Confessions - Lisa Jackson Mills & Boon M&B

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He picked up his corn on the cob. “She looks good, too—blonde and sexy.”

      “Like Patty Osgood.”

      Ben scowled slightly. “I’m just pointing out that Wynona Galveston has looks and money. Who could want anything else?”

      “Grow up,” she muttered.

      “Maybe you should take that advice.” Ben ate a row of corn from his cob, then hooked a finger toward the tent where Garreth Monroe was holding court. “Face it, kid, you’d never fit in—and count yourself lucky for that. If Hayden marries Wynona, I’ll bet she’ll be miserable.”

      “Why?”

      “If not because of her husband, then look at her father-in-law. He’s had more affairs than you can count, and see the way he’s all smiles whenever Wynona’s around. What do you bet, he’s already set his sights on her.”

      “That’s gross. He’s old—”

      “Enough to be her father,” he finished for her. “Or her father-in-law. Doesn’t matter. He’s a tomcat. Always on the prowl. That whole family is bad news, Nadine. You’re better off with someone else.”

      “Like Sam?” she asked, but to her surprise Ben shook his head.

      “Don’t limit your options, kid. You could have the best. Don’t get me wrong. Sam’s a good guy, but...well, if you want to know the truth, he’s got his share of problems.”

      “Is there anyone good enough?” she asked, a little hot under the collar. Where did Ben get off, trying to tell her how to run her life?

      “Maybe not.”

      “How about Tim Osgood?” she said. “Patty’s brother?”

      Ben’s good mood vanished and he dropped his corncob onto his plate. “I was only trying to help.”

      “Well, I can handle myself.”

      “Sure you can,” he said, unconvinced. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

      “Nothing you wouldn’t do,” she replied, and his head snapped up as quickly as if he’d been stung. He started to say something, changed his mind and tore into the rest of his dinner. Nadine couldn’t eat another bite. She disposed of the remains of her meal in one of the trash cans and started back to the lake again, but stopped short when she nearly ran into Hayden and Wynona, stuck together like proverbial glue.

      “Nadine!” Hayden grabbed hold of her arm for just a second, as if he were afraid she might slip by.

      “Hi.” Her heart was thumping so fast, she could barely breathe. Surely they could both hear its erratic beat. Was she imagining things or did the tiniest smile touch the corner of his mouth at the sight of her? He made hasty introductions and Wynona, still clinging to his other arm, smiled brightly, as if she really was pleased to meet yet another one of Hayden’s father’s employee’s family members. She had grit; Nadine would give her that much.

      Hayden’s eyes were hidden by sunglasses again, but Nadine felt the power of his gaze. Somehow she managed to make a few sentences of small talk before spying Mary Beth. “Look, nice to meet you, but I’ve got to run,” she said, hoping to stop the awkward conversation.

      “Nice meeting you, too,” Wynona sang out as Nadine hurried past them. In the brief seconds Hayden had restrained her, Nadine had felt his fingers tighten possessively against the soft flesh of her upper arm, reminding her that they were supposed to meet.

      Or was she just fantasizing? He was with Wynona, for God’s sake, and though he didn’t appear to be having the time of his life, that was easily enough explained. Considering his feelings for his father, he was probably looking for a way to escape this charade of a celebration.

      She rammed her fists into the pockets of her shorts and decided there was only one way to find out how Hayden felt. Tonight. She’d meet him at the lake tonight as they’d planned. If he stood her up, then she’d understand that he was just using her for idle sport.

      But if he showed up... Oh, Lord, what would she do then?

      Chapter Four

      “DON’T YOU EVER think of the children? Of me?” Donna Powell’s voice carried up the stairs and Nadine squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she couldn’t hear the snatches of conversation that filtered into her room. Though her door was closed and she was lying on her bed on the opposite side of her small room, the argument seemed to pulse around her, rising like heat to the rafters and ricocheting off the sloped, papered ceilings. She’d waited for two hours, hoping her parents would climb up the stairs and go to bed so that she could safely sneak out, but their argument had started a few minutes ago and had quickly escalated into a horrible fight.

      “What about all the promises?” Donna went on. “All the dreams you’ve put into the kids’ heads?”

      Nadine barely dared breathe and put her hands over her ears, praying that they would stop, that this war that had been going on for the past few years would just end. But she knew it wouldn’t, and her stomach knotted at the thought that someday soon her mother would file for divorce.

      “Please, God, no,” she whispered, fighting back tears. The room seemed stuffy and close and she had to get away. Away from the accusations. Away from the anger. Away from a house where love had died a long time ago.

      To Hayden.

      If he would still have her. If he wasn’t tied to Wynona Galveston.

      Still lying on the bed, she reached for her denim cutoffs, slung carelessly over the bedpost, and she heard her mother’s sobs, broken only by well-worn phrases.

      “How could you...everything we ever worked for... the kids...did you ever think once about them?”

      Her father’s reply was muffled and sounded apologetic. Nadine couldn’t just lie on her sagging mattress, staring up at yellowed wallpaper, wondering if this would be the time her parents would wander up the stairs and tell their children that they were splitting up.

      Besides, Hayden was waiting for her. He had to be.

      She slipped out of bed, slid into the cutoffs and found a beat-up pair of Nikes her brother Ben had worn three years ago. Yanking a T-shirt over her head, she silently prayed her mother wouldn’t come up and check on her.

      As she had when she was still a student at Gold Creek Elementary, she opened the bedroom window and hopped onto the wide sill. The heavy branch of the maple tree was less than a foot away. Nimbly Nadine swung onto the smooth limb, crawled to the trunk and shimmied to the ground.

      Though it was late, summer heat was still rising from the earth. The moon was full, but partially obscured by clouds, and far in the distance the lights of Monroe Sawmill winked through the trees. She cast a look over her shoulder at the two-storied frame house her family rented. The only light glowed from the kitchen, and through the gauzy curtains, Nadine saw her mother, shoulders slumped, hips propped against the counter. Her father sat at the table, nursing a beer and scowling as he peeled the label from the bottle. For the first time in her life Nadine thought George Powell looked old.

      He’d been cranky ever since they’d returned from the company picnic, and Nadine couldn’t help speculating if Hayden’s father was to blame. Garreth had cornered George Powell just before the festivities ended, and instead of seeming buoyed by his employer’s attention, George had been tight-mouthed and silent all the way home.

      Biting her lip, Nadine turned and started walking through the sultry night, away from the anger, the hatred, the lying and heartache of that little house where once there had been so much love.

      Dear God, what had gone wrong? She could still remember her mother and father in their younger years, while she and her two brothers were in elementary school. There had been hope and laughter and songs in their house on Larch Street in Gold Creek. Every Friday night, her mother had laughingly told her children she was “taking

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