This is fake. These dates mean nothing. Don’t forget. And whatever you do, don’t let him break your heart again.
She really, really needed to remember that.
They ate and talked, sharing what happened in their worlds the last few days like a normal couple, which made her uneasy.
“Work keeping you busy?” he asked nonchalantly as he devoured his clam chowder.
“Definitely. This is one of the busiest times of year for me. During the holidays and early summer. Holiday parties or weddings and baby showers.” She went into enthusiastic detail about her schedule for the next few weeks and the new cotton candy flavors she wanted to try thanks to the inspiration she just received here at the Wharf.
That mention had put a particular sparkle in Nick’s eyes, which, of course, thrilled her.
Not that she would ever admit it.
“How do you feel about the next game? Are you ready?”
“Hell, yeah. I’m pumped. The entire team is pumped. Don’t like to go into too much detail only because we get a little superstitious.” He tore off a hunk of sourdough bread from his bowl and chewed thoughtfully. “After everything’s over, we should go on a vacation.”
She nearly swallowed her tongue. “Together?”
“Well, yeah. That’s the idea.” His gaze zeroed in on her face, turned thoughtful and aroused, all at once. “You work damn hard, woman. You deserve a break.”
“You work pretty hard yourself,” she pointed out, her skin warming with pleasure that he seemed so concerned with her wellbeing tonight.
But he was talking about a future that they really didn’t have. Why in the world would he want to go on a vacation with her when he was blackmailing her for a certain amount of dates?
Maybe because Nick actually cares about you?
Why did the idea of that both excite and scare the crap out of her?
The more they talked, the more she forgot that she was supposed to be angry with him. She laughed at all of his jokes. He dialed down the overt charm and just acted like himself—the Nick she remembered from before. All the while they scooted closer and closer to each other, until finally they were done with their dinner and she was practically sitting
on his thigh, her head nestled on his chest, his deep voice rumbling against her ear as he talked.
Realizing what she was doing, she tried to jerk out of his hold, but he wouldn’t let her.
“I know you grew up with your father but you never say anything about your mom. Tell me about her,” he said, his voice soft.
She stiffened, unease making her blood run ice cold. “There’s not much to tell.”
“She’s never really been in your life, huh?” He knew this. She’d been ultra sensitive to the subject when they were together the first time around. Realizing at the age of nineteen that your mom doesn’t give a shit about you hurts. A lot.
Maybe that’s why she’d clung so hard to Nick back then…
“It’s always just been me and my dad,” she finally answered, wishing they weren’t having this conversation.
Now it was his turn to stiffen. “Yeah…Walter. So how’s he doing?”
“As overprotective as ever.” She paused, plucking at the front of his sweatshirt, horrified when she realized she was acting like the typical clingy girlfriend. She let her hand fall away from him. “He’d probably have a coronary if he saw the two of us together.”
She didn’t even want to think about what her father would do.
“I’m sure,” Nick said wryly.
They remained silent for a few minutes, Willow’s head spinning. He asked about her mom, and no one ever did that. She knew Nick was close to his mother so maybe it was just a natural thing. He probably thought the fact that she wasn’t close to her mom was pretty disappointing. Which it was.
Plus, he probably remembered how torn up she’d been at nineteen, feeling abandoned and angry at her neglectful mother.
“Talking about my mother isn’t easy because we don’t have much of a relationship,” she finally said, feeling defensive but needing to get this out. “She lives in Europe. She’s selfish and vain and only cares about the clothes she wears and if she looks young enough. She used to be a model.”