Page 2 of Nail Me Down

“My phone is broken. I’m trying to dry it out in some rice and—”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Three, two—”

“Wait. I need to pose. We need to get the lighting—”

“One.” He snaps the shot. “There.”

“Ok. One more.” I turn around because I have to show Dakota both sides if I want her full opinion. But when I peek over my shoulder, Ford’s just staring dumbly at me. Phone in hand. His eyes trained on my jean shorts. I think. “Ford?”

“Huh?”

“Did you take the second one?”

His eyes dart up to mine. “What?” He clicks the phone without looking down at the screen. “Yup. Got it.”

“Okay great. Can you send them to Dakota? Her number’s—”

“Ya. I got her number.”

“Oh, you do?” I have no idea why that sends a weird pang through my chest. Like a wasp is taking a stroll around in there.

“Ya. It’s Lit Creek, Holly. Small town. Smaller high school. You know?” His hand is resting on the kitchen island, palm up, cradling the phone. My recent picture is taking up the whole screen.

“Yup. Makes sense.” I swallow past that weird ball of yarn in my throat. Then, for reasons unknown, I sneak under his arm to view the photo. Or that’s what I tell myself.

“What are you doing?” His gruff voice tickles the back of my neck.

And honestly, I don’t know how to answer that. I should definitely not be between his arms right now, with his chest at my back. But maybe I just really need that hug Damon wouldn’t give me during our fight. “Just checking the photo to make sure it’s a good one.”

“It’s good.” His voice is unnaturally hoarse, and a weird tingle shoots up my spine, paralyzing me.

A beat passes and I swear something electric passes from his body to mine even though we’re not even touching.

Damn it. I shouldn’t be here. Acting as casually as I can, I sneak back under his arm.

And I think I catch a half smirk curling his lips as he sends the photos. “Done. You happy?” With that half smirk now facing me dead on, my heart flutters. But it’s just because he’s being nice to me.

“Ya. I am.” And I actually feel it for the first time in…damn…I want to say hours in reference to the fight, but if I’m being honest with myself it’s been way longer than a few hours. I’m thinking months. Probably about as long as it’s been since I’ve had sex. And that last time wasn’t even that great.

My smile wavers at the thought.

“You sure?”

“Ya. Totally.” Totally unsure actually.

Chapter 2

Ford

“Hey limp dick, still recovering?” Damon’s voice cracks through my moment of indecision. I was just about to press Holly for details because she’s not her normal perky self. And no, I’m not talking about her tits. I mean, those too…but…fuck it. She’s hot. And she’s obviously not for me. Hence why Damon thinks I’m recovering from a six-month injury. But about six months ago Damon changed. Even though I can’t put my finger on it, the timing worked out well. I don’t want to be around him anymore because of how he’s been acting, and I can’t be around his girlfriend at all because of how hot and bothered she makes me.

“Yup. Still recovering.” Still recovering from being obsessed with your girlfriend. And no, inhaling her heavenly scent while practically cradling her in my arms did not help. And no, her answering the door in a super hot pink bikini and jean cut offs did not help. And ya, I almost sank to my knees reeling from pain when I looked up to find tear rimmed eyes.

“You’re early,” he says to me while dropping a bag on the island and distractedly mentioning to Holly that it’s for her. I’m tracking her movements out of my peripheral vision as much as possible, but it’s hard to watch when I see her face fall as she pulls out a wrapped bouquet of orange flowers.

Dude can’t even get apology flowers right. Even I know her favourite color. Why am I still friends with this guy? That’s right. I’m trying not to be. So why did I even come here tonight? It’s not like I really want to hear him go on about my family’s construction company all night asking about getting some free work done. If I’m being real, I came over hoping to get a glimpse of her. Does that make me pathetic? Yes. Is it curable? No.

“Nah, man. You’re late.”