Easy This Time - JH Croix Page 0,7

my head.

Nash arched a brow before glancing at the waitress. “One check, please.”

“I can get my own lunch,” I insisted.

Nash stared at me, once again, his gaze feeling like an X-ray on my brain. I mentally battened down the hatches and pulled my pride into place, tattered though it was.

“Mari,” he finally began. “I would cover lunch with whomever I brought to lunch. I invited you, so that’s what I expect to do.”

I managed a shallow breath, willing the spin of emotions inside me to settle. “I can still cover my own lunch.” I had no idea why I was arguing about this. Given my financial situation, allowing Nash to take care of the bill was the sensible thing to do. But then, I wasn’t feeling particularly sensible.

Nash inclined his head before shrugging. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to run to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

Our waiter nodded and turned away to check on a table nearby when Nash stood, his stride long and confident as he walked across the restaurant. I told myself not to notice the way his shoulders filled out his shirt, not to linger on the way the faded denim of his jeans hugged his muscled legs, and certainly not to acknowledge that the man had one fine ass.

What the hell are you doing ogling another man right now? In the last few days, you were all worked up thinking you and Brett might get back on track.

Um, back on track? You mean like sex for the first time in over three months? You didn’t even have sex last night.

I couldn’t decide which voice was more critical. My proper, try-to-do-life-right voice, or my more sarcastic tone, always on the ready to point out just how ridiculous things were.

True story: I couldn’t recall the last time I had sex with Brett.

Nash returned before the waiter did. He stopped by the table and glanced down at me. “Shall we go?”

“Our waiter hasn’t brought our checks.”

“I’ve taken care of it.”

I felt my nostrils actually flare as I looked up at Nash. “Wow. So you’re that kind of overbearing gentleman,” I muttered as I reached for my purse.

Nash, being the gentleman in question, pulled my chair back as I stood, not even deigning to offer a reply.

I told myself I most certainly didn’t notice the way his warm touch felt like a hot brand on my low back when he placed his palm there as a group of people passing by jostled me. Flutters spun in my belly, and the heat from his touch radiated outward. I was so flustered by my response to him, and my annoyance with my entire day, I elected to pretend everything was fine.

Once we were outside on the sidewalk, I looked up at him. “Thank you for lunch.”

I didn’t bother to argue about the bill. There was no sense in it. I really didn’t have the money to cover my lunch. It would’ve gone on the credit card that was about to be maxed out if it wasn’t already.

“Anytime,” Nash replied. “Where are you heading now?”

I bit back the urge to tell him it was none of his damn business. I did have some manners, after all.

“I’ll be heading home. Thank you for at least filling me in on what you know about Brett. It was”—I paused and then shrugged—“illuminating.”

“My offer still stands.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, confused by what he meant.

“To help you find Brett.”

I mulled it over for a beat before replying, “I appreciate your offer, but I don’t think there’s much point in trying to find Brett. It’s best for me to move on.”

Chapter 4

Mari

“Dammit!” I muttered to myself as I glanced down to see that one of the wheels on my small suitcase had cracked. No wonder it wasn’t rolling smoothly.

“Mari,” a voice said. A voice I instantly recognized. What was it about Nash Reynolds? Just the sound of his gravelly drawl sent butterflies spinning in my belly.

The hot Louisiana sun beat down on me. The humid air was so heavy it felt as if it was sticking to my skin. Lifting my head, I unconsciously smoothed my hand over my hair. It was pulled back into a messy ponytail. The state of my hair was representative of how I felt about my life. I couldn’t seem to keep anything tidy.

Straightening, I turned and pasted a smile on my face. “Hello, Nash.”

With the sun glinting on his bronze hair, Nash inclined his head slightly. “Hello, Mari. How are you?”

I