6. Leni
When Nash knocks on my door at six-fifteen, I'm running around in my bra and underwear. Oops. I tried on nearly every freaking outfit in my closet and still haven’t found something to wear. Boo glances over at me from her perch on the windowsill and rolls her golden eyes. I swear that animal lives to judge me. After pulling on my robe, I rush to the door and pull it open. “I’m so sorry. I lost track of time.”
He steps in the door while his intense eyes move slowly down my body. He slams the door shut with his foot and groans, "You’re so fucking beautiful.”
“Oh.” I need to get dressed before I’m tempted to jump his bones. “Thank you. I’ll be right back.” I hurry back to my bedroom and close the door like my hair’s on fire.
Since I’m out of time, I grab the first outfit I tried on and hurry up to pull it on. Then I check myself in the mirror, adjusting my hair to frame my face while a crazy mix of excitement and nerves twists my stomach into knots.
With one last glance, I head back to the living room, my heart stuck in my throat. As I step around the corner, my breath catches at the sight before me. Nash is sprawled on my couch, looking undeniably at home. His broad shoulders lean back casually as he absently scratches Boo, who’s nestled comfortably in his lap, purring like a content little engine.
“Wow,” I say, fighting back a laugh. “My finicky cat never sits in anyone’s lap, not even mine. You’ve got some kind of magic touch, don’t you?”
He looks up with that trademark cocky grin, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “What can I say? I have a way with women.”
When he winks playfully, I roll my eyes as I smile back. “I can see that.”
He shrugs, still stroking Boo’s fur. “I promised to bring her a can of tuna the next time I come by if she puts in a good word for me.”
“She’ll hold you to that promise.” I smirk as an electric charge fills the air. Goodness. I need to get us out of here before I lose my senses. “Are you ready?” I ask, tapping my foot nervously on the floor, trying to shoo away the anticipation clawing at me.
He stands, and as he does, he towers over me, taking my breath away. I meet his gaze, and my heart races as he steps closer, a predatory grace in his movements. He lingers for a moment, staring down into my eyes, and the world outside fades into a hazy blur.
“Your black dress is beautiful,” he says, voice low and sultry, but then he leans in just a fraction closer and adds, “but I much preferred you wearing your silky pink robe.”
My cheeks flush, heat pooling in my belly as the words wrap around me like a warm embrace. I can’t think of a response, and the playful banter of moments ago evaporates, leaving a thick tension hanging in the air. His implication dances between us, igniting a surge of warmth that courses through my veins.
“I—uh…” I stammer as my brain completely shuts down. This man has a knack for leaving me speechless.
Nash watches me, intense desire flickering in his gaze, and it’s all I can do not to squirm beneath the scrutiny as my heart races like a runaway train. Suddenly, the night feels charged with thrilling possibilities.
His expression softens, and I see that wicked spark again. His confidence and obvious desire for me both tease me and reassure me all at once. “We have reservations at seven.” He laces his fingers with mine and his touch warms me from the inside out.
I swallow hard, reminding myself this night out is to explore whatever this wild connection is between us. “Okay,” I finally manage, straightening my posture, even as curiosity and excitement swirl in my gut. “Be good, Boo,” I yell over my shoulder as we step out the door, knowing full well my words are going in one of my stubborn cat’s ears and out the other.
The whole way to the restaurant, Nash’s masculine scent wraps around me, turning my insides to mush. He lifts our intertwined fingers up to his mouth and places a soft kiss on my knuckles. “Did you get all your chores done?” he asks, and my body reacts like he just whispered dirty fantasies in my ear.
“I did,” I manage to croak out past my dry throat.
When we pull up outside Le Petit Bistro, I turn to Nash. “How did you get reservations here?”
“That’s my little secret.” He pulls up and steps out to hand his keys to the valet. Then Nash walks around the car and opens my door. As he helps me out of the car, Nash whispers in my ear, “My twin sister got the reservations for us after I promised to name our first child after her.”
I stumble on my high heels as his words wrap around me. “What’s your sister’s name?” I blurt out my first thought, ignoring how his words caused my girly parts to wake up.
“Nora.” He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close to his side. “So, we have to have a girl first.”
I’m still processing this conversation when we step into the darkened lobby. Nash gives his name to the perky hostess, and she instantly leads us to a secluded table in the back of the restaurant. He holds my chair out as I sit down, then walks around to sit directly across from me.
The atmosphere is alive with chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the rich aroma of gourmet food wafting through the air. I’m still buzzing from the tension of our earlier exchange, and the anticipation of what lies ahead electrifies the air between Nash and me.
A waiter appears, interrupting my thoughts and the charged energy reverberating between us. He’s polished and professional, delivering crystal glasses of water before jotting down our orders with practiced ease. I glance at Nash, who orders something suave and sophisticated that effortlessly matches his vibe, and I follow suit, opting for a pasta dish that’s both indulgent and decadent. The waiter nods, takes our menus, and slips away, leaving us in a bubble of soft laughter and flirty glances.
Taking a sip of my water, I turn my attention back to Nash, wanting to peel back a layer of him—because earlier, I had sensed there was so much more beneath that confident exterior. “So, tell me about your sister,” I inquire, genuinely curious.
He leans back, his posture relaxing as he thinks it over. “Nora is three minutes older than me,” he replies, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We’re really close. Almost inseparable, especially growing up. It’s always been just the two of us.”
The glimpse into his family life piques my interest. It’s fascinating to picture him as part of a duo, two wild siblings taking on the world. "You two must have gotten into some trouble together," I tease, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, you have no idea. Law school was… let’s say interesting,” he continues, a smirk playing on his lips. “We pushed each other hard, always competing. But at the end of the day, we both knew we’d have each other’s backs.”
His tone shifts slightly, the warmth in his voice enriching the story. “We opened our firm shortly after graduation, diving straight into the chaotic world of divorce law. It was a gamble, but we’ve made it work,” he explains, each word laced with pride.
Just as I’m about to respond with a witty comeback, the waiter returns, placing our dishes in front of us. The rich aromas swirl together, and my hunger overrides my curiosity about Nash. I glance at my plate, my mouth watering at the sight of the pasta, and when I look back up, I catch Nash watching me with the same intensity.