Tempt (Take It Off #3)(45)
Author: Cambria Hebert

Then he walked me down the hallway, placing me in the arms of my father. Both our families filed out of the hospital, toward the waiting cabs at the curb.

Nash and I were the last to get into our separate cars.

Our eyes met. I watched his dark, unruly head disappear inside the car. His cab drove away. I sat down beside my mother.

We survived a plane crash.

We survived a band of pirates.

We survived a frenemy.

But it seemed the biggest challenge we would face was the one that presented after our rescue…

Reality.

ONE MONTH LATER…

24

I glanced at the clock and did a double take. Seemed like I just got here and already it was time to leave.

Time flies, I mused, placing the last stem into a gorgeous blown glass vase. I carried it over to the giant glass-front cooler and placed it inside, where it would stay fresh and gorgeous until tomorrow morning’s delivery.

After I cleaned up a little around the back, I reluctantly grabbed my bag and stepped out onto the sidewalk. It was fall but much too early for it to feel that way in Miami. More than likely, the temperatures wouldn’t even begin to cool off until mid- to late-October. And even when part of the East Coast was buried in snow, Miami would remain mild.

I walked slowly to the bus stop, in no real hurry to get home. In truth, the only time that went by fast was the time I spent at work. Every other second, minute, hour of the day seemed to drag by.

Nighttime was the worst.

I pushed away those thoughts and rode the bus home, trying not to think about the island, Duke, and the nights I spent in the sand… with Nash.

It wasn’t until I arrived home and leaned against the back of the door that I finally let myself have the thought.

The thought that plagued me every day.

The thought that echoed around inside me even when I tried not to listen.

The thought I knew was never going to go away.

I missed him.

I missed Nash so much that I could barely breathe. At first, I thought the reason my appetite didn’t come back, the reason anxiety sometimes gripped me and threatened to never let go was because of the crash, because of the pirates.

But it wasn’t those things.

One day I was in the grocery store, pondering a display of coconuts, when someone behind me called out bella, the word sounding exactly as he said it. So many feelings crashed over me in a single second.

Joy.

Desire.

Longing.

Love.

I spun around so fast that all the coconuts tumbled off the table and rolled around my feet. Yet I barely noticed. My eyes searched for his face, for his curls, for the arms that held me for so many nights.

But it wasn’t him.

It was someone else.

I stood there completely shattering apart as I watched a woman with dark hair run into the arms of a man that was not Nash.

I left the coconuts on the floor and I went home without whatever I went to the store for in the first place. And I cried. I cried so much my eyes swelled.

And that’s when I understood. I knew it wasn’t the fact that we survived the awful experience together. It wasn’t the fact that we bonded in a crisis.

I loved him in spite of those things.

I loved him because there was no one else that would ever make me feel the way he did.

I did exactly what I told myself I wasn’t going to do anymore. I let fear rule my head. I denied my heart because I was afraid to follow it.

I was stupid.

But knowing that couldn’t erase the fact that I pushed him away. That I told him we needed time apart to really know if what was between us was real. He’d agreed. Easily. Did that mean he thought I was right? Did that mean I’d been nothing but someone to chase away the boredom while we were stranded on that island?

I sighed and pushed away from the door. It’d been a month since I’d seen him last… two weeks since I realized that my love for him wasn’t going to go away. I couldn’t go on this way.

I didn’t want to live in limbo anymore.

I went into my bedroom and changed out of my work clothes and pulled on a pair of black leggings and a light-green tank top (okay, so yeah, it reminded me of his eyes). Then I reached for a light oversized sweater and tossed it onto my perfectly made bed.

I pulled the band out of my hair and loosened the French braid it was styled in, letting it wave softly down my back. Just as I was reaching for the sweater, there was a knock at the front door.

I frowned, wondering who on Earth that could be, and padded through the living room to throw the lock and pull open the door.

Dark curls and green eyes greeted me.

My heart literally stopped beating.

I reached out and gripped the doorframe, unable to speak. I could only stare.

He looked as good as I remembered him, standing there in low-slung ratty jeans with too many holes. His T-shirt wasn’t gray, but a deep green that accentuated his jade-colored stare—a stare that searched my face like a hungry man searching for his final meal.

His skin was still deeply tan, unlined, and the beard he’d been sporting when I said good-bye was gone, revealing his square jaw and the dimple in his chin.

I swallowed, my heart stuttering back to life. “Nash?”

“She remembers my name,” he quipped, giving me a little grin. He was carrying a large cardboard box with the words Pizza Hut scrawled along the side.

My stomach roared to life fiercely.

“Is that a pizza?” I asked.

“Large veggie with pan crust.”

Tears rushed to my eyes, blurring my vision and making it hard to stare at him. “You remembered.” When we first crashed, it was the one food I told him I wanted.

“I know you probably have eaten a million of these since you got home…” he said and shrugged as his words died away.

I shook my head. “I haven’t had it yet.”

His eyes zeroed in on my face. “You haven’t?”

I shook my head again. Of course I hadn’t. I couldn’t eat something that reminded me so fully of him.

“You gonna let me in?” he asked, devastating me with his lopsided grin.

I stepped back, gesturing for him to come in, and then shut the door behind him. He looked around the apartment with rapt interest. His eyes took in the cream walls, the oversized posters filled with art and landscapes, the gray couch with multi-colored pillows, and the coffee table scattered with a million magazines (and not one of them managed to take my mind off him).

“Nice place,” he said, his eyes sweeping over me from head to toes.

“Thanks,” I echoed, realizing that I looked like I was ready to curl up on the couch and eat an entire pint of ice cream in front of some cheesy Lifetime movie.