Chapter 19
NASH
Iwish I were better at lying to myself. Then I could deny that I’ve been looking forward to tonight all week.
I pull my bowtie snug and give myself a look in the mirror. I’ve had a couple of occasions to wear tuxedos throughout my career, and it still feels a little bizarre each time. A suit is one thing, but I feel like I’m a kid playing dress-up when I put on a tux.
“What do you think, Cheesecake?” I ask the animal who once again wandered to my house this evening. “How do I look?”
The capybara turns her head to me. It feels like she’s sizing me up with her shiny black eyes.
“No comment, huh? I’ll try to take it as a compliment.”
I don’t know if I should be worried that I find myself talking to Cheesecake more and more when she comes to visit.
“Alright, girl, time to go home.” I grab my keys and shoo her out while I leave to pick up Piper.
Cheesecake knows her way back to her herd. The vet’s told me it’s fine to just put her out, that she’ll mosey back to where she needs to be. My house sits near perimeter fencing for the ranch, and I park my truck right outside it.
She stands next to the walkway, keeping her head pointed at my car, until I finally see her turn and saunter away in the rearview mirror as I start down the road into the city.
I find street parking near the building where Piper is living now. I don’t like that she has to crash on her sister’s couch. I’d gladly pay for her to get her own apartment, but I know there’s no way she’d let me. She’s too proud.
Her sister’s building isn’t a high-end place, and doesn’t have a doorman or anything like that, so I just punch in the entry code Piper sent me and walk up to the third floor. When I approach her apartment, there’s a man standing in front of her door.
Instantly, tension spreads through me, pulling my muscles tight. My first thought is that it’s him—her ex. When I see he’s holding a bouquet of flowers, my brow tugs even lower. Is that what this fucker thinks, that he can win her back with flowers and an apology after what he did?
But after a couple seconds, I notice that the man is wearing a uniform and holding a clipboard, like he’s making a delivery. There’s still a buzz of suspicion in my chest, but at least I’m able to unclench my fists.
“You need something?” I ask, my voice too gruff.
“Just making a delivery,” he says breezily. He shows me his clipboard and nods to the numbers affixed on the door. “Room A302.”
That asshole Crew couldn’t even bring his own apology flowers? He should’ve crawled over on his hands and knees through broken glass in the streets and groveled at her doorstep over what he did. Instead, he ordered a delivery service.
I bet he tipped like shit, too.
“This is my wife’s place,” I say. I roughly wrap my hand around the bouquet, not caring that I’m crushing some petals and cracking some stems, and take it from him. “I’ll give it to her.”
The delivery guy looks caught off guard for a second, but that’s replaced by a flash of recognition in his eyes and a startling of his expression.
“Wait, holy shit, you’re not Nash Miller, are you?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Fuckin’ A, man!” he exclaims. “I’m so excited for this season after how you guys were playing at the end of last year. I know this is annoying, but can I get an autograph?”
I should probably be glad that he’s not noticing how odd it is that I’m visiting my supposed wife at her apartment in a budget-friendly building.
He pulls out an unused sheet of paper from his clipboard, and I sign the back of it, making no effort not to further damage the flowers as I shift them to my left hand.
“Good luck this season, Mr. Miller!” he says with a wide smile as he walks toward the elevator. “Go Gators!”
I lift my chin to him and then knock.
She opens the door, and my heart stutters. The shade of red on her lips punches the air out of me and sends a bolt of electricity right between my legs.
Her hair is done up in a gorgeous knot, and the sight of her smooth, creamy neck fully exposed almost makes me want to stagger back. How the fuck am I going to spend the whole evening with her next to me and not have my hands all over her?
Fake, fake, fake, I repeat the word in my head.
Her radiant green eyes dip to the bouquet in my hand. “Nash, you brought me flowers?”
The thought of going to a flower store, taking my time picking an arrangement that I think she’d like, and then handing them to her at her door flashes in my mind.
I enjoy the thought far too much. A happy feeling pulses at the back of my head, until Piper reaches out and grabs the message card sitting in the bouquet.
She reads, “I’m sorry. I haven’t stopped loving you, and I never will. Crew.”
Anything approximating happiness evaporates from me. My stomach curls tight, and my teeth press together.
“I got to your door at the same time as the delivery guy bringing these,” I explain.
I take the bouquet in both hands and snap it in half. I brush past Piper into the apartment, making a beeline for the trash can. I shove the broken flowers in, but that’s not enough. I don’t want anything that came from him to be in this space. I pull out the mostly filled trash bag and tie it up.
“Anything else that needs to go down?” I ask Piper.
Amusement flashes in her eyes. “Uh … the recycling?”
I look to the floor and see a cardboard box filled with glass and plastic bottles. I pick it up. “Okay. Anything else?”
“We’re getting a new refrigerator tomorrow. Could you take the old one down?”
