Chapter 16

Marabelle bolted from her classroom the next day, the minute the last student left, and headed for Belk to buy designer makeup. She needed full battle gear to deal with Big Edna. No drugstore brands would cut it. On her way out, she spied a beautiful, lacy pink bra-and-panties set. She plucked her size from the rack and gave it to the sales clerk.

Later that night after packing for her trip, Marabelle was about to whip up a second batch of brownies for some of the guys who’d showed up uninvited, bearing beer and ice cream, when she heard more knocking at her door.

Somehow her tiny two-bedroom, one-bath bungalow had become the guys’ new hangout. Go figure. They talked sports, girlfriends, music, whatever, and Marabelle posed as a cooking armchair psychologist, dispensing advice.

“If you make it, they will come…” she mumbled to herself, brushing flour off her hands. The guys were sprawled out, surfing the channels and picking at brownie crumbs in her small living room when she pulled the door open.

“What the hell is going on?” Nick stood on her threshold, scowling down at her like a mean junkyard dog chained to a pole.

Her insides jumped in glee. Even snarling, Nick was still gorgeous. He’d clearly been plowing his fingers through his tousled hair. She took a moment to enjoy the view.

“You tell me. Apparently, I’m the little sister they never had.” Nick’s gaze scanned the living room. The guys acknowledged him, and then returned to the basketball game on TV. She reached for his hand and led him to the kitchen where they could talk in private.

“Are they camping out or something?” His expression was still irritated. “Did you have another party and not invite me…again?”

“Nope. Minding my own business, and suddenly I’ve got football players crawling out of the woodwork. Don’t get me wrong. They’re sweet in a huge, kinda scary way. I’m just glad we play for the same team. I wouldn’t want to get on their bad side.”

Nick shoved both hands in the front pockets of his jeans and lounged against the counter. “Do they want anything? Or just the pleasure of your company?” he asked, sounding bewildered.

“I’m going to try not to take that as an insult.” She picked up a pink rubber spatula. “It’s the pleasure of my cooking with a side of my company.” She went back to stirring brownie batter. “They talk about their girlfriends and ask for advice, and because…maybe… I don’t threaten them in any way.”

“Have you looked at yourself lately?” He cocked his head to one side.

“Funny. You know what I mean. I don’t come on to them or want anything from them. I’m like…a safe house.” She dipped her finger in the bowl and pulled out a thick curl of brownie batter, shoving it in her mouth. “Where you can go and get away from your problems,” she said around the gooey chocolate.

He leaned forward, snagging her arm, pulling her into his embrace. “You look good enough to eat.” He smiled at her upturned face. Marabelle started to lick a little blob of chocolate at the corner of her mouth, but he beat her to it, licking the chocolate with a flick of his tongue before kissing her lips. She gave a throaty laugh and arched into him, sliding her arms around his waist.

Yum. She didn’t know what tasted better, Nick or the chocolate. Both were delicious, but Nick was less fattening. Settling in to enjoy another hot kiss, she heard heavy footsteps. Ricky DiMarco stood in the doorway and cleared his throat.

“Yo, we’re heading out now.” Ricky nodded at her. “Thanks for everything.” Nick allowed her to turn, but kept her anchored against his front.

“Thanks for the brownies and letting us crash here,” Rocker called from the front door.

Ty shook Nick’s hand, pressing something into it, and winked at Marabelle. “We’ll see ourselves out.”

“You’re welcome, guys. Stop by anytime,” she called out.

As soon as the front door closed, Nick started nibbling on the side of her neck. “What did Ty put in your hand? That tickles!” She scrunched up her shoulder and attempted to pry open his fingers at the same time.

“Damn, woman. Stop wiggling.”

“Show me what you’re hiding,” she said. He eased up on his hold, and she whirled around, grabbing his closed fist again. “Open up.” Nick uncoiled his long fingers to a bunch of crushed bills. “I don’t understand.” She glanced from the money to his face. “Why did Ty give you cash?”

He shrugged. “To repay you for all the food and stuff.”

Marabelle counted the bills. “Four hundred dollars? They don’t owe me four hundred dollars. They don’t owe me anything.” Marabelle had never asked for money, and she hoped she hadn’t put off that vibe. She hated being perceived as a charity case. Only Nick knew about her financial struggles. She pushed the money back into his hand. “Give it back. I’m not taking it.”

