Chapter 33
Betty
Two days locked away with Nash in his Montana mansion was just as blissful as our week together. More painful, too. Our mornings kicked off with the gym, where he pushed me past limits I didn’t know I had, followed by working side by side on his couch.
Hunt had called him to come out to see a client, but he told his best friend to handle it.
It wasn’t our first argument, but definitely a point of contention for a solid twenty minutes before he hugged me into his chest and explained himself.
It was the first time he had really opened up about his marriage and how they had become two ships passing in the night.
There was no desire to go out of his way to spend quality time.
If it happened, it happened. It was that simple.
He didn’t want that for us. Hearing his fears and desires laid out in that way made me see him in a different light.
Nash had always been a hard worker. He’d always put business and family first, but never his wife.
There’s no way I would have known that, but now I do, and I can understand why he is so adamant not to do that to us.
It also explains his actions so much more when he disappeared for a few weeks.
It doesn’t excuse his actions, but at least I can let go of that pain.
But my own insecurities still linger. I don’t want to be the one who holds him back or forces him into a lifestyle he hasn’t chosen for himself.
It’s been about an hour since he dropped me at my apartment, promising he’d be back after visiting his parents.
His mom was finally home from the hospital.
He’d asked me to come, intent on us spending every second together.
But I saw the weariness in his stare. The worry and the preparation needed to steel himself for whatever he might find.
I thought it might be best for him to spend time alone with his family.
But mostly, I’m not sure I’m ready for our families to know about us.
The past few days have been an absolute dream.
My muscles have never been so deliciously sore.
Weights and sex might be my favorite combination for the start of each day.
More importantly, getting to witness this open-door version of Nash and having him doting on me and holding me was everything I’ve ever wanted.
Still, our past hovers like a dark cloud.
It’s impossible not to wait for the other shoe to drop.
We’d found our island before, only for him to disappear on me.
I understand there were reasons, but I can’t handle a fourth time, especially not now that we’ve had sex, not now that he’s said all the things I’ve always wanted to hear from him.
Tossing my suitcase onto the bed, I’m quick to unpack, throwing the clothes in the washer and my toiletries back in the bathroom.
Unfortunately, I’ve been called in to work at the bar tonight, so I don’t have a lot of downtime. Wednesdays are always mid-week inventory before the weekend rolls around, which means I won’t be out of there before three in the morning.
The buzz of my phone has me spinning in a circle, attempting to find where I’d left the blasted device. Finally spotting it under the corner of my open suitcase, I chew my inner lip, reading the text.
River: Good? Bad?
I hadn’t talked to her much since she and Gray left Sunday morning. We agreed that I would deliver every detail when I returned, but part of me wants to keep these past few days with Nash between us just a little longer.
Me: Very good!
River: Good. I can tell Fester to stand down.
Letting out the most unladylike laugh, I place my phone on the dresser, continuing to unpack my suitcase before shoving it in the closet.
My phone buzzes again, my head shaking, knowing River is going to be relentless until we have dinner tomorrow night.
But my breath hitches when I see the name on my screen.
Nash: I miss you already. Mom is doing much better. I’m going to stay here until 4 and then I’ll swing by to pick you up.
Me: I’m glad. Tell your parents hi for me.
Me: I’m working at the bar tonight. You can see me tomorrow.
Nash: I’ll pick you up at 4. Don’t let me get there and you’re already gone.
Me: You’re impossible.
Nash: No I’m yours.
Crushing my phone to my chest, those teenage butterflies fill my stomach.
“This is it, Betty,” I say to no one, spinning in my spot before collapsing backward onto the mattress.
Excitement for the future courses through me, but that tiny seed of doubt lingers. How long will it last?
“Joe, this is the last one.” I flash a wide grin at my favorite regular.
He’s been working at Boulder Ranch since before I was born.
How the man continues to move the way he does is beyond me.
Like Old Man Wilber, he’s doing things he has no business doing at his age, but he also has no one left to care for him.
He had no children, and his wife died years ago.
No one has the heart to make him retire.
He only grunts, downing half his mug of beer in a few gulps. “You’re no fun.” Rolling my eyes, I swat at him with my towel. “Right, Donovan? She ain’t no fun!”
Nash grins from his spot at the end of the bar.
As promised, he was standing at my front door at two minutes to four.
There was no dissuading him from driving me to the Thirsty Pony or telling him to leave, and I’d catch a cab home.
He wasn’t leaving and has stayed parked on that bar stool watching me and every man who has spoken to me.
He’d started with a beer, then had a second before switching to water, and it’s only eight.
“My girl is a lot of fun,” Nash winks before nodding his chin toward Joe.
“Your girl, huh? Her daddy know you’re robbin’ the cradle?”
“Joe,” I scold, swatting him again. “I’m thirty-three.”
“So. That Donovan boy could be your daddy.” I burst out laughing as he continues to mumble to himself when I place a glass of water in front of him.
