Page 39 of Love Me, I Dare You

My sister understands exactly why I can’t risk a visit to the hospital instead of attending my Magnolia King’s party.

Me: I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

Nash is back over my shoulder, shaking his head as he looks at the fifteen messages the girls and I typed back and forth in a matter of minutes.

“What is it with girls and the need to send so many individual texts when it can all just be typed out as one message? A phone call to explain everything would have been quicker.”

“Aren’t you in need of a shower?” I try to stand, but he pushes me back down and holds me in place. His heavy body hovers over me and it brings back so many memories, memories of that night I want to forget.

“Stay.” He orders before stepping out of the room. I hear him rustling some things in the kitchen before he returns with a bag of frozen chicken nuggets. “You have no vegetables in this house, woman. How do you stay so thin?”

I roll my eyes, annoyed. It’s one of my least favorite things when people comment on my weight and make stupid insinuations about my eating habits. I eat fairly well, though I don’t starve myself or limit my indulgences in sweets. I own a fucking bakery cafe, for God sakes. But I keep a healthy fitness routine and have always worked with a quick metabolism.

“You sound like my mama. It’s called exercise, maybe even genetics. And not that it’s your business, but I do eat vegetables. I just rarely eat at home since I’m always on the go.”

“Whatever, I’ll be back. Don't you dare leave, Bailey.”

With that last order, he kicks off his boots and walks over to my bathroom, tossing his jeans out the door before he closes it behind him. Though I notice the door doesn’t click. The bastard thinks he can tempt me into sneaking in on him and watching him shower. Ha, he’s out of his mind if he thinks I’m at all interested in seeing all of that gorgeous muscle up close.

Trying to busy myself for the next few minutes until he’s out, I place the bag of frozen cooked poultry on my ankle, grinding my teeth in agony when the ice hits my skin. Leave it to me to fuck up my ankle when I don’t have time to be off my feet. It’s one of the busiest times of the year at HoneyBees, and although Billie and I hired a new baker to help with the bulk of the morning pastries, thanks to my mishap of sleeping in, it’s still not enough for the demand of our pastries.

Crossroads has a sweet tooth and a slight drinking problem, which is why a bakery cafe and a bar were the perfect options of establishment to open. Besides, I have yet to share with Billie my brilliant idea of hosting a mixer at the bar this month. Thanks to her rambling about how online dating is such a pain, not that I’d know given it’s been months since my last date, made me think about bringing back face-to-face communication and hosting a dating mixer over at Stingers. It would take the edge off of the daunting practice with live music, good food, drinks, and atmosphere.

Not five minutes later, Nash exits the bathroom yet again, naked, wrapped in only a towel. This one’s much smaller than the last and barely hides the package I know he’s packing.

He doesn’t say a thing or stays long enough to allow me to admire the curves of his back or the thick muscle of his calves. Instead, he disappears into the living room, returning two minutes later dressed in another pair of dark blue jeans and a heather gray Henley that wraps too perfectly around his chest, arms, and back.

“Now, to get you some different shoes.”

Another five minutes later, we’re down in the parking lot, staring at my old Chevy Malibu that refuses to turn on and continues to ruin my already dreadful night. Much to my dismay, I had no choice but to let Nash carry me down stairs or risk falling to my death hopping on one foot.

“Sounds like it’s the battery,” Nash says as he leans over the open hood, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows like some hit mechanic.

The cool breeze makes me shiver slightly, though I think the goosebumps on my skin may have more to do with the gorgeous man currently leaning over the hood of my car. “Great, just fucking great.”

“I can take a look, but it might take a few minutes to figure out the problem and try to fix it. I can call us an Uber or if you want to get there quicker…” His gaze shifts to his motorcycle parked at the end of the lot. “We can take Daisy.”

“Daisy? Your motorcycle’s named Daisy.”

He shrugs like it’s not at all odd. “Seemed like a good enough name.”

I huff out a long breath, thoroughly frustrated with tonight’s turn of events. “Ugh, fine. I can’t be any later than we are. My mama’s going to give her toast in…” I look down at my phone and see it’s almost six o'clock. “In twenty minutes. Just bring your bike over, but don’t you dare kill me Nash Bishop or I swear to God…”

With the slam of the hood, he brings his finger to my lips, shushing me before I can continue to toss out threats.Why onearth does he keep doing that? Better yet, why am I finding it increasingly sexy?

Nash has me caged in against the hood of my car, one hand on either side of me, forcing me to arch my back to keep some distance between us. “Do you ever stop talking, Bailey King?”

I can almost taste the spearmint on his breath and have to bite my tongue so I won’t be tempted to. “You act like you don’t know the answer to that.”

“I might have once, but this girl…” He pauses, his eyes raking over my body and making me tremble in his arms. “This woman, I can’t quite figure her out.”

“It’s not your job to figure her out. You don’t have the time to. You’re leaving, remember?”

A dark, husky sound leaves his throat as he chuckles at my expense, his lips now practically touching mine. “Yeah, I’m leaving.”

Without warning, his hands reach under me and once again he hoists me up into his arms. “Nash, what are you doing?” I ask, but the bastard ignores me.

“By the time I walk you over to the bike, we’ll be an hour late.”

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