Nashville Crush

by Bethany Michaels

  Trent brought one hand up her back to tangle in her long thick hair. It was as soft as he'd imagined and he wrapped it around his wrist, holding her head just where he wanted it.

  Her hands roamed now, too, over his bare back, her nails tripping lightly down the line of his spine to the waist if his underwear. Lower, over his backside, welcoming him, begging him for more.

  He slid his hands to her waist and then back up over the curves of her hips, taking the thin top with them, baring her skin to the night.

  She groaned again, digging her nails in, pulling him closer.

  Two damp layers of cotton. That was all that prevented them from doing this. He could have them both naked and be buried in all her wet hot depths in under ten seconds. Five if she helped. This was happening. It was really happening.

  Without a conscious thought, he moved her towards the wall of the house. He backed her against the warm brick, braced his hands on either side of her head and moved his mouth along her jaw, then down the chords of her neck. He didn't trust himself to touch her again with his hands, not yet. Not yet.

  It had been so long since he’d allowed passion for anything to consume him. He couldn't stop, couldn’t think—the only thing he wanted was to bury himself inside Patterson and push them both to climax with deep hard strokes, to feel the near painful clench and then the release, to hear her cries of ecstasy and know he was the cause.

  But Trent wanted it now. God, did he want it. The world had gone from black and white to Technicolor in the space of a heartbeat, all because of the woman in his arms who fired his blood and beat back the darkness.

  "Trent," she said in a soft breathy whisper that only made him harder. His name on her lips. Jesus, God, he was going to come before he even got them naked. His hands went to the front of her shorts and slipped inside. His fingers brushed damp curls.

  "Trent," she said, more insistent now.

  He raised his head, but his fingers delved lower, seeking her heat.

  "Do you have condoms?"

  He stared at her stupidly for a second. He couldn't see her face in the shadows of the house, out of the porch light. Condoms. Shit.

  Condoms.

  Sex.

  Sex with Patterson.

  He jumped back as if she was hot lava. The real world came crashing back. The reality that he was making out with Hank’s niece and a heartbeat ago had every intention of fucking her senseless until she'd asked the logical question that brought him back to Earth.

  "If you don't, I have some over...uh, in my bag."

  At Hanks' house. Her uncle. Not to mention he would not get involved with a married woman. Or an almost married woman or a woman with an unresolved relationship with a boyfriend she may or may not love. Or with a woman almost a decade younger than him. Or with Patterson.

  He took another step back, his breath ratcheting through his chest, hitching on the intake like he'd never catch his breath again.

  "Do you want me to go get some?" Her voice was breathy, too.

  He didn't answer as the full realization of what was happening her crashed down on him like a million pounds of lead shot.

  "No."

  "No?" Confusion was evident in her whiskey-laced voice. "You don't like...I mean I don't—"

  He summoned a reserve of strength he didn't know he had. "I mean this isn't happening."

  There was a beat during which the only thing Trent heard was his rapid heartbeat and two people's ragged breathing. He put another foot of space between them just to be safe.

  "What?"

  "I can't, Patterson." The words he need to explain didn't make it from his brain to his mouth. "I can't do this. Not with you." He shoved a hand through his hair. "Sorry." He practically ran for the French doors and slipped into the dark familiar interior of his fortress, leaving Patterson safely on the outside of the glass.

  *****

  Patterson was not a morning person, but since she'd spent most of the night rolling around in Trent's guest room sheets, alone, she figured she may as well get up when the first rays of dawn pierced the blinds on her window.

  She'd heard Trent leave the house already. He obviously wasn't ready to face an awkward morning after, even though it wasn't really after anything since he'd shut them down last night. And to be honest, that suited her just fine. She hadn't the slightest idea what to say to him, either.

  Embarrassing? Yes. Frustrating? That too. Did he regret touching her? Did she not do it for him? She wasn't the tall, slender blond he'd claimed was his type but the sizable erection pressed into her had said that he liked her well enough to use it.

