by Kayt Miller
“Nash—”
My words are interrupted by Max. “Well, well, well. Just as I suspected.”
Nash releases me from his hold but keeps one arm around me. “What can I say?” Nash chuckles. “I couldn’t let the most beautiful girl in town slip through my fingers.”
“You serious?” Max looks skeptical. I don’t blame him. Not only that, I’m not sure what Max means. Is he asking if Nash really thinks I’m the “most beautiful girl in town” or is he asking if we’re serious? These are the kind of stupid thoughts rolling around in my brain ever since he kissed me. The thing is, I know this is just for show. Heck, Nash picked this place because he knew everyone would be here. He wants everyone in town to know we’re together now.
“Is Ivy here?” asks Max. “I want to see this bitch in person.”
I was about to sip my beer, but his words make me nearly drop my glass. Apparently the two of them have already talked about Ivy. Maybe Max knows about our sham “relationship” too.
“Haven’t seen her,” Nash says then takes a long pull of his beer.
Max leans in, and in a low voice asks Nash, “You call my contact?”
Nash nods. “Yep. Got an appointment next week.”
“Good.” He slaps Nash on the back then looks over at the bar. “Gonna get a beer and talk to that hot blonde that just walked in the door.”
“That’s Ivy,” I say quickly.
Max’s head turns so slowly he reminds me of an owl. “No shit?”
“No shit.”
“Well, fuck, man. You sure you want to…?”
I feel my face heat, which means I’ve got to be all shades of pink. Max just asked Nash if he was sure he wanted to give up on Ivy. At least that’s the way it sounded to me.
Nash’s voice gets suddenly deep and gravely. “I’m sure.”
Max turns to look at Ivy again, then back to Nash.
“Have at it.” Nash nods toward her. “You have my blessing.”
“She seeing anyone?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Nash is starting to sound angry.
“Cool, man. Cool.” Max raises his hand, giving us a wave as he makes his way to the front of the bar. “See you later.”
“Later,” grumbles Nash.
“Bye,” I say way too quietly for Max to hear.
I don’t know what to say now. Or do. I should probably give him some time alone. Pulling away from him, I’m about to use the excuse of using the restroom when I feel a tug on my shirt.
“Where are you going?” Nash’s face, I can’t figure out what it means. His brows are furrowed, but he’s also smirking.
“Restroom?”
“You’re not sure?”
“I just think you need some time to yourself.”
Nash steps closer, bringing his arms around me again. I love how it feels, but I know for a fact he’s doing this for her benefit. She’s been looking over here ever since she walked in the door. Part of me thinks I should just go with it; the other part of me knows this is going to break my stupid heart. “I don’t need time to myself, Isabelle.” Nash’s voice is barely a whisper. “What I need is for you to kiss me.”
“K-kiss you?”
He nods. “Like you mean it.”
Oh, crud.
“I’m supposed to kiss you?”
“That’s right.” He chuckles. His head remains unmoving, but his eyes flick over to his right. Toward the bar. “Now.”
So, I do it. I step up on my tiptoes and touch my lips to his. That same zing runs through me as before, but I do my best to make it a quick one. I guess Nash has other ideas since he pulls me closer. I play along wrapping my arms around his neck, letting my body sink into his and the kiss. It’s at that moment that the kiss changes. I feel his hand move up my back into my hair. Next, he turns his head slightly and deepens the kiss. Those zings double. My body is charged like it’s on fire. I feel the tug of my bottom lip and realize he’s biting it but not hard. It feels good. Too good. When his tongue slides into my mouth, just a bit, I know I have to end this. This isn’t me, and I’m not about to French kiss this man at Three Sisters for the entire world to see. Stepping back slightly, I place my palms on his chest and look up at him. His eyes meet mine. With a quick smile, he reaches around me and pats my butt. “You said you needed to use the restroom?”
“Uh….”
“Well, don’t you two look cozy.”
