Then He Kissed Me: A Cottonbloom Novel (7 page)

She pulled up to her apartment building and inspected the parking lot before getting out. No sign of Heath, and no crazy messages or texts on her phone either. The lack of contact should have settled her nerves, but instead her anxiety turned to a simmer. She let herself into her apartment and relocked the door. Everything was still. A sense of safety eased the muscles across her shoulders. She tossed her things onto the couch, toed her boots off, and headed into her bedroom.

She caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror. The oversized Superman emblem on the borrowed shirt made her smile. He still loved comic books and superheroes. Inside, he wasn’t so different from the Nash she remembered after all. It was the transformation of his outside that was messing with her head.

After pulling on gym clothes and making a smoothie for breakfast, she was back in her car on the way to her gym. Her daddy’s old truck was parked out front. Cade had commandeered it for his use when he’d returned. Every time she saw it, her heart leapt as if she’d shot back in time to before her parents were killed by a drunk driver. Yet, seeing Cade drive the old red-and-gray Dodge closed a circle.

She walked in to find both her brothers working out on weight benches, Sawyer spotting for Cade. She stowed her gear and ignored them. Reed waved from the back where he was sweeping. She pulled her laptop out of a desk drawer and opened her accounting software.

The columns and rows of numbers soothed her frazzled nerves. Numbers didn’t elude her like words. She understood them without trying. Over the next half hour, she greeted members as they entered and updated her spreadsheets with current expenditures and profit. Her plan to expand was making steady progress. Even so, a down payment on more exercise equipment was still months away. She sighed.

“You know I’d lend you the money. Hellfire, I’d give it to you.” Cade’s voice rumbled over her shoulder making her jump and delete an entire column with the click of a mouse. Thank heavens for undo buttons. If only life had one of those, she’d wipe Heath out of her life and memories.

“You did enough helping me get this place off the ground. I don’t want to depend on my big brother the rest of my life.”

“It’s not like that. It’s family helping family. Seeing you succeed makes me happy. So, really you’d be doing me a favor by taking my money.” His voice lilted up like a question.

“Nice try.” She turned on the stool to face him. He wiped sweat off his face. Looking into his eyes was like looking into a mirror. She got along better with Sawyer, but it was only because they were so different. She and Cade were too much alike not to rub each other like sandpaper sometimes, but he also understood her like no one else. “If I can’t get the numbers to work by spring, I might take you up on your offer, if it’s still on the table.”

“It’s nailed to the table.” He leaned in, bussed her cheek, and propped a hip against the counter. The smile that came to his face lightened everything about him. She could only shake her head.

His transformation over the past month since he’d moved back home had been nothing short of miraculous. Her best friend Monroe had been the catalyst, but Cade had made a huge effort to mend things with both her and Sawyer.

Somewhere along the way, he’d shed the resentments toward Cottonbloom like a snake shedding its old skin, leaving behind a shiny, happy, optimistic Cade. While she was glad he’d moved back and found someone, his happiness only emphasized her crappy personal life.

Sawyer strolled over, a towel hanging around his neck, the sleeves long ripped off his grungy T-shirt. His sun-streaked dirty blond hair and twinkling eyes were in sharp contrast to Tally and Cade’s darkness.

“How’s my favorite sister?” Sawyer wrapped a damp arm around her shoulders and forced her face toward his armpit. She elbowed his ribs. He yelped and let her go.

“You are so juvenile.”

Chuckling, he retreated to stand next to Cade, exchanging a glance with him. A sense of expectation set her on edge. Had they heard about the altercation at the Tavern last night?

“Cade and I were brainstorming some ideas for the festival. What can we offer that the ’Sips can’t?” Sawyer chewed on his bottom lip and looked to the steel-beamed ceiling. She sagged on the stool, her shoulders rounding. They hadn’t heard about Heath. Or Nash, for that matter.

“And, what did you come up with?” Relief made her sound more enthusiastic than she’d intended. No way had she planned to get pulled into WWIII.

Cade gestured around them with both hands. “Your place.”

Her gaze darted between her brothers. “They’ve got gyms too.”

“Not like yours. Not one where legit fighters train,” Sawyer said.

