Chapter Thirteen #2
Smirking, Nick took a sip then crossed his arms over the table and leaned over them. “So which is going to be the future Mr. Colton?”
“Ha-ha,” Sassy quipped, gathering the napkins up quickly before he could snatch one. She used them to wipe up water rings.
Nick clicked his tongue and gave a small shake of his head. “Sassy Colton, crushing the hopes and dreams of young cowboys since 1998.” He noticed the stranger at the table and extended a hand. “You must be Fletcher.”
Fletcher shook. “And you are?”
“This is Nick,” Soledad told him. “He and Sassy… Well, they take care of each other in a sweet and platonic kind of way.”
Sassy rolled her eyes at the description, even if it was true. “He’s my bestie.”
“I didn’t know men and women could be besties,” Fletcher pointed out, bemused. “When you two date, don’t your significant others feel threatened?”
“If they don’t trust us to begin with, what’s the point of a relationship?” Nick asked.
Fletcher glanced at Soledad. “You don’t have any male besties. Do you?”
Soledad sighed dreamily. “Not like Nick.”
Nick chuckled. “Aw, Sole. You’re making me blush.”
Soledad laughed and touched his arm, and heat staked itself out inside Sassy, blooding her cheeks. She was blushing again, too. Furiously, just as she had at Jessamine’s.
From the bar, the clatter of a cowbell caused everyone to look around. “Bottoms up!” the bartenders shouted in unison.
Sassy automatically grabbed her cup. Nick and Soledad did the same.
Before Soledad could explain to Fletcher what was going on, Nick and Sassy had already lifted their cups to their mouths and were gulping the draft beer down.
Sassy wanted to gag on the foamy head. Out of the corner of her eye, however, she saw that Nick was ahead of her, half his beer gone.
She buckled down and gulped faster, not coming up for air until the cup was empty.
Both their cups kissed the tabletop at the same time, and they both gasped for breath and joined the cheering of the participants around them.
Soledad finished moments later, with Fletcher coming in fourth.
Sassy applauded them both. Whatever she’d felt seconds ago had been a filthy, ugly emotion she never wanted to feel toward either Nick or Soledad again.
So what if they flirted? Sassy flirted with men around Nick all the time. He was more subtle about picking up women, and the idea had never bothered her before.
It was all harmless fun, anyway, the normal pattern of conversation whenever they saw people they were acquainted with in public.
Sassy hated that she could for one second be jealous of Soledad.
She hated how much she’d wanted to pick up her glass and throw the beer in Soledad’s face. “I think I need another,” she decided.
“I told TJ to bring a pitcher round soon,” Nick told her.
“Is the whole thing just for me?” she asked, hoping he would miss the lingering lashes of color across her cheeks. Or at least chalk them up to alcohol consumption.
Not that she couldn’t drink him under a table…
He bumped his shoulder into hers in answer. “So, Fletcher, what kind of metal art do you do?”
“Uh, sculpture, mostly,” he answered.
“Any jewelry?” Nick probed.
Fletcher shook his head. “Not really, no.”
“Are you in the market, Nick?” Soledad asked curiously.
“Maybe,” Nick said in all seriousness.
Sassy narrowed her eyes and started tearing a napkin into teeny, tiny pieces. Again, what was he up to? Fletcher must be wondering the same thing, because he looked a bit uncomfortable. Sassy jumped into the exchange. “Did you train with anyone?”
“No. I guess you could say I’m self-taught,” he asserted.
“Wow,” Sassy said, impressed.
“Soledad tells me you’re an artist, too?” Fletcher asked.
“I was,” she asserted. “At one time.”
“What happened?” he asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Not at all,” she assured him. “I was awarded a grant that helped pay for the art school of my choice in New York.”
He raised his brows. “That’s fortunate.”
“For a kid from Utah, it felt like winning the Powerball.”
“What was your preferred medium?”
“I was a painter,” she told him.
