Then He Kissed Me: A Cottonbloom Novel

by Laura Trentham

  “But there’s no reason we can’t be even more to each other. The fact we’re already friends makes it even easier, doesn’t it?”

  Did it? She wasn’t so sure, but with him so close, she didn’t care about the complications. Her lips moved within an inch of his, close enough to feel his breath. This time, she instigated the kiss. A whimpering moan escaped when their mouths made contact. Later maybe she’d be embarrassed by the desperate nature of her need, but in the moment, all she could think of was surrounding herself with him.

  At her back was the smooth, cool metal of his truck. At her front was the hard heat of his body. His tongue pressed into her mouth. His kiss at the water tower had been gentle and sensual and exploring. His dominating kiss in the truck had been confined to the few square inches of their lips. This kiss was a combination of both, the intensity startling and scary. If it wasn’t Nash, she might have pulled away. But she trusted him, and in that trust was her surrender.

  She pushed his glasses to the top of his head as his mouth slanted against hers in hot, openmouthed kisses that stole her breath. He circled his hands around her ribcage, an inch shy of her breasts. Her nipples pebbled, and she arched her back, begging for his touch with her soft moans and squirms. He complied and squeezed her breast, hard enough to course shivers between her legs, gentle enough to weaken her knees.

  His erection pressed into her hip. She raised on her toes and fit him closer to help alleviate the ache. Her movements only made it worse. She let her head loll back on the truck, stars filling her vision. He trailed his lips down her neck, this teeth nipping at her pulse, the pad of his thumb glancing across her peaked nipple.

  A wolf whistle pierced her haze of lust, and embarrassment and fear poured into the rift.

  She pushed at his shoulders. He lifted his face, but didn’t let her go. “You’re freaking out again, aren’t you?”

  “No.” Yes, her inner self screamed.

  “Look, you knew me as a weak, wimpy kid, but you need to accept me as a grown man. I know it’s hard—”

  A borderline hysterical giggle shot out of her. She could still feel his very prominent erection against her hip.

  “Trust me, I’m not having any problem accepting you as a very, very grown man. Anyway, you were never a weak or wimpy kid.”

  “You were never in the boy’s bathroom where I was on the receiving end of countless wedgies. My asthma—”

  “Stop.” She took his face in both her hands. In the dim parking-lot lights, she couldn’t see his eyes. “You were the strongest person I ever knew. The way you handled your mama’s cancer and afterward. And then instead of turning into a bitter, resentful man, you’re funny and optimistic and still the strongest person I know.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss against his cheek.

  “You always knew exactly what to say,” he murmured close to her ear. He drew away, dropped a light kiss on her nose, and reached for the door handle. She slid onto the seat and rubbed her hands down her jeans, off-balance from the evening.

  By the time he climbed behind the wheel, she’d located a fake smile. “Where to now?”

  Silent, he started the truck before turning in her direction. “I’m going to take you back to your place”—arousal sped through her body like a shot of liquor—“and I’m going to head back to mine, and I’ll see you on Saturday.” His words were a fire extinguisher, leaving uncertainty to fall like ash.

  “I thought maybe…” No way could she put her wishes into words.

  “I don’t want to rush in to anything.”

  She looked out the side window so he couldn’t see the spike of tears. Was he trying to tell her he had doubts?

  He pulled into her parking lot, and she had the door open before he even brought the Defender to a stop. “I’ll see you on Saturday, I guess.”

  “Tally—”

  She closed the door and ran for the steps to her door. She peeked through her front window. He sat for a long moment, but eventually, he backed up and disappeared. She sighed, not sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

  Chapter Eleven

  The days until their Saturday night date crept like spilled molasses in January even though it was hot enough to fry eggs on the asphalt. A combination of nerves and anticipation had her watching the clock all day. His sporadic texts during the week checking on her hadn’t helped matters.

  She left Reed to close up the gym so she could shower. In lace panties and bra, she flipped through the clothes in her closet close to panic. The dress that had seemed perfectly fine the day she had picked it out now screamed “church social” not “fancy dinner.” The rest of her wardrobe consisted of jeans and T-shirts.

