likely. She needed time, time to find out how long Nate was going to be in town...time to figure out how to protect her son, because this wasn’t just about her. “I’m...not sure I’m free tomorrow.”

“What’s the problem?” Derek asked. “You close at sundown on Friday nights.”

“Yes, but I’m... I’ve got to... There’s a very important—”

“Cut it out, Izz. You’re a crap liar.”

That’s what you think.
She chewed the inside of her lip.

Derek crossed his arms. “You’re making me so curious I might stop by tonight on my shift.”

“No.” Eli would be home tonight. “Tomorrow,” she relented.

Reappearing, Eli carried a plate of the deli’s mile-high cheesecake. “This is the bomb,” he said, pointing to it with his fork. Setting the plate aside so he had both hands free, he asked,
Mom, is it okay if I sleep at Trey’s tonight? His dad said he’d drive us to Portland in the morning.

Eli and his friend Trey were attending the same summer camp in Portland. After tonight, she wouldn’t see him for two whole weeks.

“I can drive you.” Glad to think of something other than Nate, she focused on the plans she’d already made. “I took the morning off. I thought we’d stop at Voodoo Doughnuts for maple-bacon bars.” She smiled, for the moment just another mom trying to tempt her teenager into spending a little more time with her.

A flash of guilt crossed her son’s features. Typically more comfortable with signing than oral speech when he had more than a few words to say, he used a combination of ASL and finger spelling to explain,
Trey’s dad was a counselor for Inner City Project when he was our age. He’s going to introduce us around.

“Ah.” For the past several summers, Eli had attended a camp for deaf kids. This summer, he’d insisted on “regular camp.” The fourteen-year-old was the one thing in Izzy’s life that had turned out absolutely, perfectly right. Refraining, with difficulty, from telling him he was already way, way better than “regular,” Izzy had spent more money than she should have to register Eli for the camp with Trey.

“Traveling with Trey and Mr. Richards sounds like a great idea,” she said. “You have a good time. In fact, I’ll take off early and help you pack.”

I’m already packed. I can sleep at Trey’s so we can get an early start tomorrow. His mom invited me to dinner.

“Oh. Well...great. Great, because I wasn’t even sure what to make tonight.” His favorite monster burritos, actually.
Have a fabulous time, First Mate
, she signed without speaking.

Aye, aye, Skipper
, he signed back, playing along with the endearments they’d been using since he was in third grade and they’d eaten their dinners at the coffee table, watching reruns of
Gilligan’s Island
. She probably ought to stop calling him cutesy names that would make a less patient kid gag.

I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, Mom.
He looked at Derek.
Take care of her for me, Uncle Derek.

Derek both signed and spoke back, “I’ll do that, buddy.”

Eli made a move toward his mother, then looked uncertain.
I’m not sure how to hug you when you’re a pickle.

Solving the problem, she tossed her arms around her son, gave him a warm squeeze, then began to run through the list of safety precautions he needed to take at camp.

Eli nodded for a while before interrupting,
Mom, I got the memo. Literally.
He looked at Derek and splayed his fingers. “She wrote five pages.”

Izzy blushed. “It’s easy to forget things when you’re away.”

Mom, I’ll be safe, respectful and aware of my surroundings. I won’t lose my hearing aid, ’cause it’s
really
expensive, and I’ll be back in two weeks with all my body parts.
And then, just so she would have a memory to reduce her to tears every day that he was away, Eli kissed her on the cheek and said with his most careful enunciation, “See you, Skipper.”

She refused to cry. Until he was out the door.

After exchanging a manly hug with Derek, Eli jogged out of the deli. Izzy didn’t start sniffling audibly until the glass door closed behind her only child, leaving her with her worries and a sense of loneliness that made her feel hollow as an empty tomb.

“Aw, come on, Pickle. He’ll be home soon.” Derek’s arm went round her in what turned out to be a kind of stranglehold. “Do you know pickles have no visible shoulders? Makes it hard to be friendly.” He adjusted his arm a bit more companionably. “If I wasn’t on duty tonight, I’d keep you company. I’ll bring pizza tomorrow. The works?”

“Sure.”

Willa walked by carrying a lox platter, and Derek’s attention instantly swerved to the petite redhead. “For pity’s sake, ask her out already,” Izzy whispered. “You stare at her every time you come in.”

“She doesn’t stare back.”

Izzy shook her head, content to focus on someone else’s fears instead of her own for a while. “Sheriff Neel, are you telling me a big, strapping lawman like you is afraid of a tiny, little woman who hasn’t uttered an unkind word since she’s been here?”

Derek grunted.

“When was the last time you went on a date?” she needled. “You can’t be a sheriff 24/7, buddy. You need a reason to wear street clothes once in a while.”

One of Derek’s brows arched. “Look who’s talking. You’re a pickle. How’s your date card these days, Isabelle? Do I need to find someone else to watch
Shark Tank
with?”

