13. Candice
13
CANDICE
Jenny slams a shot down in front of me, and one in front of Tomás as well, but I don’t even glance at it. I’m too busy watching Nathan flirt with a woman at the table next to his. It’s Sarah Palmer. I went to high school with her and she didn’t like me very much. I was considered to be a bit of a weirdo at school, since everyone knew Beau and I didn’t have any parents, and I was too busy at the barn to do many extracurriculars or make many friends. Sarah used to make fun of me. Not in a way I couldn’t handle, and I always made fun of her back but yeah. She’s kind of a bitch.
A hot bitch, though, I’ll give her that. Which is probably why Nathan is smiling at her like that—wide, eyes all twinkly, leaning in towards her ever so slightly.
“He makes me sick,” I mutter.
“What?” Jenny says, and then she follows my line of sight. “Oh. Yeah. Nate hasn’t wasted any time. But I guess if Sarah’s fine with being a one-night stand, then there’s nothing wrong with it.”
“Sure,” I say, because she’s right. Nathan can do whatever he wants. I guess it just weirds me out because I’ve never had a one-night stand, or anything close to it.
“You sound pissed,” Tomás says, and then knocks back his shot. “Or jealous.”
“Definitely not jealous,” I mutter. I quickly toss back my shot as well, and then link my arm through Jenny’s, and grab Tomás with my other.
“Let’s dance more,” I say.
“I’ll meet you out there,” Jenny says. “I’m gonna go pee.”
She starts pushing her way through the crowd and Tomás says, “And I promised Jane Hudson I’d buy her a drink tonight, so I’d better find her. I’ll see you guys later.”
Alone, I head towards the center of the floor, which is packed with couples and groups of people dancing. The queer community in Star Mountain is close knit and they show up in full force for dance nights at the Neon Horseshoe. It feels a bit awkward to be out here on my own, but I’m tipsy now, and having a good time dancing. I don’t need anyone else. I’m good at being alone. Nathan called me lonely, but I’m also self-sufficient. I can run the whole damn barn by myself, and I can dance by myself, and I can love myself enough to not need a man.
Just as I’m sinking further into my warm, tipsy haze, a pair of clammy hands skim my waist and pull me in. I jerk away, and turn to find Ralph, my one and only ex-boyfriend.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Saying hi,” he says, reaching forward and tugging me back towards him. His hands grope my back and waist, as he tries to cajole me into dancing with him.
“Get off me, please,” I say, trying to disentangle myself from him.
“Come on, Candice,” he says. My name on his lips makes me want to retch. “We were good. We could be good again.”
“When,” I say, pushing him back with my hand, “were we ever good?” I spare a glance around the floor, hoping to see Jenny coming back from the bathroom.
Ralph just pulls me closer—so close that I can smell the alcohol on his breath, and can see the beads of sweat on his brow. Around us, country music pounds out of the speakers, and couples twirl around without a care in the world. I start to feel nauseous and I’m not sure if it’s the situation or the alcohol I’ve had.
“You look good tonight. I want you back.”
He says it with such desperation that I can’t help but roll my eyes. That shit doesn’t work on me anymore.
“So? What about what I want, asshole?” I push him away again.
And Ralph, the fucker, grabs me back, pulling me against him even harder. “Can’t you feel how badly I want you?” he asks.
He jerks his hips at me, but thankfully, someone pulls me away from him before he can make contact. It’s Nathan, looking like an avenging god in the middle of the dance floor: his blues eyes are blazing, his mouth is set into a snarl, and his free hand is balled into a fist at his side. He looks like he’d rip Ralph’s throat out if given the chance.
“She said to stop touching her, fucker,” Nathan says.
To Nathan’s credit, he saved me from Ralph and then immediately stopped touching me, dropping his arm at his side. The distinction between the two men is clear as day.
“Who the fuck are you?” Ralph asks. “Candice and I have history, which is none of your business.”
I snort. “History? Sure, but it’s ancient,” I say.
Nathan steps forward, that same blazing look still in his eyes, and grabs Ralph by the collar. Nathan is a few inches shorter than Ralph, but still hauls him upwards easily.
“You listen to me you slimy little fucker,” he says. “When a woman tells you not to touch her, you listen. Not because I said so, or because I’m threatening you, but because she said so. Don’t be a creep.”
He sets Ralph down, and turns to face me, ignoring the fact that the other man is quivering with rage. Or fear. It’s tough to tell.
“Should we go somewhere quieter for a bit?” Nathan asks me, a kind smile on his face.
Beside him, Ralph starts to wind up like he’s going to punch Nathan, and I gasp. Nathan just turns around calmly, and catches Ralph’s slow-moving punch before it lands.
“Don’t try me, man,” he says. His voice is gentle and quiet, but his eyes are…well, his eyes are frankly demonic. And whatever Ralph sees in them has him slinking away.
“Well?” Nathan asks me.
“Um, yeah,” I say. “A quieter place would be great.”
