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“Tru.”
“Tru. This isn’t going to work. You know it as well as I do.”
“It has to work, Nash. I’m out of options.”
He sighs. “I’m going to have my lawyer look over all this, you know.”
“You can give your lawyer my lawyer’s number. In the meantime, this is where I am staying. With my dog.” My heart is racing so fast right now. I can’t let him see how scared I am.
“I haven’t had a roommate since college.”
I lift one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I don’t intend to get in your way. I plan to go to business school by the fall.”
“It’s barely spring.”
“The sooner we sell, the sooner I’ll be gone.”
His gaze narrows and that square jaw lifts toward me. “I’m not selling Ironwing.”
“We’ll see.”
“Woman—” Fifi growls at him when he raises his voice to me. “Easy, Cujo. My blood pressure is in more danger than your mom.”
I pick her up. “She’s had a rough couple of months.”
“Oh, she has?” he asks, knowing I’m talking for the both of us. He takes a step toward us, and I back up. He cocks his head. “You don’t trust me to pet your dog? You’re going to live with someone you don’t trust to pet your dog?”
I swallow hard when he makes another approach. He scratches Fifi behind the ears and I make the mistake of inhaling that pure masculine scent that probably lures mermaids to their death instead of the other way around. My God, my toes curl so hard in my shoes that I have to keep reminding myself that I’m frigid.
“Everything okay, Gertrude?” he asks in a low, teasing voice as my dog melts against his hand. Can he tell that I’m out of breath around him? That he makes me dizzy? He smiles, throwing me further at sea. His eyes, when they land on mine, are hard to read. He slides his hand down to my wrist, rubbing his thumb over my wild pulse. “You seem a little wired.”
I slide my wrist out from his grip. “It must be the jet fuel from downstairs.”
His lips kick up on one side. “Look, I need to get to the bar. You can stay here tonight, but we need to talk about your plans. You can’t just move into my house.”
“Our house. It’s more mine than yours. You can’t make me leave.”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “We’ll talk later.” He’s doing well controlling his temper. When he walks away from me, I study the way his butt fills out his jeans and find myself blushing. I’m really incorrigible.
It doesn’t take me long to unpack. My lemon-fresh room is comfortable. The quilt on the bed handmade in a star pattern of pastels, the curtains a creamy lace, and the dresser empty. The only thing in the closet is a suitcase.
I check out the rest of the place. I don’t think he spends a lot of time here. It’s all very utilitarian in the living room, kitchen, and bathroom. So different from the dark antiques I’m accustomed to. I take another peek into his bedroom. That’s a little more like him. Maybe just because it smells like him. The room is done in navy and gray, and there are a few framed photos on the dresser. Without stepping in and really making a nuisance of myself, I can’t make them out. One looks like Nash and his dad with a fish.
It doesn’t take long for me to feel restless, so I go back down the stairs into Ironwing, Fifi in tow.
There’s nobody at the bar or any of the tables. Nash is standing at the bar reading a newspaper. He startles when I clear my throat.
“I was hoping you were a psychotic episode. Yet, here you are.”
I send him a small smile, hoping I can start off on a better foot. “Here I am.”
Two men come in wearing BBFD t-shirts. Firefighters. Is that normal here? For first responders to hang out in a bar just past noon?
“How was your shift?” Nash asks them in a friendly tone, obviously used to the regulars.
“Quiet. Cap is still out on injury, and his replacement doesn’t work us as hard on drills.”
“Don’t tell Leo that or he’ll come back to work too soon.”
