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All I hear are the sounds of Nick moving around, then barely ten seconds later, he storms back out of my room with my old electric heater braced over his big shoulder. Then without another word, he strides out the front door and tosses the heater in the back of Oxley’s truck.
“HEY! That’s mine.”
Nick ignores me, narrowing his gaze as though trying to convince himself not to fire back, and with that, he steps up into the passenger seat of Oxley’s truck before the heavy thud of the closing door echoes down the snow-laden street.
Well. That’s not exactly how I thought that was going to go down.
Movement behind me catches my attention, and I turn back to find Oxley finishing with the fire, the warmth already beginning to spread through the small cottage home. His gaze lingers out toward his truck, his lips pressed into a hard line.
“Fix it,” he says as a reminder, that blueish-gray stare swinging back to me.
Oxley holds my gaze for a moment too long, waiting for a response that I don’t want to give. “Okay, fine,” I mutter, unsure how one stare from the guy has me ready to cave. “I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises. After all, the guy practically gets off on arguing with me.”
Oxley scoffs as he walks to my door. “And you don’t?” he says, pausing to look back at me.
Shit. He’s got me there. Despite how infuriating it’s been going back and forth with Nick today, it’s also worked me up in a way I haven’t felt since . . . Well, since before I left Blushing in the first place.
Not wanting to let on just how right he is, I roll my eyes and scoff. “Whatever,” I mutter, following him to the door and taking the handle. I stop there, watching him tromp through the snow, leaving big divots as he makes his way across the yard rather than walking around and using the driveway like a normal human being.
“Look,” Oxley says, pausing again to glance back at me. “I have high hopes for you, Blair. You and me, we could really hit it off. You’re the perfect bestie I’ve been searching for. Us together. Hell, girl. We could get up to some real nasty shit, but if you can’t figure out your problems with that lump of assholery back there, he’s gonna force me to pick a side. And let’s face it, he’s got a whole lifetime of bullshit that can be used as blackmail to risk getting on his bad side. So I’d really appreciate it if you could just . . . play nice. Hell, maybe even jump his bones if you feel that way inclined. Get him all chuffed up for Christmas. Fuck knows he needs it.”
My cheeks flame, and I press my lips into a hard line, refusing to respond to any of that because . . . how? The thought of climbing into Nick’s bed and riding him like a freaking cowgirl has haunted all of my most delicious thoughts, but actually doing it? Shit. I can’t afford to allow myself to hope like that. Nick and I always had the most sizzling chemistry when it came to sex. We worked so well together, and there was never a time when I was left wanting. He knew exactly how to please me, and God, I’ve been searching high and low for someone who could make me feel like that again, but it’s an impossible task. Nobody will ever make me come alive the way Nick did.
My gaze remains locked on Oxley’s truck, just waiting for Nick to glance back at me, even only for a second, but he never does, and before I know it, Oxley is seated behind the steering wheel and hitting the gas, taking my heart right along with him as the boys disappear down the street.
Knowing if I dwell on it too much, the rest of my night will be spent crying on the sofa, so I put it to the back of my mind, hoping that at some point over the next few weeks, Nick might offer me the chance to sit down with him and talk it out like we both clearly need.
Wanting to keep myself busy, I trudge through the snow, heading out toward the shed, my body already starting to sweat at the mere idea of having to walk in there, but luckily, my afternoon with Nick has left me so worked up that I might just have the balls to actually get further than the door.
My nerves reach an all-time high, and I remind myself that I was a badass lumberjack today, and if the shed monster wants to come for me, then I’ll happily show him the new tricks I learned with a saw. I get the door open, and with the remaining sunlight, I’m able to quickly find Nana’s old tubs of Christmas decorations. She always went hard when it came to turning our home into a winter wonderland, and I’m not going to lie, I’m slightly horrified by the mounds of tubs staring back at me. But I can manage . . . right?
Shit.
Realizing these old tubs aren’t going to move themselves, I start digging them out while repeating over and over again that the shed monster isn’t real. I drag them out onto the snow-covered grass, and the minute they’re all out, I hastily shut the shed doors, not having realized that my whole body is covered in a sheer layer of nervous sweat.
I try to calm myself as I drag the heavy tubs toward the door, and just as I grab the final one, a small blue hatchback pulls to a stop outside my home.
I pause, my brows furrowed as I watch the car door open, and when a familiar head of hair steps out into the chilly evening, carrying not one, but four bottles of wine, a cheesy-as-fuck grin stretches across my face.
Sarah grins right back. “News of your afternoon is spreading through town like wildfire,” she says, grabbing one of the bottles by the neck and holding it up as she trudges up the driveway. “Figured you need a few of these.”
“Oh, thank God,” I sigh with relief, all but dropping to my knees.
“Did you really have to abandon two separate trucks and get stranded on the side of the road for an hour?”
“Two hours,” I tell her, immediately pulling her into my arms for a big hug the moment she reaches the porch. “Without heating, and with a broody asshole who insisted on dredging up the past.”
“Oh shit. Good thing I brought more than one bottle.”
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”
Sarah smiles wide before waltzing straight through the front door. “I’ll pour the wine,” she calls over her shoulder. “You bring those tubs in, and I’ll find the Christmas tunes. Then we can get fucked up decorating and talking shit about Nicholas Stone.”
Warmth spreads through my chest, and I grab the tub on top, following her in. “It’s like music to my ears.”
13
NICK
