Sweet Girl (Titan)

by Cristin Harber

  She was bright and aware. Her smile looked painted. He wanted to throw his damn hat on the ground. “Nicola—”

  Stepping back, she looked everywhere but at him. “I think you’d better take me home.”

  They were still connected at the hand, but not interlaced anymore—locked together like the friends they were. She swung her hand in his then let it drop.

  Round one, lost to a gaggle of drunk chicks. He threw his arm around her shoulder like it was any old night, and he hadn’t just held her hand, caressing her knuckles with his thumb.

  Decision made: he’d have his head figured out, and she’d know everything, even though he’d never been less sure about anything in his life.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Monday morning in the real world. Nicola leaned back in the spinny office chair and finished her apple. Day one of her awesome internship was off to a semi rock star start. She’d met her boss, Aleena, who seemed like a decent enough lady, if a little frazzled. The paperweight on her boss’s desk read Get It Done. It memorialized Aleena’s favorite catch phrase. Every time Nic asked a question, “get it done” was the simple answer.

  So… she didn’t know what to think about that and about the lack of other employees other than the girl who sat at the front desk. But this was the job Nicola wanted. Positive thinking.

  Nicola had her computer password set, voice mail recorded, and other job stuff done. This was her first gig that didn’t require a name badge or a uniform, even if they were paying her crap and using ‘college credit’ as an excuse. All hiccups and headaches would be ignored because this was the perfect job for her. Accounting and foreign translations? Her inner nerd squealed.

  She opened the first spreadsheet and an ugly green folder of bank transfers and inventory lists, all in Italian. She took a long sip of her water and dug in, matching accounts to merchandise sold.

  Thirty minutes later, her phone startled her, and she grabbed it. “Nicola Hart.”

  “What are you doing, sweetheart?”

  An instant heat flooded her cheeks. Almost kissing Cash Friday night had occupied her thoughts since he’d dropped her back at Miller Hall. She covered her mouth with her hand, whispering into the phone, “Why are you calling me at work?”

  He chuckled, and her tummy fluttered. “I haven’t talked to you in days and thought it might be fun to call you at work.”

  She looked around, worried a personal call would get her in trouble. But she’d hear footsteps if anyone walked down the hall from the warehouse or came through the front door. For the size of the facility, she hardly ever saw anyone. “How’d you find this number?”

  “Asked Brandy where you worked. Picked up the phone, called, then—wait for it—asked the receptionist to talk to you.”

  She smiled. “Why are you calling again?” If he said something like because I missed you, she’d fall over dead, but it was what she wanted to hear.

  “You jumped out of my truck Friday night and practically ran into the dorm.”

  Her heart lurched into her throat. That was the truth, but she didn’t think she was that obvious. “I, uh…”

  “The line hasn’t been crossed, Nic. Nothing’s changed.”

  From her throat to the floor, her heart tumbled and crashed. Tears burned her eyelids. It’d been a mistake. He’d been drinking, she’d been drinking, and it was an alcohol-fueled misunderstanding. “Okay.”

  “That is, not unless you want it to.”

  Heart off floor, back into her stomach, and she was a puddle of goo. “I…”

  “Think it over.” He laughed low. “I’ll see you later, Nic.”

  He hung up, and she was left holding the phone, tingling and smiling and completely unsure if she should cross any line with him. She hung up and stared blankly at the screen filled with account numbers and dollar amounts.

  A large man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a really expensive-looking suit stopped at her office door. A buyer? A client? She put on her best smile, even though he had an underground, criminal vibe to him. “Hi. Can I help you?”

  A tight-lipped smile was his answer, followed by a quick “no” in a heavy Italian accent. So it was a buyer or someone in management? She wanted to say something else, to introduce herself, but it felt all wrong.

  The phone rang a second later, and the man walked away. She answered, “Nicola Hart.”

  She sounded just as professional as before, she was sure of it, but a little nugget of hope prayed that it was Cash.

  “Nicola…”

  Nope, not Cash. It was her boss, Aleena, the only person who really should be calling her on this line. Unreasonable disappointment coated her thoughts.

