Drew and Finn both laughed, while Nash contemplated doing just that. He could make a detour on his way home tonight to pay Sean a visit. It probably wouldn’t take much intimidation—the guy was scrawny on his best day. Nash could park across the street, stand outside his truck, and just stare at the house. Sean would probably wet his pants merely from the unspoken threat.
“Don’t even think about it,” Drew said, cutting off Nash’s thoughts. “She wasn’t serious.”
“Yep, bad idea, man.” Finn shook his head.
“I wasn’t gonna do anything.” Nash took another pull from his beer. “Much.”
Drew laughed and pointed a finger at him. “I mean it. If you want this business thing to work out, stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong ain’t gonna win you any favors with Rory. She handles her shit, and she wouldn’t take well to you doin’ it for her.”
“Listen to my brother. He knows things.” Finn clapped Nash on the shoulder and strolled toward the office.
Nash couldn’t deny the truth of their words. Rory was as rock-solid as they came. He had no doubt she’d answer Will’s knock with a smile and some bullshit line about how she was just fine. Happy as could be. Because Rory wouldn’t let her guard down for anyone. She wouldn’t be vulnerable in front of others—it wasn’t in her DNA.
Except…well, she’d been vulnerable in front of him, hadn’t she? True, it’d only been once, and it’d been with the assistance of a whole shit-ton of vodka, but it’d happened.
The question was, could he make it happen again?
He pulled a ten out of his wallet and laid it on the bar top, lifting a hand to Drew as he made his way out of the bar.
There was only one way to find out.
Rory wasdamn near ready to disconnect her doorbell and throw her phone in the toilet just to stop the incessant pestering from her annoying—albeit well-meaning—sisters. If she had to listen to one more person ask her if she was all right, she was going to scream. She just wanted to drown her sorrows in a couple bottles of wine and fall into her bed to forget this day had ever happened.
The thing that bothered her the most was everyone’s assumptions that she was heartbroken over her ex-husband and former best friend’s cohabitation. She’d been heartbroken over her divorce, true. But it hadn’t been for the reasons most people assumed. She didn’t mourn her marriage or lost love. Mostly because she hadn’t loved Sean in a long time. Or possibly ever, which was the real kicker.
What she mourned instead was the life she’d dreamed of since she was little. The life she’d wanted to give her girls. One with a happy—andtogether—mother and father who showered them with attention and love—something Rory’d had to fight tooth and nail to get from her daddy and had never received. Trouble was, she’d picked the wrong man for the job. She’d just been too blind to see it. Sean’s focus had been and always would be on his career. Not his wife. Not his daughters. Not his family.
The doorbell rang, and Rory tipped her head back, groaning loudly to the ceiling. With a huff, she stopped her trek into the kitchen and turned around, not caring in the least that she still had her hand wrapped around the neck of the as-yet-unopened wine bottle she’d plucked from the pantry. There was no shame in her game.
Whipping open the front door, she said, “I told you, I’mfine, Will. Now, would you please—”
Except it wasn’t her sister standing on her doorstep. Rory’s mouth dropped open as she took in the broad shoulders that blocked out the setting sun. Nash stood there, wearing a tight gray T-shirt and jeans, hair flopping over his forehead like he’d run his hand through it a time or twenty. Every stitch of clothing molded to his body, showcasing the miles of muscles she knew they covered.
There he stood looking like a model straight off the pages ofGQ, the sleeves of his shirt wrapped tightly around his cut biceps. All the while she was in a pair of leggings and a T-shirt she’d had since college, makeup wiped clean from her face, holding a bottle of wine.
She straightened, clearing her throat. “Nash. What can I do for you?”
Though she hadn’t meant it to come out with a sexual undertone, it was obvious that was exactly how he’d taken it. His gaze slipped down from her eyes and took a slow perusal of her body, every inch he passed perking up at the attention. Every inch remembering exactly what it’d felt like to be embraced by those strong, thick arms. Exactly what it’d felt like to have all his hard planes pressed against her soft curves.
Good Lord, she was starved for affection if merely a look and the remembrance of a single kiss did this to her. If she’d known when she’d gotten home that she was going to be on the receiving end of Nash’s smoldering gaze, she definitely wouldn’t have ditched her bra.
“Straight from the bottle, huh?” he asked instead of answering her question, his voice thick.
“What?” Her brain was still hiccupping over every detail of what’d happened the other day.
With eyebrows raised, he gestured toward her hand and the bottle she held.
She breathed out a laugh and held it up between them. “Not yet, but I’m thinkin’ so. Might as well abandon whatever dignity I have left.”
“I was thinkin’ this called for something a little stronger.” He reached into the brown paper bag she hadn’t noticed he held and pulled out a bottle of Grey Goose.
Her heart stuttered at the memory of that night they’d shared last year. The night that had changed everything for her. Not only had she found Sean cheating, but that’d been the evening she’d realized she no longer loved her husband. Hadn’t for quite some time. Because if she had, she would’ve been devastated at her discovery instead of merely reeling over the blow to her pride.
Whatever this was with Nash was a bad idea. Absolutely nothing good would come from letting him into her house. They hadn’t seen each other since that day in her kitchen, but the time apart hadn’t dimmed the attraction that sizzled between them. Hadn’t dulled the memory of his lips on hers. Hadn’t subdued the urge she had to repeat every second of it.
There was no denying the fact that Rory’s body lit up in Nash’s presence—had nearly combusted from a simple kiss. And certainly no denying the fact that she ached—absolutelyached—for the kind of connection he promised without saying a word.
It was right there for her to see in the way he looked at her—studied her, really. His eyes caressed her body as sure as if it were his hands running along her skin. He wanted her, that much was clear. And while she had absolutely no business doing this—had, in fact, a hundred and one reasonsnotto—she found she just didn’t have the strength to say no tonight. Moreover, she didn’twantto.
