“Pardon?”
“You know, the song? Love ‘em and leave ‘em fast.”
“No. I’m not a Little Red Corvette.” His face scrunched comically. “Where the hell did that expression come from?”
“My mom uses it,” she chuckled timorously.
“I’ve got no problem committing to the right person, but as you pointed out, I’m merely a check list to the greater population of women in Texas. Plus, I’ve been a little busy growing my business. Sometimes, something’s gotta give. For me, that something is my personal life.”
Hmfff
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I just figured you to be a good multitasker.”
What the hell is wrong with me? Ember averted her face, so he couldn’t see her eyes bulge wide at her own ridiculousness. She heard a deep, husky, sensual laugh escape him.
“Oh, I’m a pretty good multitasker.”
Heat.
Heat spread everywhere.
Ember cleared her throat. “Reed said earlier that you built the Harris Towers before going into the oil business. What made you switch careers?”
His eyes glazed over disclosing a hint of strained vacancy. “It’s a long story. One that usually requires a drink.”
Reaching over the side of the bench, she retrieved her glass of Sangria, offering, “I happen to have a drink available.”
“I’m more of a whiskey kind of guy.” The poignancy disappeared from his eyes as quick as it arrived. His gaze held to her mouth as she took a long sip of the fruity concoction.
“Reed mentioned that you were gifted—at finding oil, I mean,” she said unsteadily.
“I’m good at what I do,” he assured, arrogance seeping into a filthy grin.
Shit! This conversation is moving all kinds of sideways on me…and he’s loving every damn minute.
His tone turned quiet and teasing. “I was warned earlier that this is a party and I’m supposed to put business aside for the evening. I’d be happy to talk next week over dinner and drinks.”
Before her brain could begin to process the question, or was it a suggestion, a barrage of fluorescent yellow nerf balls launched from behind the wide trunk of the old oak, pummeling Nash in an all-out assault.
After a quick beat, the initial shock and element of surprise wore off. His dark lashes dusted shut as he shook his head anticipating his revenge. He half grumbled, and half laughed, “You’ll have to excuse me.”
Nash pushed himself to his feet and tore out after his niece and nephew, Annie and Andrew, who were already reloading for their second attack. He bent at the waist mid-run, grabbing a handful of yellow nerf balls, slinging them as he ran after the twins. Annie’s squeals of delight rang through the night when he clutched her around the waist like a quarterback carrying a football, chasing Andrew into the shadows.
Smiling ear to ear, Ember collected her glass and sauntered toward the fire pit. JC sported an insufferable grin, but somehow managed to mercifully keep her thoughts to herself.
Relinquishing her empty glass to the bartender in exchange for water, Ember melted into the comfort of an Adirondack style chair. The stress of the week began to dissolve under the Texas night sky full of stars.
Throughout the evening, she caught Nash looking her direction between roaming conversations and throwing a few rounds of horseshoes. She didn’t miss the fact that women, married and single, seemed to gravitate toward the game when he played. She couldn’t blame them. Every time he tossed a shoe, they were rewarded with a great view of his ass. Not to mention, the flexing and cording of his long muscular arms. One girl in particular appeared to be single and hunting for a good time.
Ember attempted to pay attention to the discussions taking place around the fire, but her gaze kept drifting back to Nash and the attractive young woman at his side. Her stomach twisted in an icy knot watching them together. The girl kept tilting her head to the side, playing with her long coppery hair that flowed over one shoulder. Her laugh, which seemed a little too loud and insincere, carried through the back yard sending chills down Ember’s back like nails scratching on a chalkboard.
“Hey, Ember. Nice to see you again.” Sam’s bold, rough voice pulled her from her jealous haze.
“Hi Sam.”
Looking up, Ember couldn’t help but notice the differences between the two brothers. Though she considered Sam to be handsome, he didn’t wear Nash’s striking good looks. Sam exuded a much more relaxed persona and his bold, charismatic disposition made him the life of the party.
