Finally all ready, we locked up and piled into Nate’s truck.
“Ladies first.” Nate held out his hand for me. Those long lean fingers I’d dreamed of touching for so long were right there for me to take, while Nate’s green eyes held mine. I put my hand in his, along with my heart, and I knew with one touch I was back to square one in my attempts at getting over him.
I got the Queen’s seat—middle front.
The Double Deuce was a bar and grill on the other side of the city. Red neon signs welcomed guests into the loud, smoky club. It featured serving girls wearing red short shorts and a black strip of cloth across their breasts that was branded with double Ds and bull horns. And every one of them was gorgeous.
Just let me die. Were girls who came here really supposed to eat? Especially girls like me who were more self-conscious than they were strong? I knew I was pretty, or maybe cute, but these girls looked like hell-sent angels of lust. And, like sharks, they surrounded us, eyeing their prey, who looked like they wanted to be eaten.
“How many in your party?” the brunette asked in a come-and-get-me voice.
I heard Charlie’s voice answer, but I was inside my own head now. Funny how I could smile and go through the motions and not even really be present. Nate and Ryan were standing behind me, but I saw how Charlie, Travis and Griffin were looking at these women—as if maybe they were on the menu. And the girls loved it; they swished their hips, pushed up their racks and batted their lashes … they could get whatever they wanted by doing that, I was sure. They looked experienced, and that made me feel like a child at Sunday school.
It wasn’t their fault. Not every girl is self-confident. Some of us are more fragile. And maybe I couldn’t even read too much into their behavior anyway, because sometimes toughness and overt sexuality is just another way to hide what’s really in the soul. Like I would hide in my books. I wasn’t about to judge anyone but myself, and right now, with the heat of jealousy firing the blood vessels in my cheeks and the thump of my heartbeat rushing in my ears, I was reminded how … invisible I really was.
I wasn’t brave. I’d never had to be. I’d been given everything I ever needed or wanted; I had the most loving family in the universe, and I knew I was seriously lucky. I wasn’t a scrappy pit bull of a woman who’d had her heart broken and the sass to prove it. I wasn’t the woman men looked at and saw feisty or sexy or strong … they looked at me and saw sweet, nice, little sister material. And there was nothing wrong with that because I was proud of who I was and the things I dreamed about. I was happy, at least for the most part. And even though I may not have been completely brave—brave enough to throw myself at Nate, to flirt with him outright and give him a freaking sign of life from what he must have seen as my cold, dead body—I did have some courage. Right? I was here, wasn’t I?
We were seated, and one of the girls ran her hand across the back of Charlie’s shoulders after she handed him the menu. He looked like a kid at Christmas. She had obviously transformed him into a tongue-hanging, tail-wagging puppy.
And that is what I did not possess, flirting skills that would render my victim helpless. If I had, I would have used that superpower on Nate years ago.
Years … MOVE ON, WOMAN! the sensible voice in my head scolded. I told her to shut up as I picked up my menu.
“They have great fish and chips,” Nate leaned over to tell me.
Great. I wonder how many of these fish and chips he’d enjoyed over the years, coming up through here on his way to work the ranches in the North Country on all those cold, blustery nights.
I hate fish and chips. “I’ll just take a cheeseburger and a glass of iced tea.”
“Are you okay?” Nate prodded.
Hey, Nate, if I brought you to a club that had the cast from Magic Mike serving the meal, how would you feel? Stupid thought. He would fit right in.
“Fine. It was just a long drive,” I replied, sighing. I really needed to get a grip. My poor-me inner dialogue wasn’t getting me anywhere. At least not anywhere good.
“I wonder if the band will be decent,” Ryan mused.
The banner across the stage read, Thunder Struck.
“They look like they have potential,” I said as we watched their final mic check. The group definitely looked country, with their faded jeans and old worn ball caps. I hoped they were. Maybe the music would settle my fraying-around-the-edges-as-we-speak nerves.
“That settles it, then,” Ryan said. “Julia, the first dance is mine.”
