Whiskey and Country

“I love you. Night, Addi.”

“Love you too. Night, girlfriend.”

In the upstairs bathroom, I undressed and slipped into a hot bath with a glass of red wine in hand. Country music played as I sealed my lids, my thoughts drifting to Nick. For the thousandth time today. He’d been center stage in most of my dreams since the day we met. And occupied too many of my brain waves during the day.

Addison was right. Our friendship was too precious to let it go waste and not explore it further.

As I sank into my options, the sound of the doorbell startled me. In one swift movement, I dried and wrapped a towel around myself. Who could it be at this late hour? The only person stepping on my front porch at any time of the day or night was Cart. But he wasn’t in town, so I really didn’t have a clue.

Hurrying down the stairs, I rushed to the front door. The man on the other side looked nothing like Carter Hills. Blond hair, broad shoulders, tanned skin.

Nick stood there, his head low, kicking the deck with the sole of his shoe, still wearing work clothes—a white T-shirt, dark vest, dirty jeans, and tan boots—looking hot and messy, his stubble longer than usual.

“Hey,” I said, folding my arms over my chest, remembering I wore nothing but a towel. My lips turned up at his sight. Of their own initiative.

“Dahlia, I’m sorry for coming here so late.” He paused. “I’m here to apologize. And it couldn’t wait.”

“You are? Why?”

Nick shook his head. “I ghosted you, but I didn’t mean to. It has nothing to do with you. And everything to do with me. The last week has been crazy, but now I was afraid you’d think you did something wrong, which is far from the truth. I shouldn’t have come here at this hour, but I wanted to explain.”

“Did you just leave work?” Or had direct access to my naughty thoughts? Because Nicholas Peterson dressed in construction attire was something my eyes would never get enough of. He looked all masculine. And business-focused. And straight from a fantasy.

A black smudge grazed his upper brow and many more on the front of his white T-shirt, the latter glued to his toned abdomen.

His tousled hair gave him that boyish-manly look I loved so much.

I ogled him with no shame as his irises, two golden gems, scanned the length of me.

I blinked, interrupting our silent flirtation.

Nick gave a single nod. “Did overtime a lot all week. An unplanned project landed in my hands, and I wanted to get ahead. I was used to working much longer shifts in Chicago, and I have a hard time getting used to the shorter schedule here. Anyway, someone requested my help—”

“Wanna come in? I can warm something up for you. Or make you a sandwich. If you haven’t eaten yet. In another life, I was called the sandwich queen because they’re that good. I’m telling ya.”

His lips curled at the corner, and the sight sent bursts of longing through me. “It’s tempting, but I’m not staying. It’s late, and you must be tired. Just wanted to clear the air. Friendship is sacred to me, and I’m never letting my friends down. Oh, and I brought you something.”

He handed me a small, square cardboard box.

“What is it?” I asked. “I love surprises.”

“Every night for the last week, I’ve been working at that cookie shop for its opening over the weekend. The owner gave me this as a thank you. Thought you and Jack would like it. There are frog and rabbit-shaped cookies in there. Oh, and there’s a kid’s workshop in a couple of weeks. Maybe Jack would like to go. I booked him a spot, just in case—”

My eyes rounded. “You did?”

“Yes. It lasts about twenty minutes. And he’ll get to decorate a bunch of cookies with frosting and eat them afterward. Thought it could be fun. The lady told me even a toddler would love it.”

I blinked. “You brought us cookies and booked my son a workshop?”

“Oh shit, is he allowed to eat sugary treats? I didn’t think about asking first.”

I grabbed his hand. “Yes, he is. Just not every day. And that’s very sweet of you. Now come in, you must be starving. I’ll feed ya.” I winked, and he snickered with a shake of his head. “For the record, I’m not taking no for an answer. Anyway, I could use the company because I’ve missed my friend this week.”

After I changed into a pair of lounge pants and a cotton long-sleeved tee, Nick and I sat on the opposite sides of the table, and I watched him engulfing his sandwich. No. Attacking his food would be a better word.

“This is amazing,” he said with a mouthful.

“For how long have you been underfed?” I teased.

“Nah. I’m not. Just haven’t eaten all day. Too busy.”

A drop of mustard stained the corner of his lips, and my gaze rested on it.

“You have—” I pointed to his face. A light flush smeared on his cheeks.

“I what?”

On my feet, I neared him, and using the pad of my finger, I erased the yellow spot, bringing the coated digit to my lips.

Time stood still.

The air froze between us. Around us.

A warm tide arose from a foreign place inside me.

I swayed and leaned on the table to stay upright.

I couldn’t find the right words to explain the swarm of butterflies flying in my stomach. Each bigger and more beautiful than the other. They multiplied at a vertiginous speed, and I had to blink to break the trance I’d fallen into.

Nick swallowed, and it soon cast another spell on me.

One I wished to never escape.

In a sweeping motion, Nick moved to his feet. The heat emanating from his muscular frame mirrored in me. With a deep inhale, my lids fluttered when one of his hands molded around my nape while the other rested on my hip crest. My body soaked in the manly scent of him. My soul baked in his glow.

Every touch of him branded my skin through our clothes.

My thundering heart pounded in my skull, the rhythm dizzying.

My hands held his elbows, anchors to maintain me on this earth.

Nick’s warm lips skimmed my forehead, and a new tide, now overflowing with overpowering lust, arose inside me.

A small gasp left my mouth when his lips trailed to the side of my cheek and rested there for a long moment.

My head spun as Nick’s grip on me tightened, and I reminded myself to breathe.

Caressing the shell of my ear, his husky tone jolted my heart.

“Thanks for dinner. Again, I’m sorry I’ve been distant. Never again. I’ve missed you too much.”

If only I could hold on to him this way forever. Through the storms. And the fun times. Through darkness. And complete illumination.

A long exhale left his mouth, and his shoulders slouched a bit forward when he stepped back, breaking the moment.

He gathered the empty glass and plate and filled the dishwasher while I stood there, still entranced by everything that was him.

After a while, he came back and pressed his forehead to mine.

“Are you gonna be okay?” he asked, the whiskey-deep tone of his voice diffusing shivers through me.

I nodded.

“Good.” Why was the word sounding painful coming from him? As if he’d hoped I’d plead for his assistance, his presence, his care. So, he wouldn’t have to leave.

He lowered his head, and his lips planted a kiss on my cheek. So soft, tremors shook me. So intoxicating, I believed for a moment I was drunk.

Nick stepped back, my hand nested in his.

“Night, Dahlia.”

He flashed me a hint of a smile, and my heart kindled.

I blinked again, and he was gone. The door clicked behind him, taking a piece of my heart in its wake.

Air returned to my lungs. Oxygen made its way to my brain. And I regained normal functioning. I blew out a long breath, wondering if I’d dreamed the entire scene. My hand flew to my cheek. The whisper of his kiss, all that was left behind. The only reminder of him.

* * *