“Your math is a little off, but thank you for the concern.”
Turning my back to both men, my stomach rolls.
I hate that Joe brought up our age difference.
Nash had admitted that was one of the original reasons he’d tried to keep his distance, in addition to being Beckett’s friend, feeling like a Hughes child in a way, and not being able to give me a steady life.
He’s given me the truth, thinking it would put me at ease, and it partially has. It’s also given me a specific list of fears to cling to. Reasons that Nash will walk away because his insecurities are stronger than the feelings he has for me.
The hours pass, my shoulders burning from the gym as much as slinging drinks at a packed bar.
Wednesday nights are always busy like this.
There’s no good reason for it, unless it’s amateur night at Boulder Ranch, which it’s not tonight.
But it’s still summer. We’ll be an attraction until the kids go back to school and the holiday season rolls around.
By the time the last patron exits through the front door, waving goodbye, I’m dead on my feet. But the work isn’t done. With me being the only bartender on tonight, inventory will take me at least an hour, and that’s if the backroom is organized. These young guys Jim hired aren’t always the best.
Snapping the lock closed on the front door, I turn to find Nash rounding up empty bottles and glasses off the tables. He doesn’t say a word as he effortlessly slips through the space, tossing trash and wiping down every surface.
With a sigh, I get to work, focusing on shutting down behind the bar before I head back and do inventory. The faster I get it done, the quicker I can snuggle into my pillow and sleep until noon.
“What can I do next?” he breathes heavily next to me, his warm breath caressing my bare neck.
It had been another blistering hot day, and I couldn’t tolerate more than a tank top. When the bar is packed, the air conditioner is pretty much worthless, but now it blessedly cools my skin.
“Inventory,” I groan, wrapping my arms around his neck with a lazy grin.
Strong hands massage the muscles along my arms, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. Mischief dances there, my core tightening, unsure of what he’s thinking.
Before I can speak again, his mouth closes over mine.
My fingers tug at his neck, pulling him closer to me, lost in the feel of his lips and body.
Our mouths slant, deepening the kiss, before the tip of his tongue teases across the seam of my lips, asking for entrance. Entrance, I’ll always happily give him.
I’m so wrapped up in Nash, I hardly notice he’s already undone my belt, button, and zipper on my jean shorts. “If we’re gonna be here another couple of hours, I’m not gonna be able to wait that long to taste you.”
“Nash,” I whisper my warning. “We can’t… here.” My eyes dart around the space as if someone is hiding under the tables and will pop out to catch what we’re about to do.
“We can, and I will,” he smirks. Yanking his shirt over his head, the muscles of his torso flex. My nails run down his chest, reveling in the feel of his solid pecs and every ridge of his abs rippling beneath my touch.
He lays his shirt out on the bar countertop before hoisting me to the edge, yanking my shorts down my legs, and then scooting me back just far enough I won’t slide off.
“Nash,” I whine. It was meant to be another warning, but every nerve ending is alive as he runs his hands up my outer thighs. I’ve never done anything like this in a public place. Definitely not my place of work.
But my body hums with the anticipation of having his mouth on me. My core pulsing, remembering what it feels like for his tongue to swirl around my swollen nub and sink inside me.
“Open,” Nash commands. Without hesitation, my legs spread wide. One at a time, he grips my ankles, planting my heels along the raised ridge of the bar. “Mmm, you’re so wet for me, and I’m starving.”
Before I can respond, Nash latches onto my swollen flesh.
Where he’d teased me at his house, he wastes no time driving my body into a swirling frenzy.
My muscles convulse, and my mouth opens with my moans as I cling tight to his hair.
The arch in my back curves as I buck my hips into his face, demanding everything he’s willing to give.
His tongue probes inside me, bracing his forearm against my upper pelvis so his elbow and hand can keep my legs open.
His assault is relentless. My body is alight with the hottest flames, writhing beneath his touch.
Each new wave of pleasure draws out new mewling noises from me.
My whimpers are loud with every circle of his thumb against my clit and dip of his finger inside my core to join his talented tongue.
I’m seconds from tumbling over the edge, every bit of my arousal sure to coat Nash’s tongue and face.
“Nash, I’m…”
He says nothing, working me harder. My lower belly tightens, my walls squeezing tighter with his probing fingers and tongue before I explode. Every nerve ending fires with my release, my grip on his hair so tight I’m surprised he doesn’t cry out in pain.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers against my center, licking me clean before rising to his full height. His lips find mine, the taste of me on his lips becoming a new favorite these past few days. “That was one.”
“One what?” I question, panting as if I just ran a marathon.
“The first time I made you come tonight,” he chuckles, dampening a paper towel before cleaning me some more.
Hopping down from the counter, my knees wobble, but he holds me up. “And we’re counting why?”
Sliding my shorts and underwear back up my thighs, purposely running his fingers over my flesh as he does, he leans in close once they’re in place. “How many men spoke to you tonight?”
Goodness gracious, this man might kill me.