Chapter 25
chapter
twenty-five
NATE
Cole pushes through the crowd by the door, leading three women inside like he’s their tour guide.
I recognize Scarlett and Matilda from the Tap, but the third woman is a mystery.
The small herd stops next to Owen and me, where we both nurse a beer by the electric fireplace.
Cole claps both of our shoulders. “What have we missed?”
I point to Owen. “He’s been badgering me about turning the TV on, even though I don’t own this house, and Austin already told him to fuck off.”
“Ah—the Hawks, right? The game was just on at the bar. They’re down 21 to 47.” Cole chimes right in like he’s been part of the debate all along.
“How are you all here at the same time? On a Friday night, no less.” I wave my hand over them. Hard to imagine the Tap is functioning without its core staff.
Scarlett steps to the front. “Kenny finally saw the light and realized we’re not robots who can work all day and night, so he hired more servers.”
“Not just his cousin Larissa, but like, two more, so we can catch a freaking break.” Matilda huffs.
“If you’re so excited for a break, then why did you agree to shifts at the country club? Aren’t you working the Thanksgiving golf tournament next weekend?” Scarlett twists her lips like she’s just tasted bad sushi.
Matilda raises her chin. “Those Turks and Caicos tickets for New Year’s aren’t going to pay for themselves.”
“What tickets?”
“The ones Larissa drunkenly charged on her credit card. Remember?”
“You’re still going? I thought that was a joke!” Scarlett’s eyes bulge.
“It was, but then I thought… why not? I haven’t been on vacay in forever. My Instagram has just been a sad string of photos from the Tap.” Matilda grimaces like she’s had even worse sushi. “You should come with.”
The two girls drift away, and per usual, their back-and-forth leaves me with whiplash.
“To be young and reckless,” Cole muses, and I lift my beer as if to say “Hear, hear.”
Owen rubs his hands together, then pulls his phone out. “Time for plan B.” With only two taps to his screen, low cheers echo between us—the sounds of the Hawks game.
“It’s a housewarming party, man. Not a sports bar.” I elbow him in the side as Caroline passes.
“Everything okay?” She eyes us, and Addie suddenly appears next to us too.
She elbows Owen in his side, then smiles at her friend. “We’re perfect.” She dips his phone down, and he tucks it into his pocket with a groan that he clearly attempts to cover with a cough. “Owen was just checking the weather—it’s going to be rather warm tomorrow, thank the Lord.”
“Good.” Caroline squints, her tone full of doubt, but she plays along. “It’s been unusually cool over the last week.”
“Right? It’s actually felt more like fall.” Addie laughs.
Caroline accepts this and stalks off, her heels clicking across the hardwood.
Addie rises onto her tiptoes to whisper in Owen’s ear. Unfortunately for me, I’m standing too close, and I hear everything. “If you promise to wait until we leave to check the scores, I’ll make tonight worth your while. Anything you want,” she says.
“Anything?” His eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “Like hot tub sex?”
Of course, Owen is not as quiet as her.
Cole and I both exaggerate a gag, which gets their attention, but neither Addie nor Owen seem fazed. “Mind your own business.” He grins.
“Anyway.” I turn to the woman who’s smiling next to Cole. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Nate.”
“Ivy.”
Cole’s girlfriend.
“I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re from Atlanta, right?”
“I’m in for the weekend.” She uses her pointer finger to trace the pearls along her neck. “I’ll be back in a couple of weeks for Thanksgiving, but I just couldn’t help myself. I needed some Sapphire Creek in my life.”
“This town has a way of calling you back.” My gaze drifts toward Maren. I hadn’t even realized I knew where she was standing, but it’s like my subconscious has been trailing her every move.
It’s been several minutes since our bathroom run-in, but I can still feel her close to me.
Her lavender scent followed me out here, along with the faint echo of her gasp.
Did she even realize she gasped? The sound was so soft, yet loaded with unmistakable desire, and she seemed too dazed to have noticed she made a noise at all.
That sound, her scent, the leggings plastered to her sinful figure—my blood burns with need.