Nick leaned in. “You’re still a painter, Sassy. You just don’t sell your work.”
She glanced at him. Him handing her easy wins in his leather-smooth voice wasn’t going to help her eradicate this heat she felt for him.
“Why don’t you sell your paintings?” Fletcher asked.
“My work never made much of an impact,” Sassy explained. “Not like others’.”
“So you just gave it up? Just like that?”
Sassy couldn’t tell if the question was more surprised or judgmental.
Neither could Nick, apparently, because his shoulder nudged into hers again and stayed there, supportive.
She didn’t move away. “I don’t see it that way.
I’m still passionate about art, and I love working with artists.
I love seeing their faces when they sell something they put their whole soul into.
It’s that lightning-in-a-bottle feeling, the same one I felt when I painted years ago.
I lost that feeling as an artist. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still feel it for others who deserve it, especially those from marginalized communities.
Giving up professional painting never felt like selling out.
Not when it felt like I’d found what I was meant to do with my life. ”
“Hmm,” Fletcher said contemplatively. “You do still paint, like Nick says?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “For myself. Art and creative release can be a private endeavor, too.”
“Mine’s been a private endeavor for years,” Fletcher said, “but not by choice.”
“Sometimes life leads you in a different direction than you expected,” Nick said. “You wind up exactly where you were meant to be all along.”
“True,” Soledad agreed with a nod.
Sassy wanted to lay her head on his arm and close her eyes in thanks. He turned his head, met her eyes. Something in his glimmered. He understood her implicitly.
Inside her, a lock broke open, unleashing messy torrents of emotion.
Stunned, she looked away, blinking rapidly as her eyes stung and the back of her throat tightened.
She felt it across the bridge of her nose.
The particles of her being sought him with an intensity she felt from head to toe.
She wanted this man and this man only. He was all she needed, all she’d ever needed. She just hadn’t realized it.
Soledad bounced in her seat. “Ooh, I love this song!” She whirled on Fletcher. “Dance with me, mi amor?”
Fletcher took her hand and helped her up. “We’ll be back,” Soledad called before they disappeared amid the raucous patrons.
Nick waited until they were well out of earshot before he said, “I don’t trust a man who wears a suit to a honky-tonk.”
“Maybe he’s trying to make a good impression,” Sassy surmised.
“What kind of starving artist wears a Rolex and Italian shoes?” Nick challenged.
Sassy lifted a shoulder. “Maybe his family funds his ambitions? Mine would have, had I been willing to accept their help.”
“You didn’t see it,” Nick said, “but during that whole conversation, he was looking at you when he should’ve been looking at her.”
She rounded on him. “What?”
“It’s true,” Nick said. “I didn’t like it. Not one bit.”
The cowbell rang again, but she couldn’t look away or join the hooting and hollering as everybody’s favorite drinking anthem cued up and those around them linked arms and began to sway as one. Her chest felt taut and her throat began to close. “Nick.”
“Yeah?”
She fought for a decent breath and couldn’t quite fill her lungs all the way. They hurt, all of a sudden. “Do you have feelings for Soledad?”
His jaw loosened. “Why…why would you ask me that?”
“Oh, God.” She dropped her temple to her palm and shook her head. “How did I miss this? How long has it been going on?”
He grasped her shoulder. “Sassy, I’m not into Soledad.”
“It’s okay,” she said without looking up. “You don’t have to hide it from me.”
“I’m not hiding anything.” He stopped, cursed before continuing. “Not about her.”
“Then why’re you giving Fletcher the third degree?” she asked. “Why did you agree to come tonight? We’ve never double dated before. I know there’s some ulterior reason we’re here with them.”
“It’s this guy,” Nick explained. “I don’t like him.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. The fancy watch. The overpriced cologne. It’s all fake.”
“I think you’re being a little unreasonable,” Sassy opined.
“The guy made you uncomfortable, too. Admit it!”