Orneriness shined brightly in his boyish smirk. “Could I tempt you with some apple pie?”
“Absolutely. Apple pie is my favorite.”
Sam held up a finger indicating he’d be right back, returning moments later with a pint-sized mason jar filled with what appeared to be apple cider over ice.
Unable to conceal her disappointment, a frown tugged between her brows.
“Now, you can’t be making that face. You haven’t even tried it yet.”
“I thought you meant baked pie. What is that?” she asked, taking a whiff.
“Honey, this here is a party in a jar. It contains more giggles and mischief than you can conjure up in a year.”
“Maybe two,” Reed added, joining the circle of guests surrounding the fire.
Ember took a sip of the wicked concoction. A smooth, yet fiery, river of sweet apples and cinnamon sticks slipped down her throat. “Oooo this is yummy. It tastes just like apple pie in a jar.”
“A jar that can make you spiritually depart from the planet,” Reed advised. “It should come with a cautionary label. Drink at your own risk! Or Caution! This could cause your clothes to fall off! Or Warning! Tables may mysteriously appear beneath your feet.”
JC joined the group, eyeing her husband lasciviously as she teased, “Hey, I loved every moment of you dancing on the table that night.”
Ember took another swallow. “It doesn’t taste very strong. What is this deliciousness?”
Nash’s voice startled her. “It’s moonshine and it’s not for the faint of heart.”
The redhead poked her head out from behind Nash’s shoulder, sitting beside him when he lowered into the chair next to Ember.
Seeing the woman so close illuminated her youthful facial features, churning up a large dose of contempt in the pit of Ember’s stomach. Desperately needing to conceal the sour look creeping over her face, she took a long draw from the straw. The iced drink set fire to her insides as the alcohol slipped past her tongue and down her throat, numbing the dull ache in her chest.
The young woman batted her lashes. “Ooo, I’d like to try it.”
“I don’t think so,” Nash and Sam assured simultaneously.
“Laci, you’re not old enough to drink and I don’t think your dad—” Nash scowled, motioning to a man standing near the bar. “—would appreciate it if Sam gave you moonshine.”
The girl leaned over the arm of her chair, murmuring in his ear. The whisper was meant just for Nash, but her squeaky voice was loud enough for Ember to catch. “I may not be old enough to drink, but I told you, I’m legal now.”
Ember’s image of Nash dimmed with every word coming out of Laci’s mouth. The mere idea that he would consider sleeping with the girl at his side, no matter how tempting, tarnished the brightness of their previous conversation.
To her surprise, Nash scowled. Annoyance flashed in his eyes, disregarding Laci with a brief, transparent glare.
As the night continued, the girl seemed oblivious to his cold shoulder. The infatuation she held for Nash was mildly tolerated but not reciprocated in the least. His rebuff only seemed to encourage her needy behavior. Her bubbly words were scattered with no real meaning or interest, filling in the blank spaces between breaths with giggles.
At one point, Nash turned to Ember directly and rolled his eyes in a pleading fashion. Fingers circled around her half drank glass jar of moonshine, Ember grinned mischievously, motioning he
r index finger in a checkmark.
The private joke caused them both to laugh out loud.
After an hour of listening to the girl’s non-stop chatter, Ember decided she’d endured all the flashbacks from her high school years that she could bear. Rising from her chair, the 190-proof alcohol hit all her reflexes at once. Her legs felt numb and uncoordinated causing her to stagger.
She didn’t even see Nash get up, but he was at her side, cupping her by the elbow, steadying her wobbles.
“Whoa. That snuff is strong.” Her tongue felt thick and heavy. Ember tilted her chin upward, witnessing a blur of his white smile. She tried again, enunciating her words a bit slower, “That stuff is strong…not snuff. I said it wrong, didn’t’ I?”
“Yeah, it’s okay. You got it right the second time.”
Her eyes squinted gauging the distance from the fire pit to the house. The longer she contemplated putting one foot in front of the other, the more she swayed.