I clear my throat. “I just moved back here myself after the last ten years in California.”
“That’s quite the change.” Ivy smiles.
“The right change.” Again, my attention is swept away by Maren.
Standing in the same room as her without touching her is absolute fucking torture. It should be illegal.
If we were together, I’d hold her hand as we chatted with friends.
I’d cup her cheek and steal a kiss between stories.
I’d simply breathe her in while we talked about nothing and everything—it would all be that much better with her next to me.
I swallow around the lump of yearning in my throat. “How did you two meet, anyway?”
This gets a soft laugh from both Cole and Ivy.
“Funny story, actually.” She slides her hand into Cole’s, gazing up at him like he hung the damn moon. “My mom basically exiled me here for the summer to stay with my aunt Carol.”
“You know Carol Burke, right?” Cole asks me.
“Of course—Wake’s mom.”
“Everyone knows everyone, right?” Ivy laughs again. “Anyway, I went into the Tap for a gin and tonic one night, gave Cole a fake name, and the rest was history.”
“Sounds like one hell of a summer.” I raise my beer again, but when I attempt a drink, I realize it’s empty.
“Ivy, honey, get over here and tell us all about the wedding prep for your cousin.” One of Paulette’s friends waves her over. “Is it true he’s getting married on a cliff in Malibu? I heard Coldplay is their entertainment.”
She snorts, and out of the side of her mouth, she mumbles to us, “There’s also a rumor that Wake’s best man is Ian Brock. Spoiler alert—he’s not.”
“You mean, little Tattletale Burke isn’t best friends with Hollywood’s elite?” I joke.
As they saunter away to beam over Wake’s engagement with the other ladies, my attention drifts away with them, and beyond—right to Maren.
“How’s it going with your new—old—neighbor?” Owen tilts his head toward her, eyeing me over his beer bottle. “Is she happy you moved back yet?”
“Is who happy?” Austin joins us, with a beer of his own by his side. “Are you not happy with the beer selection? Because you can go get free booze elsewhere.”
Owen and I share a smirk.
“We are more than happy with the beer selection.” I nod, wishing I had a full drink in my hand.
“We’re talking about his ex.” Owen wiggles his eyebrows. “You see—our dear friend Nate has yet to charm the woman next door, whom is his ex, whom he wants to win over because—”
Austin waves him off and grunts. “I’m sorry I asked.” He shifts uncomfortably, then slowly backs away to talk to an older man. If I’m not mistaken, it’s Judd—the owner of the auto shop Austin works at.
I turn back to Owen. “See? You’re the only one who seems interested in what’s going on with Maren and me, not that there’s anything actually going on.”
“Nah. Austin wouldn’t even pretend to care about gossip if I offered him a million dollars.” He shakes his head. “He’s happily in a relationship, but the guy would rather talk about the asphalt outside than other people’s romantic status.”
“We should be more like him.” I hold up a finger. “And for the record, I don’t think you used whom correctly.”
“We’ll let Addie be the judge of that.” Owen curls his long arm around his girlfriend, who’s also an English teacher. “This fucker doesn’t think I know how to use whom in a sentence.”
She lifts a brow. “Do you?”
“Of course!” he booms.
“As long as you’re not making up words anymore, I’ll publicly agree that you know how to use whom.” She laughs against his lips before planting hers there.
Owen abruptly pulls back, holding his beer high. “Actually, you could help with one other thing and tell my boy Nate here how Maren feels about him.”
“Like we’re still in high school?” I roll my eyes.
Addie looks around. “We can’t be in high school. We’re missing your annoying techno tracks.”
“That can be arranged.” He smirks.
“Spare us,” Austin grumbles. When did he rejoin us? “The country music we have on is more than fine.”
“It does fit the ambiance,” Addie says, her approval evident in the way she lifts her chin.
“Perfect. Now I can sleep tonight,” Austin deadpans, with a twitch of his lips. It’s the closest thing to a smile that I’ve seen from the guy.
Addie flicks her gaze toward me, then averts it just as quickly, and I’m sad to say that it piques my interest.
