“Ashley, please lower your voice.” When I nodded, Mary said, “I assure you his name is Nathan, Nathan Blaszek. He’s the new guy at SSI.”
Mind fucking blown.
Scott, Nathan, Casper the fucking dick-headed ghost, lifted his chin and turned to face me. When he made eye contact, the memory of staring into those gorgeous icy blue eyes while we talked and laughed, and how they looked hooded with desire flashed across my mind.
And scrambled my senses. I wanted to be mad, not turned on. Ignoring the good memories, I focused on the last one and glared at him.
But when I saw what he’d been hiding, the air left my lungs, taking my desire to yell with it as it whooshed out with a whistle.
A big, angry red scar stretched from just outside his left eye to his lower jawbone. What the hell happened?
“Hi, Ashley.”
Hi? Anger made my blood boil. Hi? That’s all he had to say to me after lying and ghosting me.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Scott?” I whisper-yelled, clenching my fists to channel my anger so I wouldn’t yell too loud. “Or is it Nathan now?”
He looked over my head towards the counter before making eye contact with me again. “Can we talk outside?”
Hell yeah we could, because outside I could yell and make a scene without worrying about upsetting the Mama Bear of the extended Sheppard family.
“Fine by me. Lead the way, Casper.” I spat the only name I knew fit him for real.
I huffed and puffed as I marched far enough from the door that prying eyes couldn’t watch. Emily, Mary, and Beth didn’t need to see this.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Scott? Or Nathan. Or whoever the fuck you are.”
He didn’t flinch as he waited for me to finish. Which pissed me off even more. I was mad enough to incinerate him with my withering glare, but he just stood there like we were sharing pleasantries.
That wasn’t entirely true. His body was statue-still, his fists clenched, and his jaw could turn coal to diamond. His chest, on full display in his tight navy blue T-shirt, rose and fell in a slow rhythm as he sucked in air through his nose.
He might have appeared relaxed from a distance, but he was struggling to stay calm.
“It’s both. My full name is Nathan Scott Blaszek.”
“Should I feel better that you only half-lied?” It was two-thirds of a lie. When he signed the bar bill, I’d noticed his last name was Miller.
“Ashley, I’m sorry.” He paused and ran his hand down his face. My anger lessened as I watched his jaw muscles twitch when his fingers traced the scar.
“What happened?” I asked, assuming he’d know I meant his scar.
“It doesn’t matter,” he answered.
“No, I guess it doesn’t.” I sighed, knowing I’d now have to see his dumb, gorgeous, lying face all the time. “Why are you here?”
“I work at Sheppard & Sons Investigations,” he said, acting like I’d asked a stupid question.
I knew he worked there, but it still wasn’t a dumb question. How the hell did an accountant from California become a private investigator in…
Right.He’s not an accountant. Another lie.
“Why’d you lie to me in Vegas?”
“I had to. I was undercover.”
Laying the snark on extra thick, I asked, “How often do accountants go undercover?”
He sighed. “I never told you I was an accountant, Slick. You assumed.”