  She grabbed her phone. Monroe answered on the first ring. “What’s up? I was going call you later and see if you wanted to watch a movie or something. Your brothers are having a powwow about a gasket.”

  “I’ve got a date.” Tally hoped her panic didn’t transmit over the cell network.

  “That’s great! At least I think it is. Please tell me you haven’t taken Heath back.”

  “No. Someone else.” She was surprised, and not a little grateful, her brother hadn’t relayed his suspicions to Monroe. Maybe she’d done a better job than she’d thought at denying her interest.

  “Thank God, because if you’d said yes, I would have locked you in a closet until morning. Is it someone I know?”

  She hesitated. Actually saying it aloud made her nearly sick from nerves. “Nash.”

  Monroe’s gasp was audible. Tally waited for her to spout something about her shock and how they had nothing in common. “You two are perfect together.”

  Tally sank down on the corner of her bed, needing both hands to hold the phone steady. “What are you talking about? We couldn’t be less alike. He’s brilliant and charming and nice. And, I’m … well, I’m … none of those things.”

  “For goodness sake, for such a strong, smart woman, your self-confidence is crap. Do you need me to come over there for a pep talk?”

  “Maybe so. I also need something to wear. Like a dress or a skirt or maybe a pantsuit. He’s taking me to Jackson for dinner. Can I borrow something? Anything?”

  “A pantsuit? Unless you want to repel him, I’d go with something he can get his hands under.”

  “Monroe!” Tally squeaked out her name. “It’s a date, not a booty call.”

  Giggles bubbled across the phone. “I’ve got something that will look fabulous on you. I’ll be over in ten.” Monroe disconnected. Tally lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling fan making lazy, off-kilter circles.

  The knock on the door pulled her out of her trance, and she grabbed a T-shirt to pull over her underwear. Out of habit now, she checked the peephole. Blonde hair filled her line of vision. She unlocked the door, and Monroe walked in with a dry-cleaning bag draped over her shoulder and silver strappy heels dangling from her other hand.

  She jiggled the shoes on the way to Tally’s bedroom. “I hope you’re somewhere around a size seven and half. Figured your motorcycle boots would ruin the lines of the dress.”

  “Close enough. What does the dress look like?”

  “I’ve only worn it once.” Monroe stripped off the bag, revealing a beautiful midnight blue dress that appeared to be missing a swath of fabric down the front and back. She waggled her eyebrows. “Your brother certainly liked it.”

  “Gross. In that case, I’m glad you had it dry-cleaned.”

  Monroe pushed the dress into her arms. “Go try it on.”

  Tally retreated to the small bathroom, stripped off the oversized T-shirt, and slipped on the dress. She walked back into the bedroom to examine herself in the mirrored closet doors.

  Monroe huffed a laugh. “Lose the bra, girlfriend.”

  The open V of the dress extended at least three inches past the bottom edge of her bra. “Can’t we pin it together?”

  “No, we can’t. You are in fabulous shape and can totally pull this dress off.
” Before Tally had a chance to object, Monroe unfastened the clasp, slipped the straps down her arms, and pulled the bra out through an armhole, old-school. “There. Gorgeous. I assume you want to leave your hair down.”

  “Unless you have a better idea.” Tally moved her shoulders around and leaned forward, but the cut of the dress ensured a nip-slip wasn’t likely.

  Monroe tilted her head. “Down is good. I can do your makeup if you want.”

  “Sure.” Tally wasn’t sure if her hands were steady enough to apply eyeliner anyway. She sat on the edge of her bed, feeling like a doll. “Don’t go overboard. I’m not entering a beauty pageant or anything.”

  “Close your eyes.” Tally followed Monroe’s commands automatically. “Maybe not a pageant, but it sure sounded like this date was a big deal when you called. I knew you were friends as kids, but didn’t realize you two had a romantic thing going on.”

  “We don’t. I mean, we sort of do, I guess.”

