by Regina Cole
“Touché,” Hunter said, then grinned at Nate. “I respect a man of few words, myself. How’s it hanging, Cowboy?”
Nate eyed the pair sitting at the bar. Before a few months ago, Hunter had been almost as antisocial as Nate felt. He wouldn’t say much to anyone unless it was an insult. But since he’d met Jesse, and fallen in love with her, he was much more open. Happier, even. Drake had a woman of his own too, and had recently popped the question.
If he was feeling the way he was feeling for almost any other reason, these two would be the ones he’d open up to. But since they were where they were, sitting in relationship bliss, and he was where he was, stuck in the most hellish of friend zones, they weren’t exactly who he wanted Dr. Phil-ing it up for him.
He shouldn’t say a goddamn word. But, the beer had other ideas.
“How do you do it?” Nate rubbed the edge of the label on the beer bottle, condensation slicking his finger down the glass. “What made them want to be with you?”
“What?” Hunter blinked at him, but Drake caught on a little faster.
“You mean the girls?”
Nate nodded. “Yeah. How did you—I mean, when did they start to—fuck, I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“Hold up there, Cowboy,” Hunter said, leaning close and frowning. “You got a girl?”
“No. Well, yes, but not—fuck.” He shouldn’t be doing this now. His brain was soggy with alcohol, and being that close to her all day had given him a helluva case of blue balls. Thinking clearly wasn’t on the menu tonight.
“Let me guess. You want her, but she’s not giving you the green light, and you don’t know what the fuck to do about it.”
“Yes.” Nate pointed directly at Drake, who was nodding sagely. “Exactly. What the fuck do I do?”
“Allison.”
Nate’s hand curled into a fist reflexively as her name dropped from Hunter’s lips. The bastard had the temerity to laugh. “Holy shit, it is her! That emcee from the bachelor auction. You were the one that got us set up to do it for her. Damn, son.” Hunter whistled through his teeth as Nate gritted his. “No country girl for you, huh?”
“Hunter, you might want to ease off there,” Drake said, grabbing his best friend’s shoulder and pulling him away from Nate. “He’s looking a little homicidal.”
For something to do, Nate reached for his beer and drained the last little bit of it. The bar wavered as he set the empty down, but he waved to Sparky for another anyway.
He could sleep this off tomorrow, and still be sober in time for his shift. But he couldn’t think about Allison for one more minute tonight, or he might do something drastic.
Like text her.
* * *
The phone trembled in her hand, and she put the thing on her dining room table in disgust.
It was morning, and she’d cleaned her house, gone for a run, had a long shower, had breakfast, and cleaned her house again.
But she still hadn’t managed to make the phone call she’d been trying to make since her eyes had popped open.
Shoving to her feet, she paced alongside the table, glancing out the windows as she passed. It was a beautiful morning. Chilly, a bit of Christmas in the air. The kind of morning that promised to become a beautiful day if it was given half a chance.
But she was a coward.
Sinking back into the chair just in front of her phone, she stared at it, recalling the sage advice she’d gotten the night before.
“Just rip the Band-Aid off.” Charlie had spoken around a mouthful of enchilada as if she was discussing nothing more important than a recent electricity bill. “Go to bed with him and see if you’re compatible. If you feel like you’re kissing your brother? Then there’s nothing there. But if he sizzles your panties? Why not see where you can take it?”
Everly had backed her up, and that surprised Allison. Everly was definitely more the cautious type. She was methodical in her decisions, didn’t do anything rashly. But she’d nodded.
“Charlie’s right. You won’t know what you can have until you jump into the deep end.” Her small, happy smile had set a knot of jealousy inside Allison’s chest.
She wanted to be that happy, that in love. To know that a good, faithful man would be waiting for her at home. Would share her problems, hold her hand and walk through life alongside her.
And Nate was exactly that kind of man. Damn it, she needed to try.
With sweaty palms, she grasped the phone in both hands and unlocked the screen.
