Chapter Five
Nakos’s two-story rustic cabin had been built by Olivia’s parents a few years before they’d died, and was intended to be living quarters for the active foreman. It was set on Cattenach Ranch, deep in the southern pasture, with a clear view of the Laramie Mountains on one side, sprawling prairie on the back end, and a copse of cottonwoods to the north.
Amy hadn’t been inside since they were children. Yet here she was, standing in the second floor guestroom, just a sheet of drywall separating her from where Nakos slept. He’d...taken her home with him. Had arranged for all her things to be brought over. It was just like him to pull a move like this.
And it didn’t feel right. He was no more responsible for her wellbeing than Kyle. The sheer loss of independence since her divorce had been jarring, but being utterly displaced was worse. Like dandelion fluff caught in a stiff wind. Rootless. Helpless. She hated not being able to stand on her own two feet.
She had no options, though. Olivia needed privacy with Nate, not Amy lurking around to disrupt their wedded bliss. Kyle’s room in the staff quarters barely had space for him. Her parents sure wouldn’t be of assistance. Though she was earning a salary helping Aunt Mae cook for Olivia’s ranch hands at the main house, Amy was barely making a dent in the credit card bills Chris had wracked up. Last month, she’d consolidated them into one loan, which had helped, but there wasn’t enough left over to pay rent elsewhere. And there were very few accommodations in Meadowlark. Their small town was mostly a ranching community. Plus, her credit rating was in the crapper.
Stuck between wanting to scream at the top of her lungs or cry herself into dehydration, she’d been standing in the center of the bedroom, unmoving, since they’d arrived. Still wearing her bridesmaid dress.
Two duffel bags containing the few articles of clothing she owned were on the center of the full-size bed atop a yellow and green quilt. A box of her cosmetics sat on a long dresser along the opposite wall. And her photography equipment had been carefully piled beside a trunk under the window facing south. Yellow curtains billowed in the breeze off the mountains.
She curled her toes against the hardwood floor and glanced from the prints on the white walls to her equipment. Two weeks after she’d gone to live with Olivia, a package had arrived for Amy. Inside had been a brand new camera, printer, and laptop. What had to be thousands of dollars in replacements for what Chris had destroyed. There had been no note and she had no clue who’d sent the gift. Until a few days later when Nakos had confessed.
Why? Not that the gesture wasn’t exactly like his compassionate personality, but he’d never given her the impression he’d liked her pictures. Because he’d said very little when she’d shown him new images before, she’d quit altogether, not wanting to make him feel like he had to offer false praise.
Except...three of her originals were hung in the guestroom—a beam of sunlight streaking through a hole in an old piece of wood, a shot of a cowboy boot next to a horse hoof, and a large gloved hand holding reins. Downstairs, over the mantle, was another of her prints. Bones—Olivia’s sheepdog—running a herd of steer.
Thing was, Nakos had no other art donning the walls. Not that she’d seen. They hadn’t lingered downstairs due to the hour but, best she could tell, only her photos graced his home. She just...didn’t know what to make of it.
Her gaze landed near the trunk again. She hadn’t taken the stuff he’d gifted her out of their boxes. Accepting the present had felt wrong, just like being here now sent a sliver of guilt through her bloodstream.
This was not how she’d envisioned her life turning out.
Footsteps shuffled in the hallway, but she kept her profile to the open door, unable to glance away from the entities that encompassed what used to be her only joy. The weight of a camera in her hands. Playing with the focus to get a shot just right. Waiting for the perfect light or angle to capture a fragment of time forever.
Everything was prettier through a lens. No rejection or hurtful words or disappointment. Most people thought photography was a brutally honest portrayal of something—whether it be a person or an object or event. Not to her. Taking pictures was the only time she was free from harsh reality.
“Hey, you’re still awake.” Nakos leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, but she remained unmoving, catching his form in the corner of her eye.
“Yep.”
“And still dressed.”
“Yep.”
“And in the exact same spot I left you two hours ago.”
“Yep.” That was her in a nutshell. Stagnant. Going nowhere. She would’ve laughed at the irony if her sinuses weren’t prickling with the threat of tears.
