But it bugs the shit out of me that each time feels like the last time with her. Like she’s holding something back. I can feel it. I can see it in her eyes sometimes when she’s taken off guard. When she doesn’t have enough time to hide it behind a smile. Something’s bothering her. I think I know what it is. But I’m just not sure I can fix it, that I’m capable of fixing it.
When I pull up in front of her place, I push the bike onto the kickstand, but I don’t cut the engine. Something tells me she’s not going to invite me in.
And she doesn’t.
“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done this weekend.”
She’s thanking me?
I smile, my normal carefree smile. “Oh believe me, it was my pleasure.”
She smiles, too, but it’s tinged with sadness. And maybe inevitability. I think, in her mind, we were over before we even got started. The question is whether or not I can change her mind. And how.
Even I notice the uncomfortable silence and I never notice them. Very little bothers me. But this does.
I need time to think. But I need to make sure she doesn’t. That’s when I get into trouble. At least in her head, I do.
“So, you said you could look over some stuff at the club this week, not on your regular shifts. How about tomorrow evening? You don’t have to stay late.”
I can tell I’ve thwarted her. She was probably already thinking of ways she could avoid me. But that’s not going to happen. I’ll get past whatever is bothering her. I won’t give her a choice in the matter.
“I’ll take that as a yes. And by then you’ll have your car back. I’ll bring it by early in the morning.”
Watching her expression is like watching a pile-on with a bunch of kids. And she’s the person on the bottom, about to run out of air. I know I should feel guilty for making her feel that way, but I don’t. Not really. I know she’d get some crazy idea in her head that I’m bad for her. And that’s just not true. In fact, the longer I know her, the more time I spend with her, the more I believe I’m exactly what she needs in her life. She just doesn’t know it yet. But she will. I’ll have to tell her the truth eventually. But I’ll wait as long as I can. It could be a disaster otherwise.
Finally she nods. “Okay. Sounds good. And thank you. Again. Cash, I don’t know—”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. Maybe now you’ll see I’m not all bad.”
I know she’s getting ready to respond to that, so I kiss her partially open mouth, slip on my helmet and take off down the road.
The best thing I can do is keep that girl’s mind—and her mouth—busy.
This ought to be fun.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - Olivia
What the hell am I gonna do?
I collapse onto my bed, face down. I realize I’m in serious trouble. Cash is not the kind of guy I can let myself fall for.
I don’t think I really thought I’d get this involved with him. Not really. I mean, he’s sexy and flirty and fun and flattering, but I never imagined that if we managed to actually have sex it would turn so quickly into…this. Whatever “this” is.
It was a huge mistake to spend so much time with him at home. With my father. At the one place on earth that’s like my sanctuary. Putting him there, in that context, and him being so sweet and fitting in so perfectly, just made me fall into all sorts of traps and clichés.
Dammit.
As if my mother has taken over a large portion of my brain, I find myself ticking off all the negatives of Cash and all the positives of Nash, pitting them against each other in a death match.
I wish I could shut out her voice in my head, telling me it will never work with Cash, that he’s not what I need. I can practically hear her gushing about how perfect Nash is.
And she’s right.
The fact that he wants me gives me hope. The fact that he’s taken is quickly being outweighed by the fact that he fights it, by the fact that he’s trying to do the right thing by Marissa. Even if she is a cold, nasty, snake of a girl.
I know I’m not thinking clearly. I’m in Def Con Five mode, brought on by sheer panic over my feelings for Cash. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t pull out of the tail spin. My mother’s voice is too strong, her claws too deep. And seeing Gabe over the weekend isn’t helping.
It’s the perfect anti-Cash storm. And it’s wreaking havoc.
Before I can even think twice, I’m dialing Nash’s number. Maybe I can put his side of things to rest once and for all. One way or the other. Either there’s a chance or there’s not, but I can’t keep holding him up as the other viable option if he isn’t.
At first, I’m a little relieved when he doesn’t answer. But then, when he finally does, I’m relieved to hear his voice.
“Nash, it’s Olivia. I’m sorry to bother you so late. Were you busy?”
“Uh, no. I’m just getting in. Is everything all right?”
Where do I begin? I don’t even know what to say now that I’ve got him.
“Yes, everything’s fine.” I pause to collect my scattered thoughts. “Actually, no it’s not. Is there any way you could come over?”
“Over there? Tonight?”
Something in his voice—some note of hesitation—nearly shakes me out of my frenzy. Nearly, but not quite. I ignore it and move on.
“Yes. Tonight. As soon as you can.”
“What’s the matter, Olivia? You’re starting to scare me. Has something happened? Did my brother do something to you?”
I hear an edge to his voice and I’m confused by it. It takes me a full three or four seconds to figure out what he’s getting at. “What? Cash? No. Oh, God, no! It’s nothing like that at all.”
Why would he even ask that? Does he really feel that way about his own flesh and blood?
I hear him exhale. “Okay, good. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”
“Great. Thanks. See you then.”
I wait. And, as I wait, I pace. And not-so-patiently, I might add. I’m teetering between two horrible options—being bold with Nash or moving to Siberia.
By the time I hear the doorbell, Siberia is looking pretty dang good.
I fling open the door, completely unprepared for Nash like this. He must’ve been working late. He’s wearing a black suit that fits him to perfection. His bright red tie is askew and his hair is mussed, making him look even more like Cash. He’s like dream Cash. Cash with a little more Nash.