  “Nicola?” Aleena repeated her name.

  Shit, she’d completely blanked. “Sorry, yes?”

  “Did you hear anything I just said?”

  “No, I’m sorry.” Nic looked at the phone’s LCD screen. The call wasn’t even five seconds long. She couldn’t have missed that much, but there was a sound of annoyance in Aleena’s voice.

  “When you’re finished with the pile on your desk, I have three more for you. Try to get through them before you leave.”

  Wait. What? Before she left? Nicola checked her computer screen for the time. She was supposed to be off by one because, once school started back, she had class. It was after ten AM now. That amount of work was impossible. Even if she wasn’t a perfectionist, it was absolutely impossible. “Um, I don’t think I have time—”

  “Trust me, it will all line up. Just make sure the account names and items match up, and process the bank transfers.”

  Bank transfers? “I thought I was checking for inaccuracies, not moving mon—”

  “Please match the names and punch them into the system. I don’t need an audit. I need an intern to push the paper through. Think of it like busy work but in the real world. You’re helping me with the workload that I don’t have enough time to do.”

  Nicola scowled at the phone. Intern was said with more disdain than she appreciated, and she was one hundred percent certain that her boss didn’t speak nearly as many, or maybe even any, of the foreign languages Nic did. Her boss was also one of those people who was nice in person and shitty on the phone. Probably via email too. Great.

  She looked at her stack of paper, ready to articulate her argument, even volunteer to bring it home with her to make sure it was done right, but the line went dead. Hung up on without even so much as a goodbye. Awesome…

  ***

  Cash tossed his cell phone back and forth after talking to Nicola and walked into the SAC. Before talking to her, he’d been on his way to grab a breakfast burrito after buying a new textbook from the campus bookstore. But now he had excess energy to burn. He bypassed the cafeteria, bee-lining instead for the gym but stopped. Jeans wouldn’t work, even if he did want to beat the hell out of a heavy bag or run until his legs gave out. Abandoning his gym plan, he turned back around, anxious to calm his thoughts. His goal hadn’t been to make Nic tongue-tied over the phone. Actually, he hadn’t had a goal. Just wanted to—

  “Cash.” Jacob called from behind him.

  Did that guy live in the SAC? Cash turned toward the voice but wasn’t in the mood for small talk. He’d say hey then hoof it to camp out at the library. School hadn’t started yet, and he didn’t have anything to study, but no way would Jacob follow him in there. “Double-deuce.”

  Jacob nodded a goodbye to someone else on the team then headed his way. “How’s Nicola?”

  Cash mumbled, “None of your damn business,” and booked it for the doors.

  “She’s not answering her phone, and I’m trying to track her down.”

  “What?” His brows arched. The guy was pushing buttons Cash didn’t even know he had. “Why?”

  “Think I’m going to take her out this week, trying to see what she’s up to.”

  Cash glared and slammed the door open. His irritation level nearly red-lined. “Don’t bother.”

  “Da
mn, man. If it’s not Roman lately, it’s you.”

  “What?”

  “You guys can back off her already. She’s a grown woman.”

  Cash sawed his teeth together. “Maybe Roman’s issue is less about her and more about you.”

  “Guess all that matters is what she thinks. Dick.” Jacob laughed and slapped Cash on the back. “Good thing she’s had you two around. Pure as—”

  Cash rounded on him, backing Jacob against the SAC ramp railing. “Finish that sentence, and I will kill you.”

  Jacob laughed again and threw his hands up. “Jesus, dude. Chill out.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I think you’re worse than Roman. The girl’s my friend. I’m not going to hurt her.”

  No shit, he wasn’t going to hurt her. Double-deuce wouldn't get anywhere near Nicola. Cash’s jaw flexed, and his fists ached for wanting to shut Jacob up. “I gotta run.” He ducked away before he punched his buddy. His head was mixed up, and fall semester was going to be needlessly rough if he didn’t get a few things in order first. Nicola would have to speak up, Jacob would have to shut up, and he would have to man up.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Nicola watched Roman hoist the last of her bags on his shoulder as he made his way up the sidewalk and into her new house. It was cute, like a little shotgun row home with three bedrooms, each the size of a dorm room, a real bathroom with a floor that wasn’t gross, and a pool that she couldn’t wait to jump into.