The last time Izzy had felt motivated to take a good hard look at her love life, she’d wound up alone in the back office, eating a quart of matzo ball soup and putting a sizable dent in a chocolate chip babka. “Fine. Never mind,” she muttered. “I was trying to be helpful.” She and Derek lapsed into grumpy silence for several seconds, disgusted far more with themselves than with each other.

Finally, Derek spoke. “If you need something before tomorrow, call me. I mean, with the kid leaving.”

She nodded. “Thanks. I better get back to work,”

“Me, too. Lives to protect and all that.”

“Yeah. Pickles to serve.”

With one last, not-very-subtle glance at Willa, he headed toward the coatrack at the front of the deli, where he’d hung his hat.

Izzy sighed. All right, so they were both terminally pathetic when it came to romance. At least Derek had a town to watch over, and she—

I have a restaurant and a family to save.
Here in this dying deli were people she loved who loved her back. That was something. More, in fact, than she’d ever thought she would have. She intended to protect what was hers, no matter what.

First, though, she had to get out of this pickle suit, which felt like a personal sauna, and go somewhere alone so she could think clearly.

Waddling to the counter, she told Audra, who had worked at the deli longer than she had, “I’m leaving for a couple of hours. If you can hold down the fort, I’ll be back in plenty of time for the dinner shift.” Without Eli at home, she’d be better off working instead of worrying. Maybe if she took a break, she could figure out what to do about Nate Thayer and the child they’d made together.

* * *

“We can do this, no problem,” Izzy grunted, standing on the pedals of her bike. “Going uphill is good...for...us.” Her teeth ground together. Every downstroke was harder to come by than the one before as she pumped determinedly up Vista Road. “We’re going to start...doing this...every...day,” she panted to her beloved dog, Latke, a Shar-Pei rescue whose ambivalence toward physical activity gave credence to the distinction
nonsporting breed
.

Her heart and head both thudded painfully, but even that was better than the avalanche of questions that buzzed in her brain on the heels of Nate Thayer’s return. So far, she had not a single answer, not even a clue as to what was going to happen if and when her son discovered that his father was in Thunder Ridge...or vice versa.

Nausea and dizziness the likes of which she hadn’t experienced since she was pregnant overwhelmed her. Eli had questioned her about his father a few times, mostly during the tween years when his own identity was in minute-by-minute flux. The answers she’d provided hadn’t been satisfying, but at least they had cooled Eli’s incessant wondering about the man whose life goals had not included a pregnant teenage girlfriend.

“’Kay, I think I’m going to puke now.”

She had to stop pedaling, hop off the seat and close her eyes. Latke accepted the rest stop as an opportunity to prostrate herself in the bike lane.

Izzy leaned over the handlebars. “We’ll get going in a sec, baby, just as soon as Mama’s heart attack is done.”

“Would rehydrating help?”

On a fresh surge of adrenaline, Izzy’s eyes popped open. A clear plastic water bottle, icy cold with condensation dripping down the sides, dangled in front of her.

“Bike much?” Nate Thayer arched a brow, lips twisting sardonically.

Silently cursing fate, Izzy stared at him. She had deliberately ridden away from town and in the opposite direction from the dairy farm where Nate had grown up. “What are you doing out here?” The question sounded like an accusation.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
He shook his head. “We need to polish our welcome committee skills. This is the second time in one day that you haven’t greeted me on my return home.”

“Home?” Izzy felt as if a giant fist were squeezing her stomach. “You’re here to stay?” Her distaste for that possibility was clear as a bell and drew a deep frown from Nate.

Unscrewing the top of the water bottle, he held it out again. “Take it. You’re about to keel over.”

“No, I’m not.”

A smile tugged his lips. “Take it anyway.”

Willing her fingers to stop shaking, Izzy plucked the bottle from his hand, careful not to touch him. Lowering the kickstand, she stepped away from her bike with Nate observing her every move. Even when she stopped looking at him, she could feel his eyes on her, the way she used to sense him watching her in the deli fifteen years ago. Back then her skin would tingle with excitement, even as she’d pretended not to notice. Today, anxiety made her skin prickle like needle pokes.

She bent toward her dog. “Here, sweetie.” Tilting Nate’s offering, she let Latke drink. The Shar-Pei’s heavy jowls flapped as she slurped with the grace of a hippo sipping from a martini glass.

During the summer that she and Nate had been a couple, Izzy had never truly confronted him. How could she? She had been so besotted, so damn
grateful
that the high school heartthrob had chosen her, a girl with an embarrassing family and no prospects for a decent future. Now, when her dog was finished drinking, she stood and met Nate’s gaze with challenge in her own. “Latke says thanks.”

He addressed her dog. “You’re welcome.”

Wearing the same clothes he’d had on in the deli—J.Crew jeans and a sea-blue V-necked T-shirt that matched his eyes almost identically (yeah, she’d noticed), his hair still ridiculously thick and shiny—he shrugged. “I only brought the one bottle. Come back to my room. There’s more water in the minibar.”