Something I Need (xoxo Nashville Book 1) (8 page)

J
onte pulled
the covers up higher and tried to ignore Dolly’s footsteps that pitter-pattered through the apartment as she dashed around getting ready for work. Never in her life had she been so mortified. Of course the one time she let go, this happened. No doubt her mother would say it was karma biting her on the ass for being so easy.

Ugh. She didn’t care about her mum, but she did care about what Dolly thought.

Did Dolly hate her? Or think she was slutty? What if she thought she was using her to get to Cash? A few stupid shots of tequila and look at the mess she’d gone and made.

The pull-out squeaked and dipped – what the?

Jonte turned and found Dolly sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Just checkin’ on you before I take off.”

“No need, I’m fine.”

“I shouldn’t have come looking for you.”

What? Dolly was apologizing?

“Don’t say that. You were a godsend. I was so stupid last night, I can’t believe –”

“So you don’t like Cash?”

Jonte wasn’t sure what she felt for Cash. Right now she felt like a complete moron.
I should have never let this happen
. That’s what he’d said. He didn’t want her. No doubt he already thought she was a mistake, like that PA from Tanner’s office. No, no, no. She shouldn’t be so damn judgmental. After all, Crystal had tried to warn her about him.

“We’d been doing shots. I made an idiot of myself. I don’t even know how we ended up how you found us.”

“What are you saying? Did Cash pressure you?”

“No. Not at all. The opposite in fact. He wanted to bring me up here and then I…I basically threw myself at him.” Jonte hid her head in her hands. God, how stupid was she? After everything they’d done to help her out, she’d gone and thrown herself at him like she imagined some desperate and tipsy sorority chick would.

“He didn’t make the first move?”

Jonte shook her head. This was the most awkward conversation ever. She wanted a black hole to open up and swallow her to save her from this mess she’d created.

Their silence was interrupted by a soft knock on the front door. Jonte and Dolly looked over to see the door handle turn and Cash poke his head through.

Of course, because what this moment really needed right now was something to make it even more uncomfortable.

“Morning. I grabbed bagels as a peace offering.” He waved around two paper bags. “I thought you would have already left for work.” He stared pointedly at Dolly.

“I’m just grabbin’ my purse.” Dolly stood up.

Holy crapballs. Now she really wanted to crawl up into a ball and disappear, or find that elusive sinkhole.

Dolly waved goodbye, wiggling her fingers and exiting the apartment, whacking Cash hard across his arm on her way out.

Cash slouched against the door jam, still holding on to the bags of bagels. “I can go if you want me to,” he finally said.

Yes. She wanted him to go so she would never have to see him again.

This was exactly why you shouldn’t go around drinking and kissing your boss. What the hell had she been thinking?

She hadn’t.

Clearly.

Jonte’s face flamed and her stomach plummeted. Of course she wanted him to go. But that wasn’t the adult thing to do. She couldn’t run away from her problems. That wouldn’t help at all.

“Would it be easier if we pretended that last night never happened?” Cash asked.

Pretend? Would pretending help? It wasn’t running away, per se, but it was right there in that neighborhood.

Cash took several slow and tentative steps into the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

“I really am sorry, Jonte. Dolly likes you, and so do I. I should never have jeopardized our friendship. You were drunk. I should have known better.”

It would have been easy for her to let him keep rattling on and taking the blame. But it wasn’t his fault at all. Last night was all on her. She was just going to have to pull on her big girl pants – metaphorically speaking – and deal with the fallout of her actions.

“It wasn’t you. It was me. I don’t know why I threw myself at you.”

Cash approached the pull-out and held out one of the small white bags. “Your fault, my fault – it doesn’t really matter now, does it? It happened and we can’t change that.”

Jonte chewed her bottom lip, thinking, then nodded and took the bag.

“I got those cinnamon ones you like,” he said with a half-smile and sat on the arm of the sofa.

“Thanks.” She peeked inside and inhaled the warming smell of the cinnamon.

“Should I make some coffee?”

“You really don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Cash walked over to the kitchen. Taking his turned back as an opportunity to pull herself out of bed, she did a quick self-check to make sure her nipples weren’t poking through her tank top and her boxer shorts weren’t wedged half way up her ass. Satisfied she was as presentable as she was going to get at this point, she padded over to the kitchen counter and slid onto a stool. Her eyes focused on Cash’s hands as he busied himself making their coffee.

Mmmm, those hands.

Stop it! She shouldn’t be thinking about him like that.

“So I thought I could help you clear out the spare room. Then maybe we could go furniture shopping, if we have time? You know, for beds and stuff.” Cash pushed a coffee mug towards her.

Beds? He seriously wanted to take her bed shopping? Helpful? Yes. Weird after last night? A little bit.

Jonte shrugged noncommittally and took a sip of her coffee.

Damn him. The man made good coffee. And had sexy roaming hands. And a mouth that delivered hot, sensual kisses. Was it completely wrong that she was thinking about taking his belt off and his pants and…oh crap! This was so not good.

Up until five minutes ago, she’d rationalised that it had just been a drunken almost hook-up. Except now, it was becoming increasingly clear that she was definitely seeing him in a non-friend light.

She should totally be hitting the bars and looking for real work, but sorting out her living arrangements probably did take priority.

* * *

D
amn
those adorably cute short shorts that barely covered her ass. Tonight he would be dreaming of muted green polka-dot shorts. He was definitely over the permanent state of arousal he seemed to find himself in whenever Jonte was around. It was fucking uncomfortable spending all day with a hard-on. Not to mention it was awkward trying to find ways to hide it.

He tried to concentrate on doing the dishes while she was busy taking a shower, but it was a futile effort because his mind kept thinking about her all wet and naked and perfect in the shower.

