Authors: M Leighton
“Well, at least it was the brother and not
the one you practically molested.”
I slap Shawna’s arm. “I
did not
practically molest him!”
“No, but you wanted to.”
“I most certainly—”
“Don’t even lie to me, you wench! I know you
too well. He had that whole bad boy thing going on. I’m surprised
you didn’t wrap your legs and your lips and everything else around
him right then and there.”
“God, Shawna, you make me sound like some
sort of floozy.”
“Floozy? Really?” She eyes me
skeptically.
We both giggle. Mine turns into full blown
laughter when I see the red icing stuck to Shawna’s teeth.
“Shut up. It’s a Tracey word,” I explain,
referring to my mother. She was Miss Prim and Proper. Words like
“whore” and “slut” were not even in her vocabulary. Apparently
“divorce” and “abandonment” were, though.
“Don’t even get me started on her. I will cut
a bitch!”
“You know, that’s actually kinda scary when
you say it now. Your teeth look like you just ate someone’s liver.”
The red food coloring looks like blood in her mouth.
“I did. And it was delicious with a nice
Chianti and some fava beans,” she says in her best Hannibal voice,
making a strange sucking noise afterward.
We both start laughing, drawing the
disapproving eye of the swanky shop’s attendant.
“You better shut up. I’m pretty sure it’s bad
luck to get kicked out of a wedding cake shop a month before your
wedding.”
Shawna smiles demurely at the attendant, her
lips barely moving as she speaks to me. “If you had a piece of
coal, we could hold her down, shove it up her ass and come collect
a big fat diamond in a few days.”
“I’m pretty sure it takes longer than a few
days for coal to turn into a diamond, Shawna.”
“Not in that tight ass, it wouldn’t.”
Casting the stern-faced lady a sidelong
glance, I change my mind. “You could be right.”
“So, while we’ve got all this sugary brain
food circulating through our blood, let’s formulate a plan for you
to steal Nash from Marissa. I’m pretty sure it would be the best
wedding present
ever
to see the look on that self-righteous
whore’s face.”
“What? Are you crazy? I’m not stealing anyone
from anybody!”
“And why not? This guy sounds like everything
you’ve ever wanted.”
I sigh. “I know.” And Nash does. He’s
incredibly handsome, charming, obviously intelligent, successful,
grounded, responsible—everything my mother has drummed into me from
childhood. Everything she thought my father wasn’t. And he’s not a
bad boy, which is the best thing about him. I might not agree with
my mother about much, but I know she’s right about what kind of guy
to set my sights on. I’ve proven her right time after time after
time. Maybe someone like Nash could help the facts get through to
my wayward heart. So far, it seems like I’m destined to fall for
the wrong guy.
“So then, what’s the problem? Go get
him.”
“It’s not that simple. For one thing, I’m not
that kind of person.”
Shawna drops her fork and looks angrily at
me. “And what kind is that, exactly? The kind that goes after what
she wants? The kind that makes life happen for her? The kind that
does everything she can to find happiness? Oh, no. You’re not that
kind at all. You’re the martyr. You’re the one who’s gonna let life
pass her by because she won’t take risks anymore.”
“Wanting to get a degree that I can use to
help my father does not make me a martyr.”
“No, but giving up on every other area of
your life so you can move back to Podunk does.”
“He’s already had one woman in his life
abandon him. I refuse to be the second.” I can’t keep the sharp
edge from my voice. She’s stirring up my temper.
“Living your life is not abandonment,
Liv.”
“That’s exactly what she said.”
To this, Shawna says nothing.
********
Taking all my core accounting classes up
front in my first two years of college was a stroke of genius as
far as I’m concerned. But even with a light schedule of easy
classes, I’m still tired today for some reason. It’s Friday evening
and the weekend is just beginning.
And it sucks already.
I’d like to think it’s just dread of going
home to work all weekend, but I know it’s a little more than that.
It’s that stupid conversation I had with Shawna at the cake
tasting.
This guy sounds like everything you’ve ever
wanted.
I sigh. That’s becoming clearer with each
passing day.
