LITMIR.BIZ

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several notches to “coconspirator.” “My earlier offer stands.”

      Offer? What offer? Nick didn’t like the sound of that.

      “You know I want to stay here. I’ve already learned so much. But …” her voice trailed off. “I’m going to see how it goes for now, but I might have to take you up on that.”

      He liked that even less. They were talking about him, weren’t they? Finally, he wasn’t able to take it anymore. He walked around the corner in what he hoped was a natural, non-eavesdropping kind of way. “Hello, Rosebud. It’s good to see you again.”

      “Nick.” She shook his hand and patted his arm, professional and friendly at the same time. He owed Rosebud a great deal. She was the one who’d pushed him to go to law school. More than anything in the world, he’d wanted off this rez. Rosebud had shown him the way to accomplish that. “How are you adjusting? Getting used to home again?”

      He knew he shouldn’t look at Tanya, but he did anyway. Just a quick glance, but more than enough for Rosebud to infer a variety of things. Tanya’s attention was focused on her computer. “It’s been a long time,” was all he said.

      Rosebud gave him the same look she’d been giving him since she’d written his recommendation letters for law school. That look combined a don’t-screw-this-up scolding with a you-can-do-it sentiment. He hated that look. “A lot’s happened since you left.”

      Wasn’t that the freaking understatement of his life. “I saw you all built a huge dam.”

      Rosebud laughed in that polite way that said she was going to let him go this time. “You have no idea. Shall we?”

      Tanya checked the clock—4:27 p.m. A whole minute had passed since the last time she’d looked. Would this day never end?

      She wanted to get the hell out of here before Nick could corner her in the conference room or office again. At least, she needed to not get cornered. She’d be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t felt the pull between them, or if she claimed she didn’t want to feel it again.

      She didn’t know if that was because it had been two years since she’d last been with a man or what, but for a crazy second, she’d wanted him to kiss her. Which was strictly off-limits. She could not, under any circumstances, get involved with Nick Longhair again, not even for one night. Not after what happened that last time. And the time before that. After all the previous times, in fact. Only a fool would get involved with Nick Longhair and expect him not to leave her heartbroken. Tanya was no fool. Not anymore, anyway.

      Besides, interoffice relationships were frowned upon. She needed this job. Councilwoman Emily Mankiller had hired her when Bear was two months old. Even though Tanya didn’t think Ms. Mankiller would fire her without a good reason, Tanya felt like she had to keep proving herself. This job was the difference between having her own place and living with her mother.

      What a mess. For twenty-two long, frustrating months, she’d dreamed of Nick Longhair walking back into her life like a white knight rescuing a damsel in distress. Tanya didn’t know if she was a damsel, but being a single mother struggling to make ends meet provided lots of distress. Now Nick was back, and nothing about it felt like a rescue. Instead, it felt like a threat.

      4:28 p.m. She wanted to get Bear, rush home and bolt the door. As much as she had dreamed about Nick coming back and sweeping her off her feet, now that he was here, he scared the hell out of her. What would he do when he found out about Bear?

      If Nick found out about Bear, he could want nothing to do with him—or her. He could accuse her of getting pregnant on purpose, like she’d been trying to trap him. He could flatly deny he was Bear’s father. He could cut her out of his life permanently. In some ways, he’d already done that. This time, though, there would be no hope for her to cling to, no bright, shiny fantasy of Nick coming back to her. It would just be the end.

      That thought was terrible enough, but Tanya knew it wasn’t the only possible outcome. Nick could decide he’d always wanted to be a father. He’d always talked about kids, back when they were wild-eyed dreamers without two nickels to rub together. Now Nick had all the nickels he had ever wanted. Did he still want kids? Maybe he did, maybe he’d outgrown that dream—just like he’d outgrown Tanya. Tanya knew any fatherly interaction would be on Nick’s terms, and his terms alone. He had already decided that Tanya wasn’t good enough for him—why else would he have bailed on her without a second look? What if he decided that she wasn’t a good-enough mother? If Nick wanted to, he could take her son—their son—away from her. He could run her into the ground in a courtroom and take Bear to Chicago. She’d be lucky if she got to see him once a year. She wanted to think Nick wouldn’t do that to her, but she didn’t know the man he’d become. She wouldn’t put anything past him.

      “So that about wraps it up for today.” Rosebud and Nick walked into the lobby, heads down, feet dragging. “When should I plan on coming back in?”

      “Give me a week to get up to speed,” Nick said, cranking his neck from one side to the other, “and then I’ll give you a call.”

      “Done.” Rosebud stopped and looked at Tanya. Tanya’s heart began to pound. Of course Rosebud had figured out that Nick was Bear’s father—she was the smartest woman on the rez. But most people hadn’t connected those dots. Tanya preferred it that way. Rosebud’s gaze slid back to Nick. “You should come out to dinner some night. My husband has an interesting perspective on fracking. Tanya knows where we live.”

      Great. Any less subtle, and Rosebud would be beating Nick over the head with a sledgehammer. “Maybe we’ll do that,” Nick said. “If Tanya’s up for it.”

      Up for being alone in a car with Nick for the drive out to Rosebud’s house? Hell, at this exact moment in time, Tanya wasn’t sure she was even up for breathing. Besides, she didn’t even know what “fracking” was. Yes, she’d learned a lot in ten months, but that was general stuff about tribal operations. She wasn’t allowed in on closed-door meetings yet. She was still just the receptionist, but she was working on being the best darned receptionist she could be. It beat the hell out of frying burgers at a fast-food joint an hour off the rez while fighting morning sickness, which was the job she’d held when she’d found out she was pregnant.

      “You can let me know,” Rosebud said, letting it drop. “But think about it.”

      Rosebud headed out, leaving Nick and Tanya alone in the lobby. For a few moments, neither of them moved. Nick looked out the front doors; Tanya stared at her desk. His head was held high, his shoulders back. Everything about his stance said that he was in control of this—or any other—situation. She’d always loved his ability to take control of any situation, but now it scared her. For her part, she was afraid to do anything but work on that breathing thing. What would Nick do now?

      He pivoted on the balls of his feet. “Ms. Rattling Blanket, I’d like a word with you in my office.”

      Her heart sank. He knew about Bear, and he was going to demand his rights. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if those rights took the form of Nick realizing what he’d left behind and deciding that, finally, he would stay? But given how fast Nick had hightailed it out of town the last time, she wasn’t going to get her hopes up. He may have come home, but for how long? He’d made his point crystal clear. He was too good for the rez. He was too good for her.

      Determined to maintain a level of professionalism, she grabbed a pen and a legal pad. When she made it to his office, the door was open and he was sitting behind his desk. That was a good sign—he wasn’t going to try to trap her again. Not right away at least. “Yes?”

      “Sit down.” He didn’t look up from the document he was reading.

      Tanya did as she was told. She felt a little like a lamb going willingly to slaughter.

      Nick kept reading his paper. Why, oh, why did he have to look so good? It wasn’t fair, she decided. Why couldn’t he have gained forty pounds of beer gut or lost his hair while he was gone? Maybe grown a few warts—anything

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