How does Nash do that? He had to know she was heading our way. While I was into the kiss and all the sensations associated with it, Nash was scanning the room––casing the joint. I guess he didn’t feel the same things I did, which saddens me. It also means I must be a pretty bad kisser for him to be more interested in the goings on at the bar than on me. Why does that sting so much? It shouldn’t; this thing is fake between us. I can’t help it though. It still stings like a million wasps just got me.
21
Nash
Fuck, that kiss… her lips. That body pressed up against mine. I had to think of something else or my hard-on was going to be pressing into her middle, which would be mighty embarrassing considering we’re standing in the middle of fucking Three Sisters bar.
Thankfully, Ivy stepped up to us, which made my dick as flaccid as a dead fish. Bad visual? Sorry.
“Well, aren’t you two cozy?”
“Ivy,” I deadpan. What else should I say? I’m not happy to see her. “I’m surprised to see you out. How’s your dad?”
“He’s feeling much better today.” Her voice is especially perky sounding and a little loud. Is she performing? That wouldn’t surprise me since the people around her are doing everything they can to pretend they’re not watching her or listening, but they are because she’s practically a celebrity around here. Maybe not for her actual acting jobs but for the fact she left this town to seek fame and fortune. That in and of itself has made her a household name in Honeywell. Never mind the fact she abandoned her kid.
I nod at her response, but I’m at a loss for what else to say.
“I’m glad to hear he’s feeling better.” That came from Isabelle, and she means it. Anyone else would have said it as a courtesy, but not her.
“Yeah, well, good enough for me to come out for a little while, anyway.” Ivy shrugs then with a sigh, adds, “It’s been so hard being cooped up all day every day.”
I know for a fact that she has not been “cooped up.” My mom called and told me she saw her at the salon in town twice. Once to get her nails done and another time to get something done to her hair. Hell, I’ve seen her in town too but at a distance. So, no, she hasn’t been confined to her parents’ house.
I feel a hand touch my arm and know instantly that it’s not Isabelle’s. I know because it’s cold. “We need to talk, Nash.”
I look down at her hand then up into her eyes. I see small wrinkles around her eyes that weren’t there a few years ago.
“What do we need to talk about?”
“Us.”
I stare at her dumbfounded. What the hell does “us” mean? I might as well stop beating around the bush and ask, “What the fuck does that mean?”
Ivy looks at Isabelle, and in a voice I’ve heard one too many times before, a voice that is both condescending and bitchy, she says, “Could you please give us some privacy?”
No, she didn’t. Isabelle’s face flushes as she nods quickly and begins to move away. I don’t like it. I want her here with me. No, I need her here. I look at Isabelle hoping she stops. “Isabelle stays.” It worked. Isabelle halts her movements.
I think I surprise Ivy. At least that’s what her expression tells me. “Fine.” She sniffs. “We need to talk about Andrea.”
“It’s Andi.” I fucking hate when she calls her Andrea. Andrea was her idea. She thought it sounded European or some shit. What the fuck? She was born and will be raised in the heartland of America. She’s an Iowan, goddamn it.
Ignoring my little interjection, she keeps going. “We need to talk abou
t Andrea. What’s best for her.”
It’s my turn to sniff. In disgust. “You think you know what’s best for Andi?” I run my fingers through my hair. Looking over at Isabelle quickly, I turn back to the worst person in the world. “You haven’t been here for almost four years. You know nothing about what’s best for Andi.”
“A mother knows—”
“A mother… what? You’re not a mother. You’re a deserter.”
I shocked her. Her mouth grows big and round, and so do her eyes. “I never deserted her. I was trying to make a better life for her.”
That makes me laugh. Like really laugh. So hard I’ve got to bend over at my waist to catch my breath. When I’m done, I stand at my full height and step closer to Ivy. Close enough to speak so no one else will hear what I’ve got to say. “If you try to take my fucking kid from me….”
Neither my move nor my words seem to intimidate Ivy. Not surprising. “You misunderstand. You jumped to conclusions like you always do. I’m saying she needs us both. Together.”
