Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NASH
I had known this was a mistake in the making from the moment I’d walked out of The Willow Tree with my sights on Rory’s house. Yet as soon as she’d opened the door wide enough for me to slide through, I strode straight into her kitchen without looking back.
When I’d decided to show up with only a bottle of Grey Goose and a smile, I hadn’t thought much beyond that. I’d only been thinking that Rory didn’t deserve to sit at home drowning her sorrows by herself—certainly not when those sorrows centered around her ex—so I figured I’d drown them with her.
Without asking, I riffled through her fridge for something to mix the vodka with, not interested in replaying the night at The Willow Tree of shot after shot of the clear liquid. After settling on a pitcher of lemonade, I filled a couple glasses with a shot of vodka. I reached for the pitcher to finish our drinks, but then thought better of it and picked up the glasses, holding one out to her.
“For old time’s sake?”
Rory stood against the counter a few feet away, her eyes never straying from me. Something settled over her expression at the reference to that night so long ago, but it was gone before I could decipher it.
She lifted her chin toward the bottle she’d brought back into the kitchen with her. “What makes you think I don’t wanna drink my wine?”
“Happy to uncork that for you if you want something a little more mellow.” I shrugged, the unspoken chicken hanging in the air between us. Why was goading her so goddamn fun? “Your call.”
After a few silent moments, she reached out and took the proffered glass. I clinked mine against hers before downing the shot, never taking my eyes from hers. She did the same, cringing as she swallowed the liquid.
I laughed at her full-body shudder. “And just think, we downed half a bottle of that shit. Don’t worry—once I mix it, you won’t even taste the alcohol.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she mumbled, so low I wasn’t sure I was supposed to hear.
I filled both our glasses with a healthy dose of vodka, then added the no-doubt freshly squeezed lemonade. The drink would pack a punch but wouldn’t get either of us drunk.
Glass in hand, Rory watched me with a careful eye. Scrutinizing me in a way that made me itch, made me want a glimpse into her mind just so I knew what she thought of me. Did she see the kid she used to babysit? Her youngest sister’s best friend? A slacker who couldn’t even get a high school diploma? Son of the town playboy…just a guy to have a little fun with?
And what business did I have hoping so fucking badly she saw me through all the other bullshit?
After a few tentative sips and a whole lot of silence, she finally asked, “Why’d you come here, Nash?”
I held her gaze as I downed half my drink in one gulp, attempting to feign a nonchalance I didn’t feel. Why had I come? Because I hated the thought of her out here all by herself, drinking an entire bottle of wine while her ex fucked with her head.
Even more, I hated the possibility that the reason she might need a little alcohol fog was because she was still hung up on the asshole.
Gripping the glass tighter in my hand, I forced myself to unclench my jaw at that thought. With a shrug that felt way too forced, I said, “Thought you could use an unbiased ear tonight.”
“Unbiased, huh?” she asked, eyebrow raised.
Well, shit. She had me there. Apparently I hadn’t been as covert as I’d hoped regarding my feelings for Sean. When it came to Rory’s ex, there wasn’t anything unbiased about my interest. I’d wanted to strangle the douchebag since the infamous night at the bar. Longer than that, if I were being honest. Against all odds, that smarmy asshole had somehow managed to snag Rory fucking Haven. And then the idiot had gone and cheated on her.
He’d cheated on her . The girl who looked like goddamn royalty and presented herself as such. The woman who’d actually been Miss Mississippi, for fuck’s sake.
Tonight, she was a far cry from the royal air she normally exuded while strutting around Havenbrook. She wore plain black leggings—thin and clingy and Jesus Christ —paired with an old, threadbare T-shirt. And, God help me, no bra. I knew because her nipples had been saluting me since she’d opened her door to find me there.
I’d always take this version of her over the one others saw. Casual Rory meant Real Rory. She wasn’t hiding behind pleasant smiles or silk dresses or perfect hair. She was just her, for better or worse.
And damn if I didn’t love it.
“Unbiased in that I won’t storm over there, guns blazin’, and do something you definitely wouldn’t wanna bear witness to,” I said.
She laughed, tossing her head back. Pink dotted her cheeks, a slight flush already spreading down her neck to her chest, and hell if she wasn’t the best thing I’d seen all day. “Is that what you think I need? You fightin’ my battles for me?”
I pushed off from where I’d been leaning against the counter and stepped closer to her. So close the air grew charged between us.
“C’mon now, princess,” I said, my voice full of gravel. “Anyone who thinks you need your battles fought for you isn’t payin’ attention.” I had absolutely no doubt she could handle her shit on her own. Rory was a force of nature, and anyone who doubted that was an idiot. “But that doesn’t mean you should have to fight them all on your own either.”
The smile slowly melted from her face, and her eyes darted back and forth between mine. Studying me. Assessing.
Shit, had I said too much? She was all hard edges and pleasantly veiled directives around town, but it was obvious she was getting tired of it all. Obvious she put on a front with everyone, especially since the divorce. Wasn’t it? Or maybe it was just obvious to me . Like recognizing like and all that. Because God knew my nothing-much-matters facade was little more than an act.
I may have been only twenty-five, but I was already so fucking tired of trying to climb out from behind the dark shadow my old man had cast on our shared name. So bound and determined to prove to the people of Havenbrook I was so much more than my pops and the marriages he’d destroyed all in the name of a good time.
“Yes, well…” She cleared her throat, lowering the gaze that had held me hostage, and lifted the glass to her lips. After a tentative sip, she hummed in contentment, and the sound went straight to my cock. “Don’t let me have more than this.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
She cocked her eyebrow at the term. “Whatever I say, huh? So if I told you to leave, you would?”
“Is that what you want?”
For long moments, she just stared at me, making me say a prayer to every deity in the universe that she wouldn’t ask me to go. Except, that should’ve been exactly what I was praying for. If I were thinking with the head that wasn’t eager to get out of my pants, I’d be begging for her to tell me to get the fuck out.
The whole plan was to stay away from Rory unless absolutely necessary. Hadn’t I just decided that? That it was something I needed to do for the future of my legacy? Pursuing this thing between us would only fuck up my plans, and I knew it.
Trouble was, I couldn’t find it in myself to care.
“You just made me a lovely drink, and it’d be rude to kick you out after that,” she said. “Are you callin’ me rude?”
I exhaled—in relief or defeat, I wasn’t sure—and shook my head. “I value my life too much to do such a thing.”
“Good. I hope you aren’t hungry, ’cause I was plannin’ on a liquid dinner tonight.”
Barking out a laugh, I rested my hip against the counter next to her. “Got it. No cookin’, just drinkin’. What other big plans did you have?”
“I need to finish that—” she gestured to a bright blue paperback on the corner of her counter “—for book club next week. And, if I wanted to get really wild, I figured I could take it in the bathtub with me.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “By all means, don’t let me keep you. Feel free to holler if you need help washin’ your back.”
“You,” she said with narrowed eyes and a pointed finger shoved in my chest, “are incorrigible. I’m pretty sure you say half the things you do just to get a rise out of me.”
I grinned, unable to stop myself. I could’ve let the statement go unacknowledged. Could’ve switched topics, or asked her about the book club pick, or done a hundred different things other than poking the beast. The beast that was currently sitting on my chest and the only thing keeping a tenuous hold on my self-restraint.
Leaning forward, I didn’t stop until my jaw brushed her cheek, my lips resting against the shell of her ear. I felt her breath hitch against me, and my cock hardened within the confines of my jeans. “Oh, I do, princess. I figure it’s only fair since you always get a rise out of me.”