by Jodi Linton
Damn, be a man about it and tell her how you feel.
The mattress bounced and red Converse wiggled in the air. “I do have cute feet, you know?”
“Fiesty ones, I’d say.” A groan tore from his chest as he slid a glance up and down the slender, toned legs attached to said cute feet. His hands flew to her ankles so he could unlace her tennis shoes at the exact same time she released a husky sigh, causing all the blood to rush straight to his cock. Rein it in, man. Remember there’s a caution, no-fucking sign on this one’s neck. Nate tried to look relaxed, instead he felt his upper lip curl in agitation. This—staying in the same single-queen-bed hotel room with Hannah—was definitely going to be harder than staying awake during a chick flick. He mumbled a curse. “Mind keeping those cute feet still long enough so I can help you remove your shoes?”
Her tennis shoes stopped air dancing. “What if my feet would like to rest someplace else?” One foot dropped to his crotch. Forgoing calling an oops my bad move, she chose to gently brush his growing erection. “Like here.”
“Hannah.” He gave her a warning look. “You’re drunk.”
“I think you are right.” She leaned into him, firmly pressing their bodies together, and all he could think about was the way that freaking sundress seemed to be painted on her chest. She let out a slurred giggle. “I also think you are hot.”
He shifted uncomfortably above the bed. “If you want you can dream about my hotness in your sleep.”
Hannah shrugged, giving him a noncommittal nod, and lifted her arms above her head. “Have I ever mentioned that you’re a smart cookie?” Her hazelnut gaze met his. “I don’t normally get drunk. I thought you should know that. I make bad decisions when I’m nervous. Like the blow-up doll and shooting tequila.” She sighed. “You make me nervous, Nate.”
He rubbed his jaw, feeling a harsh tick in his throat. “Here I was hoping I had a different effect on you.”
She went telephone-line straight. “Nervous butterflies? You know the type that does a little flutter in your stomach when a hot guy looks your way.”
“Not really.” Nate couldn’t help his laugh. “I don’t usually attract hot-guy stares.”
Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink, and he loved that he’d gotten such a reaction out of her. “Oh, God,” Hannah mumbled, slapping her hands over her face. “I’m drunk.”
With a steel will, he secured his arm around her waist, and instead going in for a kiss, pulled her upright into a sitting position. She sighed and flopped forward, nose butting his chest. “Yep, I do believe you are.”
“I like you.” She talked to his shirt. “I like how you nailed our fake engagement ploy at the bar. I also like that you helped me show my ex-boyfriend I was new and improved by going along with that kiss.” Everything went quiet, then he heard a hiccup. “I liked that kiss, too. Best ever, you know.”
“Hannah. I think we should talk about that kiss.”
Hiccup. He stopped talking.
“To our weekend adventure, fun memories, and to me moving on to greener pastures.” Small hands did a salute in the air. “You, Fox, helped me make my life less complicated. For that I’m freaking grateful.”
Then his inebriated fake fiancée passed out cold. And Nate understood just how very quickly Hannah had managed to complicate his life. The joke was on him, because the first woman he wanted more than a fling with happened to not be interested in more than a quickie weekend to better her life.
Chapter 5
So much for just being friends.
Hannah was rocking a pair of over-size sunglasses and immersed in a lighthearted conversation with the bride-to-be. Long, strawberry locks tumbled down her back and her soft giggle filled the banquet hall. When she tilted her head to the side and caught him staring, Nate’s ploy to play it cool as a cucumber went up in flames the moment Hannah awarded him that fresh-faced girl-next-door smile.
Screw bagels and coffee. He was going to kiss his fiancée.
“There you are, cupcake.” Nate leaned in close and kissed her on the cheek. She flushed, and pride swelled inside him. “So what’s on the agenda? Will we be able to take a quickie upstairs?”
Her hand flew up to clutch her throat, and she released a small gasp. He wanted to kiss her again. Mostly he’d like to take her upstairs to their room and try out that quickie.
Damn.