  The sun beat down on their moving day as she sat on the tailgate of Cash’s truck. She hadn’t talked to him since the phone call yesterday and hadn’t seen him since Friday. Today, he’d been with Roman all day while she’d been with Brandy and Hannah.

  Each of the girls had packed her own stuff. The boys took turns carrying their bags and boxes out of the dorm and into the truck. Every time Nic was alone with Cash, he didn’t say anything. Not a single word, but he didn’t have to. He smiled. He winked. He wiggled his damn eyebrows. Basically, Cash tortured her, and she couldn’t get enough of it.

  Maybe it wasn’t the August dog day heat that had her nearly panting. Maybe it was Cash.

  Looking up at the sun, eyes closed and legs dangling off the tailgate, she felt where his fingers had been interlaced with hers on Friday night, where his thumb had caressed the ridges of her knuckles.

  Sighing, Nic held her fingers out in front of her and stared as though his hand had permanently stained hers. Well, it had, but the stain wasn’t visible to the naked eye. The truck door slammed, and she jumped.

  Cash appeared, Gatorade in hand. His jeans and t-shirt looked like heaven painted on a man. “Hey.”

  He sat next to her. Inches separated them, and God, she wished his leg would touch hers. Instead, he cracked the top of his drink, guzzled it to empty, and tossed it over his shoulder. The plastic bottle clattered as it landed and rolled behind them.

  “For such a small room, you girls have a lot of crap.” He stretched. “Still think you should have stayed put.”

  “Maybe.” At least she’d had the illusion of a barrier between her bed and Cash Garrison with campus security manning Miller Hall’s front desk. Right now, there was a serious worry that she’d grab him by the belt loops, drag him to her room—where she didn’t even have a mattress yet—and jump him. That’d be embarrassing. “I like the freedom.”

  He shook his head, groaning. “Shit, Sprout. I—”

  “Stop with the Spr—”

  “Two decades of calling you that. It’s habit.”

  “Some bad habits need to die.”

  “Won’t happen again.” His hand patted right above her knee, and her lungs skipped a breath. Maybe two. “I promise.”

  Brandy bounced out the front door, putting a hard stop to the adrenaline-estrogen rush that pulsed in Nic’s veins. “FYI, ya’ll. J’s on his way over.”

  Cash grumbled, taking his hand off her leg. His phone rang. After a glance at it, he looked at her sideways, rolled to his side, all lazy and cute, then pushed off the tailgate. “Mira, what’s up?”

  Mira? Fine. Go away, Cash. Far, far away because she wanted nothing to do with that skank. He didn’t have to take her call, just like she didn’t have to pay attention to him. Or to Jacob. But still, she watched him talk on the phone, annoyed that Mira still existed. What was he saying, anyway?

  He laughed, and it felt like a gut shot but also a reality check. Cash was Cash. And liking him, flirting with him, maybe even kissing him, wouldn’t change the fact that he was the opposite of a safe bet in the guy department.

  She let her eyes drift over those jeans and how they curved over his backside. Good Lord, he’d be gorgeous naked. And he’d be a killer in bed; she just knew it. Not that she had a ton of experience to compare it too.

  Her stomach dropped. Oh, if she did end up in bed with him, she’d be contending with the memory of a Jaycee-Mira tag team, and that wasn’t something she could compete with. The comparison would result in humiliation. As hot and worked up as he made her feel, she was writing a flirtatious check that she couldn’t bankroll. She was plain Jane vanilla compared to Mira and Jaycee’s banana freakin’ split.

  Cash laughed again, making her self-doubt spiral further. I’m a moron. Nicola tuned Cash out and buried her face in her hands. She heard footsteps, peeked through her fingers, and saw Roman’s shoes.

  “What’s your problem?” He bopped her on the head with a plastic water bottle.

