Chapter 23
RAVEN
Nash stiffened and pulled away from me after reading the message, then laid back down on the bed. My stomach churned while my mind conjured worst-case scenarios.
“What is it? Did something happen?” I asked.
“No. It was Rowan. Checking to see if we were okay and hadn’t killed each other yet.”
My brother’s name sufficiently dropped a wet blanket on us, effectively ruining our romantic moment.
Dang it! Here we go again. Even with Rowan across the country, and us secluded here in this cabin, he still had the uncanny ability to stop us from getting together. If Tillie had a magical ability to bring soulmates together, Rowan seemed to be the opposite—he’d been successfully keeping us apart for years. Even if he didn’t realize it.
A wedge of awkwardness slid between us. I coughed into my hand to break the tension, then got up and moved toward the kitchen. “Alright. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved. Let’s see what we have left to eat.” I opened my cooler and food bag.
I pulled a cutting board and crackers out from inside my bag. There were containers of cheese, smoked salmon, and fruit in the cooler. I’d planned ahead and pre-sliced and pre-cut everything. I spread it all out on the board, creating a lovely charcuterie board, then brought it to the bed and set it in the middle for us both to reach.
He turned on his side with his head propped by his fist and elbow. “Wow. That looks amazing. I can’t believe you brought all that with you.” He pointed to the kitchen. “You can take my bag of almonds and trail mix, if you want to add to what you have. They should be on the counter in there.”
While I was up, fetching the nuts, I asked, “What do you want to drink? I have water or wine. But wine is probably not a good idea with a head injury.”
“Water is fine for me, but feel free to have wine if you want. You deserve it.”
At first I was just going to have water like Nash, but then considering the day I’d had, I went digging in my bag for my corkscrew. A glass of wine would taste really good right now. And God knew I’d earned it.
Even with the distraction of food, I wondered how things would be between us now that Pandora’s box had been opened. We’d both confessed our feelings. What now? That has to change things between us. Doesn’t it?
Nash loaded his plate and popped a stack of cracker, meat, and cheese into his mouth. “You had all this in your cooler? This is better than a restaurant. And here I thought I’d be roughing it for a few days, eating nothing but PB&J sandwiches and power bars.”
He was quiet for a moment. I could tell there was something we wanted to say. Did I really want to hear this? My body tensed. If he said this was a mistake, I’d smack him.
“Hey, Tweet. What was the real reason you brought flowers and fancy food up here? Were you expecting company?”
A bite of cracker went down the wrong pipe and I started coughing. Nash sat up and patted me on the back.
That definitely was not the question I thought he would ask.
Company? As if. I came here to get over him.
What would he think if he knew I came here to date myself?
I set the wine bottle aside and reached for my water bottle. I took a sip, patted my chest, and cleared my throat. “Thanks. I think I’ll live. Just need to remember to swallow.”
“Or answer my question. Were you planning on having a visitor up here if I wasn’t here?”
“No. Absolutely not. I can’t believe you would ask that.” Tossing the water bottle aside, I uncorked the wine, and poured myself a cup.
“It’s a legitimate question. I’ve seen you go on lots of dates.”
“Lots of first dates. Horrible ones at that.” I exhaled a loud sigh. “If you must know, after my last scar-me-for-life date, I decided I was done with men.”
“I had a front-row seat to that date, and many others before that. Had to grip the edge of the bar so hard I about broke my fingers to keep from going over there. I’m surprised my fingerprints aren’t permanently embedded into it. You don’t know how badly I wanted to take that dude outside and teach him a lesson.”
“Right? But I’m surprised you noticed, with Double D Daphne plastered all over you.”
He smirked and lifted a brow. “Ah. Are you admitting you were jealous, Tweet?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. She was putting on quite a display. Anyone would have been bothered by it.” I slipped a cheese and cracker stack into my mouth and washed it down with wine. “Anywho. After I got home from said date, I decided I was better off dating myself. I’d never get bored with the conversation. Never have to fake interest or listen to some guy drone on about the importance of mutual funds or the sorry state of the Twins’ bullpen. No more dealing with a date getting too handsy. And I certainly wouldn’t have to worry about my date cheating on me or breaking my heart.” Concerned about what he would think of all of this, I looked over at Nash. The corner of his mouth twitched, as if holding back a smile. My defenses started to go back up. “What? Now I suppose you think I’m off my rocker.”
Contrary to what I expected, it wasn’t condescension or criticism in his eyes, though, it was compassion and sincerity.
He created another stack for himself and leaned onto his elbow again. “Not at all. I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to admit all this, but maybe the stress of the situation had taken its toll. Or maybe it was the wine. I threw my hands up. “Oh, why not? This weekend was supposed to be a romantic getaway with myself to kick off my boycott of men. A man-cott, if you will. I brought things that make me happy, and things I’d like a date to do for me.”
A lightbulb seemed to go off in Nash’s head. “Ah. You like dates to bring you flowers, so you brought them for yourself.”
“Exactly. And I brought fancy foods and champagne to make it seem special.”
He nodded his understanding and didn’t ask any more questions. Thankfully.
Munch positioned himself between the two of us, perfectly aligned to beg from both of us. Nash, being the bigger softie, slipped him a piece of cheese. “That’s all you get, bud, or your mom will have my hide. If you want more, you’ll have to convince her.”
