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“So tell me. I want details. Then maybe I could give you a few of my own.” Sheridan made the offer casually, her back still to Willow as she continued to paint, dropping the sort of bait she knew Willow would want to hear.
“Fine.” Willow sighed, more than wary to delve into her past. The memories were painful. “Remember the summer you went to Paris with your grandma so you could tour art galleries and eat croissants and drink café au laits all day?”
Sheridan set her brush down and turned to face Willow fully, a dreamy expression on her face. “That was, like, the best summer ever. I met that cute French boy who whispered sexy words in my ear after he kissed me.”
“He could’ve been whispering ‘I like to eat dog crap and lick the bowl clean when I’m finished’ for all you know,” Willow said with a laugh. “It all sounds sexy when it’s spoken in a foreign language.”
“Whatever.” Sheridan laughed as well. “Quit dodging the subject and tell me your Nick story.”
“Well, it was the best summer for me, too,” Willow admitted softly. “It was his first season with the Hawks, and he was under major scrutiny. I’d been hanging around the summer training facility, following my dad everywhere because hello, I wanted to check out the players.”
“Of course. We were young and hot for older dudes,” Sheridan agreed.
“Right.” They’d been young and dumb is more like it. “I saw Nick and I immediately wanted him.” God, he’d been so sexy, running down the field, catching the ball with ease. Fast as hell, gorgeous even when he was exhausted and sweaty. So arrogant and full of himself, but full of fun, too.
They’d taken one look at each other and that was it. She’d pursued him with a single-minded focus that had surprised her. He’d reciprocated his interest without any sort of pretense. They’d fallen into bed together—and everywhere else they could do it—and she experienced the hottest sex of her life. Considering she hadn’t even been twenty at the time, she didn’t have much to compare it to.
Now, years later, she could still say without a doubt being with Nick had been the best sexual experience of her life.
“He’s very good looking,” Sheridan said. “And charming and sweet. He has this way of talking to me—talking to anyone, really, and he’s just so…captivating. I adore him.”
“Yeah well, he worked that magic charm all over me for a few weeks, and then he left. Went on to San Jose to begin the season. Told me we’d never work out. He’d been so abrupt, so unfeeling. It was like he completely changed and decided he was tired of me.” Bitterness coursed through her, though really, she was being ridiculous. They’d been young and foolish, and how could she ever think they’d really have something serious?
But she had.
Asshole.
“You two probably wouldn’t have worked out anyway. Look at you now.” Sheridan waved a hand in Willow’s direction. “You hate him.”
She didn’t hate him. She wanted him. And that made her hate herself more. “I don’t hate him,” she mumbled, finally settling on the stool close to Sheridan’s. “It’s safer for me to act like I can’t stand him so he keeps his distance.”
“I don’t think he’s doing a very good job at keeping his distance,” Sheridan said wryly.
Great. “What did Nick tell Jared?” She knew what most likely happened. Nick said something to Jared, and then Jared told Sheridan while they were lying in bed and engaging in post-coital-glow pillow talk.
“Not enough to keep my gossipy heart satisfied. I’ve heard a few stories of the two of you kissing. I think I caught you once, though you were definitely not kissing and telling. Oh, and you mentioned just recently that you were at his house the night Jared came over all despondent over our, uh, breakup.” Sheridan shrugged. Not one of her favorite moments to recall, Willow was sure.
And fine. Nick had kissed her quite a few times. Always to keep her quiet. Always when she was yammering at him for one thing or another. Causing an argument with him because she couldn’t resist. He fired her up and if she couldn’t have him, she’d fight with him instead. It was almost as arousing.
Then he’d go and kiss her anyway. Leave her a shuddering, near devastated mess over it, too. The jerk. “I don’t know what he wants from me tonight, Sher. I’m nervous.”
Beyond nervous. He was going to try to finagle something out of her. She could feel it in her bones.
“He probably just wants to get in your pants,” Sheridan said.
Willow burst out laughing. “I think you’ve been hanging out with football players too much. You never used to be this blunt.”
“Oh, I could say something way worse, trust me. Besides, I always had it in me. You of all people should know this.” Sheridan sighed. “Give the guy a break; go to dinner and listen to what he has to say. He might have a great idea for how to make this work with the building and the lease. He never said he wouldn’t lower the price, did he?”
“No, he didn’t.” That was the one bit of hope she clung to.
How she hated that she needed his help. At Nick’s mercy was the last place she wanted to be. But here she was, ready to beg and plead if needed.
No getting down on her knees, though. She was so done with that scenario it wasn’t even funny.
…
Nick had gone all out tonight for this dinner—called up Charlie and made sure the best table was ava
