The blue tulip was cool to the touch.
- Chapter Seven -
Abell
Nix was silent as we left the florist.
Was she feeling the same distorting bundle of emotions that I was?
Looking down on her, how the winter sun turned her hair into copper, I tried to see into her head. I failed, fucking obviously, but I still tried. Willing myself to become psychic was as likely as her spilling her guts to me.
The incident in that greenhouse had left me stunned. Not the water, not how she'd eaten up the view of me as my shirt soaked through. Nix had listened to my wistful murmur about a damn flower.
She'd listened.
To me.
Only one other person had ever done that.
My jacket was chilly against my bare skin. I'd zipped it up, carrying my damp shirt in a tight ball in the crook of my elbow. Across the street, the mall looked like someone had vomited tinsel and ribbon all over it. Christmas is in the air, I mused.
She was looking at her feet, at the clouds, at anything except me. The car was gone; she noticed, digging out her phone to call the driver back.
“Wait,” I said, waving my hand. Nix froze in mid-dial. “Don't call yet.”
“Why not? We're done out here.”
Flipping my wet shirt at her, she caught it just before it hit the ground. “Not quite, Sugar. You owe me a new, preferably dry, shirt.”
Gripping the soggy fabric, her eyebrows crawled as high as they could. I was waiting for her to argue, I had a whole spiel ready to counter her.
Nix tucked her hair behind her ear, marching over the crosswalk towards the mall. “Nothing too expensive, okay?”
She didn't even try and disagree with me. My sneakers skidded over the pavement behind her. “Are you feeling alright?”
Dodging the seasonal crowd, she held the mall door open for me. “Of course. Why?”
“Well. You're not being difficult, for a change.”
Her lashes fluttered rapidly. “Are you trying to politely call me a bitch?”
Laughing in my throat, I walked ahead of her through the busy mall. “Never say I don't have tact.”
Her heels clicked violently across the hard marble. Under her breath, she muttered, “It's not me being weird, it's you.”
“What was that?” I asked.
“Nothing.” Pulling up short, she grabbed my elbow and tugged me into a store. The sensation of her fingers gripping me lifted a wave of heat through my center. “In here, they have good clothing.”
It was a brightly lit shop, the tall front windows painted with giant gold and black crowns. Cabo Street, I thought, recognizing the store. Nix had good taste, though that didn't shock me.
From the start, she'd made a point of dressing in fine clothing. She was almost obsessed with how she looked, to the neurotic point of fussing over her hair when we'd been fucking.
Even her underwear is classy, I thought, remembering the shiny lavender lingerie.
“Abell, look at this one.” She was fingering the hem of a dark red shirt. As I got closer, she spread it out, showing me the golden design along the arms. “Nice, right?”
Brushing my hand over the material, I nodded. “Soft. I like soft things against my skin.”
She bit the edge of her mouth, her laugh nervous. “Of course you do. Want to try it on?”
“You're the boss.” Unzipping my jacket, I let it fall to the floor. The shop was full of people, and all of them—man and woman alike—stopped to stare at me and my naked chest. I wasn't watching them, though.
I was watching Nix.
Her eyes flew wide, the perfectly addicting pinkness of her blush crawling up her neck. I loved watching that happen. “Abell!” she hissed, raising her arms as if she could hide me from everyone. “Why do you insist on getting naked all the time? Stop!”
Elongating my body, making the muscles in my back ripple, I put on a confused face. “Stop? But everyone seems to be enjoying the view.”
She scanned the crowd, fidgeting when she noticed the girls snapping photos of me. There were some frowns, but mostly, the women were eating me up. It was only Nix that was getting upset.
Holding the red shirt against me like a curtain, she grit her teeth. “Why are you doing this?”
Pointedly, I met her stare. I could see the emotion swirling in her green eyes, and I hoped she could feel even a hint of mine. Why am I doing this? It was a good question, and my answer came out more calmly than it should have. “To make you jealous,” I whispered.
Nix transformed into a statue. Her hands were talons, so tight they might never let go of that shirt. “What?” she asked, breathing the single word out.
“It's true.” Gently, I took the shirt from her, sliding my arms through the sleeves. Around us, people made noises of disappointment. The show was over; in minutes the shoppers dispersed, leaving Nix and I alone among the racks.
Her hands still hovered in the air, fingers bent. I had the terrible suspicion that she was getting ready to claw my eyes out. Instead, she let her arms drift to her hips limply. “Why would you mess with me like that?” she asked.
Slipping into my jacket, I zipped the front. “I'm not. Isn't it obvious that I like you?”
“You don't like me,” she laughed, acid coating her tongue. “You just want to use me. I'm another pair of walking tits to you, only these tits are dragging access to your cash behind them like a ball and chain. That's what you want from me.”
I steadied myself. Her words were harsh, but she wasn't entirely wrong. “Nix—”
“Stop.” There was a rawness in her voice. Were her eyes wet? She turned away, her fire and ice armor returning. “Don't play with me. I don't have time for it.”
Reaching out, I clasped her shoulder. She started to wrench away, but I held her firm. “Listen to me,” I said. “Whether you're right or not, what I said wasn't a lie. Making you jealous, making you ache for me and only me... I love it. I can't get enough of you.”
She went stiff, twisting to gawk up at me. Her pupils were glossy, darker than an undiscovered galaxy. She was seeing me, actually seeing me. If this moment could last, I'd stand among those racks of pressed jeans and soft shirts forever.
But it couldn't.
My life didn't mix well with romance.
Nix backed away, hesitating. Whatever she'd been about to say, she stopped herself. “The shirt,” she mumbled. “Let's go take care of that.”
Plucking at the front of the material, I smiled cynically. “Yeah. I guess that's what's important here.”
There was hurt in her eyes, I fucking saw it. But I couldn't call her out, I couldn't do anything. Nix considered me a player, and she hated everything that word stood for. Why was I letting myself get all torn up over her?
What the hell was I doing?
Trying to keep my lifestyle. I need her to want me for that to happen.
No. That wasn't true anymore. She'd agreed to marry me, and all I had to do was promise I wouldn't try and sleep with her.
That would be easy, I had plenty of other people who'd indulge me.
Why was I wasting air getting so flustered over this woman?
Nix walked beside me, her wallet tucking into her purse as we exited the store. The chaotic noise of the busy mall slammed into me. The air smelled like cinnamon and hot chocolate.
Through the chorus of sounds, I heard Nix's stomach rumble.
Peeking down at her, I scanned the mall. “Hey,” I said, pointing. “I'm starving, let's get some ice cream.”
She blinked, but her lips turned up into a smile. “Really? Ice cream in winter?”
“It's hot enough in here.”
The mood between us lightened. Nix nodded, leading the way. “That actually sounds really good.”