  Not with you. What the hell was a girl supposed to do with that? And with the hot, needy weight that made her sex throb? Guys always talked about blue balls but it was no picnic for a woman to get all worked up and then be disappointed, either. Sure, she could have taken care of it herself, but honestly she as too pissed off by the time she'd paced the back patio pondering Trent's words and sudden ice king act to even think about finishing what he'd started.

  Rejection sucked. Even if the whole sleeping with her uncle's friend had probably not been the best thought-out plan. It was honest and in the moment. And it was just sex. Nobody was proposing. She didn't want to be his girlfriend. She just wanted to have a couple hours of fun and Trent had definitely had her motor running. They were both adults and both single, well mostly single. Was that so bad?

  There was something more than that, though, something that drew Patterson to him. She wanted to know about him on a deeper level. There was something damaged she yearned to heal, in herself or him she didn't know. She didn't care to go poking around in that psychological quicksand right now, though. For now she'd just stay pissed off.

  Patterson showered and slipped into a cute little dress printed with sunny pink flowers and sandals before taking the time to style her hair and apply make-up. She wasn't dressing up for him, she assured herself. She had some things to do. Hanging around Trent's house wondering what the hell had made him so skittish was just a waste of time. She headed down to the kitchen.

  He'd left a note on the kitchen island: "Gone fishing. T." Whatever. Patterson poured a glass of orange juice, and seeing Trent's iPad sitting on the counter, grabbed it to check what time the Apple Store opened. She made an appointment with the Genius Bar, and wrote down the directions to where the Green Hills store was located, since she was without GPS.

  Patterson checked her e-mail while she was at it. There were two messages about male enhancement drugs, one notice that she'd wanted international lottery and three e-mails from X. She rolled her eyes and closed application.

  When she did she saw there was an iNotes file open and she couldn’t help but scan it. It looked like song lyrics. It only took a few seconds to realized that Trent was a talented songwriter—or retired songwriter, as he’d claimed. The most closed man she’d ever met in her life could write a hell of a broken-heart ditty.

  It spoke of love and loss, poetry in the form of a country song. She could almost hear the steel guitar behind the lyrics and Trent’s deep voice resonating with drawn out syllables that would have women swooning in the aisles. She closed the file, feeling like she’d just violated his most private thoughts. Even though she was miffed at him, he was entitled to his privacy.

  She looked to the list of other files and was shocked to see there were dozens of files of what appeared to be song lyrics. So he wasn’t as retired he'd said. He was writing. He just was a sharing or publishing. Or recording.

  Everybody had to have an outlet. Song-writing was Trent’s whether he chose to share his talent with anyone or not.

  Patterson looked at the clock. She was going to have to get going if she was going to make her appointment at the Apple Store.

  Thirty minutes later Patterson arrived at the store, frustrated with the traffic and congestion of the Green Hills area she’d had to fight through to get there. It was a cool place with lots of upscale shops and restaurants but she would re
ally have to be motivated to brave the traffic again. And that was saying something for an L.A. girl.

  Patterson found Apple Store and presented her damaged phone to the tech. He raised an eyebrow when pool water dripped on his worktable and told her the phone was beyond help. She could pay the 300 bucks and get a warranty replacement one—someone else’s refurbished phone—or she could to scrap the whole thing and get a new phone altogether.

  She went with plan B, which meant she’d have to finish the projects sitting on her desk as soon as possible to get some money flowing into her bank account.

  After the tech showed her how to transfer all her data from her old phone to her new one, Patterson switched everything on and instantly a barrage of text messages hit her screen. They were all from X.

  Where R U?

  Please respond??

  I'm sorry baby

  I love you

  Please call me

  Patterson’s chest tightened. When did X get so clingy? If she married him, was he going to be this way forever? She needed space to breathe. It wasn't going to work. Of course she'd known that when she left L.A., if she was honest with herself. She just hadn’t wanted to say it. It had been easier to run away, just like Trent had said, damn it.