Nash has visited Marissa every single night
this week. The more I hear him talk and see him laugh and observe
how he acts, the more I wish I
was
the kind of person that
ruthlessly went after what I wanted.
But I’m not. Marissa has the monopoly on
that. Well, Marissa and my mother.
If I ever become a thief, Nash will be the
first thing I steal.
I can hear his deep voice as he talks to
Marissa. No doubt they have exciting plans for the night. Their
jet-set lives are the stuff fairy tales are made of. Unfortunately,
my life has been anything
but
a fairy tale.
With a resolute jerk that makes my eyes
water, I tighten my pony tail. I eye myself in the mirror.
Marissa’s work uniform is a thousand dollar suit and Jimmy Choo
shoes. Mine is black shorts and a black tee that says
Get a
little at Tad’s.
A girl like me will never have a life like
that.
I’m glad when I hear the front door shut. At
least now I don’t have to pass the dynamic duo on my way out. It’s
already a shitty weekend and it’s only just begun. Seeing them
drool all over each other is the last thing I need.
I give them a couple minute lead before I
grab my purse and keys, sling my overnight bag onto my shoulder and
head for the door. I’m thinking to myself that I should’ve used the
bathroom before I left when I look up and see Nash sitting in his
sleek black car, talking on the phone. Not watching where I’m
going, I forget to step off the curb and end up falling off it
instead.
I probably would’ve been able to keep my
balance had I not been loaded down with my stuffed overnight bag.
Once it got going in the wrong direction, there was no stopping
either of us.
I fall ass over teacup into the parking lot.
In my head, I envision myself as a comical cartwheel of flailing
arms and legs.
Yep, I’m making a fool of myself. Again.
Right in front of Nash.
Is there no end to my embarrassment with
this guy?
I’m thinking that as I try and right myself
as quickly as possible. Before I can get untangled from my purse
and duffel straps, however, strong hands are gripping my arms and
hauling me to my feet.
I’m face to face with Nash. His
dark-chocolate eyes are full of concern and he smells lightly of
expensive cologne, something musky. Dark. Sexy.
“Are you all right?”
I’m discombobulated. “I’m just glad I didn’t
pee all over myself,” I blurt. I see his mouth drop open a tiny bit
and I feel my cheeks go up in flames.
Oh sweet Lord, what did I just say?
And then he laughs. His perfect mouth spreads
into a wide smile, revealing equally perfect teeth. His face is
transformed from gorgeous into just plain breathtaking. And the
sound—it’s rich and rumbly and slides over my skin like satin.
I know I’m staring, but I can’t seem to keep
my eyes off the lips that are so close. They look so much like his
brother’s. So delicious. So forbidden. And, despite all the reasons
I shouldn’t, I want him to kiss me just as badly.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“I am, too.”
My brain is utterly scrambled.
“What?” I ask, dazed and confused.
“I am, too,” he repeats.
“You are too what?”
“I’m glad you didn’t pee all over yourself,
too.”
Oh yeah. That.
Apparently, it’s the rule of the universe
that I make an ass of myself at every possible opportunity with
this guy. And his brother, too!
Stepping away from him so I can think, I
smile sheepishly and shake my head. “Oh, God! Sorry about that. I,
uh, I was just thinking that I should’ve used the bathroom before I
left. I had lots of water today.”
I laugh uneasily. He continues to watch me in
amusement. It’s horrifying.
“Where are you headed?”
“To work.”
“Ah. And where’s that?” he asks, pushing his
hands into his pockets like he’s settling in for a long
conversation.
“Um, Tad’s Bar and Grill in Salt
Springs.”
“Salt Springs?” He frowns. “That’s, what,
just over an hour from here?”
“Yep, which is why I need to get going.”
I have to get away from him before something
more embarrassing happens. Like I reach out and touch the rounded
pecs that I can just make out beneath his expensive dress
shirt.
“Right. Well, drive carefully.”
With a nod and a polite smile, he turns and
walks back to the car that’s purring quietly a few feet away.
I all but run to my beat up Honda Civic. It
has never looked more welcoming. Or more like an escape pod. I hop
in and slam the door, exhaling in relief.
