6. Nash #2
"What about staggering payments for the materials?" Nelly asks when Beau flips his notebook closed.
"They might be able to do that," Beau says. "I'm waiting on a call back from Ford. He's got to make a couple of calls to his suppliers."
Her shoulders drop a fraction, and I grind my teeth together. I don't know why it frustrates me that I can't calm her the way Beau seems to be able to. Give her numbers and she's putty. Try to keep her from getting sick, and you're the bad guy.
I shouldn't have touched her.
My hand flexes again.
The elevator doors ding open on my floor, and I'm too eager to step out.
"Nelly," Beau says.
"What's up?" she asks.
I hover by my door as I fiddle with my keys.
"You know if you need another place to stay, you can always come find me. I'm just two floors up."
What the hell?
Am I seriously that bad to bunk with?
"I appreciate that, Beau," she says, "but really, I'm okay. Nash has a good view of the house from his place. I can keep an eye on it during the storm from there."
I want to butt in and tell him she's fine where she is.
Something tells me that wouldn't go over well, though.
"You're sweet, Beau. I'll let you know if I need an alibi."
Beau's laughter grates on my nerves and I shove my apartment door open.
Whatever.
If they want to laugh at my expense, have at it.
I leave the door open for Nelly as I make my way into the kitchen. The smell of food and pie lingers in the air, but it does nothing to cover up the scent of her. She's left her vanilla and citrus all over my place, and my lungs drink it in as I set up plates for the two of us.
The front door closing turns me in that direction.
Nelly, dripping water onto my floors.
"Go change," I say as I turn my attention back to the food. "You look like you're freezing."
I'm shocked when she doesn't fight me on it.
She disappears down the hallway and I take a moment to inhale her scent again.
Damn it, she makes my place smell amazing.
I can't stand it. I force myself to focus on setting up the plates of food.
The burger and fries on one of them. The steak and mashed potatoes on another.
And finally, the chicken quesadilla with stir-fried vegetables.
Both massive slices of pie get their own plates, and I check the freezer to see if there's any ice cream.
I find the tub staring back at me.
"Perfect," I murmur as I close the freezer.
Just as I'm placing all of the food onto the coffee table in the living room, she emerges from the hallway. Her clothes are dry, but her hair is still damp and her cheeks are flushed.
I point to the couch where she's tossed all of her blankets. "Sit. You need food."
She cuts me a harsh look before she flops down onto the cushions. Her scent poofs into the air, like it was embedded in the fabric and sprayed out when she sat.
My teeth grind together as I backtrack for drinks and utensils.
"Can I get a napkin, at least?" she asks.
"Under the plates," I say.
She lifts the plate with the quesadilla on it and scoops the napkin into her lap. "Thanks."
I stand there for a moment, just watching her.
"I can feel you staring," she says as she picks up one of the quesadilla triangles. "What gives?"
I just shake my head. "I shouldn't have grabbed you like that."
That pulls her determined gaze up to me. "No, you shouldn't have."
"I'm sorry."
"You should be."
My eyes dance between hers. "I was out of line. Doesn't matter that I was worried. Touching anyone without their permission isn't okay, and I shouldn't have done it."
She narrows her gaze. "Is that why you did it? Out of worry?"
My sigh is heavy. "It's not smart for you to be out there like that, Nelly."
"I don't have the luxury of waiting for perfect conditions, Nash."
"Still," I say as I pick up the plate with the steak on it, "you're no good to that house if you're laid up sick."
She takes a big bite of food and talks through it. "Noted, Sheriff."
I huff out a breath that might just be a laugh. "You want any of this steak before I tear into it?"
She nods at the couch beside her. "You going to sit? Or eat like a caveman in front of the television? I want to watch the weather reports while I eat."
Of course she does. "Sure, I'll get it going."
Dinner is a quiet affair. The weather report drones on.
The entire week is going to be a washout.
They show images of flooding. Cars floating down the road.
There's a candid shot of our downtown area, with sparking electrical lines way too close to puddles.
We don't talk. Nelly watches the television like it's going to decide her fate.
I can't stand seeing her so worried.
She takes her pie and ice cream into the room and shuts the door. I don't like it. She's probably going to make a sticky mess everywhere. But I want her to be comfortable here. It's clear nobody thinks she could be, and that sits wrong with me.
So, I leave her alone and get myself ready for bed.
The rain breaks for a moment just as the sun sets. Nelly lets out a curse from the bedroom next to mine. She's probably debating whether or not to go out there and do some night work.
"Noise ordinances start at ten," I call out to her.
She scoffs. "Goodnight, Nash."
As I lie there in bed, staring up at the popcorn ceiling, I can't help but let my nostrils flare. It drags in her scent, making the hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end again.
I don't know why her scent affects me so much.
I still don't know why I offered Nelly a place to stay.
I don't do well with disruptions to my routines.
Or noise, in general. I'm not good with people who don't follow the rules, much less rules I have for my own living space.
It's why I chose to live alone. It's why I don't date. I know I'm a tough person to be around.
And with Nelly being nothing but sharp edges and anarchy, the two of us under one roof is a problem waiting to happen.
I shift under the blankets, trying to get comfortable. Trying to ignore her presence in my place. But it's there, anyway. Her scent, lingering in every corner and every fiber of the apartment. It clings to the air, soft and warm and completely out of place in a space that's always been mine.
"You're unbelievable," I murmur to myself as I shift in bed again.
But I don't move to open a window to vent my room.
I just lie there, listening to the thunder rumbling.
While breathing her in, anyway.