Foolish Expectations (3 page)

“I don’t think any such thing,” Nash said, scoffing at her remark.

“Oh, really? Well, why else would you come all the way out here to give me one last chance to sleep with you?”

That’s what she thought I was doing? Christ.

He sighed. “You have it all wrong. I came out here only to make sure you were okay.” He released her and backed away to make sure she understood he was no threat. “You were being followed…by someone other than me.”

She stilled and her eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

The sound of the country music grew louder and they both looked up to see Richard slipping through the front door, heading back inside the bar. Nash glanced back at her to make sure she fully understood the situation.

Momentarily stunned, a soft little “oh” whispered past her parted lips. Her eyes glazed over, but it wasn’t anger he saw there. It was something different, something that grabbed his attention and held on tight. Fear.

“I…I only wanted a beer,” she said, her voice trembling. “Just a cold beer.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “But apparently wearing a stupid dress in that bar declares hunting season officially open with me as the big game trophy.” Sniffling, she wiped away a stray tear with the back of her hand. “And believe me, I didn’t come here with any intention of being mounted or stuffed.”

Silently, he stared at her for a full minute. Then he pushed himself off the tailgate and stepped back, shoving his hand in his right pocket. He pulled out his keys and motioned with his head. “Come on.”

She stood there dumbfounded, twisting her fingers together, as he crossed the parking lot and climbed into his gold Chevy truck. She hadn’t moved a muscle, so he started the engine and shifted into reverse, backing across the parking lot until the truck was even with her. He motored down the window. “You coming?”

She glanced down at her feet, then shifted uncomfortably. “I, uh…where are we going?”

“You said you wanted a cold beer. I know just the place.”

Her gaze met his once again, but her blue eyes had dulled to an ashy gray as if her confidence had diminished. He hated that. Nash wanted to see that fiery spark she’d had when she’d let him have it in the bar. So he added, “You want it or not?” He grinned sinfully and arched one brow, knowing it came off as a double entendre.

She scoffed at his remark. “Yeah, I want it. The beer, I mean.”

Nash grinned as she opened the door and lifted her leg to climb inside…until the hem of her dress inched upward and stretched tight across her slender thighs. He blew out a slow breath and nonchalantly adjusted himself, hoping to alleviate the uncomfortable crowding going on in his jeans. But as she slid into the seat, closed the door, and turned to grab the seat belt, her skirt only rose higher.

He gripped the steering wheel harder, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the road as he drove out of the parking lot.

“So, do you want to tell me why I deserved the public humiliation you unleashed on me back there?”

She grimaced. “Look, I’ve had a rough day, okay? I’m sorry if I took it out on you, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, fair enough. Where are you from?”

“How about we just forget the talking altogether?”

“It’s a simple question.”

She stared out the passenger window and sighed. “Here.”

“Here, as in Flat Rock?”

“No, here as in the mesquite tree we just passed,” she said, her tone ringing with sarcasm. “Of course I meant Flat Rock. What kind of question is that?”

Her sharp words came out almost hateful, littered with an untrusting, smart-ass zing, but he recognized the attitude for what it was. Someone had done something to get this energetic young woman’s back up, and Nash would bet almost anything that someone had been a man. Judging by the ugly scowl on her pretty face, she’d had just about enough of them.

“Houston isn’t far away, you know. Or you could have been from any of the surrounding cities. Flat Rock isn’t all that big compared to most places, yet I’ve never seen you around town.”

“There’s fifteen thousand residents in Flat Rock. I doubt you know the other fourteen thousand nine hundred ninety-eight of them. Or did you pick them all up in a bar, too?”

He grinned. “Well, I can see conversation comes naturally to you.” Then he leveled a sardonic gaze at her and shook his head. “Why don’t you relax a little? I’m not the bad guy here.”

“
That
has yet to be determined,” she said coolly.

Nash thought about that for a moment. “Want me to prove it?”

“How? You going to put on your ‘I’m not the bad guy’ badge?” Her smile teetered between irritation and amusement. “Or maybe you’re going to show me the superhero leotard under your clothes? Is that it—you’ve got your spidey-roos on?”