They were practically yelling at each other. She glanced around, aware of the looks they were drawing from bystanders who were trying to sing along. “I don’t know what to think other than that you’ve been acting strangely. Are we here to check up on Fletcher or are we here because…”
“Because what, Sassy?” he asked.
“Because you wanted to go on a double date with me?” she finished, throwing it out there.
Again, he only looked at her, staring blankly.
She took a steadying breath. “Look. The other night…after you took the muscle relaxer, you…you kissed me.”
He stilled. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did,” she insisted.
“That’s not possible,” he said, shaking his head emphatically.
“Why?” she demanded. They were definitely louder than the singing. “Because I’m not sexy enough or I’m not desirable at all to you?”
She might as well have kneed him between the legs. He paled and his mouth worked as he fought for a response.
“You kissed me, Nick!” she accused.
“Maybe you imagined I kissed you. Or misinterpreted something. Because I have never—I would never—”
“Do you know what women hate most?” she hissed, mad as a cobra. “Being told that a man’s clear and present actions are all in her head!” Her chair fell over in her harried attempt to get as far away from the table as possible.
“Sassy, wait!”
She yanked her purse over her shoulder and elbowed a path through the happy throng to get to the closest exit, ignoring the lyrics being shouted around her.
“Sassy!”
She picked up the pace. Someone grunted as she stepped on his instep.
His arms flailed and he fell into the person behind him.
A woman shrieked. Shouting that had nothing to do with joy or merriment commenced.
The sound of a fist connecting with a face and a cry of pain eclipsed the next lines of the song.
She found the side door at last and barreled out into the night. She drank the cool night air, ignoring the way her breath hitched. Wrapping her arms around herself, she looked toward the road. Should she walk home? Call an Uber? Call Ryan or her parents to come pick her up?
The door opened at her back, spilling noise and light into the graveled side lot. She spun with a frown to find Nick.
He was breathing heavily. A little wild-eyed, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder and said, “I almost got my head taken off back there.”
“You think I imagined it?” she asked, bewildered. Before she knew what her feet were doing, she charged him. Planting her hands on his chest, she pushed him back against the closed door. “Hold still.”
As she planted her boots between his and her torso slid into the warmth of his own, he drew in a sharp breath and raised his hands. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she drawled. “Does this look like a pass to you? Maybe you’re imagining things.”
His jaw flexed and his eyes darkened. “You’ve made your point, Sassy.”
She lifted herself to her tiptoes, ignoring the fact that her face was on fire and she was still short of breath.
“Imagine this,” she invited, turning her nose into the collar of his shirt.
She let the tip of her nose brush against the skin of his throat.
It was hot—like a branding iron. His scent drenched her.
She missed a breath entirely and bit her lip to stop a whimper from escaping.
A shiver coursed through him. She felt it sink into her as she parted her mouth, letting her breath whisper across the heat of his skin.
Then, emboldened, she closed her lips over the spot, kissing him just as he had kissed her.
The feelings coursing through her demanded it.
They needed the taste of him…a subtle clash of soap and salt.
A soft, plaintive noise escaped her. She opened her mouth, suckled.
Air hissed between his teeth.
Her hands spread through the hair on the back of his head, bringing it down so that she could nibble a titillating line up to his jaw.
His warm palm spread across her cheek, gentle as it maneuvered her back a step.
It took a moment for him to solidify before her. She’d gotten lost in him—the heat of him, his smell, his taste…
His pupils had dilated and the look in his eyes was a straight whiskey shot of…
Hunger.
It didn’t take much for him to reverse their positions, him crowding her into the door.
The hand on her cheek caressed her, his thumb sweeping across her skin as he studied her eyes, her brow, her mouth…
Her heart pounded between them. She wondered it didn’t beat through her chest wall as he took his time considering her and the inches that separated his mouth from hers, stretching the moment out until anticipation whistled between them at a frequency only dogs could hear.
Then he closed the distance and his eyes held hers as he kissed her—really kissed her—for the first time.