Friends. They were just friends. And for the time being he was her boss. Surely there was some kind of sexual harassment law he’d be breaking if he knocked on the door right now and asked if he could join her. But he would be helpful. He could wash her back. Soap it up real nice and then let his hands wander around her.

Christ. All the bubbly water in the sink was not helping the images playing in his head. He pulled the plug and quickly stacked the plates and mugs into the dishwasher.

There was something seriously wrong with him. Who the hell thought cups looked like breasts? Well, maybe those round cappuccino mugs if you turned them upside down. No. Getting turned on by cups was crazy as fuck.

Cash dried off his hands with the dish towel and headed over to the spare room. Between him and Dolly, they’d pretty much used it as a dumping ground for shit they didn’t need. There were building materials and paint tins from when he’d renovated Dolly’s bathroom two years ago, and from when he’d remodelled the bar a few years before that. Yeah, it was handy to have some spare tiles and paint colors for repairs and touch-ups, but this was ridiculous. Who the hell needed twenty odd boxes of tiles? Yeah, he could definitely sell some of this shit on eBay.

Speaking of boxes, there were boxes everywhere. Some loaded up with Dolly’s crap from high school and others just empty and taking up space, like his MacBook Pro box. Why the fuck hadn’t he just thrown that straight into the dumpster out back? Cash was quick to make piles: a throw-away pile, an ask-Dolly pile, a try-to-sell pile and a transfer-to-the-storeroom-downstairs pile.

Jonte peeked her head in the door. “What can I do?”

He pointed at the throw-away pile and told her to take it downstairs to the dumpster behind the bar. She stacked a few boxes in her arms and headed for the door. Cash grabbed a couple tins of paint that were undoubtedly all dried out, and followed her.

Within a few hours the room was completely empty.

Cash leaned against the pale yellow wall. “It’s bigger than I remembered.”

“A perfect blank canvas.” Jonte smiled like she was already busy painting it in her mind.

“We still have a couple hours before we need to start work. Wanna go shopping?”

“Sure.”

C
ash drove
them over to one of the big discount furniture places, not too far away. He’d borrowed Pop’s newer Chevy truck because he didn’t want to scratch the paintjob on his with bulky boxes.

The first thing they did was go bounce on mattresses. Obviously not like
that
. They were testing for comfort and firmness. Although watching Jonte wiggle on mattresses definitely gave him a semi. Again.

She decided on a cheap innerspring one, medium firmness – not too soft, not too hard. Ironic.

Moving on.

Next goal: find a frame. This was a little more difficult.

Jonte ran her hand across a classic black sleigh bed with raised wood panels along the headboard. “Hmmm…I don’t want to spend too much, seeing as I have no idea how long I’ll be here for.”

Temporary. She was only a temporary fixture in their life. Cash knew this, but it did sting being reminded. Six weeks. That’s what she’d told her dad. Although, she had told Tanner she was here for six months, unless she made it big. And let’s face it – everyone came to Nashville wanting to make it big and very few actually did. The odds were not in his favor.

Hers.

They weren’t in her favour.

Jonte grimaced and wrinkled her nose at a light-brown intricate wooden bed. Cash grinned at her reaction. The bed had that classic country homestead feel to it and he hated it.

“Not a timber fan?”

“Not that type of timber. But this,” she said, dancing her fingers lightly along a thick cherry wood post. The post belonged to a palatial, chunky four-poster canopy bed that was fitted out with an insert of padded black leather on the head board. “This is nice.”

Nice was putting it mildly. The bed she was openly ogling was impressive. He lowered himself onto it and stuck his hands behind his head, making himself comfortable.

“Yeah. This is sweet. You could run or drape or whatever, some of that lace shit over the metal railings up there.” He pointed to the canopy railings that boxed in the very top of the posts.

“Mmmm, that would look awesome.” Jonte lay down next to him. “It would give it a real modern-day fairy-tale feel.”

“And the headboard is padded.” He tapped it with his hand. “So you wouldn’t hurt your head if you bumped it like you would if it was solid wood.”

Jonte burst into uncontrolable giggles.

“What?”

“I’m just…” She tried to finish her sentence, but her body was convulsing in a giggle fit and she was clutching her sides.

“Breathe. In and out.” He enjoyed teasing her while she struggled to gain control of herself and rolled onto his side to get a better view, watching her wipe tears from the corners of her eyes.

“I was just thinking about that first apartment we visited and this book I was reading on the plane over here,” she finally managed to say.

“Book?” Cash raised an eyebrow.

“It’s called Wallbanger.”

“
Wallbanger?”

“Oh, yeah.” She nodded with a grin and no giggles. “It’s about
exactly
what you’re thinking.”

“I was thinking of the drink.” Cash decided to have some fun with her and kick the teasing up a notch.

“Right. Well, then maybe it’s not about what you were thinking.” Her face scrunched up in to a scowl and she bit down on her lip.

“What were you thinking about?” Cash nudged her shoulder with his hand.

She blushed and blew out a breath. “Anyways, I can’t possibly have this bed, despite how beautiful it is.” She sat up. “I should probably find something more within my budget.”

“Actually, I wanna hear about this Wallbanger book.” Cash resumed his original position, lying on his back. He crossed his ankles and shoved his hands back under his head, looking at her expectantly.

“Well, it was
so
not about the drink.”

“Apparently.”

“I’m sure you can guess.”

“I really can’t.” He worked hard to keep a straight face. She was so cute all flushed and clearly not wanting to talk about sex with him.

“Fine.” She let out a long, resigned huff. “This chick moves into a new apartment and gets woken up by noises coming from next door.”

“Noises?”