  (ADD MORE DOWNTOWN NASHVILLE COLOR/DETAILS) Patterson didn’t feel like going home or rather back to Trent’s house. Instead she drove around Nashville stopping at the farmers market. Tuesday it was a very busy and she wandered along the stalls outside examining all the fruits and vegetables and other where's the people were selling. She bought a few apples, some oranges, and a few tomatoes that looks pretty good as well as a jar salsa made locally. Afterwards she took her things next door were she'd noticed a small park (Describe park)

  Today was sunny and promised to be warm and sticky as yesterday but right now fairly early in the morning was cool in the shade an overall pleasant. She was a cold-weather girl so that he didn't really bother her. The trees were in salt. Her bloom sweet gums magnolias and others shading the then she sat on. The grass was green and him did moan recently the son of the tickling her nostrils. Flowers were planted everywhere bringing up the space punctuating the green with reds and yellows and pinks. Upon the hill at the far end of the park that the Tennessee state house. It looked like he was watching of the city.

  She liked the way the Cumberland River split the city into. She liked all the green spaces. She liked that the city had culture but was also down-home and down-to-earth and friendly. Just like a small town. In LA everything was dirty and smoggy and concrete. Except for the beach. She'd miss the beach.

  Patterson liked Nashville. Maybe she'd stay for a while. Not at Uncle Hank’s house, not after what had happened with Trent. She needed to find an apartment and get more income coming in. She had a friend who’d moved out here from L.A. a couple of years or so ago—maybe she’d catch up with him and see if he knew of any jobs or someone looking for a roommate. She hadn't seen him since he’d moved but she kept up with him on social media and during her flight out here she’d texted him to let her know she was going to be in town.

  She texted her friend who worked at one of the bars downtown. He texted right back and invited her to come by later in the afternoon when the bar opened to visit and maybe have a drink and catch up. She accepted. Patterson walked down around downtown just looking at all the bars and tourist places. During the day the city look different. At night it was lit up with neon lights flashing and tourists milling about and music filled the air everywhere she went. During the day was quiet as if the whole blocks downtown were sleeping in. Which they probably were since most musicians played late into the night. And the bars closed it to. Still Patterson held a home here. She picked up the Nashville scene and stuck it in her handbag it looked pretty cool and maybe it was a place where she could put an ad for cover artist.

  By then it was almost noon and sweat dripped down her neck. What she really wanted to do was get back to the house, change and get something tall and cold to drink. Maybe go for a swim. She wondered if Trent was back from his fishing trip/escape.

  What the hell was she going to say to him when she did see him? Should she just pretend that none of that had ever happened? Right. Like that was possible. She was pretty sure that whenever she saw Trent in the future, that searing kiss would be all she could think about. But she refused to run and hide. She was going to be Trent’s houseguest for a little while longer, or at least his neighbor. It was best to deal with everything head-on.

  Patterson pulled into Hanks' drive way half an hour later, behind a blue pick-up she didn't recognize. There was a ladder sticking out of the back and the bed was full of tools and boards and buckets. She went around to the back of the house curiously and once she'd entered the gate, found Dan hard at work on the door. But he wasn't alone. Trent was with him.

  She stared at them two of them for a moment. She should snap a picture and send it to her girlfriends. They were beautiful men, both shirtless and sweating in the afternoon sunshine, wrestling what looked like a very heavy door into the gaping hole in the back of Uncle Hank’s house.

  Patterson waited until they were done, not wanting to startle them and have them drop the thing.

  "I thought we were just going with new glass?" She asked. “It looks like you’re replacing the whole shebang.”

  Dan turned to her and smiled, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He wore a pair of tight jeans and a toolbelt slung low around his hips.

  "Patterson. You're looking lovely as always."