  Monroe choked off giggles. “Don’t make me laugh or I’ll mess up your liner. Could you be any more vague? Have you kissed him?”

  A few “wells” and “ums” came out of Tally’s mouth.

  Monroe sniggered again. “I’m taking that for a yes. How was it?”

  “The first time—”

  “The first time?”

  This time an answering giggle snuck out of Tally. While she had never been one to pour her heart out to anyone, Monroe had become a good friend the past few years. If things progressed like she thought they might, Monroe would be her sister-in-law before too long.

  “Let’s just say history isn’t the only thing he’s studied up on since he left Cottonbloom.”

  Monroe hummed like she’d eaten something delicious. “Tell me about it. When I saw him walk into church with his aunt at the beginning of the summer I about died.” She swiped blush over Tally’s cheeks and stepped back. “Is that subtle enough for you? I’ll let you do your lips.”

  Tally checked herself in the mirror. At the gym she didn’t wear makeup, and when she went out she favored the smudgy, goth look she’d carried with her from high school. Between the dress and the makeup, and with her hair out of its braid, she looked more sophisticated and curvier.

  Instead of feeling like Cinderella, though, she felt like Quasimodo outside of his bell tower. Not that she felt ugly exactly, but … exposed and vulnerable. As if her motorcycle boots, jeans, and T-shirts were her armor, now stripped away. If she couldn’t hide behind her tough exterior, then Nash might see every lurking insecurity.

  “You really think Nash and I could work? I mean, he’s got a PhD.”

  “You’re putting too much stock in schooling and degrees. Cade didn’t even finish high school, but it’s never mattered to me. He’s brilliant in his own way. And so are you. Why are you so worried?”

  Besides her brothers, no one was privy to her struggles with dyslexia. Sawyer had known for years. She used him to proofread her advertisements and flyers, but she’d only told Cade a few weeks ago. Had he told Monroe?

  “I don’t like to read.”

  Monroe appeared unfazed by the announcement. She picked a piece of lint off the skirt and adjusted the shoulder straps of the borrowed dress. “So what?”

  “You haven’t seen his place. Books everywhere. And, he’s writing a paper about Charlemagne. A paper I probably won’t even be able to make heads or tails of.”

  “Pretty sure an interest in Charlemagne isn’t a requirement to be with him. That would greatly decrease his dating pool. Especially in Cottonbloom.” Monroe tilted her head, her blue eyes dancing.

  Monroe didn’t get it, and she never would. She was smart and possessed a strength belied by her petite frame and Southern belle looks. She was an open book. An internal dark chuckle nearly broke free. Tally broke eye contact, slipped on the strappy heels, and applied lipstick. “He’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

  Monroe stood behind her, smiling like a proud mama. “I suppose that’s my cue to skedaddle like your fairy godmother, although don’t be surprised if I’m out hiding in your bushes to get a look at Nash’s face when he sees you. You look fabulous.”

  After Monroe let herself out, Tally stared into her mirror for a few more minutes. If she had anything to change into, anything at all, she would have done it. Instead, she paced in front of her couch, checking the clock every thirty seconds or so.

  Promptly at five, someone rapped on her door. She glanced through the peephole, her already skipping heart picking up to a sprint. Of course, he was on time. She rubbed her lips together, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

  In a charcoal slacks, a gray button-down with the sleeves rolled up his forearms, and a vest, he looked like he’d stepped from the pages of a European Vogue. From behind his back, he produced a bouquet of periwinkle-colored violets. She stared at them in shock. No man had ever bought her flowers. Much less blooms of her favorite color.

  “You look amazing.” He held out the flowers with a small bow.

  You are amazing. She barely stopped the thought from shooting out of her mouth. She took the bundle and dropped her face into the blooms to sniff, covering her sudden burst of emotion.

  “Let me put these in water and we can head out.” She walked into her kitchen, thankful to be out of the energy field he generated for a moment. Did she even own a vase? She couldn’t recall. All of her mama’s things were stored at Sawyer’s farmhouse. She hadn’t had much use for china or linens. A Mason jar was as close as she came.

