Page 7 of Candy Coated Curves

“Tell me about it.”

“Okay, so let’s plan your naked phase!” Amber says with a snap of her fingers.

“Finish your story first.”

“Well, I got his attention enough that I knew he wanted me too. Just like we know that about Nash, after you shaking your booty at Ace’s the other night. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. Obviously he’s willing to step in if he’s offering to be your fake boyfriend to creepy college boys visiting on break.”

I shudder at the thought of Pete because there’s something so unsettling about that guy. Something in his eyes. He might be conventionally cute, but I am so not interested.

“Anyways, so one night when he wasn’t home yet, I just crawled into his bed. Naked.”

“And he just got in there with you?”

Amber rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “No, because he’s a stubborn ass. So my naked phase had a bit more work to it, but that’s not the point. The point is, it did tip the scales and that is how we ended up getting together.”

“Okay, but I’m not living in Nash’s house, like you were Quinn’s. And I’m pretty sure even if I could break into his house, that would be illegal.”

“I’m not saying you do exactly that. I’m just saying you need to get naked in front of him.”

“So you want me to strip naked in front of him at the festival? How exactly would that work? Because, again, that would be illegal.”

“Good point. And you can’t very well do it at the shop because that is unsanitary, and I happen to like Nash’s candy quite a bit. So let’s not ruin that for me, shall we?”

I just nod because this whole thing is seeming more complicated and maybe it just ultimately means Nash and I don’t belong together. As much as that thought makes it feel like I can’t breathe.

“What were you planning to wear today? Any chance it’s your candy cane striped leggings?”

“Why?” I ask, dragging the word out. “Wait. Is this your way of telling me those are too revealing? Because I’ve been wearing those for years and if there’s a camel toe situation and you’re the first person to mention it to me, I’m going to kill my sister.”

“No.” Amber cackles. “No camel toe, I promise. Just wear those with a white t-shirt and I’ll take care of the rest.”

We’re having one of our more summer-like days as far as weather goes. So, despite the fact that I’m on my way to a Christmas market, it’s eighty degrees outside. Amber’s plan for what I should wear is definitely weather appropriate and allows me to still be festive because I’m not a monster!. It’s just too damn hot to deal with sweaters. Sometimes Texas is dumb.

Let me rephrase; sometimes Texas weather is dumb. Because what I wanted to wear was my adorable matching Christmas sweater. Whatever. I have bigger fights to pick right now. Like namely why Nash didn’t follow through on our plan.

It’s not hard for me to find him once I breach the fairgrounds. He’s so tall and broad, like a big sexy teddy bear, only more ferocious. Because while I know that Nash is gentle, I feel completely safe with him in a way that I have no doubt he would do whatever it took to protect me.

This little charade is my chance to get him to acknowledge his feelings. We belong together.I know it’s just a matter of time before he sees it.

He’s over in a crowd with Ian and a few of the other guys from their motorcycle club or whatever they call themselves now. They’re not really a gang. And they’re not like an official, official club; or maybe they are and I just don’t know. But Nash never wears any of those vest things with the patches. He does ride a Harley when the weather is nice. At the moment, the guys have a booth at the market where they’re raising funds for the new children’s wing at the hospital.

I go straight to Nash and wrap my arms around his neck. I have to stand way up on my toes to reach him, but I press my lips to the corner of his mouth, giving him just the tiniest of kisses. Then I put my lips right next to his ear.

“We had a deal,” I say. “You obviously forgot to pick me up.

“I never said I was going to pick you up,” he says.

“So far you are a terrible fake boyfriend.”

He tosses his head back and laughs, then wraps his thick arms around the small of my back.

Gah, the strength in those arms nearly steals my breath.

He looks down at me, grinning. He’s just so rugged and handsome, so burly and big, and I want to rub all over him to mark my territory like some kind of cat in heat. That’s probably not normal.

“Tell me,” he starts, “What exactly is a fake boyfriend supposed to do?”

“Well, you’re supposed to walk around the market with me. Hold my hand. Buy me treats. Oh, and tell me I’m beautiful.”

---