Then He Kissed Me: A Cottonbloom Novel

by Laura Trentham

  “If you want we can crash the next high school kegger.” A teasing speculation was in her voice.

  “Har-har.”

  “You could go play beer pong with a bunch of football players at the college or something.” Her teasing turned more contemplative. “Actually, why not relive your youth?”

  “I’m about a decade too late for that.”

  “For the high school kegger, yes. But we could get a little bit wild. Do things that scare us a little. Might be fun.”

  “Like what?” He wasn’t sure he liked where she was headed, but knew he’d follow her anyway.

  “We could climb the water tower, go floating down the river with a cooler of beer, stay out all night, steal a car.”

  “I’m a professor and you’re a business owner. If we get caught—” He shook his head.

  “We can skip the felony carjacking if you want.” The laughter lightening her voice reminded him of the old Tally.

  The dim shadows made it difficult to get a read on her. Was she serious or teasing him? Sketching a list of pros and cons in his head, he determined the cons way outnumbered the pros, but one pro outweighed everything: getting to spend more time with her.

  “Have you ever been skinny-dipping?” he asked.

  Her intake of breath was audible, and on the exhale, she said, “Once or twice. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. Have you?”

  Her Star Wars reference might have amused him if he wasn’t picturing water streaming over her naked body. “Nope. But I want to.” And suddenly, desperately he did. As long as it was with her. He didn’t want to give her a chance to say it was all a joke. “How about this? We both make a list of stuff we never got the chance to do. Then, we’ll tackle the lists together.”

  “I wouldn’t have anything to put on a list.” Her voice was wary. “I thought this was for you.”

  “Come on. At least, come up with a couple of things so I don’t feel like a complete loser. You didn’t go to any school dances, right?”

  “Good grief, Nash. You are the opposite of a loser. You have a PhD for goodness sake. I barely got my high school diploma. If we’re comparing, I’m the loser.” In stark contrast to her tough-girl, wild exterior, a vulnerability wove through her words.

  This side of her destroyed his common sense and tapped into his own insecurities. Unable to help himself, he wrapped his finger around a swath of her hair that had fallen forward over her shoulder. “You were a genius with numbers. You had to help me a time or two with my long division if I’m not mistaken.”

  She plopped backward, her hair passing through his fingers like silk. “I’m no genius. I used to wonder if I was adopted or something.”

  He dropped his head to his pillow, but stayed on his side, facing her. Reaching out, he tipped her face toward his with a finger. “Don’t sell yourself short, Tallulah.”

  She took his hand and tangled their fingers, letting them rest on the covers between them. Neither of them spoke again, but Nash watched until her eyes drifted shut and her breathing deepened before allowing sleep to steal him away.

  * * *

  A man with rumpled hair and brown eyes trailed his mouth down her naked body, planting himself between her legs. She arched her back and tried to move her legs farther apart to give him better access.

  Her leg was trapped. Bright sunshine danced stars behind her eyelids. Had she fallen asleep outside? Where was her mystery lover? She tensed and her eyes shot open, blinking to clear the fog of her dreams.

  A stack of comic books on a messy nightstand was in her field of vision. Dust motes played in the sunbeams shining through the skylights. Memory flooded back. She was in Nash’s bedroom. Her head was pillowed on one of his arms while his other was draped over her waist. His hairy, heavy leg had caged her in. Dear Lord, they were spooning. Even more alarming, Nash had been her sexy dream man.

  Her breathing hitched. She couldn’t deny that Nash had turned into a handsome man, and neither could she deny that when he’d walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, all her female parts tingled.

  But Nash was the total opposite of the type of man she usually went for. For one thing, he was smart—really smart. For another, he seemed nice—adorably nice. Chivalrous even. Maybe that was something he’d picked up studying medieval knights or maybe it was his Southern DNA flaring to life in the humidity.

  The way he’d swooped in last night to get her away from Heath had made her want to throw herself into his arms. And the way he’d insisted they come back to his place so she’d be safe made her heart flutter.

  But, it was Nash. Her best friend. Until he wasn’t anymore.

  What time was it? Birds trilled and called to one another. Probably still early then. She should get up and leave, but she had nowhere to be until noon. Reed Garrison, her second-in-command, was opening the gym that morning. Nash’s chest moved against her back with deep, slow breaths. As soon as she moved, he would awaken and the moment would be lost. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

  His hand was splayed on the bed in front of her. As kids, they’d held hands while wading the river. She’d watched him catch frogs and tie slipknots for rabbit snares. His hands had been small but his fingers dexterous.