Silence.
His hesitation was either a Nakos-ism to get her to talk first or he was gathering his wits on how to proceed. Always cautious, her friend. He typically didn’t say much, and when he did, it was usually not without thought first. If only other people were as considerate as him.
A rustle of clothing, and he stepped into the room. Barefoot, wearing a loose pair of sweats and a white tee, he strode to the window. He’d taken his ponytail out and his raven strands brushed his wide shoulders. He was so darn beautifully built. Lean grace and subtle muscular tone. Olive skin. He looked...yummy.
Something about the intimacy of the situation had her breath short. It was...casual in a way they hadn’t been in a long time. The same bedroom. Only a dim lamp and moonlight to chase away the shadows. His every exhalation and shift was a shout to his presence. Although he was across the room, he took up all the available space. Even his unspoken thoughts were an entity.
He bent and lifted the camera box from the trunk’s surface, staring intently at the packaging in his huge hands. “Why haven’t you opened these? It’s been months.”
She was undeserving, that’s why. “Why did you do it? Buy them for me?”
“I asked you first.”
“Answer my question and I’ll answer yours.”
Contemplative, he ran his thumb across the box. “I didn’t buy them. Nate did.” When she frowned, he shrugged. “He went with Olivia to your old house, helped her pack your things after Chris was put away. Nate had seen some of your work at Olivia’s place and was impressed. He told me he had a lot of savings built up and no idea what to do with it.”
“Why lie, then? Why say they were from you?” That was very unlike him. He didn’t have a distrustful bone in his body, was always honest.
“He was a virtual stranger to you at the time. He figured you’d be more likely to accept them if they were from me.” Lips pursed, he returned the camera to where it had been. “I guess he was mistaken since you haven’t opened the stuff.” With a solemn expression, he studied her. “I thought about doing the same thing, but he beat me to it.”
“Why?” Dang, she sounded like a parrot, but her heart was thumping and she didn’t know what to glean from his admission.
An air of frustration wrinkled his brows. “Because it makes you happy.” His tone was matter of fact and indicative of a no-brainer response.
Yet... “So it had nothing to do with whether you thought I had talent.” And they say women were hard to understand. Why spend—or think about spending—thousands of dollars on a gift like that if...
“It doesn’t matter to me your level of talent. For all I care, you could take pictures of steaming piles of manure that are half out of focus.” His hands fell to his hips as he cocked a foot to the side, clearly getting impatient. “All that concerns me is whether you enjoy what you’re doing. And that,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the trunk, “brings you joy.”
“How would you know?” Her body didn’t understand how to react to him any more than her mind. On one hand, that was the sweetest darn thing she’d heard in a long time. But on the other, his opinion mattered to her. And he hadn’t exactly claimed to love her photos.
Expelling a hearty sigh, he glanced at the ceiling as if praying for guidance from On High. “Because I know you, Ames.” Those sinful midnight eyes leveled on her. His biceps bulged and knotted against the sleeves of his tee.
And scratch that. Her mind knew just what to do. It derailed straight to the gutter. Thoughts of being wrapped in those arms, her breasts crushed against his wall of a chest, her fingers trailing over the dips and grooves of his abs...
“Let’s forget for a second that you have the ability to stop time and bring a tear to the eye with every click of the lens.” He took a step forward, but stopped. “That each picture tells a unique story and I have a hard time looking away. What I give a shit about is what it does to you.”
She yelped a flabbergasted laugh. If she hadn’t, she might’ve wound up fetal and sobbing. He...he...loved her work. In all her years playing with the hobby, no one had ever used such pretty words to describe the result. Unbidden, her eyes began to water.
He pressed a hand to his chest. “You are a walking, talking natural disaster.”
Another sharp laugh. “You mean like, if someone pisses me off, naturally there will be a disaster? You say the sweetest things.”
He froze. Blinked. Swiped a hand down his face. “I meant,” he ground through a clenched jaw, “that you always seem to be in a state of chaos. The crazy quiets when you’re behind the camera. The calm is written all over your face.” He looked at her once more, all tension evaporating from his features and, when he spoke again, his voice was rough. Low. “Honestly, Ames, it’s about the only time I don’t worry half to death about you.”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. And wondered what it would take to restart her heart. Her lungs were good, though. Yep, she was panting like she’d outrun the hounds of hell.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” She hoped the floor wouldn’t leave a mark when she face-planted any second from now.
