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“No, he ate a tablecloth that Fred’s great-grandmother crocheted, and it was almost one hundred years old.”
“That’s a shame, but I’m having a hard time drawing a straight line from Fred Nagel’s dog eating a tablecloth to some cute little lady at Estelle’s.” He was lucky he tucked that smile away, because Molly was this close to following through with a nasty right hook.
“That cute little lady waxed my armpits.” At the look of horror on his face, she nodded. “Right? Have you ever had your armpits waxed?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Then she did my legs, which I didn’t want her to do. I mean, I’d just shaved them the night before because you were coming over, but she promised me I’d love it. I swear that old lady is the devil.”
Even Molly knew she was riding too close to the edge,
but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “And then she waxed me down there.”
“Down…” His eyes dropped below her waist, and this time, the smile hung around.
Molly stepped forward and thumped his shoulder once more. “Oh, it gets better. At this point, I wanted to throat punch her, and if she didn’t go to church with my mother, I just might have. Instead, in this little voice that’s all soft and Southern, which is bull because everyone knows she’s born and raised in Crystal Lake, she tells me to get on all fours. and then she…” Molly’s eyes nearly fell out of her head. “Let’s just say I have zero hair anywhere in this vicinity.” She made a circular motion below the belt and narrowed her eyes. “Front or back.”
Nate had the good grace to look a little concerned.
“She should have warned you.”
“Damn right she should have warned me. It’s like assault or something. I mean, honestly, I’ve never in my life done anything like it.”
“Did it hurt?”
“No,” she replied, “not really. It’s the idea of it, Nate. The idea that I would do it. It’s like a porn-star thing, and I…” She looked up at him. “I did it for you. I jumped way the hell out of my comfort zone for you. And how am I repaid? I walk into the Coach House and see you and Chess Somers getting cozy by the bar. Do you know how that made me feel?”
“Hold on,” he said roughly. “Give me a second.”
She watched Nate, chest heaving and afraid she was going to go and do something really stupid, like start crying or something. Geez, she thought, get your shit together.
He scooped his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and scrolled through the screen. The light lit up his face, and she realized how badly she was done for. Just looking at the man made her insides quake. What the hell had she gotten herself into?
“Here we go,” he said quietly, moving toward her. His face was now in shadow, and when his arms slid around her, Molly’s first instinct was to pull away. Weren’t they in the middle of a fight?
But then she heard the telltale strains of her favorite Backstreet Boys song, and she all but melted into him. She rested her cheek against his hard chest and closed her eyes as he pulled her even closer. He didn’t say a word. He just moved slowly, and she followed suit, their bodies fitting together perfectly.
You are my fire. My one desire. Believe when I say. I want it that way.
They shuffled together in the dark, moving slowly, sensually, and when the song played out, they didn’t stop. The tremors in her body were gone. The fight all but left and, suddenly spent, she knew that if Nate’s arms weren’t around her, she’d be a puddle of flesh and bone.
“I guess we’re done fighting?” she whispered, looking up at him.
“I don’t want to fight. Molly, I’m being straight-up honest with you. Chess means nothing to me. Not in that way. And here’s the truth. We hung out in New York City when she was there and a few other times. But she’s not you. I’m not interested.” He cupped her chin and pressed a kiss to her mouth. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got big plans for tonight.”
“But…” She turned back toward the Coach House. “I can’t just leave.”
“Yes.” He winked at her and pulled her along with him. “You can. I’ve got a cab on the way.”
“But what will they think? Jess and the girls are probably wondering where I am, and I’m sure Zach has noticed the two of us are missing.”
Nathan waited a heartbeat and then whispered, “I don’t really give a damn. Do you?”
Did she? Could she deal with their friends knowing they’d moved on to something more than whatever it was they were? That they were sleeping together?
She hesitated. There was a part of her that always held back, the part that was big on self-preservation. But then something broke away. And maybe it was the self-preservation piece, or it could have been the I-don’t-give-a-crap piece. Whatever it was, she surrendered to it and took his hand.
“No,” she replied. “I don’t care what they think.”