One of the reasons she’d hired Reed was because of his experience in MMA fighting. He’d moved up the ranks in the professional leagues until an injury had forced him out. Now her gym attracted boys and men who dreamed of being paid to fight and win. “What are you thinking?”

Sawyer’s voice edged with excitement. “Monroe is going to ask a couple of the girls in her group if they want to demonstrate some self-defense techniques. You could maybe lead a kickboxing set. I talked to Reed and he’d be willing to put on an exhibition fight with one of his buddies. Nothing too crazy, but something to grab people’s attention and get them cheering.”

“Reed!” She shot a glance toward her employee and friend. Maybe former friend.

He jogged over with a sheepish expression. “I’m guessing they told you.”

“Yep.” She crossed her arms.

Reed rubbed a hand over cropped dark hair. The offspring of a half-white, half-Iranian mother and a black father, Reed laughingly called himself the ultimate minority. He reminded Tally of an exotic sheik in hiding. Hypnotic tawny eyes blazed against his darker skin.

“You can’t tell me we wouldn’t attract a big crowd to watch. And, think of the promotion the gym would get,” he said.

She huffed. It wasn’t a terrible idea. In fact, done right, it could be a win-win. An undertaking that big would require capital outlay for signage and advertising. She could offer a discount on the first three months of fees if they signed up during the festival. While her profits might initially take a hit, the upside potential was immense. A risk, but a calculated one. Excitement had her bouncing her leg as she chewed on the end of her thumbnail, numbers stampeding through her head.

“My gut tells me it’s doable and maybe even a good idea. Let me confirm.” Sawyer fist-pumped like it was a done deal. She waved a finger at all three men. “The numbers have to support it. No promises.”

Sawyer nodded and held his hands up, but there was a grin on his face. All three men retreated, and she attempted to focus on her columns of numbers, this time with the new proposal in mind. Instead, her traitorous mind wandered back to Nash and how it felt to wake up in his arms and how he filled out that pair of underwear.

She grabbed a gym brochure off the counter and fanned herself. If he didn’t come by the gym as promised this week, she would bake him some cookies as a thank-you for helping her out with Heath. Geez, she was as bad as the church welcome committee. What if she couldn’t get her hormones under control around him and did something truly wild and reckless?

Chapter Five

Nash leaned against the counter of the small kitchen, eating a bowl of Fruity Pebbles and staring at the blank wall. How royally had he screwed
that
up? He’d never had a morning after that awkward, and this one hadn’t even involved sex. Although, if the night
had
involved sex, he might not have been tenting his underwear like some fourteen-year-old horndog.

It was all her fault. She had looked so adorably sexy in his Superman T-shirt, her nipples poking at the S. Actually, he’d pretty much fought the uncomfortable arousal all night, especially after she scooted her butt right into his pelvis. His dreams had only stoked the fires ensuring he’d woken with the biggest, most uncomfortable hard-on ever.

He wasn’t sure what to do about her. No way was he letting her get away that easy. It was Saturday and all he had on his to-do list was to finish reading a biography of Charlemagne. His to-do list … He smiled.

Although, he’d been skeptical when she’d suggested re-creating milestone moments he’d missed as an adolescent, the idea had taken root sometime during the night and flourished. It would force him out of his comfort zone, which was a little nerve-wracking, but he’d be spending time with Tally, which he wanted more than anything.

He didn’t think to get her number, but unless it had only been a convenient excuse to escape the monster in his underwear, she’d be at the gym. She had invited him by after all. A hard workout might relieve the sexual tension that even a solo session after she’d run out his door hadn’t managed to alleviate.

While he tossed some clothes and toiletries into a gym bag, a hard rapping cut through the sound of birdsong and the tinkling of wind chimes. His aunt opened the door without waiting for an answer and stuck her head in the crack.

“Nash. Where are you?”

“Upstairs. Hang on, I’m coming down.” He slung the bag over his shoulder and jogged down the stairs.

His aunt Leora was his mother’s older sister by a dozen years. The irony of cancer taking his young, vibrant mother and leaving her soured spinster sister wasn’t lost on him. His aunt had tirelessly and lovingly taken care of his mother in her final months, and when she’d died, his aunt had welcomed him with both arms. In fact, she’d insisted on becoming his legal guardian. His father had been relieved to get Nash settled. His job on the oilrig made caring for a young son impossible—unless he quit, and it was obvious he loved the life and the money.