But then, much to my chagrin, I turn the key
and hear only a sluggish whine. The engine won’t start.
I look at the gas gauge. Half full. It’s not
an empty tank. I look at the dashboard lights. They’re nice and
bright. It’s not a dead battery. Beyond that, I have no idea what
to check.
I’m sitting helplessly behind the wheel,
wondering what the hell I’m going to do, when I see Nash cross in
front of my car and approach my window. I roll it down.
I try to smile when I feel like crying
instead.
“Car won’t start?” he asks.
“Nope.”
“What seems to be the problem?”
“I have no clue. I have ovaries; therefore I
repel all things mechanical.”
He chuckles. “The
put-gas-in-it-and-get-the-oil-changed-and-that’s-it type, huh?”
“Pretty much.”
“Let’s take a look. Can you pop the hood?” he
asks, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.
Good Lord, he even has sexy forearms!
I look down and to my left. I see the little
symbol for the hood. I’m thankful I at least know where
that
is.
I pull the lever.
I don’t know whether I should get out or stay
put. For self-preservation purposes, I go with staying put.
Remaining in the car, far from Nash, exponentially decreases the
likelihood of me doing or saying something stupid. That’s always a
good thing.
Through the crack where the hood hinges, I
can see Nash fiddle with several things, tugging hoses and wires
and tightening something down. Then I see him brush his hands off
and close the hood.
He walks back to the window. “I don’t see
anything obviously wrong, but I’m no mechanic. Looks like this
car’s not going anywhere for a while. Do you want me to call a tow
truck?”
I can’t help the deep sigh of frustration.
“No, that’s okay. I can call one after I call in to work.”
“Are you sure?”
I muster the brightest smile I can, which
isn’t very bright at all, I’m sure. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks,
though.”
“Do you want me to wait with you?”
My laugh is bitter. “That’s okay. I’d rather
get chewed out in private if you don’t mind.”
His brow wrinkles. “Are you going to be in
trouble?”
I wave my hand dismissively. “Ah, no more
than usual.”
He nods and starts to walk away but pauses. I
see him glance at his watch then look up, like he’s thinking. It’s
obvious the wheels of his mind are turning.
“Why don’t you let me drive you to work?”
“Absolutely not! You’ve got plans with
Marissa and it’s
way
out of your way. Salt Springs is way
out of
everyone’s
way.”
“We were just going to hang out with some
coworkers. I can be a little late. It’s not a big deal.”
“Well, it is to me. I’ll be fine. I
appreciate the offer, but I’m gonna have to decline.”
“Decline?” he says, his eyes twinkling
mischievously. “What if I insist?”
“Insist all you like. My answer won’t
change.”
Nash narrows his eyes on me and his lips
curve up at the corners. He walks slowly to my window and bends
down, resting his forearms along the open space. His face is inches
from mine.
“I could always make you.”
The way he says it sounds dark and dirty and
infinitely pleasurable. All I can think of is what I’d like for him
to make me do.
There’s an unsavory term for that—a guy
forcing a girl to do sexual things. But what is it they say? You
can’t rape the willing. And I’d be willing. Oh, how I’d be
willing.
My mouth is so dry, my tongue sticks to the
roof. All I can do is shake my head.
Like the strike of lightning, Nash reaches in
and snatches the keys from the ignition. His smile is smug when he
stands and walks around to the passenger side. He opens the door
and collects my overnight bag and my purse from the seat. Before he
shuts the door, he says, “It’s either come with me or sleep in your
car that won’t start. Your choice.”
With that, he slams the door shut and walks
casually away, toting my stuff to his car and dropping it into the
back seat. He leans against the driver’s door and crosses his arms
over his chest to watch me. The challenge is clear.
I’m just stubborn enough that if I
really
didn’t want to go with him, I would find a way around
him. But therein lies the rub. I
do
want to go with him.
Just to spend a little more time with him, without Marissa around,
sounds like heaven. I mean, it’s not like I have any plans to try
and steal him. Or that I even could. Marissa is the total package.
She’s a whiny bitch, but still, she’s gorgeous, wealthy, successful
and she has hella good connections in the Atlanta world of law.