Then He Kissed Me: A Cottonbloom Novel (22 page)

She sat in the swivel chair and stared at nothing, her mind circling the problem of Nash. She needed to get her relationship with him under control. Sure, they were having fun and were attracted to each other, but their date in Jackson had magnified their differences. Long term, a relationship wouldn’t work, and taking things further with him physically would only complicate everything. Their friendship was the most important thing.

It would be simpler and smarter to put the brakes on whatever was developing before she did something foolish like fall in love with him.

*   *   *

She was nervous and sad and felt like something was clawing at her heart. Her stomach cramped. If they took things further and it ended badly, she might end up hospitalized. She couldn’t, wouldn’t risk their friendship. It was too important.

She rubbed her hands down her jeans, blew out a long breath, and knocked on the cottage door. No footsteps sounded on the other side. She tried again and waited. Nothing. She walked around to the front of the main house and hesitated. His Defender was in the driveway.

The last time she walked up the front steps of the main house, she’d been twelve and scared and desperate for a friend. She’d left feeling dirty and unworthy and unwanted. It seemed a blink of time, each step casting her back a few more years to the girl she’d been.

She rang the doorbell, multiple tones echoing. The clack of heels on a wood floor had her smoothing a hand over her ponytail and pushing her shoulders back. Ms. Leora opened the door, her mouth pinching as soon as she identified Tally.

Tally tried to smile, not sure if she was actually succeeding. “Hello, Ms. Leora. Is Nash here?”

The old woman’s gaze was sharp, piercing Tally’s false bravado. “He’s at the college working. His battery died, and one of the other professors picked him up. A woman. A very attractive woman.”

Ms. Leora had a glint in her eye. Satisfaction? Malice? Either way, her barb had found its mark. It sounded like Emma from the bar. She was perfect for Nash. Tally knew it, Ms. Leora knew it, and it was a matter of time before Nash realized it too.

“I guess you’ve given up on fixing Nash up with Bailey now someone even better has come along.” Tally half-turned toward the stairs.

“It’s difficult, you know.” Ms. Leora’s gaze had scooted off to the side.

Tally pivoted back to face the old lady. “What’s difficult?”

“You can’t stop people from changing. As much as I wanted to.” Ms. Leora’s voice took on a faraway quality.

“Are you talking about Nash? Or someone else?” Had Nash been right about his aunt and her uncle?

Ms. Leora’s focus was back on Tally. “Love destroys. Look at your parents, my sister, me and … I don’t want to see Nash follow down that road.”

An echoing sadness resonated between them. An understanding that seemed impossible, yet was unmistakable. She wasn’t sure if love equaled destruction, but love certainly hadn’t saved her parents or Nash’s mother. At best, love was a bystander to tragedy. “I don’t want to see Nash hurt either, Ms. Leora. He’s important to me. Always has been.”

“He’s all I have.” Ms. Leora’s voice warbled, and Tally’s hand rose to offer comfort before she pulled it back, unsure.

“I’m not trying to take him away from you.”

“He’ll drift away, back over the river.” Her voice held a hint of desolation.

“It’s never too late, you know.” Tally couldn’t believe the words came out of her mouth. She was a realist. She didn’t believe love could conquer all. It’s why she was getting ready to tell Nash they were better off remaining friends.

The wispiest of smiles crinkled Ms. Leora’s cheeks for a moment. “It’s too late for me. Nash didn’t tell me when he’s getting home. Do you need his number?”

“I have it, thanks.” Tally backed toward the steps, keeping Ms. Leora in her sights until she closed the door.

Tally drove toward the college, needing to settle things face-to-face. A phone call, while alluring, was the cowardly way out. The student lot was sparse, and she got a spot close to a stately redbrick building. Huge magnolia trees and an assortment of hardwoods dotted a green space criss-crossed by concrete walkways. Students sat on scattered benches, some reading, some scribbling notes, some talking. Buildings circled the common area, some tall, some squat, but they all looked part of an extended family.

