Page 8 of The Hookup Situation
Blaire can’t stop laughing and moves to the back so she doesn’t interrupt us.
And then Nick and I are alone.
The electricity that always seems to stream steadily when we’re in the same room is alive and well.
“Hi,” he says, plump lips lifting in that dangerous half smile. “Come here often?”
My mouth twitches. I pour his coffee with hands that remember exactly how he takes it. Black. Simple. No room for anything extra. “Occasionally. I hear the manager is a real hard-ass though.”
“Really? I heard she’s gorgeous. Sassy as fuck.”
“Sassy?” I raise an eyebrow, falling into our same old rhythm as I hand him his cup. Our fingers brush, and it nearly undoes me. “That’s a big word for a hockey player.”
“Former hockey player, babe. Currently a suit-wearing corporate asshole who knows words likequarterly projectionsandsynergy.” He takes a sip and closes his eyes. “This is perfect.”
“I know. I made it.”
“Confident, per usual.”
“Nah, you just don’t intimidate me like you do most women.” I lean against the counter, trying to ignore how good he looks.
“How’ve you been?” he asks, trying to make small talk—something he’s great at.
“Fantastic. Living my best life. Thriving with your read receipts and no responses.”
I met Nick Banks last year when his mom was getting married. We sat at a local bar called Bookers and chatted for hours. I shared things with him I’d never said out loud, and he told me his secrets too. I thought I’d never see him again until he showed up in January to stay with Zane and Autumn. We exchanged numbers, but after three days, he left. I haven’t seen him since.
I texted him a few months ago and got zero response. I gave up the ghost.
“I deserve that,” he says.
“Oh, you deservemuchworse. I was trying to be friendly and wanted to check in on you.”
“I know. I suck.” He doesn’t move.
“What brings you back here? Another family wedding? A three-day drive-by, where you show up and pretend like you’re going to stay but leave?” I ask as he tries to pull his credit card from his wallet to pay. I shake my head at him.
“None of the above.” He sets down his cup and meets my eyes. “But I am staying.”
My heart twirls. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care. I’ll be here for six weeks, through the season. I’m scheduled to return to New York at the beginning of November. No sooner.” He says it like a promise.
“Scheduled?”
“Long story short, I had a meltdown at a meeting and was forced by my bratty little brother to take a vacation.” He runs a hand through his dark brown hair, messing it up more.
I blink at him with my head tilted. “And you chosehere? Why?”
“Why not?” The way he looks at me makes my stomach flip.
I don’t have an answer for him.
“There is no other place to be during fall. I rented a cabin until November. I think it’s called Riverside?”
My eyes widen. It’s a luxury mansion that’s ironically called a cabin. It costs ten thousand dollars a day to stay there. “Riverside? That’s fancy for a temporary escape.”
“I want to do temporary right this time.” He pauses. “You should come see it. Tonight. At seven.”
