That Thing You Do (Crystal Lake 2)

Zach took a puff and smiled. “These are damn good.”

“The best.”

Zach swayed slightly. “I think I had too much whiskey.”

“It’s the last kick at the can, my friend. Enjoy it.”

“I really love her.” Zach chuckled. “Hell, last week, we were in Costco, and she almost convinced me to buy pink sheets.” He looked at Nate, horrified. “Pink sheets, if you can believe it. I almost caved too. She loves pink like she loves margarita pizza, and that’s a hell of a lot.” He took another puff from his cigar and let the smoke whirl around his head in a haze. “I’d do anything for her.” He blew out a long breath. “She wants to start a family right away.”

“Yeah?”

Zach nodded. “What do you think about that?”

Nate leaned on the railing and looked out over the course. From here, he could see all the way down the fairway, past the trees that encircled the course, to the sparkling water of Crystal Lake.

“I think kids are great,” he replied slowly, kind of surprised because he actually meant it. Heck, Stu’s little guy wasn’t so bad. Sure, he cried a lot, and it seemed like either Stu or his wife were constantly changing diapers, or putting him down to sleep, or changing clothes because the little guy spit up a lot. But the baby would grow out of that eventually, and in a couple of years, Stu would be able to lace him up in a pair of skates and teach him the only game God ever blessed: hockey.

“Well…” Zach held aloft his tumbler of whiskey. “Here’s to getting hitched and starting a family.” His brow furled. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Damn, but his buddy was all over the place today. Had to be wedding nerves.

“You ever think of settling down?”

“Not really,” Nate admitted. He watched the ash burn off the end of his cigar and wondered what it would be like settling down with Molly. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he gave himself a mental shake. It would never work. Her life was here and his wasn’t. Plus, all the rules she’d insisted on. That didn’t sound like a woman hell-bent on nabbing herself a guy.

So what the hell had happened in Vegas? Was it really just a case of her getting so damn drunk she’d done and said things she didn’t mean?

“You have an aversion to getting hitched?”

“No, I…” He frowned. “I just haven’t thought about it.” Nate looked at Zach and narrowed his eyes. “What are the twenty questions for? If you’ve got something to say, just say it already. But if it’s got anything to do with Molly, save your breath. She and I are good. We’re better than good, and we’re…” He swore under his breath because he wasn’t sharing shit with Zach, and he’d promised Molly no one would know. “We’re just pals, same as always, Zach. Nothing more than that.”

Zach set his tumbler on the railing and then u

sed it to steady himself. “She’s different, Nate. Everybody sees it.” He glanced up at Nate. “And so are you.” A sloppy grin crossed his face. “That’s all I’m saying. Nothing more.”

“Guys, we’re headed to the Coach House. The Blues Band is playing.” Stu poked his head through the door. “Get your ass in gear. The cab is on its way.”

The ride was boisterous. It was about twenty minutes around the lake and to the other side of town. The music was loud, Mike decided to serenade them all (the guy was tone deaf and wasn’t winning any awards), and Nate was glad that Zach had turned his attention to Brad, who, other than Nate, was the only single guy in the group. Love seemed to have turned his pal into a wannabe love guru.

By the time they got to the Coach House, it was nearly seven and they were hungry. They grabbed a large table near the stage, and Nash Booker, the owner of this fine establishment, sent over platters of wings, Cajun fries, deep-fried onions and pickles, along with several jugs of beer and a round of tequila shots. All on the house.

The boys toasted, and Nate loosened up a little, happy to be here with the gang, though there was one missing. He checked his phone for the tenth time, but there was nothing from Molly. The plan was that she’d text him when she got back to town from the wine-and-brew tour, and each of them would come up with an excuse to leave their group and meet up back at her place. It was on the down low exactly as she wanted it.

Which, if Nate was being honest, kind of bugged him. Why the hell did she want to hide the fact that they were hanging out? It wasn’t a crime. Shit, men and women did it all the time. It wasn’t as if they were seventeen. They were grown-ass adults. Why did she insist on keeping him a secret?

Restless, he slid off his chair and pushed his way through the crowd gathered on the dance floor. The band was about to start, the guys were shuffling around on stage, but Nate wasn’t interested. He needed some air and some quiet, because, since Molly wasn’t texting him, he was going to call her.

He was nearly to the bar when a hand snaked out and grabbed his arm. He knew it was a woman on account of the fact her nails nearly broke skin. Chess Somers. She looked like she was dressed not just to kill, but to annihilate any male that had the misfortune of crossing her path. The little black top she wore barely covered her tits, leaving most of her abs and bellybutton exposed. Her jeans fit like a glove, and yeah, the woman had curves, dangerous curves, the kind of curves that used to turn Nate’s head and spark up his libido like a firecracker. But as he stared down into her eyes, he felt nothing.

Instead, he noted other things, like overly plump lips, probably from filler, expertly made-up eyes complete with lashes so thick, they had to be fake, and teeth so damn white, it hurt to look at them. She was pretty much every man’s fantasy, but a fantasy wasn’t real. A fantasy had no substance.

He’d known Chess for years, and the thing was, this mask she showed the world wasn’t her. Or, at least, it was an exaggerated version that paled in comparison to the Chess he knew knocked around inside her. Why she chose to hide it was anybody’s guess. Now, the woman could be nasty, no doubt about it, and she didn’t have many women friends that Nate knew. But underneath all that stuff she slathered on her face to cover up what stared back at her in the mirror was a woman who was smart, had a great sense of humor—the kind that bites, but Nate found it amusing—and she wasn’t so damn predatory.

Nate figured there were a ton of reasons why Chess was the way she was, but he wasn’t interested in finding out what they were. It didn’t mean he didn’t care about her on some level, but she wasn’t his problem, and she sure as hell wasn’t the woman who was on his mind twenty-four seven.

“There you are,” she said, a slow smile curving her generous mouth. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

He nodded toward the door. “Fresh air.”