I stare down at her. I know what she’s doing, and it’s not going to work. “Well, that’s going to be a little awkward.”
“Oh? How so?”
“Well, you living with me and my wife isn’t going to work for me. It’d be a tad crowded.”
I know Ivy didn’t see that coming. Hell, neither did I.
“You can’t be serious.”
“As the fucking dead.”
“When? No one said anything about you getting married.”
I look back at Isabelle who, from the look on her face, isn’t happy with me right now. I hold my hand out to her and hope and pray she takes it so my story is believable. She does. “That’s because I just asked her yesterday.”
Ivy looks Isabelle over then back at me. “You’re lying. She’s not wearing a ring.”
“It’s getting resized.” Shit, that was damn good thinking on my part.
I remain silent, as does Isabelle. I wait for the next piece of bullshit that comes out of Ivy’s mouth, and I don’t have to wait long. “This is all bullshit.” She points to me then back at herself. “You and me, we’re not over.”
“Honey—” I lean in closer. “—we were over the second you drove down my driveway and out of our lives. It’s true what they say, you can’t go home, not after you fucked over your family like you did.”
“I didn’t. I was trying to make—”
“A better life for Andi? Isn’t that what you said?”
Ivy nods.
“She’s got a very good life. I’m a millionaire, Ivy.” Most of that wealth comes from the land, but she doesn’t need to know that. I scratch my chin. “Oh, and do you want to know what’s better than that?” I pause for emphasis. “Having a parent around who loves and cares for his child. That’s fucking priceless.”
“Good to know, Nash.” Ivy looks pleased, and it pisses me off. Before I know it, Ivy’s on top of the bar in a flash. “Hey!” she yells out at the crowd. “Let’s all raise our glasses to Izzy and Nash. They’re getting married!”
That bitch.
The crowd turns our way like it was choreographed. Then the cheers and clapping begin. I feel her. Isabelle has stepped closer to me. I look down at her, expecting to see a smile, but that’s not what I get. I see hurt and anger. “Isabelle.”
“I’m leaving,” she says, turning on her heel. I do what I can to salvage the mess by waving at the crowd as I follow her out the back door into the alley. Once outside, the smoke from the tobacco users hits me square in the face. Waving away the white mist, I see Isabelle walking at a fast clip up the alley in the direction of my truck. I jog to catch up to her. Not knowing what to say, I start with “Isabelle?”
“Not here,” she snaps.
I listen to her because, honestly, I’ve never seen her like this. I hit the locks on the truck and watch Isabelle open the door and step up into the truck. I do the same on my side. I quickly start the engine but wait to put it into drive.
“Just drive.”
I put it into gear and pull away from the curb. We’re both silent, except I swear I hear her sniffling. Shit. Did I make her cry? “Isabelle?”
“How could you?” Her voice is shaky. I look over at her as she wipes at her cheek angrily. “How could you do something like that at Sisters?”
“I didn’t….”
“You didn’t what, Nash? Think? My parents are going to hear about this. Hell, they probably already heard. How are you going to undo it?”
“Undo it?” Why would I undo it?
I look over at her and see her glaring at me. “Yes, Nash, undo it.”
I can see where she’s coming from, I really can, but the more I think about it, the more I like it. I mean, she’s perfect for me. She isn’t after my money. She adores my kid. She’s beautiful, kind, and sweet, and she loves farm life. I couldn’t have chosen better. “Why undo it?”
Her sniffles turn to full-on sobs. “What’s wrong, Isabelle?” It can’t be that terrible thinking of being married to me, right? “I’m not so bad. You could do worse. Lord knows I could do worse.”
Her sobs are getting louder. I’m not saying the right thing. “You’ll make a good wife.”
“Stop the truck,” she yells.
I guess that wasn’t the right thing either.
In the angriest voice I’ve ever heard, she leans closer to me. “I said. Stop. The. Truck.”
