Whiskey and Country

14

NICHOLAS

“I’m expected for dinner,” Dahlia said, a light flush coloring her cheeks, her silver bracelets tinkling as she squeezed my finger in regret.

“Yeah. I’d stay here all night talking to you if I could. But I gotta go too.”

Her eyes, enticing moss-green abysses, darted back to mine. As if my words had roused them, making them come alive. The color on Dahlia’s cheeks darkened.

“You do?”

I nodded. “A barbecue. At my neighbors’ place.”

“Oh, you already made friends.” She frowned. “I’m sad. I thought I was your first one in town.” She let out a warm laugh. “It shatters the idea I’d weaved about us in my head.”

I studied her, trying to hide my amusement. “You already weaved ideas about us?”

Dahlia’s eyes brightened up, and the red shade on her cheeks deepened. This woman was beautiful. And irresistible when she blushed at my words.

“Well. To be honest, I did. But I’m heartbroken they don’t meet my expectations.”

“They don’t?”

She shook her head, staring at me, twinkles dancing around her green irises. “No. They surpass them.”

I threw back a laugh, failing to hold my glee in.

This thing between us. It could catch fire any second now.

Powerful. Easy. Intoxicating.

Dahlia’s eyes never looked away.

I cleared my throat to remove the tightness in my airways. “Since I’ve been invited to a barbecue my neighbors are hosting, I think the ‘first friend’ title still applies to you,” I said, using my fingers as quotation marks.

“Why?”

“Because they’re living next door. It doesn’t mean we’re friends by default. Only good neighborhood practices here. Your title is safe.”

Dahlia’s face dazzled.

Her full lips curved up, happiness reaching her eyes.

“Fine. You and I are now officially friends.”

She held out her hand, and we shook on it.

Warm tingles transferred from her palm to mine.

Something deep inside me woke up as if it had seen the sun for the first time.

Not sure what to think of it, I tugged my hand gently away, using it to raise my glass to my lips, hoping to hide my uneasiness.

I paid the check and walked Dahlia back to her store.

“This day is really not what I expected it to be,” Dahlia rambled with a nervous laugh. “It’s much better. I’m glad we met. This is new and exciting. When do we meet up again? I could give you a tour of the town, a real one this time, or we could do something else. I’m a bit rusty. Most of the time, I hang out with a toddler.”

“To be honest, my two best friends are guys. Our time together usually involves poker and whiskey. Pretty straightforward. But I feel like we need to up the game here.” I paused and mirrored her smile. “If we were kids, I’d propose a day at the park or a—” The word sleepover almost tumbled out, but I caught it in time. “Huh, a playdate,” I said instead, feeling all shades of stupid.

Dahlia giggled, the sound wrapping my heart in a warm blanket. “Yeah, kids have it easy.”

I puffed my chest and pushed all my angst down. “Since we’re not five anymore, I could ask you on a real date. As friends. And we could get to know each other better. Like friends do. Plus, I’m not letting a stranger work construction on a house with me if I haven’t conducted a complete interview beforehand.”

“Oh, this would be a job interview? Interesting,” Dahlia teased, one brow tipped up to her hairline, a full smile directed at me, sending heat to my core.

“Yep. Something like that. What do you think?” I asked, hiding my hands in my pockets to avoid touching her flaming cheeks.

“Sounds fun. I’ve never been interviewed for a job before.”

“You kidding?”

“Nah. Met with a restaurant owner when I was a teen, who offered us his place to play every week, and with Riley, my manager, but that’s about it. No real interview.”

“Well, I’ll be your first.” Oh, how I loved the sound of this. Dahlia flustered, and I was pretty sure I did too. “Interviewer, I mean,” I added quickly. “Okay, I’ll go before I embarrass myself further.”

This enticing, fiery woman nodded, still grinning.

I was about to tread away when she spoke again.

“Hey Nick, wouldn’t it be easier if we exchange phone numbers? Isn’t that what friends usually do?”

I spun around, face-palming myself, feeling sheepish. “Yeah.” I traced my eyebrow with a finger. “Huh, you’re right. That’s what friends do.”

I fished my phone from my pocket.

Why did everything about Dahlia Ellis turn me into a fool?

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