He shook his head.
Christ, she’s a smart-ass.
A long-legged, sexy smart-ass with a sharp tongue and a curvy little body that he wanted pressed against his. “I have something a little different in mind, but I think it’ll convince you.”

“I doubt it.”

He shrugged and turned right on the next street. “Nothing more fun than proving someone wrong.”

A few minutes later, they veered onto a long caliche-paved driveway and followed it up to a red brick ranch-style home, complete with an old wooden barn and fenced pastures. Several curious horses lifted their heads at the sound of the approaching truck. Nash pulled up in front of the house and shut off the engine.

She glanced around warily. “I…I thought you were taking me to a bar?”

“Sweetheart, there’s not a bar in this city you can go into wearing a dress like that and
not
get hit on by some idiot. You’re safer having a drink here.”

 “Where’s
here
?”

“My house,” he said, smiling at the panic that flashed across her face. “Calm down. It’s not what you think.”

“Oh, really?” The panic quickly changed to irritation. “Like you even have a clue as to what I’m thinking?”

He leaned his arm on the steering wheel and looked directly into her eyes. “You’re thinking I brought you here with the intention of putting the moves on you so I could get you into bed. You’re wrong. I brought you here to show you I can be a gentleman.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight. You’re proving that you’re a gentleman by taking me home with you?” She shook her head. “You’re fucking delusional.”

“No, I’m going to prove it by keeping my hands to myself.”

“Right. And I’m supposed to believe that?”

Nash tried to be patient with her, but didn’t appreciate being treated like he was some kind of predator. “I don’t know what kind of men you’re used to hanging out with, but I would never touch a woman in a sexual manner unless she asked me to. So unless you give me a green light, you’re perfectly safe with me.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t.”

“Then I reckon you have nothing to worry about,” he said, hoping his sincerity registered in his tone. She still didn’t look convinced, though. “Okay, fine. Tell me where you live and I’ll take you home.”

He moved to start the engine, but she placed her hand on his arm. “Um, Nash…wait.” Their eyes met briefly, and she bit her lip. “I didn’t get the beer you promised me.”

Nash nodded and climbed out of the truck, wiping the grin off his face before he sauntered around to the front bumper where she met him. They strolled side-by-side up to the front porch together, where he unlocked the door and reached inside to flip on the lights before they entered.

He left her standing near the front door while he stepped in the kitchen and grabbed two beers from the fridge. He twisted the lids off on his way back to her and tossed them on the coffee table. When he handed her a beer, she fumbled it a little, demonstrating how nervous she was. Probably wasn’t sure if she had let her guard down or if he had simply changed tactics. Either way, though, she’d ended up in his living room with a beer in her hand.

Damn, I’m better than I thought.

Nash plopped down on the couch, but she stayed standing, uncomfortably shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “You don’t have to stand by the door,” he said, motioning to the couch. “I promise I won’t bite.”

“I’m fine.” She shifted her weight again and gazed at the rodeo trophies on the bookshelf. “Is this what you do for a living?”

“No, I own a law practice. I retired from the rodeo circuit when I was younger, after cracking every rib in my body and getting kicked in the head one too many times.” He watched her squirm painfully in one place. She was itching to kick off those fucking shoes, just like she’d done at the bar and again in his truck. But she probably thought doing so in an intimate setting would translate as some sort of invitation.

Nash sighed. “Sweetheart, you can sit down. I’m not going to pull a Richard.”

She grinned at that, but continued to stand by the door. “It’s okay,” she said, shifting her weight again. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” He stood, walked over, and pulled the beer out of her hand, placing it on a nearby bookshelf, then scooped her off her feet.

She shrieked as he walked several feet, and tossed her onto the couch. When he placed his hand on her knee, she practically crab-crawled up the wall to get away from him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Jesus. Calm down. I’m only taking these off.” Frowning, he reached down and pulled both of her shoes loose, holding them up for her to see. “These are stupid shoes. Anyone can see that they hurt your feet. Do yourself a favor and buy boots or sneakers next time.”

