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“I’ll get it for you,” he said, and loped to the kitchen, with her walking more slowly behind.
Cameron looked up and smiled when he saw them coming.
“Sounds like that storm front finally got here,” he said, and poured the last of the coffee into his cup and then palmed a couple of cookies. “Want me to make some more coffee?”
“Not for me,” Nola said.
“I’m good. I’ll settle for a cold Pepsi,” Tate said.
“I just want water…and the pain to go away,” Nola said, and downed her pill when Tate handed her a bottle of water.
Cameron gave her braid a gentle tug.
“You’ve had a rough week, girl, but you’re as tough as they come. All we need is a break to catch our man so you can get your life back to normal.”
Nola didn’t want normal back, because it had been too damn lonely, but she couldn’t look at Tate without giving away her feelings, so she changed the subject.
“Would you please pass the cookies?”
Tate pushed the bag toward her just as the lights flickered again. Another round of thunder and lightning swept across the sky as the first drops of rain hit the roof. They swiftly progressed to bulletlike pings easily heard within the trailer.
“Great, more rain. Just what we don’t need,” Nola muttered. She started back into the living room and then paused. “Do you mind if I stay here to eat? I can’t go back to sleep until the pain pill kicks in.”
“You don’t need to ask permission to do anything,” Tate said. “Of course you can.” He eyed the sweatpants and the LSU shirt she was still wearing. “Are you cold?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Cameron emptied his coffee cup and then set it in the sink.
“I’m beat. I’m going to bed,” he said. “See you guys in the morning.”
“Night,” Nola said.
“See you tomorrow,” Tate added.
Rain was pounding against the windows now as Nola settled into the easy chair with her cookies and water. She eased her elbow up onto the arm of the chair for support, set the water bottle between her legs and bit into a cookie.
Tate grabbed a cookie and his Pepsi, and followed her into the living area.
“Better check the weather reports,” he said, and reached for the remote.
Nola popped the last half of the cookie into her mouth, and then settled back and allowed herself the privilege of watching him when he wasn’t looking.
His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down the front, and he was barefoot and in jeans. His short dark hair was standing up in spikes, as if he’d run his fingers through it more than once.
She watched the muscles in his jaw as he chewed and swallowed, studying the bone structure of his face and picturing how she would paint him one day. She’d known him once like the back of her own hand, and now this man was almost a stranger—but a stranger she wanted back in her life. The issue here was, did he want her back, as well? She desperately wanted to know, but he had more important things to worry about than her feelings, and she had to survive the Stormchaser before she could deal with the possibility of a future with Tate.
“Are you okay?” she finally asked.
He turned to face her, remembering what it had felt like to be holding her in his arms earlier that day.
“Yeah, I’m okay. How about you? Still mad at me?”
“No. Do you still feel like I rejected you?”
He shook his head. “I came to terms with my fault in all that years ago.”
She nodded. “Good.”