Nate. Nathaniel. ‘Thaniel. Hey. It’s me. Want to hook up? I’m not wearing panties. I’ve got a problem, maybe you can help fix it? It’s a lack of you in my bed.
Every word she rehearsed in her head sounded stupid, fake, and desperate.
What should she say?
The chair’s legs scraped as she stood and paced some more. The movement might not be helping her think any clearer, but it was keeping her from throwing her fucking phone into the china cabinet, so it was useful.
Another snippet of memory from the previous night’s dinner popped into mind.
“You know,” Everly had said, drawing her spoon through the melting ice cream in her bowl, “You could just spend some time together and leave yourself open to any moves he might make.”
“But he doesn’t really make moves,” Allison had said, and then she’d remembered sitting on the lip of the sink, her legs wrapped around his hips as he’d tongue-fucked her mouth. Hadn’t that started with a simple shoulder massage from him? Whoops.
Charlie hadn’t seemed to notice her blush, she’d been too busy running with Everly’s idea.
“That’s true. You could bring him to the shelter so he can pick out that puppy, and then when you’re all happy and covered with puppy kisses you lean over, stare into his eyes, and have this moment.” She leaned on the last word as she halfway laid on the table, her nose mere inches from Allison’s as she sighed dramatically. “That’d be so fucking romantic. Covered in puppies with a hottie fireman beside you? Damn it, why does everyone else get the sexy firefighters?” Charlie had thumped her beer mug on the table so hard a little sloshed out.
The waitress had come by with the check then, so Allison had gotten distracted by paying the bill. But now that she thought about it again, the idea had merit.
It was just a day hanging out with her best friend. Start with the normal, and then try to jump into the deep end. That could work, right?
The phone was in her hand and ringing before she could start second-guessing. That was it. Her mind was made up, and one thing Allison Kurtz was damn good at, was the follow-through.
A rough-voiced “Hello” met her ears.
“Good morning, there, sunshine!”
He groaned, and she grinned. “Imbibe a little too much at the party?”
“I think I’ve still got the biggest part of a keg in my belly.”
“Well, scrape your happy ass out of bed and into the shower. I’m coming over with pancakes to soak up some of that beer, and then we’ve got a puppy to pick out.”
“God, Ally. I’ve got to be at work at four, I don’t know that today’s the best—”
“Hop to it, ‘Thaniel. I don’t want to be late.” She blew air kisses into the phone and cut the call without giving him a chance to wimp out.
She tucked her phone in the pocket of her slacks and pulled on the blazer she’d left hanging over the back of her dining room chair. Even though she’d had no intention of heading into the office, she always felt better when she dressed smartly. So what, if there was going to be dog hair all over her slacks? Allison was in charge when she dressed this way, and she had desperately needed the mental lift first thing.
But now?
She hummed as she set the alarm for her house and exited through the garage. Mama K’s Pancake House was only a mile away from Nate’s place, and she was going to get some wakey-wakey carbs for her firefighter. Then they were headed out to play with puppies, and then she was going to put the mo
ves on him, big time. It was still early, there should be plenty of time to get things taken care of before his shift began.
It was a plan, and plans always made her feel better.
The pancakes were ready when she got there—the benefits of having Mama K on speed dial—and she was climbing the newly repaired front steps of Nate’s porch only a couple minutes later.
She knocked, casting her eye over his yard.
He lived outside the city proper, which wasn’t that surprising. He’d always craved open spaces, room to house his projects. His land was at least three acres. Small, compared to his parent’s ranch out in McKinney, but still an impressive property for this close to Dallas. The huge, freestanding garage was almost double the size of his little clapboard house, which had been built sometime in the early seventies. Though the whole property had the air of age around it, everything was in good repair.
Nate had always loved fixing things.
The front door swung open, and Allison’s breath caught in her throat.
