Then He Kissed Me: A Cottonbloom Novel Read Free

bar and the dark hair that peppered his forearm settled a weird knot of nerves in her stomach.
    Nash had never made her nervous when they were kids. She’d trusted him above all others back then, even her brothers. But that had been a lifetime ago. In fact, those days seemed to belong to someone else. The days before her parents had died. Before things got hard.
    Nash had been gone a long time, and once he’d moved to Mississippi after his mother had died, they’d barely seen each other. His aunt Leora had kept him close, claiming his asthma made it difficult for him to be outside. Although it hadn’t seemed to bother him all the time they’d spent wading and exploring the river as kids. She fingered the end of her braid.
    She screwed up her courage and turned to him. “Hey, I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m—”
    “Tallulah Fournette. How could I ever forget you?” He swiveled toward her. His carefree, charming smile struck her mute.
    She had the tendency to hang out with rough-and-tumble men who’d followed the same path she had. Street smart and tough, the difficulties of life forcing them to be serious and defensive. Those were her people, the ones she felt comfortable around.
    Nash’s optimism and easygoing nature was in his smile and in the way he held himself. His body language was foreign, yet unusually appealing, and she found herself smiling back. “Everyone calls me Tally these days. Except for my brothers when they’re trying to annoy me. I’m not sure what my parents were thinking saddling me with a name like Tallulah.”
    “Maybe they were thinking, here we have this unique baby girl who is going to do great things in the world, so we should give her a great, unique name.” His voice had matured along with the rest of him. Deep and a little husky, it projected like a professor’s should.
    “Or maybe they were thinking, let’s pick the most embarrassing name possible so our daughter learns to deal with bullying at a young age.”
    The bartender stopped in front of them, wiping his hands on a bar towel, a smile parting the hair of his long dark beard. “What’ll it be, Nash? The usual? Or would you like something special?” He leaned in as if imparting a secret.
    “Special? I’m intrigued. Surprise me, Clint.”
    “You want another beer, Tally?”
    “No, I’m good. Thanks.” She waved Clint off while still staring at Nash. “You’ve been hanging out here a lot, I take it?”
    “Little bit.” He pointed to where Clint had disappeared through a short curtain into a storage room. “We discovered a common appreciation of Scotch whiskey.”
    Clint returned with a heavy tumbler and an inch of amber liquor. Nash went for the side pocket of his cargo pants, but Clint waved him off and stayed to watch Nash take the first sip. He closed his eyes, leaned his head back and hummed. Tally couldn’t tear her eyes away from the happiness on his face. “Perfect.”
    Looking extremely pleased, Clint rattled off the name and vintage before being called away to the opposite end of the bar.
    “Scotch whiskey, huh? Is Jack not good enough for you?” The amount of flirt in her voice surprised her. Flirting was not in her wheelhouse.
    “I did my postdoctoral work at the University of Edinburgh and developed a love of their whiskey. Jack will do in a pinch, though.” He winked, and something fluttered around the nervous knot in her stomach. She did her best to ignore the feelings, but found herself smiling at him nonetheless.
    “As in Scotland? Are you kidding me? That is so cool.” Now that he mentioned it, a foreignness lilted through some of his words. A Scots brogue mixed with a Southern drawl was intriguing and surprisingly sexy.
    “I’m not going to lie. It was cool. My research emphasis is medieval history. Americans think anything from the Civil War is old. That’s nothing compared to Hadrian’s Wall, for instance. Built a hundred and twenty years or so after Christ’s