“What?”
“My nickname was Loco. And I’d say I’ve got the control at the moment.” He bracketed her wrists with his hands, pinning them to the mat above her head.
The position thrust her breasts against his chest and she had a flash back to The Chair and that crazy make-out session. And suddenly this sparring match felt a whole lot less like blowing off steam and more like a good way to generate some. Rowan sucked in a breath, watching his pupils dilate. She licked her lips, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. Taking advantage of his distraction, she bridged and rolled, tossing him off her and scrambling to get an arm bar. Finding it, she cranked back.
Laughing, Nash tapped out. “Okay. I call uncle.”
Winded, Rowan released him and flopped back on the mat as their small audience whooped and cheered. Her muscles were worn and loose, and she felt more relaxed than she had in months. Here, in this tiny town, with this particular man, she didn’t have to keep her guard up. She could breathe. Turning her head, she shot him a smile. “That was fun. Thanks. It was just what I needed.”
“You’re good.”
“I ought to be after two black belts.” Not that they’d helped when she and David had been taking fire.
Nash rolled to his knees and shoved to his feet. “Come out with me tomorrow.”
That effectively pulled her away from dark thoughts. “What?”
He tugged her to her feet, steadying her as her body bumped into his. “Come out with me.”
“Like a date?”
“Not like a date. An actual date. We both know Robert’s gonna get cleared. You need a night out, and he needs a night of quiet. Come out with me.”
His easygoing manner was such a temptation. Hell, everything about him was temptation. And she’d be lying if she didn’t admit she wanted his mouth on hers again. “Okay, Flyboy, it’s a date.”
When Nash had asked Rowan out yesterday, he hadn’t been thinking beyond wanting to spend more time with her and unraveling all those knots of tension she seemed to tote around like Marley’s chains. Well, and kissing her again. But as he backed his truck out of his own driveway and whipped around to pull it into Robert’s, it occurred to him that it wasn’t just Rowan he needed to impress tonight. He had no idea how Robert would react to this.
They were friends. Robert had been a sort of mentor since Nash had separated from the Navy. But Rowan was something else entirely. Despite their head butting the last couple of weeks, the two shared a bond far more like father and daughter. And that made Nash nervous.
He was never nervous.
He’d opted for low-key—a diner or Mexican food kinda date. Not that he didn’t think Rowan would appreciate a fancy dinner at Tosca or out at The Spring House, but those all seemed to add additional pressure to an outing he hoped would take her mind off things. Plus, she’d packed in a hurry to come to Wishful to play nursemaid. He doubted she’d included any kind of dressy clothes. Considering what her ass did for a pair of jeans, Nash had no problem with that. He could rock a suit if he had to, but ninety-nine times out of a hundred, he’d choose not to.
Still, he wondered if Robert would think he’d gone to enough effort. Maybe he should’ve bought flowers.
Too late now.
He knocked on the door. Rowan answered it a few seconds later, barefoot, in jeans—praise God—and a soft, green, V-neck sweater, one hand sliding a pair of tiny silver hoops in her ears. Pretty much the whole time he’d known her, she’d been very au naturale, foregoing makeup. She was beautiful without all the fuss. But it turned out the fuss was appealing, too. She’d done something to her eyes that made them pop and slicked her lips with some kind of gloss that made him wonder if she’d taste like peaches.
“You look great.”
The corner of her mouth kicked up. “Thanks. I’ll be ready in just a second.”
Nash followed her into the living room where Robert sat in The Chair.
“The roasted chicken and carrots are in the fridge, along with a batch of green beans,” Rowan said, dropping onto the sofa to pull on her socks and some ankle boots. “You just need to heat them up when you’re ready for dinner.”
Robert pulled a face.
“And don’t you even think about ordering take out. I’ve already talked to every restaurant in the area who will deliver and warned them not to take orders from you.”
Her great uncle appeared deeply unimpressed. Nash stifled a laugh, at least until Robert’s attention swung to him.
Those sharp blue eyes skimmed over him, assessing. Rowan’s eyes, yet not. It was like being judged by his superior officers, and it took everything he had to stay relaxed and casual rather than coming to attention for inspection.
“Thank you for giving me some peace and quiet.”
Rowan stood. “Gee, thanks. I love you, too.” She slipped on a coat. “Ready?”
“After you.”
“Please, God, don’t hurry back,” Robert called.
Nash’s stride hitched for half a second. He didn’t want to think about what Robert might be giving his blessing to because that just felt weird. But he wasn’t threatening to string Nash up or greet him with a shotgun. Then again, Rowan was more than capable on her own. Maybe he was overthinking this whole thing.
Once outside, he scooted past her to open the passenger side door. She eyed him but said nothing as she slipped inside. Skirting the hood, Nash climbed into the driver’s seat. “What sounds good for dinner? Our options are basically pizza, bar food, Mexican, or the diner.”
“I would kill for a good margarita right now.”
“Los Pantalones it is.” Shoving the truck into gear he backed out and headed for town. “So how did the check-up go? You didn’t cancel, so I’m guessing it went well.”
“Yeah. He’s healing well. They’re signing him up for cardiac rehab and, in the meantime, he’s allowed to start gradually increasing his daily activity, which should hopefully improve his crap attitude.”
“Here’s hoping. Meanwhile, further discussion of Robert is off the table the rest of the night. You need to have a few hours of not thinking and worrying about it.”
She dropped her head back against the seat with a sigh. “I fully support this plan.”
The parking lot was full, as was usually the case on any given night of the week. During their brief wait for a table, they said little. Conversation would’ve been difficult over the din of the crowd. Nash watched her scan every face. Usual cop threat assessment or was she looking for someone familiar from Houston? In the days since their discovery of her sleepwalking, there’d been no repetition. If she was still doing it, she wasn’t being caught on camera. Had it been a one-time thing or was it an ongoing problem? He didn’t know and hadn’t asked. Other than giving her a daily report from the footage, Nash hadn’t brought it up. As she hadn’t mentioned any other incidents, he assumed all had been quiet on that front.
The hostess led them through the labyrinth of tables to one in the back. As she sat, accepting a menu, Rowan looked toward the corner. “Is that a Christmas tree with chili pepper lights?”
“Yes. Yes it is.”
She blinked, as if just realizing. “It’s Christmas.”