“And why is that?” I asked, trying to mimic his good-natured attitude.
“Since they’re country I get the first dance,” he declared brightly.
“Since they’re country?” I wasn’t following his logic.
“I know you love country music, so I’m claiming your first dance. I know you’ll want to dance.”
I should say no. Say I’d planned to claim my own first dance and then walk right over to Nate and … But little-miss-not-so-brave just smiled at Ryan in acceptance.
“Excellent!” he said with a huge grin then excused himself from the table for a moment.
Great.
So my question was, if I could become brave like some other girls and use my feminine wiles like a fishing lure, would that reel Nate in to me?
Or was I just playing a stupid, maybe even dangerous, head game with myself? Because really, I wanted Nate to want me for me. Geeky, book smart, gentle me.
But what if that wasn’t enough?
Nate knew me. If anyone did, he did. That thought made me feel instantly hopeless.
The other question that begged an answer was, what did Ryan see when he looked at me? And why didn’t Nate see that?
Easy answer, Jules, Nate’s known you most of your life, and you’re shiny and new to Ryan.
And with that, my brain went to the love/hate, happy/jealous cage match of the mind that happened whenever I thought about Livie and Jake. How the holy hell did she do it? Or was she just her natural, amazing self and, well, Jake woke the fuck up?
It took four waitresses to serve our party of six, like that was normal. All of them were utterly oblivious to my presence, in fact they even gave my meal to Travis, who smiled apologetically and passed it to me. The blonde one was only attentive to Nate, and I was quite sure he was enjoying it.
I ate my tasteless meal.
“Bet you’d rather be home with a hot cup of tea and one of your books,” Nate said quietly against my ear.
He was right, but was the statement a simple observation or a personal jab? I shrugged my shoulders. “I like this too sometimes.” Oh God, let me just evaporate.
The band started their set with the Bon Jovi classic, “Living on a Prayer.”
As soon as the boys’ last bites were finished and they wiped their mouths, Charlie and Travis went up to the bar, scouting for ready girls like a pack of wolves.
“Why don’t you guys go with them?” I said to Nate and Ryan, trying to smile naturally. “You don’t have to entertain me. Besides I’ve got Griff here.”
Nate looked down at his plate like I’d wounded him. The band started up Jason Aldean’s “Big Green Tractor.”
Right then the hot, attentive waitress came over to Nate. “I’m on break, gorgeous, want to dance?” she asked as she flipped her long blond hair off her shoulder to reveal more skin.
I averted my eyes like I didn’t notice. Don’t look at Nate, don’t look at Nate!
“Not tonight, but thanks,” he answered.
That’s when Ryan jumped up and grabbed my hand. “Time for our dance,” he crowed, pulling me up off my chair.
Aaargh! Nate had turned down the waitress, but Ryan’s jump had caused a distraction, and she looked like she wasn’t ready to take no for an answer.
“Ryan, I’m really too tired,” I started, but he didn’t care about my protests.
Why couldn’t Nate be this forceful? And damn it, what was so wrong with Ryan? Nothing, that’s what! And he reminded me I wa
s pretty with his attentions. Maybe I needed to cast my lines in clearer waters.
Ryan put his hands on my waist and I put mine on his shoulders.
Fuck! I couldn’t see the table, Nate or the waitress. Ryan was leading and my only view was of him and the band.
I tried to settle my racing heart and thoughts and sink into the moment, but by the time the chorus hit I knew what I felt—nothing.
How fair was that? Ryan was hot! He had short blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He was built, and he was tough but nice. He was sort of perfect, really, if I thought about it. But that feeling, that spark, that crazy energy that injects nitrous into your veins and sets your soul on fire wasn’t there. There was nothing there.
I wondered if this was what it felt like for Nate … being around me. Like touching an unlit firecracker. No sparks, no tinder, no light, no bang.
I decided to hate “Big Green Tractor.” Bummer.
