Whiskey and Country

There was no denying it. Nick Peterson had a hold on me.

And my hormones. And over all my womanly parts.

Jack’s here. Act cool,I repeated in my head.

Because there was nothing calm about me and my demeanor right now. I was an explosive device on the edge of detonation. My insides were twisted with need. My body amplified every signal emanating from Nick, messing with each string of my composure.

Somehow, the phone date we had the other night proved to me we were meant to be. That Nick and I, what we shared, was bigger than what we could comprehend. That our connection was beyond words.

Jack released my finger and ran to the man eyeing me with barely banked desire. Something new. Never noticed before today.

Nick picked him up and ruffled his hair. “Hey little guy. I thought I heard you arrive. I was in the garage. Wanna gimme a hand? I made a bird feeder and was waiting for you to choose the perfect place to hang it.”

“Yes,” Jack said, squirming to be put down.

“Buddy’s waiting for ya. Under his favorite tree. Let’s go see him first.”

Jack ran toward the backyard as I climbed down the stairs to meet with Nick.

His arms pulled me closer the second I neared him, my heart now a throbbing mess inside my chest.

“You know you’re wonderful with Jack, right?” I asked, breathless.

“Just with Jack?” he asked with an arched eyebrow, his smile going straight into my heart.

I rose to my tiptoes. “Not just Jack,” I murmured against his lips before kissing him. Because that’s all I’d been thinking about since that phone date.

“I’ve missed you too,” he said, speaking my thoughts out loud. He intertwined his fingers through mine, and hand in hand, as if we did this all the time, we walked toward my boy. Our smiles grew as we watched Jack tell Buddy all about his day. With the dog twitching his ears in response as if this was the highlight of his canine day.

“Little guy, ready to feed those birds?” Nick asked after their conversation was done. My son moved to his feet and nodded. “Great.” Nick swiveled to face me. His lips descended on my cheek, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. “There’s a glass of wine waiting for ya on the back deck. We’ll be right back.” I closed my eyes, my heart hiccupping in my chest, as Nick kissed the side of my face. “I won’t be long. And I’ll make it up to you later.”

Air sizzled. And I almost lost my footing, drunk on his promises.

He turned to hold Jack’s hand, and my lungs deflated with a woosh. How long had I been holding my breath?

* * *

After dinner, we went for a walk with Jack and Buddy, then my son fell asleep on the living room floor again, next to his best friend. Nick and I spend countless minutes watching them, enjoying the picture-perfect moment. Jack on his side, his arms protectively around the dog’s neck.

“I feel bad about moving him,” I whispered.

“They look so peaceful,” Nick said. “Perhaps we could slide a blanket underneath him and over both without waking either of them.”

“That could work. Let’s try.”

We repositioned Jack alongside Buddy and spread a quilt over them.

In the kitchen, we refilled our wine glasses as I perched on the island and Nick sat next to the sink three feet in front of me.

“Thinking about moving here full time?”

Nick’s lips stretched. “I am.”

“Told ya. The mountain air.”

Nick raked a hand through his hair. “Not sure it’s the air, Dahlia.” Why was he looking at me this way? As if he were starving.

In a swift move, Nick jumped to his feet and stalked toward me.

“Gotta tell you something.”

I choked on my breathing.

The room temperature hiked to searing numbers.

His lips parted, and my grip around the wine glass tightened, my heart bracing for whatever Nick wanted to say.

I inhaled through my mouth to put to rest the jitters awakening inside me.

Nick stopped a foot from me. And I was pretty sure I melted as his eyes rested on mine.

My throat parched from the heat oozing from him. My lips moved, my tongue sweeping their length, but not a sound came out as I swallowed. Hard.

Tremors shook me.

Nick stepped forward, and my gaze drifted to his mouth, waiting for him to say something—anything—to soothe the tension rising at my core.