I wasn’t able to resist Munch’s sad eyes any more than Nash. He gobbled up the smoked salmon I tossed to him without even chewing then licked his chops for more.
“That’s it, Munchie. Go lay down.” Of course, he didn’t listen. He sat there staring at the charcuterie board, as if willing the food to magically jump off the tray for him.
Nash and I ate in silence, neither one of us wanting to address the elephant in the room. I was afraid if I asked, he’d admit that kissing me was a mistake, and that we should forget it ever happened. And my brother could never find out. Just like last time.
This time, however, it would be so much worse. Not only was there nowhere to go to escape and lick my wounds, but after making out with him like that and hearing his confession, the lid that successfully contained my feelings for all those years had been completely blown off. And there was no putting it back on.
And that bothered me more than I cared to admit.
The food and wine did nothing to quell the doubts that were multiplying within me, making me want to scream.
Nash was still eating when I got up and called Munch to come with me. Not that he’d listen when there was food to be had.
“Come on, Munch. I want to get some work done. Leave Nash alone.”
“He’s not bothering me,” he said, petting my traitorous mutt.
“Fine.” I huffed and began banging my materials around to get set up to paint again. Anything to distract me from how badly I wanted to curl up next to him and forget the rest of the world even existed, but aware of how painful it would be when reality crashed in.
“Hey, Tweet?”
“What?” I asked, my voice sharp with irritation.
“C’mere.”
“I need to get some painting done.”
“Come here first. Please.” When I didn’t budge, he attempted to get up, but winced in pain as he did.
I rushed to his side once again. The man really needed a keeper, and unfortunately, as long as we were here, I was it. “Don’t be an idiot, Nash. You need to stay laying down. It’s important that you rest your head.” I gently pushed his shoulder and nudged him down.
“Then stay here and talk to me.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed, with my arms crossed in a defensive posture. My gaze took in the dim light filtering through the window, and the streaks of rain making trails down the glass. The rain seemed to have lightened but was still pattering on the rooftop. “We already talked. I don’t know what else there is to say.”
Nash turned on his side and supported his head with his hand. “Seems like you’re back to being mad at me. I thought we were past that.”
“I thought so, too, until a text from my brother brought it all back.” I admitted and turned to face him. Even though a part of me was afraid of the answer, I had to ask the questions that had been plaguing me. “Do you honestly believe we can build a relationship when a simple message from him puts us in a tailspin? What if Rowan never approves? What will you do then?”
“I don’t know, Tweet. But there’s got to be a way. He cares about us both and wants us to be happy. And we’re not teenagers anymore.” He ran his hand down my arm in a loving caress.
His touch effectively deflated my upset, but I still had my doubts. “Are you saying you don’t care what Rowan thinks?”
“No. Of course, I care. But I’m sure we can convince him to let us decide what makes us happy.”
“And you’re not going to freak out and bolt when Rowan becomes a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal the first time he sees us together?”
He lifted my hand and brushed his lips against my knuckles. “I’ll do my best not to.”
A swoony sensation traveled up my arm to my head, but I pushed it aside. I wasn’t ready to concede. “No more hiding and pretending you don’t like me?”
He turned my hand over and kissed my palm. “Not if you can stop being mad at me for breathing.”
I pulled my hand away and crossed my arms again. “Hmph. And here I thought we were making progress.”
He laughed and tugged my arm toward him, pulling me down for a gentle kiss.
“So, how are you going to respond to Rowan’s text?” I asked.
“Hmm… Not sure yet.” He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t want to lie to him. I could tell him you’re driving me crazy. He’d believe that. And it’s true, just not the way he thinks.” He smiled and winked at me. “Or I could tell him we’ve called a truce and are working together.”
“He’d be less likely to believe that.”
“What if I told him I figured out I could shut you up by kissing you? And now we get along just fine.” He trailed kisses along my jaw.
My entire body was melting into a puddle from the heat of his lips on me. I nearly swooned. “Ooo… you like living dangerously. Don’t you?”
My hands moved up his chest to his collarbone and neck.
He groaned and continued his journey to my mouth. “I never did before, but I’m starting to see the appeal.”
Our lips seemed to be magnetically drawn to each other. If we were within a certain distance, the pull for them to come together was beyond our control.
Kissing Nash was like opening the lid on a magical paint can and having all the colors of the universe pour out at once. The more I kissed him, the more the pigments swirled together and created more colors, shades, and hues. Ones I’d never seen or even imagined before. I wished there was a way to dip my brush into this vision to use for my art.
Was this what the greats experienced with their muses? If so, I could get used to this kind of inspiration.
The downside was that after experiencing what it was like to really be kissed by Nash Porter, and that new connection we had now that we were on the same page, there was no going back. When I imagined a life with him, it seemed vibrant and sparkly. Without him, my life existed in dull black and white, devoid of color and vitality.
I was ruined.
If things didn’t work out with Nash, there was no way I could ever go on another date or let anyone else kiss me. Besides the fact that I’d already hit the murky bottom of the dating pool and swore off dating altogether. Not that those other guys ever had a chance, even if Nash and I hadn’t gotten together. It was the reason I never got past the first date with anyone else.
The truth is, no other man would ever match up to the standard he set.
Because none of them were Nash.