His frown deepened. “Like I ripped out your jugular with my teeth.”
Actually, that was kinda accurate after hearing him... Gah.
“You...” She rubbed her forehead to stop the room from spinning and cleared her raw throat. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Yeah, anim. I don’t have to eat, sleep, or breathe, either.”
She ignored his dry tone and focused on that term. “What does that word mean?” He’d used it earlier tonight, too.
“Anim? It means angel.”
Angel. Angel? He had a nickname for her and it... God save her from this gentle, endearing man. She couldn’t take it. He’d been calling Olivia “little red” since they were kids, and sure, he called Amy “Ames,” but never a term of endearment.
“Angel,” she breathed. She was the farthest thing as one could get.
“Now what’s the matter?”
She gave her head a violent shake to clear it. His behavior had been off all night. She’d chalked it up to his distress about the wedding, but she wondered if it wasn’t more.
“You’ve never been this...” She waved her hand to conjure the right term. “Territorial before. Protective, yes. Especially toward Olivia. But not overly so like lately. And certainly not in my case.”
“I’ve been as protective of you as I have been of her. I just hide it better in regards to you. You can handle yourself just fine and I like my nose where it is, thank you very much.” He scratched his jaw. Studied her. “What’s really wrong? Why are you still dressed and standing in the middle of the room? Furthermore, you didn’t go feral when we got here. I half-expected you to kill me. What gives?”
She’d been too numb with shock, then overwrought by relief. And that was before crippling guilt had set in. “This is wrong, me being here.”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “What?” When she didn’t answer, he stepped closer until they were nearly touching. “Earlier you said you didn’t belong anywhere. You’re wrong. I have plenty of room and you’ll have privacy. You belong here just fine.”
And he called her the angel? “I’m not your responsibility. This feels an awful lot like you’re...taking care of me.”
His nostrils flared and heat blasted his eyes, dilating his pupils. “Call yourself a responsibility or a burden one more time and see what happens, Ames. Even I have my limit when it comes to patience.” He snapped his lids shut and inhaled. When he opened his eyes, affection stared back at her once more. “There’s nothing wrong with taking care of you, of each other. That’s what friends do.”
But what would he get out of it besides her being constantly underfoot in his home? “I can’t repay you for this.” Her pride was already dust. “Our friendship always seems one-sided.”
“I don’t know whether to hug you or throttle you sometimes.” He stalked away, came halfway back. “You’re kidding me with this, right?”
She hated her insecurity more than the pity she sometimes found in Olivia’s eyes. But there it was. Through the years, Amy had shown not one trace of the emotion in Nakos’s presence. He’d just slap himself with remorse if he knew he, above all others, had made her this way. Juvenile and pathetic as it sounded, if given the choice, he’d always take Olivia over Amy. Hell, everyone would. She was lucky enough to have them in her life, so she’d accepted her lot and hadn’t let it bother her. Much. Why now she was suddenly so...weak, she hadn’t a clue.
“You make me laugh.”
His quiet declaration had her whipping her gaze to his, but he was hands-on-hips, head bowed as if talking to the floor.
“You do. You make me laugh.” He rubbed the back of his neck and lifted his wide-open gaze to hers. “A trivial thing to most people, but I’ve always been self-conscious about it. Maybe because I was different than others around me growing up. I think becoming the ranch foreman and being responsible for all these men made me more serious later on, too. I don’t know.” His gaze swept over her face. “With you, I don’t hesitate. I...let go.”
Unsure what to say, she stared at him. They’d always had a kind of bond between them. Able to say just about anything. Yet this seemed deeper than where they’d ventured before.
“And this?” He waved his hand between them. “I don’t have this connection with anyone else, don’t have to censer myself. Flipping from Arapaho to English and back again as a kid taught me to think before speaking. But for some reason, you shut off that habit. The most irreplaceable thing about you is that never, not once, did you judge me. Even now, who else could I say these things to?”
