Page 45 of Holding Penalty

ME

I haven’t been able to work up the courage yet

HALLIE

I hear you. I think my tongue would tie into three knots if I tried. You know me and older men

I send a laughing emoji. I’ve always teased Hallie about having crushes on older celebrities and how she particularly enjoys age gap romance books. She’s only ever dated guys her own age, though. At least that I’m aware of.

“Well, hey there, darlin’.” A slurred voice pulls my attention from my phone.

It’s a middle-aged guy with a bolo tie around his fleshy neck. He’s got a glass full of liquor in one hand, and the red in his face and gloss over his eyes tell me it’s very, very far from his first of the evening.

“Hi,” I clip, polite but short, not wanting to be rude but not wanting to encourage his attention, either.

“Beautiful evening, ain’t it?” he asks. Then he hiccups before adding, “Not as beautiful as you, though.”

I roll my eyes and put my attention back on my phone. Hopefully, he’ll take the hint and walk away.

But he’s either too drunk or too entitled.

“What are you doing all by yourself over here, anyway?” he asks.

“Waiting for her husband.”

The low, menacing rasp of Nash’s voice sends a shiver gliding up my spine. Tonight Nash is clean-shaven, which only makes it easier to see how his jaw muscles are flexing as his dark gaze bores into the guy trying to hit on me.

“Married, huh?” The man takes a swig of his drink. “Lucky you,” he says sarcastically before slinking away.

Now Nash’s eyes are on me, a hot, heavy weight as they drag up and down my body. “Yeah, lucky me.”

Heat crawls up my neck and settles in my cheeks. When his gaze brushes up my low neckline, his lips press together. The thought strikes me that maybe he’s trying to keep himself from licking his lips, and a muscle tugs between my legs.

I reach for a topic of conversation to take my mind off it. “I haven’t seen any of your teammates here tonight.”

Nash tilts a shoulder. “I guess this one’s just for rich old married couples.”

“Neither of us are old, and I’m not rich,” I reply with a grin.

“Not yet.”

I chuckle. “Pretty sure I’m never going to be rich.”

“I’m not. I don’t want to admit how fast I ate those pastries you made. Once you take over the place for real, it’s going to be the hottest bakery in Texas.”

I smile. The way Nash sounds utterly confident in me makes my chest feel fuzzy. “Honestly, I just want a nice, local business that makes enough money for me to live decently but doesn’t drive me crazy. Somewhere I can enjoy going every day. If I have that, I don’t need to be rich.”

Something gleams in Nash’s eyes. Admiration? That can’t be it.

“That’s a healthy mindset. Wouldn’t be surprised if you run that place so well that its popularity explodes despite your humble intentions, though.”

“I’ll cross that bridge if I come to it.” A waiter walks by with a tray of champagne flutes. Nash snags two and hands one to me.

“What about you?” I ask, arching a playful brow. “Any plans to expand that petting zoo?”

Nash groans into a sip of his champagne. “That damn petting zoo.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t made friends with any of the animals.”