Next - Second Chances

CHAPTER 13

Nolan let Nick look around the diner and out the window, basically everywhere but at him while he took her in. She looked even better than he remembered, which he didn’t think was possible. Her face was make-up free and her cheeks rosy from the scrubbing she must have given it when she went to clean up. She still had a small smudge of grease under her chin, and her hands were clean, but she had a few scratches on her knuckles and wrist.

The mingled scents of hard work – grease and sweat – were surprisingly intoxicating, underscored by the bright, clean whisper of citrus from her hair, which he knew would be stronger if he got close. Close enough to run his nose between the cleft of her breasts and under her jaw. Her hair, which had been loose, wavy and enticing that night they met, was now tangled in a messy bun, and he ached to pull the tie out and let it hang loose.

“So, you own the garage?”

She slowly turned to face him but didn’t say anything. Peggy arrived with his milkshake and her cup of juice, then quickly disappeared and Nolan smiled.

“Come here often?” he said, a clear pick-up line complete with an arched eyebrow.

“Look,” Nick began as she moved her juice aside and leaned on the table with both forearms, her hands interlocked in the middle. Her eyes met him, and he didn't see any hints of teasing in the steely grey that glared in his direction. “I don’t know what you think is going on here, but whatever it is, you’re wrong.”

“We’re having lunch,” he stated slowly with a small gesture around the diner.

“That’s all,” she said.

“That’s all,” he agreed and held his hands up in a defensive posture.

She narrowed her eyes at him and waited for him to say something else, but when he just smiled at her, she picked up her juice and took a long drink.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked as she put the glass back on the table and her eyes flickered up towards him, then right back to her juice before she sat back against the cracked vinyl on her side of the booth.

“Why would I call you?” she asked back, but he saw the hint of pink heat up the apple of her cheeks.

“Because we had a nice time.”

“Did we?”

“Nick, c’mon, you can’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.” He leaned forward a little over his crossed arms on the table and lowered his voice. “You cannot fake that.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” She picked up her juice and sipped it again.

Nick felt like she was losing control of this situation then wondered if she ever had any control. She certainly lost it that night in the bar when she took this stranger home. Nolan Chance. What kind of name was that? She looked out the window at the garage across the street and could see Rick lounging on the couch with his feet up. He wasn't even working on the car she just towed in. A spark of irritation flared up in the pit of her stomach and she turned to see Nolan looking at her with a crooked smile.

“What?” she bit out, maybe a little more harshly than she intended, but his smile grew, as did her irritation.

“Are you going to sit there, two feet away from me, and pretend you don’t know or don’t remember what it was like when we f****d?”

“Nolan! Jesus!” Nick looked around to be sure no one was close enough to hear him. “I come here a lot, I don’t need you ruining it for me.”

“Good to know.” He picked up his malt and sipped on it through the thick straw, then put it down and smiled. “So you do come here often. You own the garage across the street with Rick, you live in one of the apartments on Rosewood Ave, and you don’t call men when they give you their phone number.”

“I never said that.”

“Then it was just me you didn’t call?” She raised one eyebrow in a challenging response but didn’t say anything. “You do remember it though,” he asked, and she thought she heard a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “Because I can’t get you out of my mind.”

Those words made her throat close, and she swallowed around a lump before she licked her lips and looked down at her juice. This was not how she thought her Sunday was going to pan out.

“I want to take you out,” he said before she could respond.

“No, thank you,” she said softly.

“Nick, I really want to take you out, get to know you, spend time with you.”

“No, thank you.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“But you just don’t want to see me again?”

“I’ve no intention of going out with you, Nolan.”