“You want me to walk with you to the house?”
“Na, I’m good. I got this.” She started to walk, but her impaired motor skills left her clumsy.
“I’m heading that direction anyway. I’ll walk with you. Maybe we can get JC to make some coffee.”
“Okay.” Looping her arm through his they trekked toward the house. Ember shoved the glass toward him. “Here, I shouldn’t drink anymore of this. Whew, man, I’m a little buzzed.”
“Ya think?”
“Coffee’s a brilliant idea, Nash. I definitely need some before I can drive home.” The surprise in her voice sounded as if it was the best idea she’d ever heard in her life. “You know, I don’t really drink very often.”
“I would’ve never guessed.”
“I know you’re teasing me.”
Keeping one arm behind her back, Nash stopped to open the sliding back door. Ember teetered and pitched forward, inadvertently shoving him back a step until his shoulder landed against the doorjamb. She didn’t move, merely snuggled up against the firm muscles of his chest.
“Sorry.” Tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, she flashed him an apologetic smile. Shaky laughter jumped in her throat, bouncing up and down with each breath. “Kind of. Not really. Can we just stand here for a sec. You feel so comfortable—which is so weird because your chest is like—rock hard.”
A soft rumble recoiled beneath her cheek. His fingers stroked lightly over her hair.
“Are you comfy, Ember?” JC snickered, passing through the open door.
“Yes, I am.” Forcing herself from his torso, she pulled her eyes wide for focus. “Hey, where’d you come from?”
“Would you mind making some coffee?” Nash asked, keeping Ember upright.
“I was just coming inside to brew a pot. I need to have a chat with your brother. If he’s going to bring that moonshine, he needs to mix it with more cider.”
“No! That stuff is soooo good.”
“My point exactly.”
Nash assisted her inside and down the hallway, only releasing her arm when they reached the bathroom. After taking the longest pee of her life, Ember splashed a little cold water on her face and rinsed her mouth. Making her way back to the kitchen she found JC and Reed huddled around the marble island with Nash, talking in hushed voices.
JC poured her a cup of strong coffee and Nash pushed a silver platter loaded with bite-size sandwiches Ember’s direction, encouraging her to eat.
“Thanks. Sorry, I don’t know what happened. One minute I was fine and the next…”
“No need to apologize, hon. It happens to the best of us.” Reed handed her a bottle of water.
“You can crash in the spare bedroom.”
“I’ll be fine once I get some food in me. I haven’t eaten since lunch.” Glancing up from her turkey and provolone on rye, Ember witnessed a shared glance, riddled with concern, passing between the three of them.
“I’ll give you a lift home. I’m going right next door.”
“That’s nice of you to offer, but—”
“Take your pick,” JC insisted in a harsh chiding tone. “You’re either staying here, which is totally fine, or Nash is giving you a lift, but you’re not driving.”
Ember’s lashes fluttered in a beat of rapid successions, eyes darting between their serious glares. She downed half a bottle of water washing down the last bite of her sandwich.
Her gaze swung to Nash. “You really don’t mind giving me a ride? Monty and I are going over—” She stopped abruptly, not wanting to talk about the ranch in front of him. “I have plans tomorrow.”
“I don’t mind.” The rigid brackets surrounding Nash’s full lips softened. “I’ll take you home.”
Those four little words could be construed several different ways.
She just wasn’t completely sure how she wanted to take them.
Chapter 11
Ember
Life is meant to take chances.
It took exactly three songs to get Nash to sing along with her as she belted out song after song on the ride home. His deep, rich tone shredded every country melody.
Coffee kicked in, trumping any effects of lingering alcohol. Ember’s body moved to the bass. She snapped her fingers with the beat, singing along with “America’s Sweetheart” by Elle King as it blared through the speakers of his fully restored 1967 Chevy truck. Dancing in her seat, she raised her arms drumming her hands on the headliner of his truck.
