Page 167 of Summer Heat
Nicola kissed him again. “The reason you love—like me is I don’t need a plan B.”
“True.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. She was going to say love. People say love all the time. He loved pizza. He loved working for Titan. They didn’t cut back and say like. Casually, the words were interchangeable. Unless they weren’t. Holy fuck. Or was he over-thinking this? Cash cleared his throat. “Bye, sweet girl.”
Waving over her shoulder, Nicola bee-lined without looking back and opened a door. One set of keys for one lock. Easy deadbolt action. She needed more security than that. He revved the engine, toying with the idea of telling her that now. It’d only take a second. But, shit. She wouldn’t see it like that, would she? Nope. It’d be all, “I can take care of myself.”
He put the truck in drive. Maybe he’d go track down Sugar and see what she had to say about her one-on-one with Nic. Maybe not. He wasn’t trying to piss Nicola off, just get some details.
Pulling out of the apartment complex, he reached for his phone to call Rocco. Calling Roman would be a mistake. Rocco knew enough about him and about the situ
ation to provide some kind of sounding board, even if he only did it to have a live role in their drama.
Two rings and Rocco was ready for his role as Dr. Drew. Good, because Cash was throwing him a big one.
Cash merged into traffic and let the convo rip. “Roc, man. You think love can be all just add water and resuscitate?”
Rocco choked on something and coughed for the next thirty seconds. Someone in the background asked him if he was dying. After a pop and fizz, Roc gulped into the phone, then hacked out, “Come again?”
Yeah, that was about what he should’ve expected. Cash bobbed and weaved through traffic, wanting like hell to get back home. “Like if you felt all happy ever after about someone once, but it didn’t end up like that. Do you think if the chance came up again, it’d happen fast?”
“Fuck me. Are you serious?”
Maybe calling Rocco was as good an idea as leaving Nic and Sugar alone. “I’m having freakin’ issues, man. I need some kind of advice to move me from the Hugh Hefner side of the game to… like… see, I don’t even know an example. Someone who doesn’t have a cell phone full of names like Blondie-Bartender and Purple-Car-Pink-Thong.”
With a full mouth, Rocco garbled, “There should be more stable men with families on television than Bruce Jenner. He shouldn’t be the poster child. Nothing about that Kardashian clan should be the gold standard.”
“Spare me the social commentary, Roc.”
“So what do you want from me? Could you love her? Well, shit. From what I’ve seen—”
“I didn’t say a thing about being in love.” Cash blew out a breath. “Christ, man.”
“Listen, asshole. You said happy ever after. Like Disney fairy tale bullshit. That means the L-bomb. All those Tinkerbells and mermaids end up in a castle with a prince. It’s the same fucking thing. Right?”
Nic’s still in love with me. Cash’s stomach was on the spin cycle. He checked his rear view mirror and saw that he was smiling. He didn’t want to, but a huge grin was plastered across his goddamn face. Oh, hell. He hit the gas and passed a couple of cars over a double yellow line.
“Roc, if you breathe a word about this to Roman, I’ll—”
A cell phone rang. He checked his. Nope. Rocco was still on the line. Another ring. Cash looked toward the noise. Down on the floorboard, Nicola’s cell lay face down. He tried to grab it and watch the road.
“Gotta go,” Cash said.
“You’re welcome, dick.”
Click. End call. He pulled hard into a parking lot and clipped the corner curb. The cell continued to ring. He grabbed it and looked at the caller ID. Unknown Number. Of course. She needed this before leaving with the butler. She’d probably get a burner phone for the trip, but she probably needed this phone too. And if he brought it back to her, he could mention the whole one deadbolt didn’t do shit thing.
Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he decided to return the phone. Cash squealed tires and gunned it back to Nic’s apartment. It wasn’t like he could call her to say, “hey, I found your phone.” He wanted to look into her eyes and try to see into her brain. Check out that whole love-like conundrum.
What would it even mean if she did love him? His stomach flipped into his throat. His mouth felt dry and watery all at the same time, and that fucking smile tugging at his cheeks was enough to give him a headache. His head pounded like a freight train burning coal.
Like. Love. He felt like a lunatic.
What if he went down that road? It was all good and fine to grab her and say mine. And he’d loved her once.
Could he…
Or rather was he…
In a blink, Cash was in front of her apartment and uninterested in finding a parking spot. He parked in the fire lane, holding her phone in his hand like it was the only damn reason he’d flown back to her place. His lungs pumped in his chest, and his blood raced. Such a familiar feeling. Like high school, driving to her place before Homecoming or before their pool party for two.