  "Thanks," she said. "I didn't expect to see you for, what two weeks you said?" Patterson looked around the patio. The boys had cleaned up all the broken glass still on the patio and removed the old door, one side still intact and leaning against the house. Hopefully it could be salvaged.

  Dan's gaze slid to Trent, who was frowning and not meeting Patteron’s gaze. "Kev called me this morning to talk about the project," Dan said and Patterson knew he was holding something back. "And we decided just to replace the whole door so you wouldn't have to wait."

  Ah. Trent wanted her out of his house. That was what was really going on. And could she really blame him? It was better this way. They could keep the distance between them, which is obviously what Trent wanted. Fine, then.

  "Great. Thanks, guys." The door had to be much more expensive that the $400 or so Patterson had expected to pay for the glass. Uncle Hank had told her not to worry about it, but she felt bad and since he was letting her crash at his place, she felt like she wanted to do it herself, even if it meat emptying out the last of her bank account. She'd really have to find some work, now, what with the phone she'd just bought, the door, finding an apartment and then having all her stuff shipped out from LA. Maybe she should see if there was a waitress gig available or maybe she could get a job at the bar her friend managed, just until she got some graphic design work and got on her feet again. That's right, she could do it all on her own, She didn't need a babysitter.

  "Can I get you guys something to drink?" She looked at Dan and smiled. He really was handsome and sweet. It was hard to believe what Trent had said about him, about him being a player. But even if it was true, who cared? She liked to play. Maybe she'd ask him about the tour he'd promised. That would really send Trent around the bend.

  "Sweet tea, Dan?"

  "Absolutely. Thanks, darlin'."

  "No problem at all." She beamed at him, turning up the flirt factor.

  "There's some in the fridge," Trent said through clenched teeth. "You know where the glasses are."

  He said it like she'd been living there for years, not hours, and she wondered if it was for Dan's benefit. Like staking his territory or something. Territory he'd made clear he didn't want any part of last night.

  Not with you.

  "Oh, Dan. I'm glad you're here. I wanted to take you up on your offer. You know for the tour?"

  He glanced at Trent out of the corner of her eyes and saw him frowning. Good.

  "Sure thi
ng. When would you like to go?"

  "Whenever you're not busy. I'm free and open."

  He smiled wider at that, picking up on her double entendre. She didn't look at Trent again, but could almost feel the animosity coming from him.

  "How about tomorrow night? We could grab some dinner and then I'll show you around town."

  "Sounds great."

  Dan took a hammer out of his tool belt. "I’ll look forward to it."

  "Me, too." She threw him another flirty, suggestive smile and headed out the gate back to Trent's house to get the tea. She could feel two sets of eyes on her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  "What are you doing?" Dan's voice was low and held a hint of humor in it.

  Trent had woken up in a foul mood. He'd gone to the lake to be alone and do some fishing, but that hadn't helped either, so he'd called Dan to see if there was any way he could get the door fixed today. After last night, he needed some space from Patterson. He'd been able to stop the madness that had nearly caused him to make this biggest mistake of his life—well, second biggest mistake—but if he had to spend one more night alone with her, he just didn't know if he was strong enough to resist her.

  "Caulking the door," Trent said, concentrating on getting an even bead around the perimeter of the new door.

  "You know what I mean."

  Trent stopped caulking and looked at Dan. "What?"

  Dan sighed. "There's clearly something between you and Patterson. I'm not blind. You two got something going on? Because if you do—"

  "No, there's nothing going on," he said tightly.

  "So there's no reason you want her out of your house so much you were willing go out and spend over $1000 on a whole new door, and cover the $400 for the replacement glass I'd already ordered for the old one? Plus the double labor you offered to pay since I had to call someone else in to finish the job I was supposed to be working this morning?

  "No."

  Dan laughed. "I'm calling bullshit on that one, buddy. I haven't seen you so worked up over a girl since Amy." Dan's smile faded. "Glad to see it, Kev. It's about time you let someone get to you."