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As they fell into a slow sway, their hips moving together and Nash holding her close while the singer talked about dying a happy man, Vivian felt goose bumps prickle her skin. He was stunning, she realized. Even more so than when she’d first spotted him on the side of the road. Now that she knew the man behind all the brooding façade, he was impossibly attractive. She’d even dare to say he had a sweet and tender side to him, which made sense. A woman would have to be crazy to marry him if he didn’t have some redeeming qualities.
Nash was holding her hand in his, clutched to his chest where his heart beat rhythmically against the sweat-soaked plaid shirt that brought out the blue in his eyes.
Looking up, Vivian couldn’t break free of his penetrating gaze that seemed to almost see straight through her. Funny how first impressions didn’t always add up. She’d thought he was a jerk, and he was, just not as much of one as she’d thought him to be. The closer she got, however, and the more she learned about him, even in his silence, the more she realized just how wrong she had been.
Nash was a good man, just as Gretta had said. And after tonight, she was afraid of how easily she could see herself falling for someone like him. Or him.
She could fall for Nash.
Looks aside, he was completely swoon-worthy.
“Do you feel it, too?” he murmured, watching her closely.
Vivian blinked. “Feel what?” She knew exactly what he meant, but she had to be sure.
“Whatever this is between us. You feel it, too.”
Vivian couldn’t form words, so she nodded mutely. Yes, she did. It was strong, the sensation a fire inside that burned bright and hot and undeniable.
“Maybe Ms. Gretta was on to something,” he suggested.
“Maybe she was,” Vivian agreed. The old woman saw more than most, that was clear, and her attempts at playing matchmaker might just be paying off. But was Vivian ready for it? Fresh out of a marriage, it didn’t seem like a great idea to jump right back into another. Especially with someone she bumped heads with and whom she hardly knew anything about.
But what if…
“Hmm…” Nash made a contemplative sound as he stared at her mouth, and when Vivian licked her lips, he leaned down and laid the gentlest kiss on them she’d ever experienced.
Lightning flashed through her veins, lighting up her insides like a fireworks show and curling her toes in her boots. She thought of her favorite movie growing up,Pretty in Pinkand thought that Nash must have been practicing on watermelons, too, because he was a hell of a strong kisser.
My. God.
He must have been just as affected, too. Breathing heavily, his lips parted from hers, and he pressed their foreheads together, his eyes closed as if he was savoring the moment. Vivian was running through her own memories of her first kiss, the many she’d shared with Andrew, but they all came up short in comparison.
She’d never been so affected, never felt this way from a decidedly chaste and simple kiss before.
Nash was doing something to her that she was afraid to put a name to…because it felt too serious for too short a time.
No, Vivian couldn’t have feelings for Nash. Not the kind her heart was suggesting, proving that it really was a dumb organ that needed to be kept watch over so it didn’t get her into something too deep to dig herself out of.
Nash must have reached the same conclusion because instead of kissing her again, he pulled away, his eyes soft but hard at once.
“It’s getting late. Come on, I’ll take you back to your car.”
The high she’d been riding diminished when he dropped her hand, breaking all connection, and walked away, expecting her to follow. She did. All the way back to her car, where he told her goodnight and was on his way again, leaving her in that lonely parking lot surrounded by dark storefronts.
Starting the car, Vivian coasted down the country roads back toward Gretta’s, filled with confliction. What was she supposed to do now?
FOURTEEN
The rooster may have woken her up, but the murmured conversation was what captured her attention the following morning and had Vivian making her way downstairs. She recognized Nash’s deep timber immediately, mixed with Gretta’s softer motherly voice.
Intuition told her they were discussing something serious, and she should stay out of it, but the curious woman in her told her to stay quiet and listen closer, find out what she could.
She knew it was wrong as she crept down to the last stair and stayed put, straining to hear every syllable spoken between them. Judging by their low tones, she had a feeling it had something to do with her, with last night.
“…didn’t mean to,” she heard him say.
Was Nash regretting kissing her?