  When she walked out of the kitchen, her step stuttered. The skirt of the dress floated around her, brushing her legs a couple of inches above her knees. His gaze was blatantly sexual and hungry. She felt like a husk of bread thrown to a starving man.

  Her legs were shaky, and she had to concentrate on not rolling an ankle in the heels. Or maybe she could fake a fall to get out of the date, but now that he was here in front her, staring at her like that, she wondered what it would feel like to be devoured by him. Would he be gentle or rough or the perfect combination?

  She turned her back, set the flowers in the middle of the table and smoothed her skirt down, hoping he couldn’t see every lecherous thought that flitted through her head. “Thank you. They’re pretty.”

  “Not as pretty as you are, Tallulah.”

  Normally, she hated when anyone used her given name, but the way Nash said it imparted an exotic sophistication she could never claim.

  “Are you ready?” He crooked his arm, and she hesitated. The gallant action was usually reserved for movies or Gone with the Wind–era books. Feeling slightly foolish, she tucked her hand in his elbow, and he covered it with his own.

  On their walk to his truck, he kept her from stumbling twice and kept a firm hand on her elbow when she climbed into the passenger seat. As he was walking to the driver’s side, she checked the state of her breasts, tugging at the material even though they were both decently covered. If she ever borrowed a dress from Monroe again, she would ask about percentage body coverage.

  “Everything okay?” He slid into his seat and started the truck.

  “Fine. Great. Looking forward to dinner.” Her voice came out too bright and sparkly. Not like her at all. “I’m not used to wearing a dress, if you must know, and this one…” She tugged on the top.

  His hand covered hers, the very tip of one of his fingers brushed the fabric over her breast. He probably didn’t even feel it, but nerve endings sparked, her nipple hardened, and her back arched. Her lack of control over her body was embarrassing.

  “The dress is lovely, and you look sexy as hell in it.”

  She swallowed and allowed him to take her hand in his as he drove out of her parking lot. “But I—”

  “Learn to take a compliment, woman.” Any bite in the words was mitigated by the humor in his voice. Silence reined until they were on the north road out of Cottonbloom.

  “Did you ever drive to Jackson for parties?” he asked.

  “Went a coupl
e of times.”

  He side-eyed her. “Didn’t enjoy it?”

  “I hung out with a partying crowd, but it was mostly all show for me. What about you?”

  “I visited with a bunch of history majors. We were more interested in touring the old houses than keggers.” He sighed but there was a smile behind it. “Ah … the life of a nerd.”

  “You aren’t a nerd anymore,” she said.

  “And you aren’t the poor Louisiana girl who made bad grades.” Although he said the words lightly, they hit her with the force of a punch.

  “That’s not … Why do you think that bothers me?”

  “You might as well be wearing a sandwich board sign instead of that sinful dress.”

  She extricated her hand from his and tugged at the fabric once more. Pines flashed by her window. She didn’t say anything, didn’t know what to say, because he’d hit a bull’s-eye.

  “Tell me how you started the gym.”

  As she told him, her awkwardness faded. This, at least, she was comfortable talking about. Enthusiasm crept into her voice and she turned in the seat to face him as she described her journey from high school to the present. “The next phase is an expansion, so I can offer yoga and Pilates. The night of the street party, Mrs. Carson asked me if I had thought about offering classes for seniors. I’m working up some options now. That would open an entirely new demographic. None of the other gyms are focusing on the elderly.”

  The Welcome to Jackson sign flashed, and she realized she’d talked about herself almost the entire way.

  “What about staff? You already work insane hours. You’ll need another full-time manager. What about Reed?”

  “I offered him more hours and a bump in pay a while back. He’s got some family issues going on. Plus, he’s restless. Now that his knee is better, I get the feeling he wants to fight competitively again before his window of opportunity closes.” She chewed the inside of her mouth. Heath had hated Reed. Not because Reed was a jerk, but because he was a good-looking guy who worked closely with her. Heath’s jealousy had incited a strange thrill for her at one time, until she realized it was another way of controlling her. “You like Reed?”