Chapter 14
chapter
fourteen
MAREN
I lose myself in the depths of Nate’s eyes—his soulful, bottomless umber eyes.
He covers my hands with his over his chest, swallowing them. “You’re holding on to my suspenders, Lightning. Like you don’t want to let go.”
My eyes flutter closed at his use of my old nickname. It was hard enough when he used it in a text, but hearing him say it out loud—my chest floods with all the feelings that don’t belong there.
His grip on my hands tightens, and his shallow breaths linger across my temple, then cheek, then my mouth.
I blink up at him, bringing his hypnotizing eyes and thin lips in and out of focus. The music filters back into my brain, and I realize I do, in fact, have my fingers wrapped around his suspenders. His hard chest expands underneath my knuckles, and I feel his heart racing, much like my own.
Let go.
Let him go.
Before I’m able to pry my hands loose, the decision is made for me when two women dressed as Elphaba parade between us on their way to the bathrooms.
I jump back like I’m in the middle of traffic on the street, and their giggles catapult me the rest of the way back to reality.
Then Addie and Caroline appear next to me.
“There you are!” Caroline chirps.
“Did we imagine it, or were you just dancing out there?” Addie hooks her thumb over her large, round Skittle getup.
I swallow to wet my dry throat. “I was—”
“I can’t believe we didn’t get it on video.”
“You’re just going to have to dance with us some more—possibly on video.” Addie nods emphatically, then swings her attention to Nate. The way her eyes bulge makes it clear that she hadn’t noticed he was here. “Oh.” She pales. “Did we interrupt?”
“No.” My immediate response makes her jolt. “I mean, we were just…”
“Catching up,” Nate offers with a small, if not disappointed, smile. “But there will be plenty of time for that.”
He retreats into the crowd, as if it could swallow him up. But he could be in the middle of Times Square and I’d still find him.
He continues backing away, but not without one more searing look aimed at me. Coupled with his promising words, it’s obvious that this is far from over.
And my stupid bitch of a heart flips like a floundering fish out of water.
“What was that really about?” Caroline pries.
“Was it a good or bad conversation? Do we need to kick some ass?” Addie sidles up next to her, and they box me against the wall, trapping me. “Wait. Why are you blushing?”
“Blushing? Maren Clayton never blushes.” My other friend does a double take and gapes. “Oh my God. You are blushing!”
I touch my fingers to my flushed cheeks, wishing I could disappear.
This is humiliating!
“I don’t think we need to kick ass, after all.” Caroline’s sparkling smile spreads slowly, and Addie’s matching one isn’t far behind.
“It’s not what you think.” I shake my head. “He’s just very…”
“Hot?”
“Charming?”
“Fun?”
They take turns spitting out adjectives that, describing any other man, would be a perfect checklist for a boyfriend.
But the man in question is Nate—and he is most certainly a fucking man.
The teenage boy I knew is long gone. In his place is a surprisingly growly and commanding man. The way he cut between Todd and me was like the shit from movies and books, where the heroic guy asserts dominance and claims his rightful place next to the heroine.
But I’m no story’s heroine with some extraordinary happy ending. My romances never end with long-lasting love.
“If you want to compare every man to your ex, then that’s your choice—and mistake.”
Dixie’s words nip at the edges of my frayed heart, and my eye twitches.
“Did he want to sneak over tonight? Stay out past curfew with you? Roll around in the yard like—”
I hold my hand up to cut Addie’s ridiculous tirade off.
“You have spent too much time being naked with Owen. You’re starting to sound like him.” I pin her under a pointed stare.
She gasps. “How dare you! I sound nothing like that oaf.”
“You’re the one sleeping with that oaf,” I sing.
Her lips curl into a devious grin. “He’s my oaf.”
Caroline squeals, but I roll my eyes. I’m the odd one out here. They’re happily in love, while my love life is currently on life support.
And the only man who’s caused any spike in my pulse lately is the one I shouldn’t want. Nate once made me feel like he was the only man I could count on. The only one who made me feel worthy of love. With him, I was invincible. Fierce. Unstoppable.