“Mornin’,” Nate grunted, rubbing his head with a small towel. Another was slung around his hips, leaving his thick, muscled upper body bare to her greedy gaze. His bicep was wreathed in a beautiful tattoo of wild mustangs in stampede, and it set off his toned arms to perfection.
Michelangelo wished he could have sculpted something that perfect.
Good God. What was wrong with her? She’d seen him shirtless a hundred times before, but now, as he turned away to pad barefoot down the hallway, with tiny droplets of water on his beautiful, tanned skin, her blood was thundering past her ears, down her body to pool in the pit of her stomach and begin a strong, hungry pulse.
“Shut the door, it’s cold.”
She obeyed without a word, nearly dropping the Styrofoam takeout containers as she did so.
God, this was going to be the longest day.
7
The hangover was fading around the edges, and Nate was grateful for the relief.
The aspirin he’d downed as soon as he’d gotten vertical was kicking in, and the shower had helped it along. After letting Allison in, he finished drying off and threw on some faded jeans and a Firehouse Three long-sleeved tee.
He wasn’t trying to impress her with his looks. If she hadn’t gone for him when he was wearing a borrowed designer suit, anything his closet could provide wasn’t going to cut it.
Pancakes, though, those were the real MVP when it came to cutting down the sense of nausea that had been churning in his stomach since his lids had slitted open. With the carbs settled happily in his belly, he and Allison climbed into her Audi to head over to Hopeful Paws. He usually went into work at noon, but today the chief had juggled some shifts around to let Chaz have a halfer, since he was just returned from medical leave and dying to get back into the groove. The extra time freed Nate up for this little trip, and he wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or not.
“Should probably take my truck,” Nate said as he folded himself damn near in half to get into her sports car. “If I find a dog and bring it home, I don't want it to mess up your car.”
“Don't worry about it,” Allison said as the driver’s side door shut behind her. “I'm not.”
The radio played quietly on the drive, and Allison didn’t say a word. Nate just let his head thump against the headrest, and used the quiet time to clear his brain.
Talking with Chaz, Hunter, and Drake the night before hadn’t helped as much as he’d hoped. The two yappers had both told him he should be honest with Allison about his feelings.
Nate had dismissed that idea instantly. How could he tell the most confident woman he knew that he’d been head-over-ass in love with her since he was about sixteen years old? Her divorce had only been final a little over three months. And besides, she’d sworn never to get involved with another man. The best way to lose her would be to reveal that all he’d ever wanted was a relationship with her.
But he couldn’t reconcile that fact with the idea that he was ready to risk everything to be with her. All he knew was that today wasn’t the day to pursue it. Not with the headache still echoing behind his eyeballs, and the fact that he’d have to be on duty late that afternoon.
He’d give himself a temporary reprieve, for now.
“Here we are,” Allison said as she cut the engine. Nate opened his eyes and looked over at the one-story beige building with a sky-blue roof. A tall tree was at the front corner of the lot, and a big blue-and-white paw print sign over the door said, “Hopeful Paws. Your new best friend is waiting!”
“Thanks for bringing me,” Nate said, getting out of the car. He shoved his hands in his pockets, wishing he’d somehow begged off.
This was awkward. Worse, it was uncomfortable. And Allison looked just as out-of-place as he felt.
The day was gray and chilly, and as they walked toward the front door, Nate glanced at the sky. Tiny, cold raindrops were darkening the light gray of his shirt.
“Messy day,” Nate said, and Allison nodded as he held open the front door for her.
Inside, the place was warm, dry, and cheery.
A smiling woman, her blonde braids much darker than Allison’s own golden tresses, rounded the counter. There was a muffled voice coming from somewhere off the lobby, probably the office he saw just beyond the counter. He couldn’t see who was talking though. They were much more in Allison’s line of sight than his.
“Hey there. I’m Charlie. You’re Nate, right? I met you at the fundraiser in the spring.”
Nate returned her smile and shook the hand she offered. “I remember. Nice to see you again, Charlie.”
