Champagne and Lemon Drops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance (17 page)

"What?" Beth sniffed, the vacating adrenalin
leaving her weak and trembling.

"I'm sorry Beth. I thought..." Angelica
paused. "I thought he still loved you." She met Beth's eye. "I
thought everything he was doing and saying meant he still cared. I
thought he simply had to get things sorted out so you could get
back together. I didn't want you running away and starting a new
life." She pointed to the ground, her voice strong. "I wanted you
to be there, ready and waiting for him when he got it together."
She gripped Beth's hand. "I want what's best for Oz and I've always
thought that was you."

Beth released a hard sob and wiped her nose
with an offered tissue. She turned from Angelica so she wouldn't
get hugged and fought the compelling need to continue sobbing. She
sucked in unsteady breaths.

"I'm sorry, Beth. I'll talk to Benny and the
others."

Beth nodded. She could finally start putting
one foot in front of the other again. She looked up as the frog
croaked at the front door, and quickly turned away, wiping her wet
face with her hands.

"Hey, Mom," the man called, "your chariot
awaits."

Beth heard him move across the store, his
steps faltering as he reached the spot where she was cowering,
attempting to hide behind a rack, his mother floundering beside
her.

"Right!" Angelica said brightly. "I'm glad
you got my text, Oz. I ended up buying more than I can comfortably
carry and I knew you were out and about. Did you see last year's
winter wear is still on clearance?"

"Beth?" Oz asked gently, ignoring his mom's
attempt to move him along. "You all right?"

Beth heard whispers to her right as women
gathered closer so as not to miss a thing and a warm hand landed
lightly between her shoulder blades. Knowing her face would be
horribly blotchy and red, she ducked her head as she turned to push
past Oz.

Oz lightly grabbed Beth's bare arm as she
moved past. "Beth? Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay." She wrenched her arm
from his grasp. "And what do you care, anyway?"

"We're still friends... aren't we?"

Beth's heart took the
express elevator to the basement.
Friends
. She could never be friends
with the man who held her dreams within reach only to snatch them
away so he could return to his ex, not caring if rumors splattered
into her like buckshot.

Friends was right next door to impossible.
Friends was a lovely corner office in Hell's deepest pit.

Chapter 10

Beth placed bags of Chinese takeout on
Nash's kitchen island, tired of moaning and groaning to him all
week about Angelica's blacklisting stunt as well as the difficulty
of finding a place to live (even after the rent-to-Beth ban had
been lifted). By the time she'd circled back to Benny to snag his
vacant apartment he'd convinced himself that a bit of renovation
work truly was a good idea. He had already ripped up most of the
water-stained parquet flooring, and as Beth stared at the upheaved
space, trying to find a way to expedite the renovation process,
Katie had started suggesting a few more things to update such as
replacing light fixtures and repainting the kitchen cabinets and
walls. By the time Benny and Katie had sketched out all the
changes, Benny figured he'd have the place out of commission for at
least two to three months and would have to increase the rent
significantly in order to cover the updating.

She'd come to Nash after seeing Benny's
disaster zone, her head a whirlwind of confusing thoughts. He'd sat
her down, with ice cream, of course, and had her write out
everything she was thinking and feeling about Oz and moving on.
Looking at it written in front of her she knew what she'd felt
earlier was correct: it was over. Too many little things were
adding up.

Beth perched on a tall
stool and watched Nash dish himself a plate of lukewarm Chinese
food. He handed her a set of bamboo chopsticks from his cutlery
drawer. "I can't believe nobody in town works on a BMW," he said.
"You would think
someone
would work on foreign cars."

"Well, how many foreign luxury cars have you
seen around town?" she asked, spearing a piece of lemon chicken
with a chopstick. She was getting tired of him complaining about
how Blueberry Springs wasn't the city. She wished he'd see the
bright side of small town living instead of all the bad things like
rumors and interference. For example, if someone's house burned
down, less than twenty-four hours later they'd find themselves set
up in a new, temporary place with everything they needed. But he
always seemed to focus on little things like how Cody just about
ran him off the road. Which totally wasn't Cody's fault. Everyone
knew he always swung left to turn right because he was used to
hauling his long cattle trailer behind his truck and needed the
extra room in order to make the corner. But Nash had chosen that
moment to blast past the truck and almost got sideswiped. It had
taken him weeks to get over the incident.

