NATE

4. Nate

4

Nate

I was two bourbons in when she walked into the bar.

The world tipped over. That was what I was feeling, and I could only stare for a moment.

Total nerd reaction and I’d never been a nerd. Partier? Player? Asshole? For sure, but never a nerd.

I couldn’t think either.

I could only stare.

She was gorgeous. Long dark hair. Long ass legs. Tiny waist. s**t, she was slender, and she was walking like a gazelle. She was holding her hands in front of her, curled toward each other. Dark eyes. A mouth that I already knew I needed to taste.

The cutest nose, and I’d never been a guy who noticed a girl’s nose.

Breasts. Ass. Face.

Never a nose.

I was fixated on a nose.

“Are you listening to us?”

Right.

I blinked, coming back to the table. I’d been sitting, and a group of Thunder cheerleaders joined me.

“Uh… yes.”

The black-haired one laughed, leaning back in the booth next to me. She picked up her drink, swirling it around, and gave me a slow smile. “We know who you are.”

I frowned. “And who do you think I am?”

“You’re Blaise DeVroe’s brother-in-law.”

Jesus.

I knew this happened, but to hear it so blatantly was a whole other reality check. I was getting recognized for that little prick, that little prick whom I’d grown fond of even though we started our relationship when he was the definition of a little prick. I scowled. “Excuse me?”

“We were at a Falcon game when the jumbotron went to your box. Millie recognized you first.” She pointed across the table to the redhead, who blushed and ducked her head.

She said to the table, “I only recognized you because you’re Mason Kade’s best friend.”

Yes. All the famous folks I knew, who were not me.

“There’re, like, entire fan pages dedicated to you.” The redhead looked up, still shy, but I caught the eagerness underneath it.

I’d recognized that look before.

A woman who wanted a notch on her bed or was looking for a sugar daddy.

The other girl spoke up. “Besides, we know you’re rich.” Her eyes moved to the door, and she leaned forward with an alluring smile on her face. “You can have all three of us tonight if you want. We have no problem sharing.”

This wasn’t the first time I got that proposition, and before today, I hadn’t cared. I hadn’t minded.

Now I did, and my scowl deepened because I didn’t know why I cared. I wanted to f**k. That’d been the whole point of coming down here. See who was here, who was interested, take her to the hotel room, then send her home in a car after. A threesome should be getting my d**k hard, but it wasn’t. With these women, I had a feeling a camera would be put somewhere in the room, and the video would get loaded to social media the next day. Look who we bagged? Or some s**t like that as the headline.

I was getting a headache.

All three were watching me, expecting me to jump at it.

I wasn’t jumping and had no plans to. I was prepared to excuse myself when she walked in.

And these three women were forgotten.

“Ahem.”

That was her.

My whole body knew it was her before I looked. Especially my d**k, which was now hard.

She was standing at our table, a shot in one hand and a drink in the other. She looked at me, her eyes all stormy, and she tossed back the shot before clearing her throat. “I need to speak to you.”

I was already getting up to go with her before she said those words.

My d**k was leading the way.

The first girl spoke up, her hand touching my arm, “Get in line, sweetie.”

I brushed the cheerleader’s hand off at the same time the new girl tilted her head, total and complete sass coming from her. “I don’t think so, honey. I got business to talk to him about, and it ain’t none of your business.”

The “honey” woman turned to me, and she didn’t look happy to be vying for my attention. “I need to have a word with you about my sister.”

“Your sister?”

She turned and motioned with her head. “Come on. This isn’t going to be fun for either of us.”

My d**k was saying otherwise, but I kept that to myself.

“Oh, come on.” One of my tablemates pouted.

The other touched my arm. “Come back. She doesn’t look all that friendly.”

That was why I liked her.

I shrugged them off, picking up my bourbon, and followed as she went to a far booth in the corner. Correction, she went to the far, far booth, and she slid in, all stiff and looking like she wanted to be anywhere but here.

I looked back.

A bartender was watching, so I motioned for two more drinks. He nodded, and I slid into the other side of the booth.

I waited for her to settle.

She never settled.

QUINCEY

Of course, he was the first person I saw when I walked inside.

Of course, he had three beautiful women hanging all over him.

And of course, he was hot. So freaking hot.

Tall, over six feet. Broad shoulders. Trim waist. He had a swimmer’s body. Dark hair. His eyes—I could barely look at them because they were captivating. They made me want to stare and stay in them forever. And his face. A square jawline. A round face, but one that gave off rugged and manly vibes, not preppy-pretty boy vibes. Oh no. Nate Monson was all man.

The air around him was edgy and snappy, but also molten and electrified s*x.

I’d never felt this with another man before. I never even knew a man could emanate s*x like he was. It was always something I thought was silly and never existed. Hell. It existed. It was existing and in waves from Monson.

