CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CLAY
“When did your parents move to this house?” I ask.
It’s a squat blue bungalow with solid roof columns. Nice build. And well-maintained, too.
“We moved here when I was in high school,” he answers. “Only from the other side of the neighborhood, though. Come on. The fence should be unlocked. All the tools we need are in the shed out back.”
“Keeping me out of the house. I guess that means embarrassing childhood photos.”
Nicholas laughs. “You’re welcome inside any time. Just don’t look at any photos in the second-story hallway.”
“Definitely checking those ones out.”
He pulls the door open and shoots me a sly smile.
“You said no parents today?” I ask.
Nicholas walks through. “This morning, my mom is chairing a committee on summer programs for the parks and recreation board, and my dad is running an errand for the community choir before he heads to the library to work until close.”
I nod. “Guess that is where you get your hustle.”
“You have no idea.”
My eyes catch on the explosion of color behind him, pink and red and orange. There are bushes tucked into every possible space, framing the picnic table, surrounding the veranda, and growing like a hedgerow along the wide deck.
I step inside and take it all in.
“It’s like being inside one giant rose bush.”
Nicholas laughs. “I tried to leave enough space so it doesn’t feel that way. My mom insisted she needed a yard. But you’re right. It’s time to prune. That’s why we’re here.”
I look at Nicholas, and a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. He’s taken his suit jacket off and set it aside, leaving him in a pink T-shirt.
He looks like another flower.
It feels embarrassing to think that, but it’s true. The sun is playing on his tan skin, and his hair is doing that thing where it's messy and nice. And he’s smiling at me, warmth in his eyes.
Fuck.
Nicholas grins. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
I walk over to him. We’re alone in the rose garden, so I risk stepping close and putting my mouth at his ear.
“Because I can’t stop thinking about fucking you in Niagara Falls, Nicky.”
Nicholas leans in, nearly taking me in an embrace, but pulls away playfully. “I like that you keep thinking about it.” He inhales a deep breath. “And there’s something we should talk about before we start on the roses.” He gestures to the picnic table. “Take a seat?”
Cautiously, I sit. I don’t like this.
What if he has regrets? I’ll hate that so much.
It’s going to kill me to leave this guy, but I’ll fucking lose it if I have to end things early on top of everything else. I need every damn second I can get.
Nicholas sits close to me. “It’s nothing bad,” he says, reading my emotions. “Well, not horribly bad. It’s just that the gossip train is finally catching up with us.”
Relief washes through me that he’s not about to share regrets, but then I think about it a second longer. “Oh.” I frown. “Shit. Everyone is talking about us?”