Why won’t she make eye contact? What does she know?
I open my mouth to pry, forgoing any maturity I thought I possessed. Where Maren is concerned, there are no limits, apparently.
But Addie blurts, “She hates your tattoos.”
“What?” Owen and I both ask.
“Nothing. Never mind. Forget I said that. It didn’t even make sense.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. You have to explain.” Owen pulls her arm to stop her from escaping.
But I’m already backing away. “I’m going to find out for myself.”
Maren stands next to the table with two women I recognize—Paulette and Suzanne, Caroline and Austin’s mothers.
As I approach, I catch the tail end of their conversation regarding something they call Wess. From what I gather, it’s some kind of game.
“Ladies.” I nod toward each of them and flash a wide grin. “How are we this evening?”
“Just lovely.” Paulette grips my arm in greeting. “How are you, Nate? How is it living in Sapphire Creek again?”
“I think Caroline and I agree that this town suits us just fine.” I smile wider. “More than fine, actually, since I have a good new job, Teagan’s loving it here, and we have the very best neighbor who makes some of the best cookies in town.”
Paulette and Suzanne share a knowing smile, glancing between Maren and me much like my mother does, as if they know something we don’t.
Maren hasn’t looked at me once, and it’s so obvious she’s going to great lengths to avoid me tonight.
Which means she’s hesitant to be alone with me again for fear that we’ll finish what we started last night at the sink. It’s what she wanted in the bathroom not ten minutes ago.
When I leaned in, her lips had parted, begging me to kiss her.
And I fucking wanted to.
The only thing that stopped me was the fact that she insists we stay friends—plus, the bathroom. The next time I kiss Maren, it’ll be because she admits to how much I affect her, and we won’t be standing next to a toilet.
Until then, I can’t help myself. I’m going to have my fun.
I tilt my head toward Maren. “Mind if I steal said neighbor? I’ll bring her right back.”
“Of course.” They nod and wave us off.
But Maren doesn’t budge. “Actually, they were giving me the rundown of their latest Wess match. It’s important stuff.”
Suzanne leans in conspiratorially. “Last week was a riot. It took us nearly two hours to—”
“I think the kids have more urgent matters to discuss.” Paulette gently nudges Suzanne. “Besides, I think Caroline could use some help with… with… the cups.”
Suzanne meets her gaze, and Paulette raises her brows, clearly urging her to catch on. Understanding finally dawns, and Suzanne nods—a little too enthusiastically. “We really have a… a way with cups. She needs us.”
Arm in arm, they scurry away like there’s a limited-time sale at Conversation Pieces. If they’re anything like my mom, those two never miss a sale.
“Real smooth,” Maren mumbles into her drink.
I chuckle and step into the spot in front of her. “So, word around the coffee table is that you hate my tattoos.”
She fumbles over her sip, and most of it sputters back into her glass. Then she uses the back of her hand to wipe the trail of Arnold Palmer from her chin.
“Which is odd, because you seemed to really, really like them a couple weeks ago.”
“I didn’t even, um… get a good look.” Her nostrils flare like she’s daring me to continue this conversation.
As if I should quit before she knees me in the balls, and I wouldn’t put it past her.
In eighth grade, she pushed Davis Greene into a pond because he annoyed her too much by playing the copycat game. He followed her around and repeated everything she said, until she’d had enough.
Good thing there are no ponds in sight, but her knee is a plausible alternative.
“Didn’t get a good look, huh?” I lean in, lowering my voice. “Would that be because you were too busy riding my—”
She clamps her hand over my mouth and squeezes my cheeks together. “Don’t,” she hisses, but her eyes tell a different story.
If she weren’t holding me captive, I’d smirk.
I raise my hands in surrender, and she lets go, glancing around like she’s ensuring we have no witnesses.
But she doesn’t back away.
She stays flush against me and continues staring at my mouth like she can’t stand that she’s no longer touching me.
As I brush past her, I whisper in her ear, “If you ever do want a better look, all you have to do is ask. You might be surprised at what you find.”