He tossed the white torture devices on the floor and sat down on the couch, lifting both of her feet into his lap. She tensed and pulled away, but he firmed his grip and started massaging, pressing hard into the ball of her foot. He made slow, circular motions with his thumbs and kneaded at the tension in her tired feet.

A small sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as her body relaxed and she melted under his touch. His hands stilled momentarily, then resumed. That little sweet moan had hit a nerve, and the large bulge in his pants confirmed it. He manipulated her feet, but this woman was screwing with his head…both of them. Because although he’d promised not to touch her in a sexual way, her feet were now resting comfortably on his prominent boner, one she clearly was aware of.

The tension in the room thickened and her cheeks blushed fiercely. “Okay, you can stop now,” she said softly. He ignored her and kept rubbing. “No, really. Thank you, but my feet feel much better.”

“Problem?”

“No, I…” She blew out a breath. “Well, it’s just that…”

“Go on,” he said, grinning.

“Okay, so you obviously want me to say it out loud.” She wouldn’t look at him, and her cheeks glowed more brilliantly with heat. Without a doubt, she didn’t want to openly discuss his raging hard-on. So instead, she looked back at him and blurted out, “Your hands are rough.”

He laughed. “Chicken.”

“Fine. Is there anything that
doesn’t
turn you on?”

“Yeah,” he said, measuring her carefully with his eyes. “Consolation prizes.”

Chapter Three

Bailey giggled. “Still mad about that, huh? Hey, she was attractive in that drunken mean girl kind of way. Probably not the worst you could do.”

“I know you may not believe this, but I don’t settle. Ever.” He leveled a gaze at her that made her heart skip a beat. “Or take advantage of wounded women.”

Sure you do. You just don’t know it yet.

The moment Nash had offered to take her home, she’d had no choice but to change her tune. She didn’t want to admit she had nowhere to go. Her apartment was gone, her things had already been moved out, and even her cell phone was missing in action. She couldn’t afford to stay in a hotel, and even if she could, she didn’t want to explain to Nash why she would need to.

Oh, hell. Who am I kidding?
That wasn’t the only reason she’d changed her mind and she knew it.

Nash had proven he was a decent guy…even if he was a bit cocky for her taste. Not only had he saved her from Richard—twice—but he’d offered to do the noble thing and take her home rather than push her to come inside.

After what she’d been through earlier tonight, her opinion of men was at an all-time low. So it was almost comical that she would cross paths with a guy who wore his white knight complex like a badge of honor. It was definitely an attractive quality.

Up to this point, she’d done well enough keeping her fluctuating hormones hidden under a cloak of sarcasm. But with his overt sexual nature, she wasn’t sure she could keep it up much longer. Maybe it was best not to contemplate what undoubtedly would happen if she gave him a chance to make his big play.
No, no, no. If I’m smart, I’ll get the hell out of Dodge before he does just that.

With very little effort, the man already had her lying on his couch, moaning with pleasure. And she still had her clothes on. If she stayed much longer, she’d be naked and under him and getting a hell of a lot more than a foot rub. She just needed a moment to think.

She pushed her wavy blonde hair off her shoulders, and with a slight touch, trailed her fingers slowly across her lips, contemplating what to do. It was a nervous habit, but she never realized how sensuous and feminine it could be until she caught him watching her do it. His gaze shot back and forth, as if his eyes couldn’t decide between her mouth and her chest.

“Stop looking at my breasts.”

He gave her a sexy little smile. “Would you prefer I touch them?”

Something low and deep moved through her, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. His womanizing attitude pissed her off. She hadn’t meant to get so upset in the bar, but it wasn’t like the arrogant ass hadn’t deserved it. She guessed that the jabs she’d made at his male ego were what had him so frustrated. “It must break your heart that I’m not falling over myself to tear your clothes off.”

Judging by the irritation on his face, she’d guessed right. That’s exactly what had him so worked up. He couldn’t understand why a woman—
any woman
—didn’t want him rammed eight inches inside her. She moved her foot subtly.
Or was it nine?