He tossed the bills on the table. “I’m not giving it back. They want you to have it. You deserve it, and they can afford it—”

“Did you tell them I needed money?” Her voice sounded accusatory.

“Hell no. I don’t discuss our personal affairs with the guys. Stop worrying over four hundred dollars. That’s like handing you a twenty to those guys.”

Marabelle was still stuck on “our personal affairs.” Personal and affair sounded official. Like they were a real couple.

“End of discussion,” Nick said. “New topic. How are you getting to Atlanta tomorrow?”

Marabelle glanced at the cash lying on her table. Even though it would help with her expenses, she didn’t want money she hadn’t earned from hard work. If she wanted handouts, she could pick up the phone and call home. Except the conditions attached were unbearable.

“Hey, you. Transportation? How?” Nick waved a hand in her face.

She blinked. “Driving, why?”

“I’d feel a lot better if you’d take my Range Rover.”

Her brow creased. Was this a conspiracy?

“No way.” She shook her head. “Absolutely not. I’m not taking your car.”

“Marabelle, be reasonable. You’ll be a lot safer in my SUV. You shouldn’t be driving that toy you call a car on the highway.”

“Nope.” She stomped out of the kitchen and swung the front door open. “My car is fine.” First the guys gave her money, and now Nick wanted to give her a car. This struck a nerve like no other. She’d already cut ties with her manipulative mother.

“Okay. Let’s try this again.” Nick stood militant in front of her, arms crossed. “I’ll go with you”—she shook her head so hard her curls bounced across her face—“and I’ll drive to keep you company.” She glared at him. She didn’t need a babysitter.

“You choose to go to some benefit alone when you could have a date? And not just any date, but your fiancé!” His voice rose in irritation as he splayed his hands on his hips.

“If you knew my mother, you’d understand. And for the record, you’re not my fiancé!” She scowled. “Certainly not in Atlanta. I don’t want to keep up pretenses in front of them. Being home is stressful enough.”

Nick’s expression grew darker than a stormy night. Looks didn’t get much scarier. But Marabelle stood her ground.

“Have it your way. Dammit, I’m not begging you,” he growled, and the tic in his right jaw jumped to life. “You’re the most stubborn, foolhearted woman I’ve ever met. You wouldn’t know a good thing if it hit you in the head.”

Anger curled her hands into fists by her side. “Yeah? Who said you’re such a good thing? My life was a lot less complicated, and less crowded, before I met you.” Marabelle instantly regretted the childish things she’d just blurted out.

Nick slammed the front door shut and snarled in her face, “And boring as hell. If that’s what you want, then don’t let me stand in your way. Keep building your walls, Marabelle. Pretty soon no one will be able to touch you.”

She flinched. His words hit her like a packed snowball. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I’m trying to do my job and…and—”

“Life happened. It really bothers you to have people around who care. Who want to help. You’re afraid of getting close. Afraid you might become dependent.” He pushed his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes briefly. “How many relationships have you had? Not counting Clay. How many others?” His piercing gaze ripped through her.

Her chin tightened. “None of your business. I suppose all the one-night stands you’ve had with a bimbo in every town count as relationships? At least I have standards.”

Nick sneered. “If we all lived like you, nobody would get any.”

His words were a blow, but Marabelle came up swinging. “Know what your problem is?”

“No. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“You’re spoiled, egotistical, and jaded. Along comes a plain kindergarten teacher, and you think you’ll entertain yourself for a while—”

Nick hauled her against his hard body, slamming his mouth down on hers. This kiss was hard and punishing, and just as mind-destroying as all his kisses. Anger still boiled inside her, but she clung to him as if she were hanging from the side of a four-story building. When she made a soft noise, he broke the kiss. Marabelle grabbed onto the console table to keep from sliding to the floor. She gulped for air.

Nick smeared his thumb across her bottom lip, palming her cheek as her body trembled from aftershock. “Right now, I’m frustrated and hard.” His voice was low and raw.

Tears prickled the backs of her eyes. “You should go…now,” she whispered.

He stood rooted to the floor. Finally, he nodded and opened the door. “Be careful on the road.” He hesitated before walking out.

Marabelle watched from the doorway as Nick drove away, before she broke down and sobbed.