This wasn’t fair.

Then again, Valerie had been no slouch. She only had one f**k-buddy relationship, and when she talked about him, I could tell she actually liked him. She respected him. Why she never pushed for more, I hadn’t a clue. But she didn’t, and that was on her.

I never understood my sister, except in one thing. Now two things.

My stomach was a mess. I felt like throwing up.

Miss Carina would’ve been all over me if she saw how flustered I was. My hair was a mess. I’d only used three pins to secure my flyaways. It would’ve been disgraceful on the floor.

Get yourself together, Quince.

I closed my eyes. Nate—gah, his name was Nate. The file said Nathaniel Monson, and I read all the details. His famous friends and family. That he did investments for a living, and judging by the portfolio that Carl included, he was doing quite well on top of already being rich. Valerie loved him. I knew she did, but she ended up with Nico instead.

I wanted to growl. Nico. I hated Nico more than I hated having to have this conversation.

Okay. My nerves were better now. My hate for Nico wiped everything out after that. Nate and Nico. My sister had a thing for N names. Who would’ve been next? A Neil? Noah? Nolan?

Why was I going through N names for males right now?

He’d stopped talking.

I looked up. He was watching me. My God. There was s****l desire there. He didn’t blink it away. He only made it more pronounced, not shy, not hiding it. Confident. He wanted me. He had a little smirk that would’ve been a turn-off on anyone else, but it worked on him. It only made him hotter, and then he was seeing me seeing him, and he was seeing me right back.

He wasn’t done.

He looked me over, lingering on the bit of leg I had resting out from just under the table before raising his gaze and pausing on my mouth.

He wanted to f**k me.

Heat bloomed in my chest, and an ache was forming south of that. I was being reminded by his stare how long it’d been since I’d gotten laid. That was all this was. When I opened my mouth, all that would be gone, and he’d hate me.

I was adult enough to admit that I’d like to f**k him, but the vast majority hated him first and foremost. Though I shouldn’t hate him. My rational side reminded me of this, but the irrational side loathed him because he could take away my life. And I was the one here, about to start these preparations because I had to.

If he found out later in life…

No.

I couldn’t go there either. That was another bank vault of emotions I couldn’t deal with. Well, I wouldn’t because I was here to hopefully snuff this fire out before it got any hotter.

Valerie wanted me to find him, to tell him, and I would do that.

But seriously, Val, why didn’t you ever tell him? It would’ve saved so much heartache for so many.

The waiter came over, sliding two drinks on the table between us.

He’d ordered a drink for me.

“I need a shot.”

The waiter had started to leave, but he looked back. “Of course, miss.”

“Two!” I barked out. “Two shots.” I tried to soften the demand. “Please.”

The waiter’s eyes flickered before he nodded. “Two shots, miss. Of course.”

I was going to wait for the shots before I said anything.

I wasn’t going to notice how Nate was so much more in person than he was in any photograph or social media feed.

So very much more.

I really wasn’t noticing how he had a little scruff on his jaw because he hadn’t shaved yet, or how I knew he’d feel like sandpaper in all the right places.

I was looking away, but I could feel him watching me not watching him.

I was hot and bothered, and in my profession, you didn’t get ruffled. You were smooth. You glided. You were sensual and tender, but strong and fierce. You hid the strong and fierce. I wasn’t hiding today. I was feeling all of my emotions, all at once and in full force, and that was making me feel even more.

I needed to calm down.

I needed to be like ice, so I went where I was always pristine and put together in my mind.

I was on the stage with the crowd sitting behind the spotlights.

It was me, the music, and my body.

Everything and everyone was pushed out.

I was bending. I was soaring, dipping, twisting, and I was rounding out on a perfect arabesque. And all the while, it was only the music and me.

It was working.

I went through an entire dance routine in my head before the waiter came back with our drinks.

Two shots were placed in front of me.

I immediately took both.

His eyes lit up, and he leaned back in his booth.

Waiting me out.

My eyes met his. It was the first time I was looking at him straight on since we slid into the booth. Well, it was the first time I was looking right at him since I walked into the bar, and simply put, he took my breath away.

Now he was seeing me better, and some of the amusement faltered.

He frowned, just a slight bit.

He was cluing in. This wasn’t a social call where he was going to get laid. That was what he’d been thinking. I wasn’t another of those girls who were still here. They hadn’t moved on. They were at his vacated table, and they were whispering, watching us. They were holding on, still waiting for him.

They lived in that world, his world. Not my world.

All the more reason to get done with what I came here to do.

Time to rip off the Band-Aid.

“You had a relationship with Valerie Robertson?”

His lips thinned. “Yes.”

Time to tell him the first part.

I leaned forward, slamming a protective wall around me because this was going to hurt both of us.

And I told him.

“Valerie was my half-sister. She’s dead.”