“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