I look at the appliance. It’s a big model for this small apartment. “Yeah, sure. Next trip up. I’m getting rid of the flowers first.”
Laughter sputters from her, and she leans against the closed door. “I’m kidding, Nash. You don’t need to lug down the freaking refrigerator.”
“I don’t mind.”
Her eyes roll. “I’m joking. We’re not getting a new refrigerator. I just wanted to see if you’d do it.”
I give her a look. “My wife likes to tease me, huh?”
Wrong choice of words. Suddenly I can’t get the idea out of my head of her teasing me in a very different way. And when that thought shifts to me teasing her, making her ask—beg—for something I’m bringing her right to the edge of but denying her, my face turns hot.
“I’ll be right back,” I push the words out, hurrying to take out the trash.
When I get back to the apartment, it feels like I take a sledgehammer shot to the chest. Because the first thing I see when I open the door is Piper bent over, pulling something out from underneath the kitchen sink. She’s not in her dress yet, just wearing a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt.
The way those shorts frame her heart-shaped ass as she bends over has me seeing stars.
She straightens up, and a modicum of sense returns to my brain. It was a trash bag she was reaching for, to replace the one I just took out. I stride across the tiny living room and take it from her hands.
“Let me,” I say. “I took out the trash, I can put the new bag in. You get ready.”
In my peripheral vision, I see Piper lean her hip against the counter and fold her arms over her chest. “You like to do things for people, don’t you? Is that your love language, Nash?”
My lips bunch. “What is this, some social media personality quiz? Put your dress on, we’ll be late.”
She’s still looking at me in a way that makes me feel like she’s seeing too much.
“Okay, Mr. Acts of Service,” she mocks playfully.
“I don’t even know what that means,” I grumble.
She goes back to her bedroom—or her sister’s bedroom, I guess—to get changed. I haven’t seen or heard her sister, so I guess she must be out. While I wait, I kick my shoes off and lie on the couch.
The couch where she’s been sleeping.
The thought makes a bulge appear in my pants, and I don’t do as much as I should to fight it. I can still hear Piper getting ready in the other room, so I irresponsibly let my imagination wander.
Sweet notes of vanilla and cinnamon dance in my nose when I nestle my head into the throw pillow. Is that scent from Piper’s hair when she lies down to sleep at night? It must be.
Piper should be sleeping in a bed at night, not on this couch.
But not too big of a bed. Not so big that I couldn’t pull in a breath of this scent if I were sleeping next to her.
Not so big that I wouldn’t feel her warmth at my side.
Not so big that I couldn’t stretch out my arm and wrap it around her when I roll over in the morning.
In fact, the bed in my room would be just about the perfect size.
No one’s slept in that bed but me. I only bought that house after Bridgett. The thought of one solitary groove forming right in the middle of that mattress suddenly strikes me as sad.
It’s a good thing that dose of self-pity deflates my cock, because I hear Piper’s footsteps at the edge of the couch. She gasps, and I open my eyes just in time to see her tripping.
She crashes on top of me, and when her curves mold against my body and my hands shoot to her waist to catch her, it feels like my brain melts in my head.
Bliss, pure bliss, floods my veins with her warm, soft shape pressed against me. My hands grip the small of her waist, and holding her like this feels so fucking good that I feel high. When my senses register that her firm tits are resting on my chest, hot pressure expands in my groin.
I can’t stop myself from raking my palms down the smooth fabric of her dress, tracing the curve of her hips. My palms burn, fingertips itching to press harder into her soft skin, but I restrain myself.
She lifts her head, and our eyes lock.
I want this. I want to look her in the eye, our faces close enough for our noses to brush, our bodies pressed together, with my hands on her. I want—
Like a heavy foot slamming on a brake pedal, my better judgment manages to stop that train of thought.
She hops to her feet, and I immediately miss her against me.
“Sorry,” she sputters, “I can be so clumsy sometimes. Tripped over one of the boxes Hallie leaves lying around. Oh! I forgot something in her room! Be right back!”
She’s full of nervous energy as the words fly rapid-fire from her mouth, and then she’s high-tailing it out of the living room.
Did she feel that moment of contact just like I did? Was she so flustered and overheated that she needed to dash away to compose herself?
I should probably take a minute, too. Take some deep breaths to cool down the molten heat that’s still pumping through my veins.
But I don’t.
I’ve never seen Piper lose her composure like that before, and there’s a smug, satisfied feeling thrumming in my chest knowing that our first bit of full-body contact is what caused it. I follow her.
“Find what you’re looking for?” I ask, leaning in the doorjamb of her sister’s room, a taunt in my voice.
She startles, clearly expecting more time to cool down. “Yep!” she yelps, face flushed the prettiest shade of pink I’ve ever seen. I feel like I’m paying her back for all the times she’s looked smugly at me after saying something that made me blush.
“Good.” A wicked smirk slants on my lips. “Hurry up, wife. Wouldn’t want to be late for our first date.”