Chapter 12 Evie
TWELVE
EVIE
Just like the radiators battling with the draft from the single pane windows, I was struggling with the hot and cold coming from Nick. One minute it felt like we were on the same page—the ready to tear off each other’s clothes one—and the next minute it was like he was closing the book.
So, when his hand slipped up my shirt, I waited to see if he’d pull back—again.
A shiver ran up my spine. Nick’s hands were rough and calloused.
Goose bumps followed the path his palms had taken up my body.
Still, I didn’t give in. I had run after the man down the street like it was the final scene of a rom-com movie.
Only, after the kiss he didn’t sweep me off my feet and carry me off into the sunset.
No, he’d stopped everything. If it had actually been a movie, that’s when the record scratch sound would’ve happened and the voiceover would proclaim, That, folks, was the moment I knew it wasn’t going to happen.
Now, I tried not to writhe beneath the down duvet as Nick’s hand traveled from my side to my breast. “Nick,” I whispered.
“Yeah.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat.
I was about to tell him that we should get some sleep, but then the pad of his thumb swept over my nipple. The sound that escaped from my lips didn’t sound like one I’d ever made before. It was somewhere between a meow and a moan. “Let’s have tonight and tomorrow—”
His lips interrupted me. Then his body was on top of mine.
It was the weighted blanket I hadn’t realized I needed.
I pressed my hips into his and arched my back, nipping at his lips as my fingertips grazed the back of his sweatpants.
We were panting into each other’s mouths and our bodies moved hungrily against each other’s.
His hand cupped my breast as he kissed along my jawbone.
“You are so beautiful, Evie,” he whispered as his kisses continued down my neck. My feet slid up his body to plant on either side of his hips. I pushed into the mattress, leveraging the pulsing parts of myself against his hardness. “I have never met anyone like you.”
It was such a cliché, but I believed it.
I believed it because I had never met anyone like Nick.
He was both a grumpy jerk and a kind and considerate man.
It didn’t hurt that those qualities happened to be wrapped up in a guy with a six-foot-four frame and a V-cut better than a Hemsworth’s.
“That’s because you’re under the spell of Chance Rapids. ”
He paused with his lips on my breastbone, replacing his kiss with the palm of his hand. “I don’t think it’s the town, Evie.”
The spark that had been lit was stomped out, and just like before, I had no idea why. Nick slid off me. He rested his hand on my belly, then fixed my flannel shirt, patting it into place. “I’ll find a place to stay tomorrow.”
I turned onto my side to face him. He was on his side too. “What’s going on Nick? Do you have a girlfriend somewhere else or something?” It was an immature thing to say, but it was the only reason I could think of that would stop him from sleeping with me.
He sighed. “Evie. I am not a good person. The sooner you realize that, the better.”
I blinked. This was not the answer I was expecting. “Can you give me a bit more than that?”
“No.” He tucked my hair behind my ear. “It’d just be better for you to stay away from me.” The pillows had been tossed onto the floor. He grabbed them and rebuilt the wall between us. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
Instead of sadness, it was anger that coursed through my body. “I think you should find a place to go in the morning.” My voice was low and the tone maybe a little too harsh, considering a few minutes earlier I’d wanted to feel his skin against mine.
“I will.” The sad eyes were back. I wanted to hate Nick Tinsel, but I knew there was more to his story. Or maybe he was just like all the other guys, only he was bailing out earlier.
Either way, Nick was right. If he was going to hurt me, it was better to end things before they even started.
Snow swirled outside the windows of the inn and the sign that hung in front creaked as it blew in the wind.
I’m not sure that either of us slept very well.
At least I know I didn’t, but sleep must have come for me at some point.
It felt like I nodded off two seconds before my alarm clock went off.
“Nick.” I nudged his broad back. “It’s morning. ”
He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I’ll get my things together.”
“You don’t need to rush out of here. I’ll be heading to work shortly. If you’re fast you can shower first.”
A sad smile spread across his face. “That, I’m good at. Dressing rooms run out of hot water all the time. I’m the king of fast showers.”
His attempt at humor diffused the tension a little, but our desire hung in the air—along with the smell of Chance Rapids Kolsch. Nick got out of bed. “I’ll be fast, I promise.”
He shimmed around the decrepit sofa bed on the way to the bathroom.
I shouldn’t have looked, and I averted my gaze as soon as I saw the bulge in his pants.
It was massive, tenting out his sweatpants, but I already knew what was beneath the drawstring.
That monster had been pressed against my body last night.
“Shit,” he muttered. The contents of his duffel bag spilled onto the floor. He crouched and shoveled his belongings back into the bag and took out a leather bag of toiletries.
“There are towels folded in the cupboard,” I whispered as he disappeared into the bathroom.
He was a man of his word. In less than ten minutes he stepped out of the bathroom, his wet hair plastered to his head, one of my towels wrapped around his waist. “I thought I’d get dressed out here to give you more time in there.” He gestured to the bathroom with his thumb.
I scrambled out of bed.
Don’t look, don’t look, I said to myself, but like a car accident, I couldn’t stop my gaze from tracking over the front of the towel.
Stop it, Evie. I looked away after noting that the bulge was gone. I focused on the floor ahead of me as I passed by him and scurried into the bathroom. I shivered. Water drops clung to the shower curtain, but there wasn’t any steam in the bathroom.
“Nick?” I popped my head out the door, but quickly slammed it as I got an eyeful of Nick Tinsel in the nude.
Any of my guesses about his size had been seriously underestimated.
“Oh God.” I slammed the door shut. “Sorry!” I shouted through the wood-paneled door, then opened it a crack. “Is the hot water not working?”
I couldn’t see him but could hear the shuffle of him getting dressed. “I took a cold shower. I wanted to make sure that you had hot water.”
“Thanks.” I shut the door and rested my back against it. Nick Tinsel was a shower, not a grower—and that was after a cold shower. He was bigger than I’d imagined, by a lot.
Steam built up in the bathroom as I let the water beat at my shoulders.
I tried to figure out what to do about Nick.
By the time I’d washed my hair, I’d come to the conclusion that I wasn’t going to do anything.
I rationalized that if the feelings I had for him had come on so quickly, that meant that they could go away just as fast—didn’t it?
Was it my ego that was hurt? I didn’t believe that Nick was a bad person.
In fact, everything I had seen from him had proven the opposite.
I wrapped the towel around my chest and wiped the steamy mirror with my hand.
I had formulated a plan, and it wasn’t a complicated one.
Nick and I would be friends. We were grown-ups.
There was no reason that everything had to be so dramatic.
“Nick?” I stepped out of the bathroom, ready to present him with my friend zone plan, but the room was empty.
He had made the bed and folded up the sofa bed as best as he could.
It was still a little wonky, its cushions peaked over the broken metal.
It looked like it was smiling at me, ready to devour its next victim.
He was gone. Since I’d already established that this wasn’t a rom-com, I wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t left a note.
I looked anyway. There was just…nothing.
I sat on the bed and stared at the door.
“Well, that’s that.” I pulled back my shoulders.
Now that Nick was out of the picture, I could get back to what was important—helping GJ.
I got into my breakfast costume and knelt on the floor to buckle up my shoe.
A glint of something caught my eye. I dropped to the floor and reached under the bed, my fingertips meeting something made of metal.
Edging closer to the bed, I stretched my hand as far as I could reach and I was able to grab the round, cold object.
Shimmying out, I sat on the floor and looked at the can in my hands.
Contact cement.
Nick was a liar. Tears welled in my eyes. He wasn’t a bad guy, not at all.