The area vibrated with energy and youth. The last time she’d been on the Cottonbloom College campus was as a junior in high school on a field trip. She felt exactly as she had then—an unwelcome alien stepping foot on a different planet.

Fliers advertising for tutoring or roommates framed a plastic-covered map under an overhang. The arts and humanities building was at the near end, a five-story brick building with a metal modern sculpture in front. She had no idea what the artist intended, but the swooping curves were a perfect representation of the state of her stomach.

The directory inside led her to the third floor. Everything was quiet. Offices lined the corridor. The black-and-white linoleum floor shined, and the concrete walls were painted a stark white. The scent of institutional cleaners was overlaid by the smell of books and paper and lead. All things that cast her back to high school and grew the knot of dread lodged in her chest.

She was doing the right thing. Counting down to the number next to Nash’s name on the directory led her to the last office on the right. The door was open a few inches and voices snaked out. Nash’s deep laughter was cut through by feminine giggles.

Tally leaned against the cool concrete wall for a moment, pressing her fingertips under her eyes to beat back the sting of approaching tears. She could cry later, once she was alone. A deep breath fortified her courage, and she knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Nash called.

She toed the door fully open. Nash was kicked back in a swivel chair, his feet propped on the desk between two stacks of books, his glasses sitting on the tallest tower. Emma sat on the near corner, her black pencil skirt riding to mid-thigh and her leg swinging. The woman was even more attractive than Tally remembered. She had a foreign sophistication that was out of place in Cottonbloom.

“Tally.” Nash dropped his feet to the floor and stood. He didn’t appear happy or unhappy, just surprised.

Emma darted her gaze between them and rose. “I need to be going. My next class starts in a half hour. I’ll catch you later, Nash.”

“Sure thing, Emma.”

The woman walked up to Tally, a smile on her face. None of the cold animosity from their last meeting colored her face or voice. “Nice to see you again.”

“Likewise.” She choked the word out and didn’t even attempt an answering smile.

The woman tilted her head, her perfectly arched eyebrows quirking. “If you’ll excuse me?”

Tally was smack dab in middle of the doorway, blocking the woman’s exit. She side-stepped and gestured to the door. Emma walked down the long hallway, her heels tapping, before disappearing into an office halfway down.

Nash grabbed her hand, tugged her inside, and closed the door behind him. “What’re you doing here?”

“Hope I wasn’t interrupting.” She lied. She was glad the woman was gone. Which made no sense if she and Nash were going to be just friends.

“Not a bit. Emma and I were talking shop. I like to give her a hard time about how she picked the easiest subject. Plus, she’s a good sounding board for my paper, which is turning into something more.”

Tally moved farther into the room and picked up a book, running her fingers over the fading gold words along the spine. “What do you mean?”

“I’m thinking of expanding my research into a book.” Excitement thrummed the words, and his grin was lopsided and endearing.

“I can’t read.” The words blurted out and hung in the air like a comic-book bubble. Her entire body tensed, her lungs freezing.

His smile turned into a frown and he crinkled his forehead. “What are you talking about? I know you can read.”

“I mean, I’m not illiterate, but I’m dyslexic.”

His brow cleared, turning his face into a blank canvas. The silence seemed to stretch to infinity until she broke it, stumbling over her words. “It’s why I asked you to order dinner for me in Jackson. I really hate trout, by the way. The typeset they used on that stupid menu was impossible.”

She turned toward the window. Students walked from building to building, their laden backpacks making them look like migrating turtles.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to tell me?”

His voice came from right behind her, and her body leaned toward him instinctively. She corrected herself and put her back against the window. “I should have told you ages ago so you weren’t wasting your time with me.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Wasting my time? What are you talking about?”

“I know we’re messing around because of that list, but it feels like … I mean, I don’t kiss my friends.” She didn’t add that she could count her friends of both sexes on one hand. “I think we should keep our friendship solid, don’t you?”

“Are you saying you’re not physically attracted to me?”

She’d never been more attracted to a man. His body, yes, but everything else about him was equally as attractive. It screwed with her sense of logic.

