Page 27 of A Little More

With a deep breath to push away the dread, she climbed in on shaky legs. Both men had been wrong in their assessment of her. The sun and heat she could handle.

She needed to avoid Nash Holloway.

The cab of the truck didn’t give her much room to avoid him. He had a streak of red dirt across the side of his dirty, white tee shirt and sweat had discolored his baseball hat.

Great. He looked amazing after working in a field.

She prayed her deodorant had held true to the commercial claims.

Swallowing down embarrassment at her vanity, she pulled down the visor of his truck to check the mirror. After one glance, she flipped it back up. Wasn’t anything she could do about her makeup. Her mascara hadn’t run. The rest looked a hot mess.

“Is Mama Gene’s as good as the burger place? Was it called the Daylight Diner?” They pulled into the full parking lot of Mama Gene’s. If they talked about something else, then she’d get her mind in the right place again.

“It’s okay. I don’t think you’ll find the same bliss you did with the burger. Nobody can beat Ms. Iris’s food at the diner, but this is a nice change of pace sometimes.” He climbed out and met her before she could get unbuckled and the door open. He helped her down, keeping a hand on her waist.

“You keep finding reasons to touch me today.”

“I don’t touch you enough for my taste.” His crooked little grin appeared. “And you don’t seem to mind it.”

“Well, I do.” She swatted his hand away. His cocky attitude should have annoyed her. But he was right. She didn’t mind it.

John walked up, and Nash stepped back to a respectable three feet away. “This looks like one of those off the beaten path restaurants that I’m about to thoroughly enjoy. I hope there’s no limit on the buffet.”

She moved closer to John and engaged him in conversation, avoiding the overwhelming presence of Nash. His energy wrapped around her whenever he drew near. Her blood pounded, and her attention seemed to skip between John and mentally tracking Nash’s whereabouts.

After the waitress took their drink orders, Lexi darted away from the table and to the salad bar. Nash had ordered her two glasses of water and directed her to drink them both. She opened her mouth, ready to inform him that she wasn’t a two-year-old, but then John backed him up.

“They have this delicious roast beef if you’re up for some meat, Lexi.” John passed by with his plate piled high and a kid-in-a-candy-store look on his face.

Nash set a plate on the bar in front of the lettuce, right beside Lexi’s plate. “The roast beef is good. I’ll grab you some if you’d like.”

Setting her hand on her hip, she twisted her frustration at wanting him into annoyance at being babied. “Will both of you please back-off? I’ve been feeding myself my entire life without any problems.”

Instead of being put in his place, Nash appeared amused. “If you want to eat a salad and risk fainting later from the heat, go right ahead. I’ll be there to catch you.”

“Shouldn’t you ask if I want your hands on me?” Why did she ask him that? Judging by the fire that sizzled in his look, throwing firecrackers into the situation wouldn’t end well. Or it would end really,reallywell, depending on how she looked at it.

“Shouldn’t you tell me right now if you don’t?”

“It’s not that simple.” All his pushing frustrated her. He knew it.

“‘No’ is one of the shortest words in the dictionary.”

“Beep, beep.” Ms. Peggy nudged Lexi’s shoulder. “Not sure y’all meant to call attention to yourselves, but you’re clogging up the salad bar line with all this back and forth.” Ms. Peggy hitched a thumb over her shoulder. “Mary Ellen is starting to wag her tongue at how nice the two of you look together.”

Nash’s face had shifted into a neutral expression, and he glanced around, his voice bland and flat. “Mom. You’re here. Great.” He did not sound happy. “Sorry about the holdup.” He tossed a few things on his plate and walked toward their table.

Lexi finished making her plate, Ms. Peggy beside her doing the same, unusually quiet.

“Is everything alright, Ms. Peggy?”

The woman turned to face her, eyes shrewd and assessing. “I’m fine. Just thinking about my son and how I could raise such a fine man, and sometimes he doesn’t have the intelligence that God gave a chicken.”

Lexi giggled. She didn’t know where that observation had come from, but she didn’t think Nash would appreciate it. “Do you want to eat with us?” Nash seemed to behave himself a little better with her around.

“No, honey. I come here on Wednesdays to eat with the ladies from church.” She patted Lexi on the arm. “Sometimes it takes Nash having something and losing it before he appreciates it. Don’t give up on him.”

“Okay,” she replied, completely unsure what she’d agreed to. Taking her tray, she walked toward the table John had picked, his briefcase conveniently in the chair beside him. That only left her room to sit beside Nash.

---