Page 50 of The Meaning Of You

His lazy smile spread into a broad grin. “Aren’t we all a little insecure in one way or another?”

My lips twitched. “Well, clearly you are.”

He snorted. “I’ll ignore that. But also, stereotyping much?”

I sighed. “Yeah, okay, maybe. Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

He grinned. “I’ll give you that, but my earlier comment stands. You’re a good-looking man and you’re allowed to care about that.”

As I digested the uncomfortable reiteration, a starling soared low over our heads on a mission to the bush line. And when Nick turned his head to follow the flight path, I caught the purplish-red bruising on his jaw for the first time.

I let out a low whistle. “Jesus, Nick. Who the hell did you piss off to earnthat?”

He lifted a hand to the bruising and winced. “I’ll tell you later.”

I didn’t push. “Wait here.” I left to grab the wheat bag I kept in the freezer and handed it to him. “Here. Stick this on it.”

He considered the bag for a second and frowned. “It’s a bit late for that.”

“Maybe,” I agreed. “But slap it on anyway. See aforementioned rules about it being my deck.”

Nick snorted but did as he was told.

I crossed my hands over my chest and studied him. “I must’ve missed your text.”

He looked over at me and frowned. “What text?”

I was tempted to jump into the whole lack-of-contact thing but managed to bite my tongue. “The text telling me about your plan to drop in today?”

His lips twitched, his grey eyes swimming in a pool of alcohol. “Oh. Well, it probably went the same place that yours did when you turned up uninvited onmydoorstep.”

He had a point. “You started without me, I see.” I tipped my head at the whisky bottle in his hands.

Nick followed my gaze, like he’d forgotten the bottle was even there. He shrugged. “What can I say? It’s been a helluva day.”

“If it brought you to me, it must’ve been really, really bad,” I said drily.

He grinned and pointed gun-fingers my way. “See, I knew you were smart.” He held the whisky bottle out for me to take a hit.

I declined. “At the rate you’re polishing that off, one of us needs to be capable of calling an ambulance. I’ll take one of those beers instead.”

“Ambulances are overrated,” he muttered, grabbing an unopened can from the cooler bag at his side and passing it over.

“I’ll make sure to let them know.” I cracked open the can and held it out between us. “Here’s to a shitty day.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Nick tapped the can with the bottle of Glenmorangie and took a hefty swig.

Oh boy.It was gonna be a long night. “You came prepared.” I indicated the cooler bag.

His gaze sluggishly followed mine and he shrugged. “Nope. It was part of Davis’s stuff that I’ve just collected from Lizzie’s caravan.”

He didn’t explain further and I didn’t ask, figuring he’d get there in his own good time. I took a slow guzzle of beer and finished with a contented belch. I eyed the unfamiliar label and nodded. “Not bad. Don’t think I’ve tried this one.”

“Me neither,” Nick admitted. “The fact it’s even drinkable is down to good luck since I grabbed the first six-pack off the shelf without even looking.”

I took another swallow and eyeballed him. “Right, then. All pleasantries aside, why are you here on this stinking hot evening?”

His eyes flashed with something I couldn’t quite get a handle on but which looked a lot like pain. Seconds later it was gone, and that unfocused slightly mocking air returned.

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