Craft (The Gibson Boys 2)

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your brothers,” she sighs. “I should’ve thought it over before I said anything about Mariah.”

“It’s fine, Nana.”

“I feel like a fool.” She flings her purse in the back of the car. “I know better than that. I’m slipping, I tell ya.”

“You aren’t slipping.” Opening the door, I lean on it. “What’d you think of Mariah, Nana?”

She nearly beams. “I liked her a lot. I think she’s sweet and pretty and I love the way she looks at you.”

“What?” I ask, standing straight. “We’re not together.”

“Well, you can call it what you will.”

“We’re not,” I insist, maybe a touch too forcefully. “She’s a great girl, but she’s not for me.” Lies, lies, lies.

A hand flies to her hip. “And why not?”

The exact reason is one I haven’t ever discussed with her. I’ve only talked about it with Blaire and that’s just because she knew it before I did. I’m not sure how Nana would react to what I have to say besides throwing me a pity party and I don’t want that. Fuck that.

This isn’t about me. I’m fine with things. I made peace with that a long time ago. It isn’t about infecting others with my shit. It’s about not ruining other people’s lives because of my flaws.

“Look, Nana. I’m going to miss dinner, okay?”

She lifts a brow.

“I have some things to take care of.” I kiss her cheek and help her get settled in the car. “I’ll be there next week. Promise.”

We exchange a smile and I see the concern in her eyes. I hate it. I turn to go but stop when she calls my name.

“Yeah?” I ask, looking at her over my shoulder. Her silver hair shines in the early afternoon sunlight.

“Remember what the pastor said today,” she says. “Sometimes we search for happiness in the wrong places and in the wrong ways. Search simply, Lance. Don’t overcomplicate it.”

With a final smile, I head across the parking lot. The gravel crunches underfoot. As I climb in my car, I replay Nana’s words. Whiffs of Mariah’s perfume still linger in the air.

If only it were that simple, but this is anything but.

Twelve

Lance

This was a stupid idea.

My forehead rests on the steering wheel. It’s too early in the day to second guess all of my life choices. Blowing out a breath, I look up. Peaches sits in front of me.

Inside is Nerdy Nurse, a woman I should’ve met at a hotel and just fucked the shit out of. Or stopped messing with as soon as it was apparent that wasn’t going to happen. But, no. I’ve been getting ridiculous lately. I let the exchange be about more than just sex.

This is why you keep it about sex.

Air whistles between my teeth as I grab my phone and begin typing away.

Me: Is this thing still on?

Nerdy Nurse: I’m here. Are you?

Me: In parking lot. Figured you might’ve bailed.

Nerdy Nurse: I ordered a drink. Thought you wouldn’t show up.

Me: Why wouldn’t I?

Nerdy Nurse: Wishful thinking?

Laughing aloud, I exit the car and lock it behind me. Something tickles my gut and makes me wish things didn’t have to end between us. I don’t understand why, but I like these little exchanges.

Crossing the parking lot, I pass the spot I parked in yesterday when I came inside to check out Mariah and her date. Just like that, my need to end this with Nerdy Nurse, at least until I get my cock on straight, comes roaring back. It’s not simple anymore. I might be losing my mind. I am feeling guilt. Until I get that shit under wraps and stop this infatuation with Mariah, I need to cool it. For all of us.

Me: I’m coming in. How do I find you?

Nerdy Nurse: I’m wearing a blue shirt. The color of your balls. ;)

Me: Nice.

Nerdy Nurse: I’m next to the drive-thru. You have about two minutes or I’m going to bail. My nerves are getting to me.

Me: Slow down, speedy. See you in a second.

The hostess is the same from yesterday and she greets me with a friendly smile. “Hey. How are you this afternoon?”

“Good. Just meeting a friend.” Sticking my keys in my pocket, I rock back on my heels. “Mind if I look around for her?”

“I’ll take you to her. No problem,” she says, grabbing a menu out of a little basket on the podium. “Did you come for the buffet? You won’t need this if you did.”

I must look at her like she’s insane because she backtracks. “I’m sorry. Lots of people come in on Sunday for the buffet. I just assumed.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” I tell her. My head is so scattered I’m putting things together that don’t belong together. “I’m not sure though about the buffet. Can I take a menu and think about it?”