“Looks like you had a restful night.” Hannah tried really hard not to glare at him. “I’m helping the bridesmaids make table arrangements for tomorrow night. It’s probably not something you’d want to stick around for. I think the boys are all having drinks at the bar, though. You can join them.”
Nate pulled out a chair, sidling into the spot next to her. “I’d much rather spend the day with the woman who stole my heart.”
The women seated across the way at another table sighed.
An elbow jabbed his gut. Hannah placed her mouth at his ear and whispered, “I know I got a little tipsy, and I’m sorry if I rubbed you the wrong way.”
“I will say you rubbed me.”
She snatched up a pair of scissors and started to hack away at the ribbon clutched in her hands. “What the heck has gotten into you? You hate crafts, if I remember correctly.”
“Blame it on the wedding.” He gave her a flirty wink. Nate stared at the other ladies and noticed they were folding the bubblegum-colored paper in half on the tables. Trying to appear as if he cared about the decorations, he grabbed a piece and began to mimic the crafty maneuver. “Let’s talk total meltdown breakup.”
Hannah’s eyes grew big as saucers. “Here? You want to talk about our upcoming demise here?”
“Or we can just kiss some more and let everyone know how much in love we are.”
Where the hell had that come from? He really did sound like some lovesick fool, or a man in dire straits of needing sex.
“Forget it,” he mumbled just as a chair scraped across the floor.
They both looked up and sighed.
“Hey, Sally.” Hannah shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I didn’t think you’d be up this early.”
Sally folded her hands on the tabletop. “You two ready to play some flag football? It looks like Nate will be on the girls’s team since the men have one too many players.” The maid of honor paused. “Henry showed up this morning. Alone.”
Hannah sat still.
So Nate took it upon himself to answer for her. “I’d much rather be on my girl’s team anyway.” He grinned. “That way I can watch her run around in those cute little shorts and not lose a point.”
Hannah shot him a warning look, and he loved every frown line that came with it. “If you keep your eyes on me the whole time then you’ll more than likely get yourself sacked.”
“Worth the view,” he said.
The maid of honor’s mouth widened. “Going out on a limb here, but I’m guessing last night went better than mine.”
Hannah choked. “We stayed for a few extra drinks.”
Something oddly territorial smacked him like an uppercut to the jaw. He had to prove just how good last night actually was to him. Show the wedding guests that Hannah meant something to him. That she was his. That he cared. He slung an arm across her shoulders, tugged her into his body, and met her gaze. But before she could say “wait” or put a hand to his chest, he pressed their mouths together, forgoing a soft brush to deepen the kiss. The feel of her in his arms was better than the memory that had kept him awake all night long. She moaned, digging her fingers into his shoulders, and Nate wanted so badly to show how much further he’d like to take their make-out session, but they weren’t alone. And he’d kissed her just to prove a point, hadn’t he?
Muttering a curse, he pulled away, staring into a pair of confused eyes. Don’t look at me like that. It wasn’t supposed to be more than a fun weekend that helped each one of them out, although he knew better. He had from the moment she’d kissed him at the daycare.
Hannah stared at him, fing
ers touching her lips.
Nate pushed back in his chair and stood. “We had fun.” He made sure to look at Sally, and her only. “You know, I think I might go grab a drink with the guys before the football game after all.”
Then he escaped through the hall, but not before hearing the maid of honor whisper, “That one’s a keeper.”
Damn, he wished it was true.
Chapter 6
“Oh—Fuck. That’s going to leave a bruise.”
The freckled bridesmaid tugged at the mesh jersey slung over her head and squinted across the field.
Hannah peeked at the bridesmaid through her parted fingers. “Like bad we might need a tampon to clog up a bloody nose, or call an ambulance there’s a bone bent the way wrong bad?”
“How about my fiancé looks like he wants to murder the geeky I-have-two-left-feet guy bad?” The wedding guest gestured at her. “We also might need a box of tampons and a stretcher as a precaution.”
Absolutely all she needed to hear. Her hands fell in a flash from her face. A short distance from the goal was Nate sprawled on top of Henry, holding a flag high in the air.