Allison removed her coat and laid it carefully over her arm. “Nate here is looking for a hound dog.”
Charlie looked from Nate to Allison and back again, one blonde brow crooked high. She was silent for a long moment.
Nate looked over at Allison, who was at least six feet or more away from him. Huh. Charlie’s expression made much more sense now. Allison’s smile was tight, her grip on her coat was turning her knuckles white, and one toe was doing a nervous tap so fast it was difficult to see.
Ally was wound tighter than a tick. The vision made his spine tingle in warning, but he forced himself to relax.
He knew what the problem was. It was him. She was nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs because she was wondering if—or when—he’d put the moves on her again. Probably didn’t want to hurt his feelings by turning him down. She cared about her friend and wouldn’t want to do anything to disappoint him.
His mood soured further. Damn it. The last thing he’d wanted was to make things awkward between them. Allison was beyond special to him. She meant the world to him. And knowing he was making her life harder, not easier, was a bitter pill to swallow.
“Hound dog. Okay, I've got some in mind. What age are you looking for?” Charlie seemed to snap out of her reverie, and Nate was glad for it. Even if picking out a dog was the last thing he wanted to do today, he at least had to take a look, since she’d brought him there.
“I’m not real picky on the age, as long as it’s healthy and got a good amount of life to live yet.”
Charlie beckoned him toward the back, and he started to follow. At the big blue double-doors that led to the back of the shelter, he stopped and turned.
Allison was still standing in the same spot, only now she was frowning down at her cell phone.
“Everything okay?”
She shoved her phone back into her pocket and forced a smile to her face. The expression didn’t reach her eyes.
“Me? Oh, yeah, I'm totally fine. Just a work thing.”
“We can do this later, if you’re busy,” Nate said, stepping closer to her. “Honestly, there’s no rush.”
“No, no, no, don’t be silly. I made a promise, and we’re here to keep it.” Her laugh was louder than it needed to be, and as she reached her arm through his that traitorous heart of his did a somersault. Fucking bastard. “Everything wi
ll be fine. We need to see if there’s another dog out there that can even come close to living up to Beezer’s legacy.”
“Not possible,” Nate said automatically, and let her lead him toward the back of the shelter where Charlie was waiting for them.
She was treating him like a client. Someone she had to be nice to, not someone she wanted to be near. And that, more than anything, hurt the most.
* * *
It was such a simple touch. All she’d done was tuck her hand in the crook of his elbow and pull it close to her body.
Nothing sexual about it. It was the kind of touch between good friends, between close acquaintances, not lovers.
But his body heat seared her through the thin fabric of his tee, the definition of his muscles moving had sent a rush of heat straight into her pelvis. The thought of him turning to her, taking her mouth in a kiss was enough to make her light-headed.
Her grip on the situation was slipping, and she didn’t deal with things like that very well. So, she was doing her best to keep up her facade.
With every dog Charlie showed them, she made conversation. Pointed out nice things about each one, petted them, scratched ears, got sloppy kisses. Nate was quiet, but that wasn’t unusual. He was at his chattiest when they were alone. Adding another person, like Charlie, to the mix was a recipe for the silent cowboy routine of his.
“Okay, I’ll put Bingo away, and I’ll bring in Buffy. She’s the last one,” Charlie said as she and a flop-eared tan and black hound left the little playroom they’d been using to interact with the dogs.
“Bingo was cute,” Allison said, standing. She stretched, bumping against the white plastic chair she’d been seated in with the movement. “I liked him best out of all the ones we’ve met today.”
“Mm-hmm,” Nate said from his spot in the corner opposite her.
She looked over at him, worry blooming in her chest. He hadn’t removed his hat. He hadn’t sat down in the chair beside her, preferring to lean against the wall when Charlie was out of the room. When the dogs came in, he’d knelt down, greeted them, smiled and scratched them, but he’d asked no questions about any of them.
