I know I should probably bend down and grab the towel and make a run for it, but I’m too busy watching him. He’s aroused. I can see it for myself. “Where’s Andi?”
He hasn’t stopped looking at my body. Up and down his eyes go. “Watching SpongeBob.”
“Oh.” My hands move up, but I can’t decide what I should cover first. Boobs? Stomach?
When I choose both, Nash growls again. “No. Hands down, Isabelle. Let me look at you.”
“Nash.” I practically choke out his name. This is overwhelming.
He steps close to me, still looking down at my body. “I’m not going to be able to resist much longer, honey. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I want to touch you everywhere.” He leans down and kisses my lips softly then moves to my neck. “I want to kiss and lick you everywhere.” He moves to the other side of my neck. “I want my cock so deep inside you, you’ll feel me for days after.”
Something about his last sentence bothers me. “But only once, right?” That’s what he said. He’d do it with me “once.”
“More than once. All night.”
But…. “For one night.”
“One magical night.”
I put my hands on his chest and push. He moves far enough away for me to bend and grab the towel. I quickly wrap myself up so I can get to my bedroom. With my door shut and Nash in the hallway, I lean my back against the door. My body is still charged with sexual energy, but it’ll pass. I search the floor for my sleep leggings. When I find them, I slide them on, forgetting underwear. Ugh. Pushing those back down, I grab a clean pair of panties and try again. When I’m dressed in an old sweatshirt and sleep leggings, I open my bedroom door. Honestly, I didn’t expect him to still be in the hallway. But there he is nonetheless. “Nash—”
He doesn’t let me say more. “We need to talk.”
29
Nash
She’s ignoring me.Not five seconds ago, I told her “We need to talk” and she walks right past me saying, “I’m starving.”
What the hell?
I just had her naked against the goddamn wall, and she pretends either I don’t exist or that shit didn’t happen. Well, that’s bullshit. “Isabelle,” I say, but she’s already descending the stairs. “Babe?”
“Food smells good, Nash.” She hasn’t even turned her head to look back at me. “Thanks for cooking again.”
Fine. If this is how it’s gonna be,fine. “No problem.” I can play that game too. “Andi,” I say loudly enough for her to hear me. “Supper. Wash up.”
I hear her little voice respond from the Harmons’ family room. “Okay, Daddy.”
Stomping into the kitchen, I stir the sauce and toss the bread back into the oven to rewarm. The noodles look like they might need to be reheated too, but the sauce will do that. I pull dishes from the cupboard above the dishwasher and begin the plating process. I’ve cooked for Isabelle almost every night since we got back from the hospital. There were a couple nights I had to grab something from the diner for all of us since I’d been busy working at my farm while also helping some here, me and about ten other farmers from around town.
I grab three small bowls and add salad to them. I’m not sure what kind of dressing either one of them will want tonight; they seem to change their minds, at least Isabelle does, which means Andi does too. Whatever Isabelle has, Andi has the same. So, I grab the three kinds of salad dressing from the fridge and set it on the counter.
“I’ll get those,” says a smiling Isabelle. She picks them up and places them on the kitchen table.
Faker. That smile isn’t real. I know she’s pissed. Or maybe she’s sad. Mad? Yeah, could be. But it serves her right. She didn’t let me clarify. When she said, “But only once, right?” I wasn’t thinking. I wasenjoying. So, I said some bullshit about once, all night long, or something along those lines. See? I can’t even remember becauseIwas in the moment. But she wasn’t. No,shewas back in my living room—back to the day I propositioned her. After all this fucking time, she thinks I’m going to treat her like one of my old hookups. Jesus, it pisses me off. After all this… after everything we’ve been through and done together, she still thinks I’m playing a fucking game.
Well, that shit ends now. After dinner. It ends after dinner, when Andi isn’t right there. “Hope you’re hungry, ladies. I piled your plates with pasta.” And I did. There’s no way either one of them will eat it all, but I had to try. I swear Isabelle’s lost ten pounds since her dad’s accident. Probably because all she does is work and sleep.
“I’m very hungry, Daddy,” my kid says with a smile. “And I don’t even care that you made pasgetti again.”
She can’t say spaghetti, and it’s the cutest damn thing in the world. I hope she always calls it “pasgetti.” And she’s right. I can really only make a couple of things well—spaghetti and anything grilled. So, I’ve made pasta for them four or five times. They don’t seem to mind, though. “Maybe I’ll make some steak tomorrow night.”
“Nash,” Isabelle says as I set her plate in front of her, “you don’t need to keep coming over here to cook for me. I’m more than capable.”
“Babe, I promised your dad.”
“Oh?” Isabelle’s fork was on its way to her plate when she said that. I watch as her cheeks flush pink. And I know right then that I should never had told her that. Now she thinks I’m only here because of Bruce.Fuck.