“Look at this place. And your house. Books are your life. It would take me a month to get through one of them. That woman—what’s her name—” She gestured toward the door even though she totally remembered. “You two probably have a million things in common. You could laze in bed and read together. It would be perfect.”

He dropped his chin to his chest with a huff that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Before she could react, he had his hands on the glass by her shoulders, trapping her. “When you and I end up in bed together, I promise reading will be the furthest thing from my mind. Anyway, I’m not remotely attracted to Emma.”

Now it was her turn to huff. “Yeah, okay, whatever. She’s gorgeous. I was attracted to her, and I don’t even play on that team.” More than a little jealousy snuck into her voice, and she could see a smile trying to curl his lips. Her let’s-stay-friends strategy was not going to plan.

“You’re gorgeous yourself.”

“You’re not wearing your glasses.”

“I’m nearsighted. I can see you fine.” Without his glasses, his eyes seemed even warmer, the gold flecks like the sparks of a fire. A small smile broke through, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I dream about you every night and wake up in the morning in physical pain. I’m dying to get you into my bed, Tallulah Fournette, and not to discuss Charlemagne.”

She dropped her gaze to the buttons of his navy blue golf shirt. “What happens afterward? After all that fades. What do we really have in common? Nothing.”

He wrapped a hand around her nape and tilted her face up, his thumb caressing her jawline. “You really believe that? You’re the only person who understands where I came from, who I was, what I went through. Because you went through it too, didn’t you? Our parents gone. We were both isolated in our own ways, weren’t we?”

“I barely graduated high school.”

He sighed and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fuck that. You throw the same lame excuse out to avoid anything that scares you. You put on a good front of being this tough girl, but underneath you’re terrified of so many things.”

Her mouth had gone dry, her tongue turning clumsy. She had always been called the risk taker, the daredevil. Yet, his words had the resonance of truth, and uncertainty lilted her denial. “No, I’m not.”

“Do I scare you?” His voice was gruff.

The answer was an unequivocal yes. He scared her worse than Heath ever had, because he didn’t threaten her person but her heart. She turned her head to the side to avoid his eyes. A forgotten mug sat half full of old coffee. Words decorated the side, probably something irreverent and funny like Nash himself, but she lacked the concentration to decipher it.

A knock reverberated through the office. It took a second series of raps to get Nash to bark out. “What?”

The door squeaked on his hinges as it opened. A rotund, balding man stood in hallway. “Terribly sorry, Hawthorne. We did have an appointment, I believe.”

Nash’s outward calm seemed forced. “Of course, sir. Come in.”

After the man crossed the threshold, she scooted out. Relief over the reprieve unknotted her stomach.

Nash took a step into the hallway and grabbed her upper arm before she had the chance to bolt. “We are not done discussing this. Tonight. Your place or mine?”

“Yours.” She took a step away, and he let her go.

She was back over the river in record time, stepping into the gym and feeling as if she was back on her home planet. She would lay out her case, get his agreement to remain friends only, and hightail it home. The future she envisioned depressed her.

They would try to maintain their friendship, but it would fall apart. The gym kept her busy, and he had his life at the college. Two different worlds even if they were only a few miles apart. Exactly like when they were kids. His aunt would throw a party and invite every eligible woman in Mississippi, and she would watch from across the river like Cinderella.

She went for a run, caught up on some bookkeeping matters, and solidified plans for the gym’s participation in the festival. She headed home and showered, her thoughts circling his accusations as the hot water poured over her.

Was she using her dyslexia as an excuse?

She hadn’t gone to college because she was sure she wouldn’t be able to keep up and would flunk out the first semester. She had worried about disappointing Sawyer and Cade. She’d refused dates with any of the young, single male professionals who used her gym because they intimidated her. As much as she sometimes felt confined by Cottonbloom, she also felt safe. Like a dog in its crate.

Nash was different. She felt safe with him, but he was more intimidating than any situation she’d ever faced. Because she was desperate for him. Desperate to feel his lips, his hands, his body moving over hers. She was as desperate to protect herself from being hurt. The conflicting agendas between her body and heart made for a confusing stew.