Nathan helps me through the throngs of people, and guides me through the bar and out the back door by the bathrooms. It’s freezing outside, because October in Montana can be unforgiving. I’m not dressed for the weather, so I start rubbing my arms up and down, trying to chafe some warmth into them.
“Here,” Nathan says. He takes off his flannel, stripping down to his t-shirt underneath, and passes it to me.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t want to have to explain to Beau why I let his sister get frostbite. Put it on.”
“Sure, whatever,” I say, taking it from him. “But I’ve lived in Montana my entire life, you know. I can handle the cold.”
“Doesn’t mean I can handle seeing you freeze, though,” Nathan says.
My mouth pops open in surprise, because it’s not what I’d expect from him.
“You know, because it’s rude. Not to give a woman your jacket,” he continues, clearly embarrassed.
Normally, I’d argue with him. I’d tell him that that’s rich coming from him, a known womanizer and playboy. That there’s no way he knows how to treat a woman. But he does, apparently, know how to step in and help a woman when she needs it. It conflicts with everything I thought I knew about him. The Nathan I thought I knew would be too busy with his tongue down Sarah Palmer’s throat to notice that I was in trouble.
I finish pulling the flannel on and Nathan clears his throat. I look down and see that the movement has caused my shirt to slip down, so instead of just showing off my collarbone, it’s now showing off quite a bit of cleavage, as well as part of my bra.
“Oops,” I say, and tug it back up. “I’m not used to wearing things like this. My friend Winnie helped me get dressed.”
“You look good,” is all Nathan says. Like that’s a totally normal thing for him to say to me. Like we don’t totally hate one another. I assumed he was completely repulsed by me.
“Thanks. These are my mom’s jeans and wearing them makes me feel closer to her, so, um…thanks,” I flounder, embarrassed to be sharing so much with Nathan.
But his eyes go soft around the edges, like he enjoys hearing me talk about my mom.
“And thank you for helping me, back there,” I continue, unsure of what else to say. This moment has me feeling jittery, ready to jump out of my skin.
“No problem. That guy was being an asshole.”
“Yeah, he tends to do that,” I mutter.
“You know him well?”
I wince. “Um, he’s an ex.” Saying it like this makes it seem like there could be other exes, like I haven’t had a five year long dry spell since Ralph and I broke up.
“Really?” Nathan asks, looking me up and down. “Huh.”
“What? Is it so difficult to believe that a man wanted me? That I have an ex?” I say, feeling, for some reason, like Nathan is making fun of me.
“Relax, Candice, that’s not what I meant.”
He steps forward and into the glow of the overhead light. I see that he still has that same, slightly feral look on his face. I get the distinct feeling that not many people ever see him like this—that normally, he’s too controlled and charming to let any of his inner emotion show through.
“But,” he continues, “I think it’s very telling that you assumed I meant that there’s no way Ralph could want you. Honey, that’s not it at all.”
“Don’t call me that,” I hiss. “And what is it telling of, exactly?”
Nathan lifts his hand towards me and snags a piece of my hair. He toys with it, wrapping it around his finger a few times.
“You don’t have much experience, do you?”
I shake my head.
“When was the last time a man touched you?” he asks.
“You just saw it,” I manage to say.
“No,” he says sharply. “He’s nothing. Forget about him.” He drops the strand of my hair, and then gently tucks it behind my ear. His hand grazes the shell of my ear and my breath catches at the contact—at the feel of his warm, calloused fingers. “When was the last time a man touched you and you really wanted it?” he continues, leaning in a bit closer to me, and not moving his hand from the side of my head. “When was the last time it felt good?”
I feel my eyes flutter closed, and I suck in a breath. It takes all my willpower not to lean into Nathan. Not to try and get closer to his warmth.
“Candice,” he chides. “Tell me. When was the last time a man made you feel good?”
I open my eyes, and find Nathan staring down at me. His blue eyes are electric in the light, and there’s a hungry, hazy glint in them.
“Never,” I admit, unable to resist the pull of those eyes. “Never.”
“That’s a damn shame,” he says. He smooths my hair back one more time, and then drops his hand. “A damn shame,” he repeats.
Something electric flickers between us, and I look at him, really, truly look at him, for what feels like the first time. And then his gaze shutters, and he turns away, breaking the moment in two.
“Let’s go back inside,” he says. “Beau will wonder where we are.”
“And Sarah, too,” I say, suddenly reminded of the fact that inside is an entirely different world. One where he and I hate each other—one where I think he’s a player, and he thinks I’m a viper.
“Sarah?” he asks, looking genuinely confused.
“The woman you were flirting with,” I say. “Her name is Sarah. Or do you not tend to ask them that?” I try to say this with a smile, but as soon as the words are out, I can tell it doesn’t land right.
“I don’t know what the fuck you thought you saw, Candice, but I wasn’t flirting,” he says in a flat voice that doesn’t match his vicious words.
And then, for once, he’s the one walking away from me, turning on his heel and leaving without a word. I’m left standing in the cold, wondering what the hell just happened.