The chemistry between them rose to a new peak of a mountain she’d never climbed. She knew damn well she was pushing the envelope. The man hadn’t peeled his eyes off her all night.
And she liked it.
A lot.
Shared looks, full of yearning and desire, passing between them were mutual.
The alcohol that had simmered in her blood earlier had completely worn off by the time she caught a glimpse of the Walker Ranch sign through the windshield. He turned onto the roughly paved road and the wind whipped through her hair, loose strands sticking to her glossed lips. Slipping a finger between her skin and hair, she brushed the stray strands from her mouth.
“You Look Good” by Lady Antebellum came on and she slowed her groove. The words of the song settled into her heart with meaning. Ember hung her arm out the window riding the push of warm night air like a wave, heart thundering along with the hum of tires.
Turning to drink in another glimpse of his handsome profile, her body heated with each visual caress.
“Nash,” she purred. “You look really good.”
The curve of his wide smile turned her insides into a rhythmic chaos.
“I think that shine made you delirious.”
“That shine wore off a long time ago.”
“That so?” His tone, low and hungry, teased along every nerve ending she possessed.
“Yes.”
She moistened her lips with a sweep of her tongue. It was all she could do to keep herself from crawling over the bench seat and into his lap. She wanted to unbuckle. She wanted to kiss his gorgeous mouth, lick the taut muscle cording down the side of his neck, slip the tips of her fingers beneath the collar of his shirt. The mere thought of running her hands over his bare chest sent shivers rocketing through her body, tremors struck so deep it made her shoulder flinch.
“In that case, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
As the truck came to a stop outside the house, she turned toward him, her stare boring into his blue eyes gleaming under the full moon. “That’s not the oil talkin’ is it?”
Some men might’ve taken offense to the direct question, but he simply held her gaze, offering a half shake of his head. His throat bounced as he swallowed. “No, sweetheart. Oil’s got nothing to do with this. At least not on my end.”
“Just to be clear, this is personal not business, right?”
“You can arrange the question however you’d like, but my answer is still going to be the same.”
Nash climbed out of the truck and came around to
her side, opening the passenger door. Moonlight filled the cab, shadowing the lines of his face. Her fingers fumbled with the seat belt trying to unbuckle, but it was stuck. He ducked his head inside and reached across her mid-section to fuss with the jammed latch.
“It’s a little temperamental.”
Nerves danced, her brain raced, and her stomach did half a dozen quick somersaults. She wasn’t breathing well. Her body throbbed everywhere they touched; his arm, his shoulder, his torso, brushed against her as he worked to release the buckle.
Her chest heaved, each fractured breath spindling into tiny gusts.
Ember’s hand trembled as she laid it on his shoulder. Without thinking or any hesitation, she thread her fingers into the layers of his thick dark hair.
The latch clicked.
As he lifted his head it felt like all the air had been sucked from the cab of the truck. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, but blood charged through her veins as she lifted her other hand to the opposite side of his face, cradling his jaw.
Their breath mingled, gusting over her face as if they’d just finished a marathon. If she wasn’t so turned on, she’d be utterly mortified by the franticness laden in each dramatic exhale.
Nash leaned in and pressed his full lips to hers.
The kiss was soft and sweet…hesitant.
Brushing his nose to hers, his eyes turned lazy with desire, slowly reaching inside her, settling the rush of nerves coiling through her tummy. In one swift move, he removed the seat belt from her shoulder and took hold of her hips, scooting her sideways until her legs dangled over the edge of the seat and he stood between her knees.
The elusive scent of him coasted through her senses as her hands slipped over his shoulders, fingers knotting into the hair at his nape.
Nash cupped her jaw in the palm of his hands, stroking. Needing more contact, she eased closer, tilting her neck. His mouth wandered over her cheek and neck with deliberate slowness, the rasp of his shaven face drew a low moan from her throat.
The unhurried exploration caused her to tremble uncontrollably. “Nash?”
Catching Ember (Buckle Up Series Book 1) Page 12
