"She wanted to go out with you?" I hear the anger in my tone. Katie doesn't date guys like Nash. She only dates rich guys, so if she was showing interest in Nash, it's for some ulterior motive.
"She invited me to a cocktail party her dad was hosting. I immediately turned her down. I knew what she was doing. Showing up with a construction worker? It was just a ploy to piss off her dad. I don't play those games. My brothers do because they know they'll get sex out of the deal but I'm not that desperate. They're not either, so I don't know why they do it."
So he doesn't want to have sex with Katie? Most guys would. She's gorgeous. And she obviously wants him if she showed up here. Wait—was he the guy she was talking about today on the phone?
"I think you're right," I say.
"About what?"
"Katie wanting to piss off her dad. I overheard her talking on her phone at Lou's when I was cleaning tables. She was telling her friend about some guy and said her dad would hate him and then she laughed."
"What else did she say?"
"Something about how she thought the guy would be good in bed. Well, she said that, but I assume 'that' is sex because she said she hoped to find out later tonight."
"Well, she's not going to find out." He looks at me, a slight smile on his face. "But her assumptions are correct. I am good at that."
I roll my eyes. "All guys think that. Doesn't mean it's true."
"Guess there's only one way to prove it." He laughs when he sees the shocked look on my face. "Anyway, tell Lou I'm sorry he had to stay late. I'll have a talk with Katie next time I see her."
"No, don't. She'll run and tell her dad and Lou will get in trouble."
"I probably won't see her again anyways." He smiles. "I told her to go hang out at the new strip mall that's under construction near the highway."
I laugh. "You really said that?"
"Yeah, but I don't think she got what I meant."
He told Katie off. And turned her down. I'm starting to really like this guy.
"So do you have a girlfriend?" I ask. Wait, did that seriously just come out of my mouth? I didn't intend for it to but the words just burst out.
"I did, but I don't anymore," he says casually as he moves his chair back from the table and stretches out his legs. "We broke up six months ago."
"How long did you date her?"
Now I sound like the nosy neighbor. I shouldn't be asking these questions. And yet for some reason I want the answers.
"We were together for two years." He laces his hands behind his head and stares straight ahead. "I'd rather not talk about it."
He seems kind of angry. Must've been a bad break-up and he's not quite over it.
"I should go," I say, getting up from the table. "But thank you for dinner."
He holds my wrist. "Do you really have to go?"
I hesitate, because part of me wants to stay, but the other part of me is desperate to go home, afraid that if I stay, my mind will wander back to that day and I'll start counting or talking to myself or doing something else that will make Nash think I'm crazy.
"I have to, um...go feed Cat."
"His bowl is full," Nash says. "I saw it when I walked in the kitchen. He has plenty of food."
Damn. I really need better excuses. I'll have to come up with a list of them when I get home.
"I also need to do laundry."
"Then go put a load in and come back." He smiles. "I assume you have a washing machine. You're not still washing your clothes by hand, are you?"
"No." I should just tell him I don't want to stay here with him. He couldn't argue with that.
"Come on." He's still holding my wrist and he lightly rubs his thumb over the inside of it. My body instantly reacts. Not in a sexual way, but in a way that makes me feel comforted. Calm. Relaxed.
How does he do that with just a simple touch of my wrist? Am I that starved for human contact that even the slightest touch affects me this way?
"It's a nice night and I'd really like some company," Nash says.
"How long do I have to stay?" I ask, then realize that sounds rude.
But Nash laughs it off. "Am I that bad to be around?"
"No. Sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I guess I could stay a little longer."
"Let's get a better seat." He stands up and pulls my chair out and motions to a bench on the other side of the deck that faces the back yard. It's one of those benches that glides and seats two people. If we sit there, we'll be sitting really close because it's not very big and he's huge.
"I'm fine where I am," I say.
"You gotta get out of that chair. It tried to kill you, remember?" He offers me his hand. "Come on."
He's smiling and it's such a warm, friendly smile that I find myself taking his hand and letting him lead me over to the bench.
"Want another beer?" he asks.
"No, thanks." I'm not planning to stay long enough to have another beer. I'll stay a few minutes, or maybe a half hour, but no longer than that.