I decide to do as she asks. I signal then pull over to the side of the road. We’re still in town, so we’re on a paved street. I put the truck into park, expecting to have a talk. Instead of that happening, when I turn my body to face her, she just jumps out of the vehicle. “Isabelle!” I yell as the door slams shut. Without wasting a second, I open my door and jump down. I’ve got to jog again to catch up to her. She’s a speedy little thing.
“Isabelle, wait up.”
She shakes her head and waves me off. “Go home, Nash. Leave me be.”
“I can’t leave you out here alone.”
Just then, she turns onto a sidewalk that leads to a small, white bungalow. I follow her. When she reaches the front door, she raises her fist and pounds on the door. “Isabelle, what are you doing?”
I don’t have to wait for an answer as her friend Rose answers the door. “Izzy, what’s up?” She looks more closely at her friend. “You’re crying? What’s wrong?”
“C-can I come in?”
“Of course.” She opens the door wider and lets Isabelle step through.
I make my way closer in the hopes I’ll get to go in too, but Isabelle puts a stop to that. “Nash, go home.”
I look at Rose then back at Isabelle. “Babe.”
“Go home, Nash.”
I run my hand through my hair and nod. “Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll call you.”
I don’t get a response because the door slams shut in front of me. I turn and make my way back to my truck slowly. If I take my time, maybe she’ll come back out. But no such luck. By the time I start my truck up, she’s nowhere to be seen. So, I do what she asked. I go home.
22
Isabelle
“Izzy, what the hell’s going on?”
Doing my best to get my tears under control, I suck in a few deep breaths before I answer. “Long story.” It’s all I can get out. I point to her sofa. “Can I sit for a second?”
“Sure. Shit, hon. What’d he do? Do I need to kick his farm-boy ass?”
I guess it’s obvious it has something to do with Nash. I mean, I practically ran away from him. “No.” Maybe. I sit down and lay my head back. I really haven’t had a chance to process everything that just went down. When I feel my phone vibrate, I reach into my purse and hold it up to my face. It’s a text. From my mother.
Mom: What the heck is going on? YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED? To NASH WATSON?
Wow. You know it’s bad when the text is practically all shouty caps.
Me: Can you come get me? I’m at Rose’s. I’ll explain everything
then.
Mom: Be there in ten minutes. Prepare to spill the beans.
“Shit.” I want to let more tears fall, but I can’t. “I knew it.”
“Izzy, talk. What’s going on? You’re scaring me a little. Did Nash hurt you?”
I shake my head. “No.” Rose is squatting down in front of me, her hands on my knees. “He told the entire town of Honeywell that we’re getting married.”
Rose’s face has turned to stone. She isn’t even blinking.
“Are you going to say something?”
Shaking it off, she stands and then sits next to me on the couch. “All I can say is the guy works fast. How did he propose?”
My head whips around. “He didn’t propose. He just told everyone that to get Ivy off his back.”
“I’m confused, Izzy.”
“Me too.” I need to explain this a little better. So, I do. I start at the beginning––to the night Ivy showed up at Nash’s place. When I’m done, I can’t tell if Rose wants to laugh or cry. “So, that’s why I was upset.”
“You don’t want to marry him?”
I glare at Rose. “I’m not going to marry him.”
“Why the hell not? You’ve always had a thing for him.”
I push myself up, grabbing my purse as I go. Before I get to her front door, I look back at her. “You don’t get it.”
“I suppose not. What’s your issue?”
“When I get married, if I ever get married, it’s going to be for love. The man who proposes to me will love me as much as I love him, Rose. I’m not going to just marry a guy because his ex is a witch. I’m so damn angry at Nash for putting me in this position because I’ll have to be the one to end this thing, which means I’ll be the center of the gossip mill for months.”
“I can see that, hon. You deserve someone who worships you. Nash was a shit to throw you under the bus like that. You were doing him a favor pretending to date him in the first place. Then, he goes and does that shit. Pretty manipulative if you ask me. And all that just to keep his kid away from that bitch, Ivy.” She shrugs then smiles. “However, there are worse reasons to marry someone.”