Wasn’t it supposed to be tackle-free football, or some sort of no-touching sport?
Since the table decoration assembly, Nate had used every excuse in the book to avoid her. Bathroom breaks, business phone calls, and at the flag football signup table when guests asked how they met the worst awkward silence moment since Kanye crashed Taylor Swift’s VMA speech happened. Hadn’t he been the one to kiss her? Damn straight he had been, and now she was the one who felt foolish for thinking it meant something more.
She knew they hadn’t slept together. The blanket and pillow on the floor near the foot of the bed pointed that one out perfectly. Fine. Too much tequila can cause temporary foolish drunken states, she’d admit that. But one drunken night held no candle to that kiss they’d shared.Well, two kisses to be exact.
Panic settled in her chest. Someone started to wheeze, and fairly quickly Hannah realized that someone was her. Double damn. She couldn’t bear another public embarrassment. Last night they were fine. Last night they were laughing. Last night everything was simple until the tequila took hold and she’d mentioned the way he made her feel.
Nervous. She just had to go there, didn’t she?
On a deep breath, she dropped the scorekeeping clipboard on the ground and motioned a hand at the bridesmaid standing at her side. “Give me the jersey. I’m going in.”
Jersey-wearing bridesmaid regarded her curiously. “Sally told me that under no circumstances am I supposed to allow you on that field. She said you’ll wind up on a stretcher, like back in college.”
Hannah tightened her ponytail and stepped out onto the field. “Tell Sally I arm wrestled you to the ground for your spot on the team.”
The bridesmaid’s mouth twisted. “Yeah, and while I’m at it, I’ll let her know I just won the cover for Sports Illustrated.”
“Thanks for the support.”
With that final word, she half jogged, half tripped across the field. The crowd had grown around the football tackle scene. Henry appeared past the point of waving his white flag and Nate, well, he hadn’t given an inch by moving off the guy. Had he completely lost his mind? Suddenly, the flag bitch-slapped Henry across the face. Yep, her fake fiancé had drank the crazy wedding guest Kool-Aid.
Deep breaths, deep breaths.
She shook out the nerves forming a knot in her belly and approached the two guys now giving her a migraine. “Hey, Nate. You and Henry have sort of caused a scene. What do you say about releasing your flag-football prisoner?”
Nate tilted his head back and looked at her. “We’re just creating a fun memory, isn’t that right, Henry?”
The man she’d once considered possibly being “the one” winced. “You’re fiancé is crazy, Hannah. If he doesn’t get the fuck off me, I’m filling a complaint with the cops.”
“You called her a slut,” Nate growled, digging a kneecap into Henry’s side. “I could do a whole lot worse than making you look like a pussy on the flag football field. Tell me to hit him, Hannah. Or better yet break his goddamn nose.”
Henry’s glasses slipped a smidgen down his nose when his upper lip edged into a snarl. “Look, I’m just stating the obvious here. You two got engaged fairly quickly after we broke up.” Henry paused, the nasty gleam in his eyes growing more intense by the minute. “I also talked to an old family friend of mine. You might know him, Nate. Steve Urban?”
The stunned expression on Nate’s face told everything, but he kept quiet.
“He said he first heard about Chrome’s owner tying the knot after the porn-shop arrest headlines,” Henry added. “Sudden, don’t you think?”
“Running a goddamn background check on me?” Nate growled. “How Hannah and I got engaged and our relationship is no concern to you, Henry. I also think you should know I fucking loathe cheaters. I think you all deserve a nice little spot in hell to rot.”
“Enough,” Hannah heard her voice spike an octave.
“I can’t believe you dated this bastard.” Nate’s eyebrows rose in question. “He’s some piece of work.”
She glared at Nate. He shot her the same rude look back.