"They aren't exactly up there with Chevys
and Fords for popularity, you know." She stabbed the chicken again,
trying to keep it on the chopstick like Nash did with ease. "You
know, I didn't pick up those throw-away chopsticks at the
restaurant for a reason." Her food was going to be mutilated and
cold by the time she managed to get any of it in her mouth.

Nash finished chewing and balanced the
chopsticks on his extended pointer finger. "Eating with chopsticks
makes it an experience." He winked and went back to his meal,
delicately scooping rice to his mouth like the stuff was glued to
his sticks.

"How do you do that?" she asked, feeling
amused that he had such quirky hidden talents. She'd never met
anyone who could wrangle a set of chopsticks like City Boy.

He held out his hand, demonstrating his
grip. "It's all in how you hold them."

Beth tried to imitate the hold, but her
chopsticks tumbled from her fingers. Nash reached over and wrapped
his hand around hers and she was surprised at how big they seemed
when enveloping hers. She watched his eyes as he plucked her
fingers into place. Concentration. Ease. Confidence.

She liked it.

And she also liked how Nash would make a
most excellent rebound man. While he was a bit like the old Oz, he
was different enough that he left her in a state of anticipation.
Plus, the fact that he wasn't constantly in contact, despite how
close they were becoming as friends, made his attention feel all
the more special. The problem was how to leap from friends to
rebound man without damaging what they had.

"There. Try that." He maneuvered her fingers
like she was a puppet, the chopsticks picking up the mangled
chicken. "Now... just lift to your mouth." He released his grip,
mouth opened slightly as he tipped his head back, watching her move
the chicken to her mouth.

It landed in her plate's puddle of cherry
sauce with a dull splat.

She stared at her meal and contemplated
asking for more lessons so he could wrap his hands around hers
again. However, by the time she got any food in her mouth the
sauces would be all cold and gelled and completely gross. "I cry
uncle. Gimme a fork."

Nash laughed and handed her
a fork from the drawer. "You know, I met a girl named Chevy the
other day.
That
was a small town moment." He raised his hands as if to ward
off an argument. "I'm not wholly against vehicle names as I've
always thought the name Mercedes had a certain ring to it. It's
just..." He scrunched up his nose.

Beth let out a short laugh. "Mercedes?
Really?"

Nash cut short his sip of wine in order to
protest, "It's a lovely name!"

She grinned and took a bite of her lemon
chicken, courtesy of her fork. "I prefer traditional names like
Jennifer—Jenny, and Benjamin—Ben."

Nash nodded in approval. "Those are nice
names. I could see a couple of cute kids with your curls named
that." He tugged lightly on one of her curls and she tried to hide
her blushing. "You want kids right away?" Nash asked, head tilted
and chopsticks momentarily silent.

Beth's stomach did a couple of jumping jacks
and she tried to act casual. "I do." She did some mental math and
sighed. A year to find a man and for them to get to know each
other. If he was the right guy, then at least another year for
engagement and marriage. Then another year before kids. She was at
least three years out from having her first child if she found
herself the right man today. The grand age of thirty was
practically staring her in the face by the time she got to baby
number two. What if she had troubles conceiving like her cousin
had? What if it took years to conceive? She be screwed. And not in
the good sense of the word. "I'm not getting any younger."

Nash tipped his head back laughed. "And how
old are you, exactly?" He refilled her wine glass from the bottle
of sweet white whine he'd picked up especially for her.

Beth batted her lashes. "Shouldn't you know
better than to ask a lady her age?"

Nash laughed again and threw up his hands.
"Got me. I'll have to sneak a look at your driver's license after I
get you drunk."