By the third chorus I was angry. Angry at myself for holding onto a mirage for too long and angry at Nate for not loving me back.
“I’m cutting in on you, buddy.” Nate’s deep voice yanked me from my thoughts.
“Boss?” Ryan threw a plea, but it didn’t stick, Nate thumbed him to move out.
“Next one,” Ryan claimed with a smile at me but then stalked away.
The song changed to Bad Company’s “Feel Like Making Love” as Nate took my hand in his and set his other at my waist, keeping me at a very respectable distance. I felt my angry frown.
“It’s high time I give you an apology.”
“For what?” I stared into his chest.
“For not being a very good friend to you.”
Okay. “Are you supposed to be a very good friend to me?”
“My sister is your best friend. Now she’s gone off, got married and is a world explorer … I should have picked up some of the slack.”
Oh, that’s romantic. “I don’t think that’s in any rule book, Nate.”
He was quiet for a moment then offered, “Ryan has a thing for you.”
Was he matchmaking? I wanted to puke. “Ryan’s nice.”
“Don’t you like him?” Nate asked.
I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, I LIKE YOU, IDIOT! But maybe if it wasn’t for you, I’d like him more.
“He’s a buddy,” I said, finally looking at him and wishing I hadn’t come.
Nate smiled a little meanly. “That’s the kiss of death.”
Whatever that meant. All I knew was that this song was sexy as fuck, and I had Nate here in my arms, and I could feel the physical pressure of his touch, but I was the only one trembling. His fingers weren’t gripping me or pressing into my waist, there was no want or need or any hint of passion. It made the dance heartbreaking.
I couldn’t take anymore. “My stomach isn’t feeling so good.”
“I can bring you back to the motel,” he offered with a look of concern.
Ding, Ding, Ding! SCORE! We have a winner, folks! The guys probably hadn’t wanted me to come along in the first place. That was probably what Nate meant by my staying home with my books, drinking tea. With me around they felt compelled to be well-behaved.
“You all probably want a rowdy guys’ night out anyway.” I faked an I-don’t-care smile.
“I don’t want that, I was just thinking of you.” I had dropped my eyes and he was trying to catch them again.
No, it’s me who’s always thinking of you. “Either way, thanks,” I said.
He nodded and led me off the dance floor. We grabbed our jackets, and I picked up my bag and followed Nate, who walked past the bar to Charlie.
“I’m taking Jules back early, she’s not feeling well.”
Charlie just waved us away. The others were nowhere to be seen.
Nate and I got out of the Double Deuce, and the warm fresh air hit me hard and woke up my senses. How could I give up so easily?
Nate opened the passenger side door of his truck for me and offered his hand to steady me. I grabbed the pull bar instead.
“I can handle it.” I got in and he closed my door. As he rounded the truck, I fought back my cowardly tears.
Nate hopped in and turned the engine over. “Carry on My Wayward Son” filled the cabin as I laid my head back and watched the lights streak through the windows.
When we pulled into the motel parking lot I said, “Thanks for the ride. I can make it from here.”
He pulled the truck into a parking space and turned off the engine. “I’m not going back.”
“Why not?” popped out of my mouth before I had the chance to stop it.
“We’re at a motel on the side of a highway, Jules,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m not leaving you here alone. Someone needs to keep you safe.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. It was sweet, really, even if it was unnecessary. It’s not like I didn’t have a lock on my door, but his protectiveness reminded me of the Nate who had been my friend. And I didn’t really want him to go back to Double Deuce and hook up with some girl.
He got out and took double strides to make it around to my side of the truck so he could help me, but I had already stepped out by the time I realized what he was doing. He was standing so close, and I couldn’t help but wonder why he wouldn’t hook up with me? What if I just took his face in my hands and kissed him? How would he react?
Of course, I didn’t have the guts to find out. Instead, I just sighed. “I’m really not that sick,” I reassured him.
He simply nodded.
We climbed quietly to the second floor balcony, and he waited until I unlocked my door. I couldn’t name the expression on his face. I was just happy he was looking at me at all, since it seemed he’d been avoiding me for so long. I didn’t want to give that up.