Nate wanted me to be happy because he believed I deserved good things, but it came with a price.
And in the end, he discarded me like I didn’t matter at all. He moved on before my tears had even fucking dried, like I had no impact on him at all.
Just like every other man in my life.
I can’t fall down that rabbit hole again. My heart won’t survive it a second time.
“But we’re not talking about Owen. This is about Nate.
” Addie clears the wicked gleam in her eye with a shake of her head, her short hair bobbing to the side and back.
I’m still getting used to this new look of hers—the short hair and the glow in her cheeks from being crazy in love with her former enemy.
“Nate and I were just talking, like he said. It was nothing.” I shrug, downplaying what’s going on between us.
And there is something, no matter how much I don’t want it to be true.
“You never blush over nothing.” Caroline searches my expression. Am I still red?
“Getting information out of you is harder than prying it out of Austin,” Addie laments.
“Are you talking about me?” Austin appears and wedges himself between Addie and Caroline, wrapping his large arm around his woman.
He’s been without her for a whole five minutes, and he obviously can’t help himself.
Even Sapphire Creek’s prickliest, grumpiest resident has found love. I never thought I’d say it, but I’m envious of him, of all people.
Around the sudden lump in my throat, I manage, “I have a killer headache. I’m going to go on home.”
“Want me to drive you?” Caroline offers, a crease of concern deepening between her brows.
“No. Stay. Have fun. Drink a Witches’ Brew on me.” I hand her a twenty, and I bolt.
I spin on my heel and feel around my belt bag for my keys. I’m almost home free, but my exit plan is interrupted by Owen’s younger sister, Lottie, except tonight, she’s Marilyn Monroe.
The dim light overhead bounces across her synthetic blonde wig as she animatedly waves her hands. “Oh my God—everyone went feral for your molasses cookies at my Boozy Brunch,” she gushes. “They got more sugar rushes than hangovers, which was a first.”
I share in her laughter, although mine isn’t as cheerful.
“You’re so going to win the Thanksgiving Bake-Off. No one can out-cookie you.” She nods, her eyes wide.
“I don’t know about that, but I will definitely do my best.”
She flashes me her phone and backs away toward the dance floor. “If you need a taste tester for practice, you have my number.”
“You bet.”
With that, I hightail it into the parking lot and manage to do so without another interruption from a nosey server, Batman, or my ex.
While Batman was decidedly the more pleasant of those three, he was a bit of a clown, not that I’d ever admit it to Nate.
But once Todd and I got to the dance floor, all he wanted to talk about was the rise in mortgage interest rates.
When I asked if he worked in real estate or if he was in the process of buying a house, he scoffed like I’d offended him.
It’s possible that he might not have heard me—or perhaps, I didn’t hear him. It was too loud for such a detailed conversation, not that he seemed to glean as much.
Not even Dixie could fault me for running far away from Todd.
Outside, I suck back a lungful of fresh air, letting it seep into my tense muscles. Then I pick up my pace toward my car and slide inside. The stars blink across the night sky, outstretched in front of my windshield, and out of instinct, I find the brightest one and unleash a fantasy.
It’s the game Nate and I used to play.
I haven’t felt the urge to even think about the silly pastime in a while, and now, as I sit here alone, I can’t stop thinking of the faraway life we imagined.
Did he ever get a cat named Cheerio? Or the Prius named Brighton? Does he remember any of the plans we’d made while stargazing?
My heart aches at the thought that he might not have given me, or us, a second thought all these years. That he doesn’t remember every little thing, like I do.
After all these years, he’s back here, messing with my head. What’s his angle? What does he really want from me—and why now?
I hesitate to put my car in drive and go home, where I’ll park in the driveway so close to his, but I can’t exactly move into the Tap’s parking lot, either.
I can’t let Nate keep me from enjoying my own home.
Besides, I should focus on the things that actually matter, like the bake-off in a few weeks. I should prioritize the prize money and getting my life in order. No love affair is going to fix my stove or get me a new generator so I can give back the one I’ve borrowed.
That’s the practical route. It should be easy to pivot my focus onto those things, but as I drive home, I can’t ignore the loneliness seeping into my bones.
