Page 27 of Second First Kiss

She hadn’t been and that was part of the problem. Kat ran hot. She was like lightning in a jar, colliding with everyone and everything in her path. Nolan found it both attractive and infuriating. All she’d had to do was call out to his brother or ask Eli for help.

“You going to sit here all night and stew or are you going to go find her?” Jax asked, resting a hand on Nolan’s shoulder.

Nolan snorted. “I’m the last person she’d want to see right now.”

Jax and Milly exchanged a whole conversation in a single look. They were at that stage of their relationship. Reading each other’s thoughts, inside jokes, playful secrets. Nolan had been there once and he really did miss that kind of connection.

“Don’t you find that interesting,” Milly said.

“That she’d more likely knee me in the nuts than accept a hug?” he asked. “No, I find it terrifying. And why aren’t you two out there?” He looked at Milly and Gemma. “You’re usually attached at the hip.”

“Because she’d just tell us she was okay,” Gemma said.

“I bet she’d tell you to fuck off,” Milly said to him. “Then she’d get all pissy and blame you for the whole night.”

“Your persuasion tactics are seriously lacking,” he said as he took a last sip of his iced tea and stood.

“Then where are you going, bro?” Jax asked.

“I guess to get a knee to the nuts.”

Nolan could hear them laughing the entire way as he made his way through the employee hallway. He checked the lunchroom, the back office, even knocked on the bathroom. She was nowhere to be found.

For a brief moment, he wondered if she’d bailed, not that he’d blame her, then reminded himself that Kat would never leave anyone high and dry. She might be a firecracker with a short fuse, but she was loyal to a fault, and a hard worker, which only left one place for her to go.

The cellar.

He walked down the steps into the basement and, sure enough, there she was, ten feet away, holding a clipboard in one hand and what looked like an icepack to her cheek in the other. The way she stalked back and forth, with her shoulders squared, told the tale of a woman who was still swinging—this time, though, the targets were only visible to her.

He was about to ask her if she was okay when she did something very un-Kat-like. She dropped down on her haunches and let her head hang, her dark, silky hair falling around her face like a protective wall between her and the world. Her hands fell to her knees and hung limp as if she’d succumbed to the reality of the situation, her chin was touching her chest.

It was as if now that the anger was gone, she had to face the ramification that came from shoving a customer, who was already whining like a baby that he was going to press charges. Everyone Nolan had talked to made it more than clear that R. J. was the instigator, but Kat had shoved him first. And while R. J. wasn’t hurt, he was a vengeful little prick.

Deciding he’d rather take a knee to the nuts than watch her crumble, he walked into the room. The scent of hops mixed with aged cedar wrapped around him, so did the chilled air. It had to be forty-five degrees down there, the ideal temperature for beer and wine, but not for a woman in nothing but a tight Big Feet Apply Here tee, even tighter black jeans with rips strategically placed to show off the fishnet stockings beneath, and purple steel-toed boots.

He knew the moment she became aware of his presence because she lifted the clipboard and scribbled something down.

“We’re missing a case of whiskey,” she said.

He took the clipboard from her hand. “I don’t give a shit about missing inventory.”

“You should,” she said, finally facing him, that tough-girl expression back in place. “It’s the third one this week. And we’re talking top-shelf whiskey. Three hundred bucks a pop. Though somehow the invoices don’t reflect that. Something’s off.”

Yeah, it was on his list to check into it, right after finding evidence against R. J. and getting the camera system running correctly. But first on his list was checking on Kat.

He took a final step closer, until he could smell a faint hint of her shampoo, a delicate floral scent with a hint of all things feminine. She was a contradiction. “Again, I don’t give a shit.”

She gave a single nod and snatched the clipboard back. To keep himself from reaching for her, he shoved his hands in his pockets. He waited for her to have some pissy retort, but she surprised him when she whispered, “Thank you.”

He lifted a brow. “For not giving a shit?”

“For stopping me from making an even a bigger mess back there.”

He smirked. “Does that mean you were happy to see me?”

She gifted him a small smile. “I wouldn’t go that far.” She smacked the icepack to his chest and walked past him.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

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