Hmfff
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I just figured you to be a good multitasker.”
What the hell is wrong with me? Ember averted her face, so he couldn’t see her eyes bulge wide at her own ridiculousness. She heard a deep, husky, sensual laugh escape him.
“Oh, I’m a pretty good multitasker.”
Heat.
Heat spread everywhere.
Ember cleared her throat. “Reed said earlier that you built the Harris Towers before going into the oil business. What made you switch careers?”
His eyes glazed over disclosing a hint of strained vacancy. “It’s a long story. One that usually requires a drink.”
Reaching over the side of the bench, she retrieved her glass of Sangria, offering, “I happen to have a drink available.”
“I’m more of a whiskey kind of guy.” The poignancy disappeared from his eyes as quick as it arrived. His gaze held to her mouth as she took a long sip of the fruity concoction.
“Reed mentioned that you were gifted—at finding oil, I mean,” she said unsteadily.
“I’m good at what I do,” he assured, arrogance seeping into a filthy grin.
Shit! This conversation is moving all kinds of sideways on me…and he’s loving every damn minute.
His tone turned quiet and teasing. “I was warned earlier that this is a party and I’m supposed to put business aside for the evening. I’d be happy to talk next week over dinner and drinks.”
Before her brain could begin to process the question, or was it a suggestion, a barrage of fluorescent yellow nerf balls launched from behind the wide trunk of the old oak, pummeling Nash in an all-out assault.
After a quick beat, the initial shock and element of surprise wore off. His dark lashes dusted shut as he shook his head anticipating his revenge. He half grumbled, and half laughed, “You’ll have to excuse me.”
Nash pushed himself to his feet and tore out after his niece and nephew, Annie and Andrew, who were already reloading for their second attack. He bent at the waist mid-run, grabbing a handful of yellow nerf balls, slinging them as he ran after the twins. Annie’s squeals of delight rang through the night when he clutched her around the waist like a quarterback carrying a football, chasing Andrew into the shadows.
Smiling ear to ear, Ember collected her glass and sauntered toward the fire pit. JC sported an insufferable grin, but somehow managed to mercifully keep her thoughts to herself.
Relinquishing her empty glass to the bartender in exchange for water, Ember melted into the comfort of an Adirondack style chair. The stress of the week began to dissolve under the Texas night sky full of stars.
Throughout the evening, she caught Nash looking her direction between roaming conversations and throwing a few rounds of horseshoes. She didn’t miss the fact that women, married and single, seemed to gravitate toward the game when he played. She couldn’t blame them. Every time he tossed a shoe, they were rewarded with a great view of his ass. Not to mention, the flexing and cording of his long muscular arms. One girl in particular appeared to be single and hunting for a good time.
Ember attempted to pay attention to the discussions taking place around the fire, but her gaze kept drifting back to Nash and the attractive young woman at his side. Her stomach twisted in an icy knot watching them together. The girl kept tilting her head to the side, playing with her long coppery hair that flowed over one shoulder. Her laugh, which seemed a little too loud and insincere, carried through the back yard sending chills down Ember’s back like nails scratching on a chalkboard.
“Hey, Ember. Nice to see you again.” Sam’s bold, rough voice pulled her from her jealous haze.
“Hi Sam.”
Looking up, Ember couldn’t help but notice the differences between the two brothers. Though she considered Sam to be handsome, he didn’t wear Nash’s striking good looks. Sam exuded a much more relaxed persona and his bold, charismatic disposition made him the life of the party.
Orneriness shined brightly in his boyish smirk. “Could I tempt you with some apple pie?”
“Absolutely. Apple pie is my favorite.”
Sam held up a finger indicating he’d be right back, returning moments later with a pint-sized mason jar filled with what appeared to be apple cider over ice.
Unable to conceal her disappointment, a frown tugged between her brows.
“Now, you can’t be making that face. You haven’t even tried it yet.”
“I thought you meant baked pie. What is that?” she asked, taking a whiff.
“Honey, this here is a party in a jar. It contains more giggles and mischief than you can conjure up in a year.”
“Maybe two,” Reed added, joining the circle of guests surrounding the fire.
Ember took a sip of the wicked concoction. A smooth, yet fiery, river of sweet apples and cinnamon sticks slipped down her throat. “Oooo this is yummy. It tastes just like apple pie in a jar.”
“A jar that can make you spiritually depart from the planet,” Reed advised. “It should come with a cautionary label. Drink at your own risk! Or Caution! This could cause your clothes to fall off! Or Warning! Tables may mysteriously appear beneath your feet.”
JC joined the group, eyeing her husband lasciviously as she teased, “Hey, I loved every moment of you dancing on the table that night.”
Ember took another swallow. “It doesn’t taste very strong. What is this deliciousness?”
Nash’s voice startled her. “It’s moonshine and it’s not for the faint of heart.”
The redhead poked her head out from behind Nash’s shoulder, sitting beside him when he lowered into the chair next to Ember.
Seeing the woman so close illuminated her youthful facial features, churning up a large dose of contempt in the pit of Ember’s stomach. Desperately needing to conceal the sour look creeping over her face, she took a long draw from the straw. The iced drink set fire to her insides as the alcohol slipped past her tongue and down her throat, numbing the dull ache in her chest.
The young woman batted her lashes. “Ooo, I’d like to try it.”
“I don’t think so,” Nash and Sam assured simultaneously.
“Laci, you’re not old enough to drink and I don’t think your dad—” Nash scowled, motioning to a man standing near the bar. “—would appreciate it if Sam gave you moonshine.”
The girl leaned over the arm of her chair, murmuring in his ear. The whisper was meant just for Nash, but her squeaky voice was loud enough for Ember to catch. “I may not be old enough to drink, but I told you, I’m legal now.”
Ember’s image of Nash dimmed with every word coming out of Laci’s mouth. The mere idea that he would consider sleeping with the girl at his side, no matter how tempting, tarnished the brightness of their previous conversation.
To her surprise, Nash scowled. Annoyance flashed in his eyes, disregarding Laci with a brief, transparent glare.
As the night continued, the girl seemed oblivious to his cold shoulder. The infatuation she held for Nash was mildly tolerated but not reciprocated in the least. His rebuff only seemed to encourage her needy behavior. Her bubbly words were scattered with no real meaning or interest, filling in the blank spaces between breaths with giggles.
At one point, Nash turned to Ember directly and rolled his eyes in a pleading fashion. Fingers circled around her half drank glass jar of moonshine, Ember grinned mischievously, motioning her index finger in a checkmark.