She took a sip of her wine, rolled her eyes,
and laughed. "Seriously though, I have a cousin who is only a
couple years older than I am and she's having troubles conceiving.
It makes me nervous. What if I can't have kids? What if I don't
find the right man until I'm thirty?" She took a calming
breath.

"Of course you'll have kids. Medicine has
astounding capabilities these days." He pushed a container of food
toward Beth. "Annual exams and ensure your husband wears boxers,
like I do, and I'm sure you'll be just fine. And, really, most
women don't have to worry at all until they are well into their
thirties."

Beth's fork halted halfway
to her mouth. She really
was
running out of time. Especially if she decided she
wanted more than two kids.

"You see..." Nash said, acting doctorly.
"You've got to keep the testicles away from the body's heat for
optimal sperm count." He snatched two chicken balls from the
container in front of him and cupped them in his hand. He laid a
spring roll between them. "That's the biggest source of the sperm
count issue for many men: their choice of underwear keeps their
testicles snug up against the body. The testes become overheated."
He tossed the chicken balls back in their container and took a bite
out of the spring roll.

Blushing, Beth focused on her plate. Great.
All she could think about was what was in Nash's boxers, white
picket fences, a precious baby girl sporting Nash's bright blue
eyes, and a rough and tumble tyke running around the yard trying to
place a stethoscope over the dog's heart. It didn't help that
Cynthia kept teasing her about Nash. Or that Gran had pretty much
given up on Oz already. Beth blinked, realizing she'd broken out in
a sweat of longing.

Why did she always seem to grow a crush on
guys who didn't seem to see her in a long-term girlfriend kind of
way? Chin resting in her palm, she watched as Nash carefully
wrapped a long noodle around his chopsticks. Maybe she could move
things along a little bit. See if he'd be her rebound guy. She'd
keep him less lonely and he'd be her distraction as she mended her
heart. When they were ready, they'd move on. No harm. No foul.

"You're so cute when you twirl your
noodles," she said.

He smiled and she realized she was close
enough... close enough to lean over and place her lips upon
his.

Seizing the moment she spun on her stool and
gripped his face, placing her lips on his. She gave him a quick
peck, leaning away so the kiss would remain light and
airy—something that could easily be brushed off—when he gripped her
shoulders, keeping her close. Knees touching, they stayed together,
her light peck becoming a real kiss. It turned deeper, making her
heart pick up its pace.

As he kissed her she pictured Oz kissing
Mandy. Which was dumb. She hadn't even seen the kiss. But it had
been public. Which said a million things. Such as the fact that
maybe she needed a rebound man even more than she thought.

She kissed Nash hard, trying to keep her
desperation at bay.

She should be happy. Happy that she was free
to move on. Happy that Oz had made the final decision to cut the
cord. She was free. No guilt.

But Mandy? Oz said he was never going back
to Mandy. Why couldn't the girl just take up with Frankie
Fall-Off-the-Water-Tower Smith who'd been chasing her for years and
get out of her face?

Nash broke off the kiss and gave her a
smile. "Wow. That was... intense."

She sat back, feeling self-conscious. Crap.
What had she done? She'd totally lost track of the kiss. She'd
probably freaked him out if her lips were anywhere near as furious
as her thoughts had been.

Ducking her head she
watched Nash out of the corner of her eye. His cheeks were slightly
flushed, but he didn't seem anything beyond his normal cool, calm,
and collected self. She let out a breath and took a swig of wine.
It would be okay. She could do this.
They
could do this.

Nash resumed carefully twirling his long
noodles, and desperate to keep the mood light, Beth hung a noodle
from her lips, gnawing on the end before noisily slurping it into
her mouth. Giggling, she slurped another while Nash frowned at her
lack of manners. Everything about Nash and his condo was so neat
and perfect, making it absolutely temptationalicious to act like an
unmannered hick and make him cringe and roll his eyes. Laughing,
she gave his arm a push and he grinned back, sliding his plate
aside.