Page 6 of Seein’ Red

Also, I’m not as much of an idiot as she thinks I am.

“I need to shower, redo my hair and makeup. You need…” she trails off and gestures up and down my body. “To whatever, and be at Rocky Pond in…shit!”

A glance at the bedside clock shows we have even less time now, sending her into a flurry. Willa rushes into the bathroom, turning on the shower and making a bunch of noise opening drawers. As someone who watched her get ready for pageants for years, I know just how fast she can change not only her outfit, but her hair and makeup.

Twenty minutes is not a problem.

“We could shower together. Save both time and water.”

“Nash!”

I hold up my hands in surrender. She’s not wrong; we do need to get going. Tonight is the start of a jam-packed week of events, and all of us are going to be a little insane from all the coming and going. And I do mean all of us.

Pushing to my feet, I meander into the bathroom, a frazzled blonde beauty looking at me in the mirror, toothbrush in hand.

Spitting the excess toothpaste foam into the sink, she turns to me, nostrils flaring. “I thought you were leaving.”

“I am.”

With a quick shrug, I hop into the shower, just long enough to get wet. Nothing more. Still, Willa screams my name as I’m stepping out five seconds later, reaching for her towel.

“You prefer I show up to the bonfire smelling like sex?”

“What you smell like when you get there isn’t my problem.”

Touché.

“You didn’t even wash,” she mutters, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

“I rinsed my hangy dangy.”

Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pull her into me. My dick stiffens again at the feel of her soft skin pressing against me, our naked forms fitting together perfectly. Her breath catches as I sweep a stray strand of hair behind her ear, then run my thumb along her lips.

I lower my head to hers, taking my time, pausing just before our lips meet, letting our breath tangle, tickling the skin. It’s a slow, deliberate dance, not to tease her like I did earlier, but to calm her. To let her know I’m here, she’s safe, and that everything is right.

When she finally relaxes a heartbeat later, leaning into me, I close in, capturing her mouth. The kiss is gentle and loving, telling her all the things I can’t say out loud. Or trying to tell her anyway.

Whimpering, Willa pushes to her toes, deepening the kiss, snaking her arms around my neck. In moments like this, I think I must be doing something right. Because it does not get any better than kisses like these. Even her screaming my name as I make her fall apart doesn't outrank this. It’s a close second—don't get me wrong—but an unhurried, I can't get enough of you kiss from Willa Hayes is unbeatable.

“Nash…” Willa whispers, eyes still closed, lips puffy as I step away.

“I know, Princess, I know.”

I lightly press my lips to her forehead, then turn to go. She doesn’t call after me, and I know the moment is over. As much as my heart hurts over that, I can’t complain. This one lasted a lot longer than most. And I only have myself to blame.

I make quick work of getting dressed, thankful that all my clothes are in a pile together on the floor and not strewn about. It makes the whole process of sneaking out a lot easier when you don’t lose time because one shoe is missing.

The water cuts off as I close the front door behind me, which still gives me plenty of time to get down the back stairs before Willa. I double-check my watch, noting that we’re in a safe time zone. It’s too late for the businesses on the first level of the old bank building Willa calls home to still be open. The town’s lawyer, insurance agent, and the farm bureau all close promptly at four thirty. It’s also too early for Ewan, one of Willa’s older brothers, whose apartment is the second floor to the building, to be home yet.

After more than ten years of this sneaking around bullshit, we have our exit strategies down pat. Don't get me wrong, we’ve had our close calls over the years—one doesn’t carry on this long and not have them. But each time we make it unscathed, we’ve adjusted the plan to make it more sound.

Doesn’t matter if I’m leaving hers, she’s leaving mine, or we’re both leaving a neutral location—we have a plan. Plans that have served us well. Even if I hate every fucking one of them.

Again, only myself to blame that they’re even in place.

I pull my phone from my back pocket as I jog down the last flight of stairs, feeling confident I won’t be seen. Skimming through the missed texts, I land on the thread from my twin, Noel, who’s already at the clearing getting the bonfire started.

Noel