Page 36 of No Greater Love
I was absolutelygone.
I'd seen him handle medical emergencies with calm competence. I'd watched him father his daughter with tender devotion. But this—this goofy, uninhibited, secretly-country-music-loving side of him—was a revelation.
"Holy shit," I breathed when the song ended. "You're full of surprises."
He had the grace to look embarrassed. "I went through a phase in the Navy."
"A phase?"
"Okay, fine. I still listen to country music when I'm cleaning house. Happy?"
I was more than happy. I was enchanted. "What else don't I know about you, Nathan Crawford?"
"Probably a lot."
The band shifted to something slower, and couples moved onto the dance floor in various states of coordination. Nate glanced toward them, then back at me.
"I should probably mention I'm not much of a dancer," he said.
"That's okay. I'm not much of a follower."
But we went out there anyway, finding a spot where we wouldn't get in anyone's way. He held me carefully, respectfully, one hand on my waist and the other holding mine. We swayed more than danced, but it was perfect.
"This is nice," I said, close enough to his ear that he could hear me over the music.
"Yeah, it is."
I could feel the warmth of his body through his shirt, could smell his cologne—something clean and masculine that made me want to bury my face in his neck. When the song ended, we stayed like that for a moment, close enough that I could feel his breath on my forehead.
"Tasha," he said softly.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For this. For..." He seemed to be searching for words. "For seeing something in me worth taking a chance on. It means a lot to me."
My heart did something complicated. "Nathan."
"Yeah?"
"Take me back to your place."
The drive back to his place was charged with anticipation. We didn't talk much, but the air between us hummed with possibility. When he pulled into his driveway, we sat there for a moment, both of us knowing what came next but neither wanting to rush it.
"Are you sure?" he asked finally.
"I'm sure."
Inside, he turned on a single lamp in the living room, casting everything in warm, golden light. We stood there looking at each other, suddenly awkward again, like teenagers who didn't know what to do with their hands.
"Do you want some coffee? Or water? I could?—"
I silenced him by stepping close and putting my hands on his chest. "Nate."
"Yeah?"
"Stop thinking so hard."
He laughed nervously, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "I can't help it. It's been... it's been a while since..."
