No Attachments (Woodfalls Girls 1)

"Anyway, he likes it when you throw them across the ceramic floor. He'll run after it and bring it back like a dog. So whenever I'm gone, I make a point of getting several of the lids for him."

"Do you really go through that much hairspray?"

"Well, no. I guess you could say I save other consumers the hassle of removing the lids off their bottles," he said sheepishly while I laughed.

"So, you mean to tell me your cat has turned you into a lid thief?"

"Well, when you put it that way, I guess so. Did I mention he was a cool cat?"

"He sounds like it," I said sincerely. The idea of Nathan strolling down the beauty aisle of a store, leaving behind a row of lidless hairspray bottles cracked me up. "Your neighbor doesn't mind watching him?" I asked.

"Nah, she claims it's no problem at all."

"How old would this neighbor happen to be?"

"I don't know, early twenties," he answered as the waitress approached to take our orders.

"I bet she doesn't mind," I said dryly once the waitress had taken our orders. I tried to convince myself I didn't feel jealous. What did it matter to me if his neighbor had the hots for him?

"Is that a note of jealously I hear?" he teased.

"Of course not. As long as she's not on the bike while I'm on it, I have no complaints," I sniped.

"Now that is something I would like to see," he said eagerly.

"I bet you would," I said, tossing a small piece of bread at him.

"As enticing at it sounds to have both of you on the bike with me, I'm perfectly content to just ride it with you," he added in a husky voice that made me uncross my legs in anticipation. "I foresee a long bike ride in our future," he added, barely looking up when the waitress dropped our salads off at the table. I felt his leg nudge mine under the small table before rubbing seductively against me.

"Really?" I asked, working to keep my breathing even. "You seem awfully confident about your bike-riding skills," I flirted back, shocking myself at my innuendo.

"Darling, I can guarantee you've never had a bike ride like the one I'm going to take you on. It'll make what happened in your living room earlier seem like a tricycle ride," he murmured, rubbing his thumb across the pulse point on my wrist.

I was embarrassed over the reminder, but his words also brought back the mental picture of our bodies tangled together, and what he had done to me.

As if he sensed my thoughts, his own eyes darkened with desire. Withdrawing my hand from his, I focused on eating my salad so I could get my raging hormones under control. My efforts were futile. My appetite was nonexistent in light of what we could be doing. By keeping my eyes down and focusing on my salad, I felt some semblance of normalcy. I figured Nathan was having a similar issue of focusing when I heard him clear his throat twice in quick succession. It was only when he did it a third time that I finally looked up. I was shocked to see that his face looked slightly distorted. His lips seemed swollen like someone had blown them up slightly. His cheeks were puffed out like he was a squirrel storing nuts for the winter. He tried to clear his throat again, but it came out more of a gurgle.

Finally realizing what was happening, I jumped to my feet. "Are you allergic to nuts?" I asked, thinking about the salad we had just been consuming.

He tried to talk again to no avail.

"What's going on?" the waitress asked, placing our plates on the table as she eyed Nathan's rapidly swelling face in horror.

"Are there nuts in the salad?" I demanded.

"Crushed cashews," she said weakly as I helped Nathan to his feet.

"A warning label would have been nice," I snapped. "How far to the nearest hospital?"

"Less than five minutes," one of the other patrons said, joining us. "You can follow me," she said, grabbing her purse and her young daughter.

"Thank you," I said, helping Nathan out of the restaurant.

"No problem. My sister is allergic to nuts too. Normally she carries an EpiPen wherever she goes," she said, looking at me questioningly.

"Do you have an EpiPen in your car?" I asked Nathan, who was struggling to drag air through his windpipe. He shook his head no.

"Well, that's not very smart," I snapped, depositing him in the passenger seat. By the time I climbed behind the wheel, the lady from the restaurant was already waiting for me in her vehicle by the exit. Once I put the vehicle into gear, she tore out of the parking lot with me right behind her.