  Now his hands were huge, his palms broad and his fingers long. They looked completely unfamiliar. Gently, so he wouldn’t wake, she tilted his hand up a few inches. A white scar traced from the meaty part of his thumb around to the base of his index finger.

  A rusty fishing hook had sliced him while he was casting around in the muddy reeds for crayfish. Blood had poured out, and she had hollered so loud both her parents had come running. Her mother took over, pressing a dishtowel over the wound while her father had called Nash’s house. By that time, his mother was already sick. His aunt Leora sat with her most days while his dad worked on the oilrig.

  Her daddy drove him to the doctor in his old truck, and she had sat in the middle of the bench seat holding Nash’s uninjured hand, telling him he’d better not die. Ten stiches and a tetanus shot later, Nash was strutting around, proud of his battle scar, but he’d squeezed her hand hard while they waited for the doctor.

  “Morning. Glad no rampaging ex-boyfriends found us last night.” His sleepy, rumbly voice startled her, and she shifted around to see his face, but didn’t drop his hand.

  His brown eyes were half-lidded, his hair even more rumpled than the night before. And … yep, that was definitely a hard-on brushing against her hip. Her body didn’t recognize Nash as off-limits and responded in kind. Her nipples pebbled, and she was afraid if she glanced down to see how obvious they were, it would only draw his attention to her inappropriate reaction. At least, he would have no idea how damp her panties were from her erotic dream starring him. Her body was in full rebellion.

  His hand twitched before he curled his fingers over hers. “I’ve never forgotten how nice your parents were that day. Your mother had popsicles waiting when we got back.”

  Even though her parents had been gone for many years, the void they’d left would sometimes open and swallow her. She nodded, cursing the lump of tears in her throat. She never talked about her parents. Not even with her brothers if she could help it. Any mention of them was a trigger to change the subject.

  “I still miss them.” The surprise at what had popped out of her mouth unleashed more. “Sometimes I get so mad, I have to open the gym so I can beat up on one of the body bags.”

  “I miss my mom, too. Or more like, I miss the idea of a mom. There were so many things she was too sick to do.”

  Still pillowed on his arm, she turned her head so they were face-to-face. What she saw in him poured understanding into the void. He truly understood. He wasn’t spouting platitudes.

  Being with Nash made her feel exposed and raw yet protected at the same time. The conflicting emotions tore through her. She pushed up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Away. She needed to get away to figure things out.

 
“I’ve got to head out. Thanks for letting me crash here last night.” She grabbed her smoky-smelling jeans from the night before and yanked them on. Working her bare feet into her boots was a little more challenging.

  He rose and stretched. A sunbeam from the skylight emphasized the muscles of his chest. Hair a shade darker than on his head covered his chest, her gaze following the line that disappeared into his waistband of his boxer briefs. She dropped her gaze to what was barely hidden. After fumbling with her laces like a kindergartner, she stood up fast, her head swimming, unable to tear her gaze away from the bulge in his underwear.

  A garbled noise welled out of her throat. He muttered a curse, grabbed a pillow, and held it in front of his hips, shuffling so his back was against the bathroom door. A red flush had spread up his neck and into his face. Heat radiated from her too. Embarrassed, yes, but something else as well. Something that made her want to rip that pillow out of his hands and fall to her knees.

  “Sorry. Mornings … beautiful woman in my bed … nature taking over, I guess.” His sleep-roughened, sexy voice only made things worse.

  “Understood. Not a … big deal.” She choked as the Freudian slip exited her mouth. It was a big deal, a huge deal, possibly even an enormous deal. Grabbing the shirt she’d had on the night before, she held it in front of her chest, hiding her traitorous nipples, and backed to the loft stairs. “I’ve got to get to the gym so … I’ll see you around.”

  She ran down the steps, tripped on her poorly tied laces, and stumbled over the last few stairs. Not exactly a smooth exit. She ran across the wet grass of the backyard and through the gate. A middle-aged male jogger ran by and glanced in her direction, but otherwise the street and sidewalks were deserted. Why did she feel guilty? It’s not like anything actually happened except for some handholding and unintentional cuddling.

  But Lord have mercy, she’d dreamed about doing things to Nash and him doing things to her. Naughty, dirty things. Things she might have been able to shove back into her subconscious until she’d seen the bulge in his underwear. Her naughty, dirty thoughts got exponentially naughtier and dirtier.

  She fumbled with her key fob, unlocking her sensible four-door sedan and sliding behind the wheel. Even at this time of morning, heat had built up inside, forcing her to turn the air conditioner to max. Did he really think she was beautiful? A glance in the rearview mirror showed a woman with bedhead, no makeup, and shocked, wide eyes.

  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 cro
pped 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.