A painful pit yawned wide open in her chest. She looked at Nate’s wild eyes, then at Henry. Normally she would’ve buried her face in her hands and took off running, allowing the mortifying situation to beat her. But two things came into play. First, Hannah knew Nate cared enough about her to cause a scene even though the Barbie twins from sophomore British Lit were whispering as if she’d started the siege of Troy. The second thing was harder to decipher, but she knew one way or another she had to get Nate off the field and calmed down before the bride-to-be came back from her spa day.
Several more wedding guests surrounded the huddle, and Henry chose that moment to give her a nasty smirk. She was done with the funny business.
Planting her hands on her hips, Hannah stood her ground. “For starters, Henry, next time you call me a slut I’ll sucker punch you myself,” she said. “And, Nate, thanks for standing up for me, but this isn’t fun. You’re way better than starting a fight with some cheating lab rat.”
Nate looked at her, his baby blues almost appearing resentful. Hands flew up in defense, and then Nate climbed to his tennis shoes. “You know, you’re right, Hannah.” He dusted his hands on his legs and turned to the wedding guests. “Sorry for ruining the football game, but no asshole is going to call my fiancée names. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get out of your way.”
Sunlight pierced Hannah’s eyes as she watched him stalk off in the direction of their hotel, and something else, more crushing, pierced her heart. She hadn’t meant for Nate to wiggle himself a spot into her life again, but he had. And instead of making the situation better, she’d managed to hurt the one person at the wedding who actually mattered to her.
“My husband and I used to fight like that.” A firm hand patted her shoulder, making Hannah jump. She glanced to her side, finding the freckled bridesmaid staring at her. “He was a good man, too. Always had my back, even when I was a stupid fool.”
“Sounds nice.”
“It was,” the bridesmaid confirmed. “That’s why, honey, I’m going to call you stupid if you continue to stand next to me instead of chasing after that man of yours. I’ll make sure the pansy here gets a Band-Aid for his boo-boo.”
Hannah smiled, knowing exactly how she intended on fixing Nate’s boo-boo. With a talk that started by calling the elephant out in the room and hopefully ended in a kiss. “Sure you can handle that mopey guy on the field?”
The bridesmaid nodded. “I might let him roll around a few times so he can make an even bigger fool of himself. But yeah, I got this.”
“Thanks,” she said, smiling.
And then Hannah took off in the same direction as the guy she intended on kissing senseless until they both saw stars.
Nate shook his head.
In the
abso-fucking-lutely stupid scheme of things, cooking up a plan to play Hannah’s lover ranked number one. She’d taken his goddamn breath away, insanity included. And like usual, he’d allowed his good intentions to fly out the window so he could right a wrong.
Throat punching the asshole who’d once claimed Hannah as his. Something Nate would never be privy to, and oddly that hurt worse than maybe losing the Urban Chopper deal.
He’d stirred up another shit storm, although this time the mess he’d created was playing a number on his heart. He raked a hand through his hair and marched across the hotel room, ready to pack his belongings and bail rather than confront the situation when he heard the hotel room door fling open.
Hannah stepped inside. “I’m sorry. This wedding weekend has caused you so much trouble, including me.”
“What? No, I’m the one who should be saying sorry.” He stared, exceptionally confused that she was apologizing when he’d been the one to embarrass her in front of the wedding guests. “I caused the trouble. I did after all sock Henry in front of all your friends. He’s a bastard, but I should’ve walked away,” he said through clenched teeth. “God, you deserve so much better.”
Heat swept her cheeks, and she lifted both hands to press them to her flesh. “Trouble compliments pathetic really nicely, I hear.”
He traced a knuckle along her cheek. “Hannah, you aren’t pathetic.”
“I’m socially awkward.”
He stepped into her and placed his hands at her waist. “We can be awkward together.”
A beat passed between them. “I pulled a coward move by ignoring the fact that all I want to do is kiss the man I’ve been crazy for most of my life.”
Swallowing, he gripped her by the hips and moved them toward the wall, pinning her body in place with his rock-hard chest. He smiled. Nimble fingertips reached out and touched his arm. Like a hurricane, desire tunneled through him. “Good. Because I can’t stop thinking about that kiss and all the things I want to do to you as a follow-up.”