Aunt Leora smoothed a hand down her flower-print dress, her hose sagging into a pair of low-heeled black pumps. Arthritis had swollen her knuckles and her shake was growing more noticeable, but she still joined her quilting crew to work a needle.

He tensed, expecting her to bring up his nighttime guest, but instead she asked, “Where’s your truck?”

“Aw, hell.” He rubbed his chin. His truck was in the Rivershack Tavern’s parking lot.

“Nash Hawthorne. I raised you better than to use vulgarities.” Her mouth pinched into a circle.

He barely refrained from bowing his head in childhood penance. “Yes ma’am, you did. Pardon me. I got a lift home last night and left my truck in town.”

“I’m headed to the Quilting Bee for circle if you’d like a ride.”

“That’d be great.” He kissed her papery cheek, the scent of talcum strong but not unpleasant. Not everything about his childhood had been terrible. His aunt had provided as many books as he wanted on any subject. She’d never censored him, answered his questions with candor and honesty, and pushed him to dig even deeper for meaning.

She led the way out of his cottage, holding tight to the handrail. He offered her an arm on the uneven grass, and she took it without comment. As they approached her white Crown Victoria, he side-eyed her, wondering if he could wrest the keys from her hand and drive them. At some point in the near future, they would need to have a frank conversation about her driving privileges.

She dropped his hand to head to the driver’s side. That day was not today. He slipped into the passenger seat and made sure his seatbelt was secured before she backed the car up in a series of jerks that had him feeling nauseous before she fumbled the stick into drive. They puttered down the street at a blazing twenty miles per hour.

“My Defender is over the river at the Rivershack Tavern.”

She harrumphed but thankfully kept her eyes on the road. As they came into the main part of Cottonbloom, she slowed even more, nudging her head toward River Street. “Martha might have to relocate the Quilting Bee or close it entirely.”

The Quilting Bee had been a Cottonbloom staple for as long as Nash could remember. It sold sewing machines and fabric and quilting supplies, and was a gathering place for women who made quilts for babies and grandbabies, for children in the hospital and children in need.

“What’s going on?”

“All of a sudden River Street has become trendy. It’s all four-dollar coffees and ice cream flavors I’ve never heard of. What’s wrong with a cup of black Folgers and plain old vanilla?” She waved where the floor of the new gazebo rose from the blackened ground. “I can’t believe you agreed to help resurrect that thing.”

“It’ll be a nice addition. Tally mentioned something about her uncle’s bluegrass band. They could play in the gazebo and families could bring picnics for the lawn. Enjoy music and the river. Maybe even sell beer.”

“Beer?” His aunt said it as if he’d suggested a public orgy. “That sounds like a Louisiana thing.”

“It could be a Cottonbloom thing. Not everything has to be divided. This town integrated black and white with hardly a peep of protest, yet can’t seem to get beyond an arbitrary state line. You realize I was born on the side ‘that must not be named.’”

His allusion to Harry Potter fell on uninitiated ears. “You came back from England talking a different language.”

“Scotland.”

“It’s all the same, isn’t it?”

“Yep. Exactly the same.” The irony of his aunt not understanding the centuries-old rift between two countries separated by a land border made him look out the passenger window to hide a smile. In his aunt’s view, the world revolved around Cottonbloom.

“I don’t have anything against Louisiana. In fact, Effie lives on this side, and we get along fine. But, we don’t need Delmar Fournette bringing his band over to play, and that’s that.”

The Crown Victoria’s pillowlike suspension absorbed the bumps in the Rivershack Tavern’s washed-out graveled lot. His aunt broke hard, tossing him forward and making his seatbelt catch. “I can’t believe you came to this place last night. And, brought
that
girl home.”

He was honestly surprised she hadn’t mentioned his overnight guest before now. He could tolerate a high level of his aunt’s snobbishness, but not when she acted like Tally was tainted. “Tallulah Fournette is a remarkable woman and my friend. I won’t have you being rude or throwing dirty looks in her direction, Aunt Leora. Is that understood?”