  Oh me? Nothing. I’m going to kill Cash because he likes slut puppies. But other than that…I’m crazy for him in the kind of way that I want to lick him all over. So there’s that… Her cheeks flamed. “Nothing. It’s hot. I’m over moving.”

  “You didn’t move a thing.”

  True. She tilted her head. “But putting up with you and Cash is enough of a headache.”

  Roman tilted his head toward Cash. “What’s he up to?”

  “Talking to Tits McGee and friends.”

  “Leave those girls alone.”

  Nicola crossed her arms and would’ve stomped but she wasn’t getting off the tailgate, not while she was still spying on Cash. “No way. They’re whores.”

  “Whatever.” He laughed. “You’re just jealous.”

  Her stomach dropped. That was true, but no way could she let Roman know that. “What?”

  “You shouldn’t have left them with Jacob the other night. Not that he did anything about it. I think he’s hung up on you, so watch out.”

  “Jacob?” She let out a huge breath. Roman was talking about J. “They can have him.”

  “Good.” Roman leaned against the tailgate. “I don’t like that dude sniffing around you anyway.”

  She shoved his shoulder. “No one’s sniffing, jeez.”

  “Serious, Nic. He needs to stay far away.”

  “All right, already. I get it.” She closed her eyes again and tried to ignore Cash, tried to ignore the way her gut was twisting. Even as she opened her eyes and saw Jacob looking for a place to park his Jeep way down the street, all she could think about was Cash.

  Cash ended his call and turned around. Blue eyes locked on her eyes, and the world slammed to a halt. A barely noticeable smile crossed his lips. It wasn’t a fun and flirty. Maybe it was a sad realization that what happened the other night shouldn’t go anywhere. Her stomach hurt.

  “You want to order pizza?” Roman was oblivious. “Cash, man. You hungry?”

  He never looked at her brother. “Starved.”

  Roman left, announcing pizza would be there soon. Still sitting on Cash’s tailgate, Nicola wanted to run from the blue eyes that held her prisoner, but she couldn’t. He came at her, placed his hands on the outsides of her thighs, and she was caged in place and suddenly needing an escape hatch. So she played her only hand. “How’s Mira? Good, I’m sure.”

  “Forget about her.” He chuckled. “I’m not hiding anything from you. As a matter of fact, I’m making a point not to.”

  “Why?” God, Mira made her want to scream. “I
don’t give a damn.”

  “Well, I do.”

  She balked, incredulous. “Give a damn?”

  He nodded. “About what you think and how you feel.”

  “You’re my friend, Cash. Of course you give a damn, jackass.”

  “And you’re missing my point and irritating the piss out of me.”

  Nicola rolled her eyes. “That’s what I do best.”

  “Oh, sweetheart. I give a damn, and you don’t know what to make of it.”

  “I…”

  “Everywhere I look.” He bent close. The scent of his shampoo teased her. His breath tickled her ear lobe. “Everything I see, I think about you.” He pulled back and slid his hands up her thighs, clasping her hips, lingering, then he lifted her off the truck and closed the tailgate. “And I don’t know what to do about that.”

  Everything tingled. Her legs felt weak, and her tongue tied itself in knots. “I…”

  Can’t think around you. I’m dizzy. Wobbly, woozy, and would die to stay in your arms.

  “Don’t go silent on me now, Nic. We haven’t crossed over the line from friends to…. Everything is still the same.” He blew out a long breath and laughed quietly. “We can’t just stay out here. Roman’s going to put pineapple on the pizza if we don’t stop him.”

  He waited expectedly, but she offered nothing. He nodded and took off.

  Nic couldn’t make her legs work. It was as if her flip-flops had melted into the sidewalk. “Cash.”

  He stopped with his back to her. He dropped his head back, shook it once, then turned around. “You made a damn good point as to why you and Double-deuce shouldn’t date. It’ll mess up everything. Every time we dance around the issue of us, I say something, and you say nothing.”

  Us… Holy shit. She stood, still silent, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt and at a complete loss for what her next move was. Just another reason that Mira should be here because that girl was never without a witty comment, even if they were all hookerific.

  He crossed his arms, studying her. “You know where I stand, can guess what I want. Next move is all yours.”