Kelly Jamieson - Lost and Found

“I’m costing you guys money.”

“We can afford to have a guest for a while.”

“I can afford to contribute.”

They looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Tell me how much you make,” she challenged him. “And I’ll tell you how much I make.”

He grinned. “Never mind. I’m sure you’re raking it in.”

She grimaced. “Not. Derek makes way more than I do. My business is just new. I’m doing okay, though.”

She started lifting items out of the cart and piling them on the checkout counter. Nate leaned into the cart too, to help, his shoulder brushing hers.

“I know you’re doing more than okay, with the prices of those photographs. And it was in the news how much you made off that deal with House and Home.”

He grinned. “Yeah. That was sweet. After I made that deal, I was able to travel wherever I wanted, do what I wanted. And the prices my images are selling for still blows my mind.”

He placed the steaks on the conveyor.

“That show in L.A. you mentioned…is it a sale?”

“Yeah. At Gallery 228. A new dealer. Generally I do really well at those shows.”

She nodded. She felt…proud. It had taken Nate a while to find his way, too, though not as long as it had taken her. When she’d met him and Derek, Nate had been running a business renting bicycles at the beach. He’d done well, had lots of flexibility and was outside a lot, as he loved to be, near the ocean. When he and Derek weren’t doing triathlons, he’d played around taking pictures, displaying them every Sunday at the Arts and Crafts show on Cabrillo Boulevard, selling the odd one. Selling photographs was tough in Santa Barbara because of the big photography school. Everyone was a photographer. She was so happy it had turned into such a successful career for him.

“So, the money’s good…but you love it, don’t you?”

He paused, a bottle of wine in each hand. “Yeah. I love it.” He set the wine down.

“Your eyes are going to get better,” she said softly, putting a hand on his forearm. Strong, bare, soft with dark hair. She felt the muscles tighten beneath her fingers. “I know it.”

He nodded, reached into the cart again, removing his arm from her touch, and she moved through the checkout, pulling her wallet out of her purse to pay.

When they stopped at another grocery store, they, too, had no shiitake mushrooms. “Damn.” Krissa stood there, arms folded. “Well, there’s one more place we can try.”

“Do we have to have shiitake? How about oyster mushrooms? They have those.”

“I want shiitake.”

He shrugged. When they had no luck at the next store, Krissa could have screamed.

Nate put his hand on her back and rubbed. “Hey. Mushrooms are not an important thing.”

His touch and his words calmed her. He was right. She was just being her usual stubborn self. She shook her head, and they selected mushrooms from the types available at that store.

Nate helped her carry the groceries into the house and put them away in the kitchen. Then he sat at the counter while she mixed up the rub for the steaks.

As she pressed the spice mixture into the meat the phone rang.

“Want me to get it?” Nate asked.

“Sure.”

He grabbed the cordless phone. “Hi. Hey, Derek.” He listened, looked at Krissa. “Okay. What time? Yeah. I’ll tell her.” He pressed the button to disconnect and set the phone down.

Krissa’s stomach tightened. “He’s not coming home for dinner, is he?”

Nate nodded. “That happen a lot?”

“Oh, yeah.” She sighed. “I’m used to it. Good thing he called before I got his steak ready.” She picked up the third rib-eye and put it into the freezer.

“He said he won’t be home until about ten. Client meetings.”

She nodded, washing her hands at the sink.

“How ’bout I open that wine?”

“Sure.”

She handed the corkscrew over to him and while he opened the Pinot Noir she got out glasses. He poured some into each and she sipped it.

“Very nice.” She nodded, sipped again, enjoyed the puckery tannins, the fruity berry taste.

“Mmm.” He looked around. “You going to grill those steaks outside?”

“Yes. It’s a gas grill, it’s easy to use.”

“Just say when, and I’ll help. I’m pretty good with a barbeque.”

She smiled. Since he’d been back, he’d seemed so different than she remembered. This was the first glimpse she’d had of the Nate she recalled. He’d always been so much fun—wild, spontaneous, always smiling and laughing. The laugh they’d shared that afternoon had been the first smile she’d seen cross his grim face. His deep-set eyes and straight, grim mouth gave him a forbidding look that one smile banished. Yeah, she’d felt sorry for him earlier, but he was so not the loser he felt like. He was smart, funny, talented. And gorgeous. “I like you, Nate.”

He turned a startled face to her. “Uh…thanks. I…uh…like you too.”

She grinned. “People don’t say that to each other often enough. You tell people you love that you love them, but you never tell your friends that you like them.”

He studied his wine. “So I’m your friend?”

“Of course you are. You’re Derek’s friend, so you’re mine too.”

He said nothing, just kept looking at his wine glass and she sensed the discomfort he felt. This Nate was different—closed off, unavailable and brooding.

“We should get those steaks on,” she said brightly.

They grilled the steaks and the mushrooms and Nate whipped up a vinaigrette dressing for the salad Krissa put together. They sat out on the deck to eat their meal in the evening sunshine, Nate with his back to it.

“How’re your eyes? Better than this morning?”

“Better. They’re always sore and sensitive, but sometimes not so bad.”

“Have they improved at all since you got sick?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

She nodded, cut a piece of steak and popped it into her mouth. Just the right bite of black pepper, heat of cayenne, warmth of garlic.

“This is good,” he remarked. “Really good steak. Mushrooms are good too.”

They were—earthy and smoky. Heat crept into her cheeks. “Sorry about earlier. I get the idea I want something and I have to have it.”

“I know.” He smiled.

She reached for the bottle of wine and poured the last of it into their glasses. “I love food.”

“Good thing you’re skinny.”

“I’m not skinny!”

“I mean…I thought girls liked to be skinny.”

She frowned. “Slim, maybe. Slender. Skinny sounds…bony. Ugly.”

“Okay, good thing you’re so slim.”

She smiled at him. “That’s better.”

“You’re not bony. And you’re definitely not ugly.”

Their eyes met and held, his just visible through the dark lenses. She felt her cheeks heat, and bent her head, letting her hair fall over her face. “Thanks. You’re definitely not ugly either.”

He groaned. “When you say it, I realize what a lousy compliment that is.”

She lifted her head. “You’re fun to be with, Nate.”

And she really meant that. He’d taken her mind off her misery, and his mild flirting made her feel better about herself. Not like a failure, a nagging wife, a woman who would never be a mother. She actually felt good.

“Strangely enough, I’m having fun, too,” he said slowly. “And I thought I came here to wallow in self-pity.”

“This is the Pity Palace, right now.”

He laughed again, a dry, dusty sound, and she had a feeling he hadn’t laughed a lot in the last couple of years.

He helped with the dishes after dinner and they wandered into the family room. Krissa clicked through the many channels on TV until she found a movie they both wanted to watch. Shortly before ten o’clock, Derek arrived home.