Page 25 of Driven to Love

Nash had waved to the group when he came in. He couldn’t have missed her sitting there all evening. Not her. He’d been highly attuned to her presence since the first time he’d seen her at The Barn.

She brushed a hand over the guy’s arm as she reached for her drink. Nash’s gut tightened. The guy turned, and Nash searched his brain for the guy’s name. Carey? He’d been into the shop before. Nash had a memory for vehicles, not names. He’d worked on Corey’s? Yeah, that’s it, Corey’s 2500 Duramax with a sweet aftermarket exhaust. Beautiful truck, except… Nash groaned at the recollection of the huge gold and purple window graphics that filled the back glass. Not his taste, but the guy was a massive sports fan.

“Hey, Corey.” Nash walked up to the table and shook the man’s hand. “How’s your truck running?”

“Great, man. That chip you installed really gave it a boost.”

“Good to hear.” He turned to Addison. “Nice to see you, Addison.”

Her green eyes cooled at the sound of his voice, but the corners of her mouth tipped up, even though it held no warmth. A sudden chill brushed over him—Christmas in July without the merriment. He’d need his Carhartt if she kept this up.

“So much for friends,” he muttered. She must have heard him because her expression softened.

“I had a change of plans.” Turning to Corey, she trailed her fingers up and over his shoulder. “I should get back to my friends. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Uh. Yeah. I can’t wait.”

Nice recovery, dude. Addison was way out of Corey’s league. Hell, this guy was minor league, and she was clearly a starting player in the majors. Addison could date any guy she wanted. So why this one?

He pondered the thought for a moment before he realized he was standing there with his hands in his pockets, staring off into space, and she had left.

Shit. He took one last look at the man who had just scored a date with the woman of Nash’s dreams. Lucky bastard. But if he hurt her… Nash ground his teeth.

“See you around.” Nash strolled behind Addison back to the table. His gaze dipped to those sleek legs, tan and cruising at a pretty good clip. Man, she was fast in those heels. He lowered himself into the chair next to her. His arm brushed hers as he reached for the last piece of cheese bread.

No reaction. Nothing. She conversed with her friends as if he hadn’t touched her at all. No jerk away or a sneer, not even a sarcastic “excuse you.”

The ice queen was in the house. Her lack of interaction amped something inside him. Game on.

Nash leaned in, his thigh lightly pressing against hers. There! The flutter in her neck. She tried to cover, but she wasn’t quick enough. He saw it.

He bit back a grin, propped an elbow on the table, and rested his chin in his hand. “So… I’m guessing your date was a dud.”

Marti grinned. Nash gave her a conspiratorial wink.

“It was… lovely.” Addison ran a hand over her skirt as if brushing off his question.

“So good that you were flirting with Corey over there mere minutes after leaving this lovely date.” It was a sign that the date not only sucked, but it went down in flames. Internally, Nash cheered.

She whirled to face him, fire in her eyes.

Nash didn’t know whether he was more frightened or turned on. She was furious, and sexy as hell, but they had a tenuous friendship, and he needed to hold his ground. Eyes locked, he waited to see who would back down first. Damned if it would be him.

Addison’s cold shield cracked, and he saw her frustration peeking through. “He’s a nice guy, but we just have different styles.”

“As in you like modern and he’s rustic?”

She tapped a finger against her mouth, either picking the right words or debating how much to share with him. “More like, my house is not full of dead animals.”

“I can see where that might be an issue.” Nash would have laughed, but the flash of disappointment behind her veneer of nonchalance stopped him.

She cocked her head. “You hunt, don’t you?”

“It’s been years. It was something I did with my father when I was young.” He still enjoyed some target practice, but after his time in the military, Nash had had enough of waiting for something to happen while sitting in the cold or heat with a rifle in his hand.

“Okay, but you did. Do you have taxidermy in your house?”

He shook his head and winced. “I could see a nice set of antlers on the wall, but the whole head? The eyes watching would creep me out.” He whispered the last part as if the confession would forfeit his man card.