Page 18 of Easy Out

“I’m sorry about last night, Lauren. Are you okay?” Nash places his hands on her bare shoulders.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Why does everyone seem so concerned about me? Is there something I should know?” Lauren takes a small step away from Nash and glares at Sydney, then at me.

All the heat coming from Lauren is hotter than the Alabama sun baking Syd’s books. The brujita has fire.

“I wasn’t there for you when Matt came around and-”

“You feel guilty.” Lauren cuts him off. Why would Nash feel guilty? He’s not pulling Matt’s strings.

“If it weren’t for me, you never would have been at that party. He never would have....” Nash rolls his lips, and his nostrils flare. What did Matt do? I look at Syd, and it’s clear I’m the only one who doesn’t know the details. I need the whole story. No, you don’t. She isn’t your problem.

“You don’t have to feel guilty about anything. I wanted to be at the party. I wanted to talk to him. It’s all in the past now. Let it go, Nash. I have.”

“He followed you around the club, Lo.”

“He what?” Lauren pulls her head back in horror.

“Matt hunted you down at the club last night. You’re a game to him now. You fought him off once. That makes you more attractive to him. He followed you outside. If it wasn’t for Hart, who knows what would have happened.”

“What did you do?” Lauren turns her petite frame toward me. One, two, three steps, and she’s in front of me. “What happened?” She practically demands, then thinks better of it. “Por favor.”

My skin heats up like a five-alarm fire when Lauren speaks to me in Spanish. A simple word. Please. Then it dawns on me that she may know I’ve been calling her a little witch.

“You can stop worrying. I have no idea what you’ve been saying to me. I only know a few basics in Spanish. I took Italian in high school. But I need you to tell me what happened between you and Matt.”

I study her. She appears more annoyed than scared. Lauren doesn’t think Matt is a threat. Good. Neither do I.

“Nothing.” Lauren’s eyes narrow. Her fingers drum on the island near my forearm. Her black polished nails are so short they don’t even click on the counter.

Matt followed her through the parking lot like a stalker. I caught up with him just before Lauren reached her car and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. I made it known that Lauren is off-limits. Matt walked away with his limbs still attached. So yeah, nothing happened.

If he continues to be a problem, I can’t promise our next meeting will have the same ending.

With a curt nod, she swivels her attention back to Nash. “See. Nothing happened. Stop worrying. Stop feeling guilty.”

Nash’s hands ball into fists of frustration. He stalks over to Lauren, which causes her to back up in between my legs. My hand goes to her hip to stop her from getting too close or maybe pull her closer.

Nash tracks the movement. His eyes flick to mine. He’s either mad that I’m touching Lauren or because I’m not telling her what really happened with Matt.

“Nash, I swear if you don’t drop this.” Lauren’s body is vibrating with anger. I give her a light squeeze to ground her. Lauren inhales a deep breath and lets it go. “I can’t think about what almost happened anymore. I’m here. I’m okay.”

Nash tries to interrupt her, but she holds up a hand. “If Hart had words with him like you’re saying, then I’m sure he’ll leave me alone. He’s pretty scary.” I grunt. “When he wants to be.”

“Fine,” Nash relents.

“Great. Now that we have this settled. My books are still baking.” Syd claps her hands to get everyone moving. Lauren heads to the fridge. Tying her hair up in a messy bun as she goes.

She pulls out a bunch of ingredients and lays them on the counter. Lauren bends down to retrieve a large pot from the lower cabinets. I groan internally at the way her ass looks in those shorts. Who knew she was hiding all that underneath baggy sweats?

“I need your help with the bookshelf,” Koa says as he punches me in the shoulder. I want to remind him that Syd put me on kitchen duty. Except, I’m not exactly helping in here either. I am enjoying the view.

Once all the pieces to Sydney’s bookshelf and chair are hauled upstairs, I’m dripping sweat. I lift the hem of my shirt and wipe the sweat off my face. I’m seconds from plopping into a plushy oversized chair in the living room when Syd gasps, drawing my attention to her.

I just ran up and down the stairs a dozen times. My calves are burning. I need to sit down, and this chair looks like a giant cloud I want to sink into it.

“I don’t think so, Hart,” Lauren says from the kitchen as I’m squatting over the chair. “You are too sweaty to sit in my chair.“ She points to the high back chair at the bar I was sitting at earlier. Indicating that is where I belong.

“You look hot,” Lauren says as she hands me a cold bottle of water. My eyebrows shoot to my hairline under the bill of my ballcap. “Sweaty. Gross. Disgusting. Dehydrated,” she explains.

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