Except he wasn’t.
So I waited for Presley to answer, and when he hesitated, I appealed to him. “Press, please? I really need to speak to you.”
With a shrug and a determined set to his jaw, Presley gave Monroe an apologetic smile. “I guess we’ll chat? Or I’ll see you next week.”
“Whatever you want.” Monroe gave Presley’s shoulder a squeeze. “Good to see you again, Nate. Hope to see you next week.” He walked away to join another circle of people.
Smug bastard.
Presley opened his mouth, but I held up my hand. “Wait, please. Before you tell me what a terrible person I am, please let me speak.”
“Okay,” he said, lips thin and eyes narrowed. Not the most welcoming opening I could’ve hoped for.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Presley challenged, setting me back on my heels.
“For not calling this week. It was hellish with my brother out of town. But I was thinking of you.” I sidled closer and lowered my voice. “And what happened between us.”
“That’s it?” Presley’s dark brows pulled together. “That’s not the main reason I’m upset.”
I’d hoped after a little apology and a bit of groveling, we’d return to where we left off. “Then what?” I genuinely had no clue.
He pulled me away from everyone else to a corner. “We had sex,” he whispered. “And I don’t know about you, but it meant something to me. And when we were finished, all you said was ‘Thanks.’ I might’ve been a delivery person.” His face flushed with hurt, his dark eyes burning into mine.
Sweet Presley. He wasn’t like the other guys I’d fucked around with, who had as much desire to see me a second time as I had them. The past week he’d wiggled his way into my thoughts during meetings or dinners spent staring at the television set. At night, before I went to bed or in the shower, I kept wondering what he’d taste like, hot, wet, and slippery inside my mouth.
“I’m sorry.” The words escaped before I thought twice, sounding foreign on my tongue. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt sorry about anything, especially a guy I’d had sex with. After my father died and I broke up with Carson, I might’ve gone on a bit of a rampage, fucking my pain and anger away. I rarely thought about the men after they left my house. “If I said I’m not good at this, would you believe me?”
“Believe what? That you go through guys like popcorn at the movies? Or that you hurt my feelings? And what do you mean by ‘this’?”
Fearing everything was slipping away, I put my hand on his shoulder, hating how he flinched at my touch. I had one shot to make this right, and I knew to choose my words with care, or Press would walk, and other than seeing him and Monroe cuddle up together at meetings, I’d never see him again.
“If I asked you to go for a drink so we could talk, would you turn me down?”
“Yes.”
My heart sank. “Oh.”
“But we can have a cup of coffee at the diner on the corner.”
“Okay, yeah, sure.” Relief poured through me, and I agreed before he could change his mind. “Let’s do it.”
I had to resist taking his hand or touching him, but I didn’t miss Monroe checking us out as we left together. I couldn’t resist a smug smile of triumph, even knowing that if I didn’t have a damn good reason why I’d treated him like shit, Presley would toss me to the curb. I had two choices: say fuck it and walk away from Presley, or face him and reveal another piece of myself I’d worked so hard to hide away.
Chapter Seven
Determined not to be another notch in Nate’s proverbial bedpost—since, unlike me, he didn’t sleep in an antique four-poster bed—I popped those anticipation bubbles and kept my distance from him, both literally and figuratively, as we walked to the diner. My emotions tumbled all over the place. Hearing Nate’s short but heartbreakingly telling statement of his coming out to his father, I couldn’t help but hurt for him. It could explain his reluctance to expose himself to a stranger. Getting naked and having sex was easier than talking from the heart.
But however much being near his intensely powerful presence affected me, I wasn’t ready to let down my guard and fall at his feet. I hadn’t been hurt so deeply since I found out Jared was married. Frisco might beblaséabout what happened, but it wasn’t in my nature to have indiscriminate sex. My mistake was trusting too swiftly, and I swore this time I’d remain immune to his charm, no matter how potent.
The brightly lit diner was half-empty, but I took a seat in a corner booth, away from the other people. Nate looked somber in his black coat and unsmiling face, and I almost capitulated and softened my attitude, but remembering his easy, careless dismissal of me while the afterglow of sex still lingered, I pushed away my feelings and forced a smile when the busboy set down water glasses in front of us.
“You look good,” Nate said, making wet rings on the table with his glass.
He’s nervous. And that realization helped still my fears.
“I am. I’ve been busy. Lots of sales, and I attended a few auctions to pick up some estate pieces I’ve been coveting.”