Glancing away, he expelled an uneven breath. “One-sided, my ass,” he mumbled in disbelief. “I spent the first nine years of my life on the reservation with people who looked and sounded just like me. Do you have any idea the culture shock in coming to live here? Outside looking in, Ames. All the time. And to make it worse, I still attended school with the tribe.”
His gaze leveled on hers, determined. Steady. “How many mundane rites of passage in the white man’s world would I have missed if not for you including me?” He raised his hand to cut her off. “And before you say it was Olivia, too, I know.” He checked items off on his fingers. “Bonfires, football games, movies with friends, school dances, or just hanging out. Yes, Olivia was there. But you made me a part of the action instead of an observer. Thing is, had you not been there next to me, I never would’ve gone. Because from day one, you got me. You understood without a word or a look or any indication from me just how different I felt. I don’t even think you were aware you were doing it, which makes everything I just said ten times more important.”
A tick of anger wove into his expression again, tightening his full mouth. “That’s who you are, Ames. That’s what makes you special. I should be repaying you. If you want to start keeping tabs on our friendship, I’ve got twenty-one years accumulated.” He froze as if realizing his tangent, then rolled his head to stretch his neck. “You’re also infuriating. Perhaps I need to reexamine the talking freely part. I stand by everything else—”
She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest. He oomphed and took a step to steady them before enfolding her in a return embrace.
They stood together long moments, her breathing in his earthy scent and him idly stroking her hair.
God, she had no idea he’d thought of himself as an outsider growing up. He’d been a little shy but, as they’d gotten older, he’d seemed more vigilant than introverted. It had been second nature for her to include him.
Maybe that had been the invisible connection tethering them all along. Other than her brother, she’d never felt welcomed anywhere but with him and Olivia. Something in him must’ve called to a part of her. Displaced souls.
Though he made no attempt to move, she wondered if he was uncomfortable. They didn’t do a lot of touchy-feely. But there was such a sense of safety, of relief, being held by him. “I know you don’t like hugs, but thanks for tolerating mine.”
He dropped his chin to the top of her head and spoke against her hair. “I don’t mind them.” The thump, thump of his heart against her cheek increased. “One last time, and hear me this go-around. You do belong here, for however long you want or need to stay. There’s no time limit. Hell, stick around until we’re both ghosts, anim. I’m good with whatever.”
Mercy, this man. “Perhaps you could, I don’t know, lead with that next time?”
He stilled for a beat as if stunned, then...he laughed. That low, hoarse rumble she adored that filled the cold places inside her. His chest shook and his arms cinched tighter. Heaven.
She fisted his shirt at his back and closed her eyes, relishing the brief blip of intimacy before he would inevitably pull away. “Getting to see you in your habitat? The sweats and bare feet? Totally worth listening to you yammer.”
Another ragged laugh. He eased away, tucking hair behind her ears. “I don’t get it, but okay.”
“You only ever wear jeans and flannels. Except in summer. Then it’s jeans and a t-shirt. No deviation.”
“I didn’t realize my wardrobe was of significance.” His amused gaze swept her face, but a tiny wrinkle formed between his brows as if his mind had gone somewhere else. “Answer me something. Why wouldn’t you use the camera when you thought it was from me?”
“You won’t like my response and we just got to the make-up huggy portion of the evening.”
He rolled his eyes. “Will you use it now that you know it’s from Nate?”
“Yes.” At the hurt in his gaze, she explained. “I lost my mojo or something after the Chris thing. I’ll get it back. But Nate owes me nothing. There’s no history. He purchased the items because he genuinely likes my work, not out of obligation. Something about that makes it sit right in my conscience.”
A slow shake of his head, and he cupped her jaw in warm, callused hands. “You’re not, nor have you ever been, an obligation.” He muttered something unintelligible and kissed her forehead, then stepped away. He walked to the door and paused. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow, unpack your things, and that includes the equipment.”
As he retreated down the hall and out of sight, she said, “Are you going to be this bossy now that we’re roomies?”
“What difference does it make? You won’t listen.”
True. Shrugging, she turned for her bags on the bed.