I pull out a beer and raise my brows, he nods and I hand it to him.
“So dancer,” he says, taking a sip and placing it down beside him. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
I slide up onto the counter and he quickly joins me.
“There’s not much to tell.”
“There’s always something to tell. What’s your favorite food?”
“Lame question, Nate,” I grin.
“Answer it anyway,” he smirks.
“Fine, I have a major weakness for Taco’s.”
“Hard or soft?”
I stare at him, eyes wide. “Huh?”
“Oh, Avery, you’ve let me down. You say you’re a fan, but you don’t know which one you like. Only a real Taco fan would be able to answer that question.”
“There’s only one way to have them, Nathaniel, and that’s with the crunchy one.”
He rolls his eyes. “Have you tried the soft?”
“No, Taco’s aren’t meant to be soft.”
“But how do you know you won’t like them, if you don’t try them.”
He’s grinning at me, the big asshole.
“Point made, now it’s your turn. What’s your favorite food?”
“Beer.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. “That’s such a man thing to say.”
“There’s a steak in every beer, it’s like the complete diet. Didn’t you know?”
“That’s such a stupid line,” I groan dramatically. “I mean come on, there’s a steak in every beer?”
“It’s true, they’re like a meal in a bottle. A man meal.”
He grunts and thumps his chest. “You’re such a knob.”
He gasps. “You’re so cruel to me.”
I laugh loudly.
Then we both sit in silence for a minute or two, before I get the courage to ask, “How did you meet Lena?”
He doesn’t look at me, but I notice his body stiffen. “I met her when I was still a young lad. I thought a lot with my dick back then.”
“Meaning...”
“Meaning I didn’t always make the right choices.”
I narrow my eyes. “Do you regret your wife?”
He sighs. “No, but as the years went on and we grew up, we realized we weren’t really made for each other.”
I nod. “I know how that feels.”
“Ahhh, Jacob,” he murmurs.
“I never really had a thing for Jacob.”
“Is he really how you want your life to go?”
I shake my head. “Not at all.”
He sighs. “We ought to learn to stick up for ourselves, eh?”
I laugh. “Let’s try.”
I turn to him and I can’t help but feel the sizzling tension between us. I quickly cover it with a joke, because it scares me.
“I’m not marrying you, Nate,” I say, my voice hard.
He pouts and turns away. “But I thought I was your type.”
I chuckle. “Okay we’re really not good at pretending to stick up for ourselves. You try, pretend I’m your wife.”
“I will not be your slave anymore, you can’t make me,” he cries dramatically.
I burst out laughing. “We can’t be serious about anything.”
He grins and puts an arm around me. “That’s why we’re best friends, me and you, because we have this awesome bond.”
I stop breathing; his arm is tight around my shoulder. I want to snuggle into him, I want to lean up and kiss him. At that thought, I turn and stare at him. He’s looking down at me, his eyes now on my lips. I gasp as he leans down a little closer, the air crackling between us. Realizing how close we are and how much my feelings have changed has me pulling away and jumping off the counter quickly, then running my hands through my hair.
“I,” he says, his eyes burning into mine. “I should go.”
“Okay,” I whisper. “Ah, thanks.”
He jumps off the counter and steps forward, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me forward. I struggle to catch my breath. I close my eyes as he holds me close, and I try to think of anything else but how amazing and right it feels to be enclosed in his arms.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, stepping back. “Night, Dancer.”
I nod, biting my lower lip.
He turns and walks down the hall, collecting Macy. At the door he looks at me once again.
“I’m glad we’re friends,” he whispers.
Then he disappears into the night, and my heart refuses to stop pounding.
CHAPTER 13
NATE
“I want another baby,” Lena says, staring at me with hopeful eyes.
“What?” I gasp, dropping the bottle of beer I’d just finished into the bin.
“I think it will be good for us.”
She’s got to be joking, right? Good for us? Good for us? She hardly spends any time with Macy, and when she does she ends up passing out. She’s got no control over her life, she’s an alcoholic and she cares only about herself. How the hell she thinks a baby would be good is beyond me.
“Lena,” I carefully say. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?” she cries, crossing her arms. “Because you don’t think I’m a good mom.”
“Shit, Lena. You’re barely hanging in there with Macy.”
“Yes, but maybe if I have another one we can be a better family and . . .”