Fight with Me (With Me in Seattle 2)

A smile tickles his lips.  “I can pick you up.”

“No, I’d rather have my own car.”  He frowns and I explain further. “If you hate me by morning, I don’t want to be dependent on you for a ride home.”

“I’m not going to hate you, Julianne, but if that’s the way you want it, fine.  I have one condition.”

I raise my eyebrows.  “What’s that?”

“You will not run out on me this time. If you decide you want to leave it will be after you’ve discussed it with me first so I don’t wake up to any surprises.”

“Okay,” I murmur. “Did I wound your fragile ego that badly?” I ask sarcastically.

“No, you hurt my feelings, and that doesn’t happen often.  I’d rather not relive it.”

Oh.

Before I can respond he walks to his desk and gathers his keys, wallet and the left overs, locks up his desk and grabs a briefcase.  “Let’s go.”

***

Yoga pants, tank, Nikes.  Extra underwear, bras, jeans, t-shirts.  Jesus, Jules, you’ll only be gone for 48 hours, and that’s if you’re not completely sick of each other by tomorrow.  I survey my small suitcase, and then grab my new strapless grey dress with pink stilettos, handbag and accessories.  Maybe we’ll go out.

I throw in some toiletries, jewelry, and makeup.  Then I shove my iPad into the Louis Vuitton handbag that my obsessively generous brother-in-law got for me and load everything into my little red car.

Good Lord, it looks like I’m moving in.  Aren’t I?  For the weekend, anyway.

Before I can chicken out I lock up the house and drive back into the city to Nate’s apartment building in downtown Seattle.  He texted me the address, but I remember the way.  How could I forget?

I park underground in the extra space he owns, grab my small grey suitcase and purse and head for the elevator.

Dear God, I’m going to throw up.

I watch the numbers above the door climb as the elevator ascends to the thirtieth floor, and as each floor passes anticipation and nervousness grip my chest. I’m not convinced that this is a good idea.  Yet here I am.

I take a deep breath and ring Nate’s doorbell.  He answers quickly, opening the door wide and standing back to let me in.  He’s changed into soft faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved white t-shirt, his hair loose and pushed back from his face, just screaming for my fingers to be buried in it, and I’m glad that I had the foresight to change into blue jeans and a simple black t-shirt myself.

“I was afraid you’d change your mind,” he murmurs, and smiles gently at me, his gray eyes warm.

“No need to worry, here I am.”  He takes the handle to my suitcase and sets it aside, closing the door, and then pulls me into him, his arms wrapped around my shoulders.  I brace my hands on his lean, jean-clad hips and we just stand here, looking at each other.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“For what?”

“Agreeing to spend the weekend with me.”  He leans down and kisses my forehead gently and I frown.  This is a new side to Nate.  I like it.  How many more sides to him will I meet this weekend?

“Well, I’ve always found you to be pretty persuasive.”  I smile up at him and I see the humor in his eyes.

“I’m happy to hear that.”  He steps back and links my fingers with his.  “Let’s get you settled.”

Still holding my hand, he wheels my suitcase behind us and leads me through his condo.  It’s really spectacular.  The floors are all a honey-colored hardwood.  The front door opens up into a great room with tall ceilings and large windows with a great view of Seattle and the Sound.  The furniture is plush and inviting, in brown and red tones.  The kitchen is to die for, and I can’t wait to get in there and cook.

Cooking is a passion of mine.

This kitchen gives me a girl hard-on.  Seriously.

Six-burner natural gas stove, with a grill, double oven and warming drawer, two sinks, lots of  light colored granite counter space, and a huge refrigerator.

“Can I cook for you this weekend?” I ask as we pass by the kitchen.

“You cook?” he asks, looking back at me with surprise.

“I love to cook.” I smile.  “Do you?”

“I do too.  Perhaps we can cook together?”

“Okay.”

He turns away from me again, leading me from the room, toward the bedrooms.  God, he’s something to look at.  Especially in jeans, which I’ve never seen him in before.  His shoulders are so broad, and his t-shirt hugs the muscles across his back.  His jeans fall off his hips in that sexy way that toned men have that make women sit up and drool.

And I don’t know what it is about a sexy man barefoot in jeans, but holy shit.

Are we seriously going to jump right into bed?  No, hey, would you like a drink? Or would you like to watch a movie?

Just, welcome to my home, get in my bed?

Nate leads me down the hall and points out a guest bathroom and an office.  Then he walks right past his bedroom and stops at the door at the end of the hall.  He opens the door and walks in, and I follow, completely confused.

“This is my spare bedroom.  You’re welcome to use it while you’re here.”  He places my suitcase on the ottoman at the end of the beautiful queen-sized bed.  The headboard is black swirly wrought iron and the bedding is blue and green, matching the nautical themed artwork on the walls.

“I’m not sleeping in your room?” I ask and cock my head to the side, studying him.

“You’re welcome to sleep in my room if that’s what you want, but I don’t want to assume anything.  I told you that I wanted to spend the weekend with you to get to know you better, and that’s the truth.  If you sleep with me, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you, and if there is no sex this weekend, I’m okay with that.”

I raise an eyebrow.  “You’re okay with no sex?”

“It’ll kill me because all I’ve thought about for the better part of a year now is getting your beautiful body naked, in the light this time so I can see you, but there’s time for that.”  He walks back to me, those beautiful gray eyes on mine, and runs his fingertip down my cheek.  “You are so lovely, Julianne.  I love your gorgeous blonde hair and your blue eyes.  And I so enjoy your smart mouth.”