Everyone around me is in love. It’s only natural for me to feel left out, right? The empty, nagging feeling will pass, just like winter. The bleak, dreadful season always ends, and spring sweeps through with vibrant colors and sunshine.
I just have to wait for the new season in my life, just as my mama used to say—“There’s no sense in crying over spilled milk, or a winter that lasts too long. There’s always something on the other side to look forward to.”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I pull into my driveway and cut the engine on my car. After only two seconds of eerie silence, a pair of headlights flashes behind me from a car taking the curve around my driveway.
Nate.
He must’ve left as soon as I did.
He rolls into his own space, and my sharp inhale echoes across my quiet car.
He hops out and adjusts the suspenders over his shoulders with one hand, his helmet in the other. Each stride he takes toward his porch is hurried, but before he reaches the first step, he whirls on his heel back toward his Jeep.
His keys rattle in his grip as he spins yet again toward his house. With one boot on the bottom step of his porch, he flips his keys and stares to his left. Is he looking at my house?
Is he… looking for me?
My heart lurches, and then it plummets into my stomach when he shakes his head and trudges up to his front door.
What am I doing?
I’ve fought so hard to protect my heart for years, and it’s gotten me nowhere. I’m alone, and the first guy to make me feel squirrelly in far too long is only a few yards away.
I’m so tired of fighting this feeling when I could easily put an end to my misery.
“Fuck it,” I say into the silence of my car, the words ringing out around me with wild abandon.
I throw my car door open and rush toward his house like I’m being chased. Like if I don’t get to him quickly, I might not have another chance.
Years of missing him crash into me, hurling me forward.
My feet glide up the steps.
My hand lifts to knock on the door like it has a mind of its own.
When he answers, sparkles dot my vision like fireflies, the light from inside the house jarring me.
Surprise flashes across Nate’s expression, and his mouth opens and closes with zero sound coming out.
“You never, um…” I lick my lips, drop my gaze, and put my hands on my hips. “You never finished telling me what you think of my costume.”
One side of his mouth lifts into a smirk, and a dimple blinks at me. “You’re sexy as hell.”
Every word I thought I knew disappears from my vocabulary.
I’m utterly, hopelessly, pathetically speechless.
He leans on the doorframe with one hand, which is when I notice the suspenders hanging from his hips, like he started undressing the second he stepped inside his house. “But make no mistake, it’s not the costume that makes you sexy. It’s you who makes the costume sexy.”
I officially can’t fucking breathe.
If gazes alone could worship, that’s the only way to describe Nate’s as it travels over me slowly. Carefully. Devilishly, like he’s cataloging every detail about me.
His gaze scrapes over me, the phantom sting on my skin as if I’m rubbing myself along the rough grooves of tree bark.
But instead of shrinking from the burn, I gravitate toward it, welcoming it with open arms as a sign that I’m alive.
It’s how I’ve always felt around Nathan McAllister.
“Now, what did you really come here for?” he asks with a layer of challenge in his tone, like he’s daring me to deny him the truth.
I slam into him, throwing my body against his like I’m fleeing from danger.
He digs both hands into my hair at the nape of my neck and meets me in a kiss that performs miracles.
The connection jump-starts my heart. Flips a switch in my lower stomach. Lights a match between my legs.
I pull back long enough to catch my breath, with his taste coating my tongue.
He narrows his gaze.
I gulp.
Then we meet in the middle over the threshold of his door. Both of my hands dive into his short hair, and I close my eyes as I continue kissing Nathan McAllister for the first time in ten years.
Fireworks burst against the backs of my eyelids, and I kiss him harder, plunging my tongue between his welcoming lips and relishing the taste of him.
His hands find my hips, and he jerks my body against his, pulling a gasp from me.
He kisses me thoroughly. Firmly. Eagerly.
I’ve never been kissed like this, so completely with such obvious desire. Like if we stopped kissing, we wouldn’t survive.
It’s the kind of kiss that makes me sad for all the other kisses I’ve ever experienced—what a waste of time.
With our mouths still fused together, he murmurs something that sounds like, “Come in already.”