Page 38 of Wine & Whiskey
He takes a deep breath and chooses his words carefully. The fragility of their relationship is never more apparent than at this moment. A fucking phone call cannot destroy the connection they’ve finally made. “We’ve been working for months on a very important project. Sometimes things get a little heated when it’s not going the way it’s supposed to.”
She lifts her head and meets his gaze, uncertainty swirling in their stormy blue depths. “If I make you mad, or do something you don’t like, are you going to talk to me like that?”
Her words hurt worse than a slap. He shakes his head, unable to comprehend how she could think that of him. “Of course not.”
“I just can’t reconcile the difference between the man out there and the one in here with me.”
“That was business. I pay him a lot of money, and I expect him to deliver on what he promises. I don’t expect anything from you.” He kneels down in front of her and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “All I want to do is love you.”
“You’re just telling me what I want to hear.”
Shaking his head, he feigns calmness as his stomach churns. He wants nothing more than to lay her back on the bed and prove how much she means to him. Help her understand she’s the only ray of light piercing his dark world. “It’s the truth. If you believe nothing else, you have to believe that.”
“I want to.” Her voice drops to a whisper, yet the doubt is still unmistakable. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Maybe this…” She points to herself then him. “Is a mistake.”
Panic twists in his gut like a sharp blade. She wants to give up on him. End the only relationship that’s ever meant something to him. The only woman he’s ever loved wants to leave him. Enough to bring him to his knees, if he wasn’t already on them. “No, it isn’t. Do you want to be with me?”
She nods, her eyes scanning his face, searching for something, but he doesn’t know quite what.
“That’s all that matters. Everything else, we can figure out.” He grasps her hands and brings them to his mouth, kissing each palm before wrapping her arms around his neck. Their faces almost touch.
Tilting her head, she gives him a tentative smile, her mouth so close he can practically taste her sweetness. “Now I know you’re trying to distract me.”
“Is it working?”
“No…maybe a little.”
“Good.” His lips brush against hers. “I love you. Please don’t give up on me.”
A light knock pauses their conversation. “Come on, kids. Dinner!”
Her smile brightens at Carrie’s voice on the other side of the door, easing a bit of tension suffocating the room.
“We can make this work.” He stands up and takes her hand. “Let’s go eat.”
At the table, Nathan refills his glass after draining the first one in about five seconds. “This sangria is really good. It reminds me of that place Evan and I took you guys when we were in Madrid. What was that place called again?”
Shae slides her hand onto Nick’s thigh and squeezes. He entwines his fingers with hers, confirming he receives her message. But it doesn’t quell his growing anxiety. The man she was going to marry is friends with her best friends, while he’s a newcomer shrouded in suspicion. He doesn’t stand a fucking chance.
“Um, it was the Black Sombrero,” Carrie reminds him while Shae picks at her food.
“Yeah, that was it.” Nathan laughs and shakes his head. “Started out great, but ended up being the night from hell.”
Nick can’t resist. Even though he fucking hates hearing about this guy, he has to know more. “What happened?”
“Carrie talked us into going out to this club. The locals were cool, no problems. But, these American guys kept bothering Shae. We ended up in a fight getting her out of there. Evan got a black eye, and I broke my hand and spent the whole night in the emergency room.” He rubs his knuckles, reliving the pain. “How ironic is that? I knew it was broken and needed a cast, but no one spoke English.”
“That’s how we ended up with Eugene.” Carrie smiles at Shae as she attempts to redirect the conversation.
Yet, he can’t fool himself into believing the reprieve is for him. She protects Shae as Nathan’s point comes through loud and clear—Shae belongs with Evan, not him. “Who’s Eugene?”
Before Shae can answer, Nathan responds, “He’s a brick wall. That dude has to be at least six-seven, three hundred pounds. Evan made sure he went everywhere with Shae. Money well spent. She never had any more trouble.”
Carrie’s face lights up as she nods. “He may look like a hard-ass, but he’s just a big softie on the inside. He has this high-pitched squeal for a laugh. Sounds like a twelve-year-old girl. We did everything we could to get him going.”
The girls continue to laugh and share memories, Shae’s mood a bit more relaxed than before. He glances over at the hammock, wishing she was back in his arms without her worry or her friend creating distance between them.
Carrie catches him looking outside and winks, nodding toward the stack of books. “So, did Shae show you her collection of erotica?”