“Do you want to come in?” I tried with a smile. “I could make coffee. It’s all I’ve got.”
He chuckled. “Naw, we have an early morning road trip and coffee will keep me awake.”
I tried to keep the look of disappointment off my face.
He wasn’t finished though. “But if you’re feeling up to it, you can stay out here and keep me company for a few minutes.”
What??? Um, yeah, I’m feeling up to it! “Sure.”
“Just give me a sec.” His room was next to mine. He went in and came right back, holding a Zippo lighter and a cigarette. “Being in that smoke filled bar was killing me. Just don’t tell the guys, okay?” he said as he lit up.
A secret? “I won’t say anything.”
Nate had smoked on and off since he was fourteen. He’d quit a couple years back, but he’d started again after what had happened when his dad attacked him and Livie. Now he’d been trying to quit since the wedding.
For a moment we just stood there, both looking off into the lights of the highway.
I had to break the silence.
“Are you nervous or excited about the finals?” I asked.
“It’s the same adrenaline that makes both,” he said calmly.
“That makes sense,” I agreed. “Which do you like best then, riding bronc or bull?”
He laughed a little. That laugh was genuine and spontaneous, and I wanted to capture it and keep it like a child catching fireflies in the heat of a summer night.
“A bronco will buck the ever living hell out of you, but if you can find his pattern and synchronize your body to move with his, you have a chance,” he explained.
Synchronize your body to move with his. Yeah I’d like to try that, I thought dreamily.
“Bulls on the other hand,” he continued, “are as wild as a demon—they buck, twist and kick—and, once you’re down, would like nothing better than to trample or gore you to death with their horns …” He quietly contemplated. “Bulls,” he said finally.
My turn to laugh. “If they’re so much more dangerous, why?”
“Because it’s in that moment when the adrenaline comes rushing through you that you feel more alive than ever.”
“So. Being close to probable death and dismemberment makes you feel high?” I clarified.
“Yeah.” He slowly looked over at me. “What makes you high?”
You. “You’ll laugh,” I sighed.
“Why do you say that?” he asked, confused.
“Because it’s totally boring compared to your thrilling, death rush adventures.”
“Hey! Don’t judge me so quick,” he scolded with a light smile across those lips that I wished were on mine. That would make me higher than a freaking planet.
“I’m not as wild as you or my brothers. I don’t like driving fast, but I do like being in the passenger seat when you guys are street racing,” I conceded. “I don’t like watching Josh fight, but don’t you dare tell him I told you! I hate thinking he’s going to get hurt.” My brother was an up-and-coming MMA fighter, and he was good. Very good. But I still couldn’t help but worry about him. “I don’t like riding crazy, angry animals or jumping from airplanes or zip lining. I don’t skateboard worth a damn.”
“You’re just telling me everything you don’t like.” He watched me. “I asked what makes you high.”
I fidgeted nervously. “Okay, I love music, I mean … I really love music. It wakes me up and makes me feel alive and invincible. Music makes me high.” I thought for another moment. “I like reading too. A lot. Most people have to go to a movie to feel that rush, but I get it just the same when I read a fantastic story.”
“Mmm. Who’s your favorite author?” he asked. “Wait, I’ve seen you with a few different books by that one woman. What’s her name?” He concentrated adorably, thinking. “No, don’t tell me … Nadine? No, Natasha, Natalie?”
“Natalia … Morris.” I smiled, but felt my cheeks heat up. “Um, yeah … I guess she’s a favorite. I love her stories; they transport me to another place.” Oh, if only he knew the places I went to with those books!
“What’s wrong with the place you’re in?” he asked seriously.
I took a breath. Where should I begin? “Nothing’s wrong really, but to get lost in a book is like experiencing the world in a different way and it makes you discover a whole new level of yourself.”
“Maybe I should grab one of her novels.” He took a pull from his burning cigarette.
Finding Us Page 3