Page 85 of Who's Loving You

Like he loves to do so much, he starts laughing his ass off, head back and eyes closed, and now I want to punch him.

“I’m–I’m joking. Damn, I love ruffling your feathers.” He slides his hands into the back pocket of my jeans and squeezes my ass like it’s a ripe peach.

“If you’re not careful, my feathers are the only thing you’ll be ruffling.”

He stops laughing and tilts his head to one side. “Huh?”

“Never mind. It sounded better in my head.” It falls silent and my phone picks just that moment to begin buzzing.

I reach behind me, slapping my hand around until I find the towel and cover it. He watches me quizzically and I smile stiffly. “It’s probably Lucy. Don’t worry about it.”

The phone buzzes again…and again, and Nic’s face switches from curiosity to worry. I hear the uneasiness slip down his throat, and my stomach fills with festering tension.

“Maybe you should check it.Ifit’s Lucy, she could be in trouble.”

I fist the towel and phone in my hand and nod with extreme apprehension. His voice is thick with his feeling that I’m hiding something, and why wouldn’t it be. Right now, I seem like the guiltiest of deplorables and refusing to answer the texts that are still coming through only perpetuates that feeling.

My bottom lip is trapped between my teeth, and I slowly pull the towel and phone across the counter. The towel is flipped off and my fingers wrap around the phone with trembling fear. Fear because the things that come out of Lucy’s mouth can make even the toughest man blush.

I keep the phone pressed close to my body and swipe it open like a guilty person. It’s going to be impossible to read or respond like this, so I give myself a little more room and find that I am correct in my assumption that it is Lucy and her unfiltered mouth.

Lucy: Wait! I wanna know!!

Lucy: Your silence is very telling.

Lucy: THAT BIG! Biiiitch. Get it, sister.

Lucy: At least tell me if he knows how to handle such a big rig. I’d be heartbroken for you if it’s all show and no blow.

Lucy: Val! Are you ignoring me? Or are you stuffed full of Big Nic and can’t talk right now? Please tell me it’s the latter.

Lucy: I’m thinking yes. You can tell me all about it later. And I want AAAALLLLLL the details. Size (in water bottle inches), girth, head (is he sporting a turtleneck or a big fat mushroom), and if he’s a toe curler. K. Love you. Bye!

Why? Why is she like this? Why, of all the people in Houston to become best friends with, did this nut job have to be assigned to me.

“Lucy knows about Big Nic, huh. Be sure to tell her I’m one of those liter size bottles.”

I click my phone, turning the screen black, and smack his chest. “Quit eavesdropping! You’re invading my privacy. And really? A liter? Don’t you think that’s pushing a bit much, buddy.”

His eyes alight with gall and his jaw drops. My waist is immediately gripped tight in his hands and I’m lifted into the air, my butt landing with a plop on the counter.

“I can’t believe you just said that. Do you need me to remind you of how you cried,oh Nic. You’re so big I can feel you everywhere.”

“I didnotsay that!” I laugh as he digs his fingers into my sides and tickles me.

When he stops and pushes his way between my legs and wraps his arms around me. “Well, it sounded like that.”

My cheeks ache with the amount of smiling and laughing I’ve been doing lately. Usually they only get a work out when Lucy is around. Nic has this way of making me forget that I’m supposed to be immune to men’s charm. I’ve always been an expert at maintaining my bullshit meter in full working order, but he has shattered that in a matter of moments.

He runs his fingers gently through my hair and pushes it behind my ear. A wake of goosebumps washes over me with his touch, and it’s just another reminder that there is no way I can stop this freight train headed straight for me.

“I have something for you.” Nic reaches into his pocket, producing a familiar looking deep blue velvet box.

I stare at it sitting in the palm of his hands, and the blood rushes from my face to my toes. I have to slam my hands to the counter to keep me from falling over. This man is constantly full of surprises so the concept that within that box lies a round piece of metal with a shiny diamond on it is not a far off notion.

“Before you freak out, can you please just open it?”

My breathing turns shallow as I take it from him, but my fingers are too petrified to take the final step . I look up at him and he encourages me to keep going. I close one eye as I pry it open, and the lid creaks like hinges on an old door in a scary movie. When I’ve opened the mouth of the dragon, instead of fire I find a treasure. With a gasp, I stare awestruck.