Page 59 of Deadly Little Scandals
“Last time I saw you,” Nick said, “you were making noises about that body. What do they call her?”
“The Lady of the Lake,” I replied. “And FYI: referring to someone talking as ‘making noises’ doesn’t exactly endear you to the speaker.”
Nick tilted his head to the side. “Noted.”
I decided not to hold the word choice against him. “The body wasn’t who we thought it was. Whoever she was, we have no reason to believe that she was killed by an Ames.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Nick said dryly. Then he took in the look on my face. “Isn’t it?”
We ended up down on a nearby dock. I told him everything Lily and I had heard on John David’s recording. I waited for him to decide that I was more trouble and more drama than I was worth, that I was one ofthemin the worst possible way.
“Is there a reason,” he asked after a long silence, “that you tell me all of your secrets?”
I heard no judgment in his tone, but there was something in the way he was looking at me that I couldn’t put into words.
“Who are you going to tell?” I brushed off his question and looked out at the lake. The water in our cove was choppier than I’d ever seen it. Every once in a while, as we sat in silence, the waves hitting the dock sprayed the two of us.
“Did you ever come to the lake?” Nick was the one who broke the silence. “Before?”
“No,” I replied, thankful for the change in subject. “Did you?”
Nick let his feet dangle over the side of the dock. “When I was younger. One of Colt’s friends would borrow a car. There’s a camping area, close to the Macon Bridge. Even when it’s not a holiday weekend, the place is too crowded. Loud. Muddy as hell, if there’s been rain.”
The smile on his face made it clear. “You loved it.”
He looked down at the backs of his hands. “Colt did.”
That was the second time he’d said his name. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “About your brother.”
Nick locked his eyes on the horizon. “He’d be a hell of a lot better at this than me. The parties. Playing nice. Jessi.” I assumed that was his younger sister’s name, but didn’t get the chance to ask before he continued. “You.”
I should go.I felt that, like a warning siren going off in my brain. I wanted to say those words to him, but I couldn’t.
“You’re not doing so bad,” I said instead.
Nick turned his head toward mine. I tried to remind myself that he’d had weeks to get back in touch with me and hadn’t. That he hated the world I lived in and the people in it. That he’d been involved with Campbell before he ever met me.
That I didn’t want to want anything like this.
But all I could think about was my hands in his hair.
“Promise me,” Nick said, his voice rumbling and low, “that for the next ten seconds, you’re not going to say anything about dead bodies or fake pregnancies or anyone with the last name Ames.”
I felt my body listing toward his. My hands moved to his chest of their own volition. “I’ll give you seven,” I countered.
He brought his hands up to my fingertips, touching them lightly. He leaned forward, his lips stopping a fraction of an inch from mine, then moved his hands to the sides of my face. His fingers were rough and callused.
And warm.
“I can make seven work.” He grinned and closed his lips over mine.
I should have pulled back, but I didn’t. I shouldn’t have lost myself to it—to him—but I did. On some level, I was aware that I suddenly had his shirt fisted in my hands, that I wasn’t sitting next to him anymore, but on top of him.
His hands trailed down to my waist as he pulled back from the kiss. “Seven.”
My phone buzzed. I ignored the text, but it was followed by another and another. I looked down at my phone.Lily.
“Trouble in paradise?” Nick asked me.
