Blue Colla Make Ya Holla (58 page)

“Maybe not you specifically, but most women of your class, yeah.”

Joanne looked at her lap. “You’re probably right. Sorry, Nate. I don’t know if I’d have paid much attention to you either if I hadn’t been a damsel in distress today.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You’re paying attention to me now?”

A rush of heat swept over Joanne again, and she began to sweat even in the cool morning air. She was doing it again. She kept sticking her foot in her mouth. She turned her face to the window, trying to hide her reaction from him. “Um, yeah, I mean the stripper thing.” She waved her hand back towards where they’d been. “Obviously you have the body for it or I wouldn’t have made the assumption.” She refused to look at him although her eyes craved the sight.

He turned the truck onto her street, and she quickly put her feet on the floorboard. As she did, she knocked her purse off the seat, and the contents spilled out into the truck. “Damn it!” She tried to pick everything up and point out her grandmother’s house on the left at the same time.

Nate backed the truck into the drive. “I’ll get your car off the bed.” He jumped out before Joanne could say anything.

When Joanne had crammed everything back into her purse, she opened the door and looked down. The truck cab was high off the ground. A slim running board ran a foot below the door, but it was still awfully high off the ground, even with Joanne’s long legs. Joanne eyed her heels skeptically. Just the thought of jumping down made her dizzy.

As Joanne was contemplating the best way to climb down, Nate walked up beside the door. “Need help?”

As much as she hated to admit it, right now she did. She’d embarrassed herself enough today. She didn’t want to fall flat on her face in her grandmother’s lawn in front of Nate and all the neighbors. “Please?” She nodded.

Nate held out a hand, which she took before putting a tentative heel on the running board. As she put some weight on it, a wave of dizziness crashed over her again and her skull throbbed with the beginnings of a wicked headache.
Damn, I must have been quite drunk last night.
She’d never felt this bad after a night of drinking. She reached out for something to grab and found a hard shoulder under her hand. There was a warmth against her waist, and she looked down to see Nate had stepped directly in front of her and had put his other hand on her waist.

He disentangled their clasped hands and put his other hand on her waist too. Joanne stared into his green eyes. She could see flecks of brown in them up this close. With effortless ease, he lifted her and lowered her slowly to the ground.

Joanne clung to those hard shoulders on the way down. She couldn’t seem to break eye contact. She felt every curve of hers move along those taut muscles on the way down. When her feet touched the ground, she didn’t pull away, although she knew she probably should.

“Joanne, where have you been?” The admonishment broke the spell Joanne was under, and she closed her eyes for a second before she stepped back from Nate. He went back to unhooking her car, which now rested on the pavement of the driveway.

She faced her grandmother. Like Joanne, Vera was tall and thin. Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail and only showed a few streaks of gray within the light brown. Vera stood on the stoop holding the screen door open.

Joanne walked across the lawn to her grandmother. “I’m sorry, Grannie. I didn’t mean to be out all night.”

Vera’s eyes travelled to the tow truck then back to Joanne. Worry shone in her eyes. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Nothing happened.”

Just then a streak of orange fur ran past Vera’s legs and straight under the Cadillac.

“Oliver!” Vera screeched. “Oliver Twist, you come back here.”

Nate stood beside the bed of the tow truck holding the chains in his hands. He looked towards the car curiously.

Joanne rushed over to the car, trying to see under it without prostrating herself onto the ground. She’d been in enough compromising positions already this morning; there was no need to embarrass herself further. “Oliver? Ollie baby, come here.” She stuck her hand under the car and used her sweetest baby talk, trying to coax the cat out.

“Don’t let him run away,” Vera shouted

“I won’t, Grannie.”

She looked over her shoulder at Nate, who hadn’t moved. He was smirking, and his gaze moved from her ass, which was up in the air from her bent position, to her eyes. She glared and straightened, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You could offer to help, you know.”

“Looked like you were doing just fine to me.”

Joanne dropped her arms and stepped closer. “Please?” She gestured to where the cat had disappeared. “Oliver is an inside cat. Every time he gets out, he gets hurt. You wouldn’t want to put my grandmother through that, would you?” She knew that last comment was manipulative, but she was too tired to care.

Nate’s eyes narrowed at her, but he dropped the cables. “Fine.” He got on his knees beside the tire and bent underneath.

As Joanne watched Nate, she had to admit she couldn’t keep her eyes off him either.
Turnabout is fair play,
she justified, as her eyes took in the fluid movement of each muscle.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” he called.

“His name is Oliver,” Vera called.

“I think I can reach him.”

“You do know how to pick up a cat, right?” Joanne asked.

Nate threw her a glance from his position on the ground. “I think I got this.”

She shrugged. “Fine. Don’t blame me if you get hurt.”

He started to straighten. “Are you telling me he’s vicious? You sweet-talked me into catching a monster?”

“No. Don’t—” Oliver had seen his opportunity and started to dart from under the car between Nate and Joanne. Nate was fast though and scooped the large orange tabby up in his hands and stood to face Joanne. He smirked with a know-it-all look and stepped to her, holding the cat against his chest.

When Oliver saw Joanne, he clawed out of Nate’s arms trying to get to her. Joanne grabbed him to her before he got away again.

“Ow. Damn it.” Nate held his bleeding arm. “He’s a menace.”

“Oh no, I’m so sorry. He doesn’t like men.” She offered him a smirk then. “I did warn you though.”

Nate rubbed at his chest where Oliver had used his back legs to kick off, and Joanne saw tell-tale spots of blood staining his shirt. Chagrin filled her. She shouldn’t be so smug. This guy had offered to help and had gotten hurt because of her.

“Look, why don’t you come inside and let me clean those scratches.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No, I insist. Cat scratches often get infected.” She shifted a now purring Oliver to one arm and put a hand on Nate’s arm. “You’ve done so much for me this morning, please let me help you now.”

“It’s just a scratch. I can do it.”

She rolled his eyes at his stubborn nature. “I’m a nurse. I know how to clean a few scratches.”

“You’re a nurse?”

She watched him as he evaluated her once again from head to foot. “Yes, I’m a nurse. Now get your ass inside and let me fix that.”

She saw a flash of something unidentifiable in his eyes before his signature grin—at least, she thought it had to be his signature grin since she’d seen it so often this morning—broke through. “Yes ma’am.”

Joanne turned to the house and started across the lawn, Nate following behind her.

“Oh, my sweet baby Oliver. Did you get hurt?” Vera cooed at Oliver. Joanne handed the cat off to her grandmother before holding open the screen door for Nate.

“Ollie is fine. It’s Nate that’s hurt,” she told her grandmother. “I’m going to clean up his scratches.”

“Oh, you poor man. You just go with Jo, she’ll fix you right up.”

Joanne led Nate to the downstairs bathroom and pointed to the toilet. He sat down on the closed lid without a word. Joanne opened the tiny door of a linen closet and pulled a plastic carry case from a shelf. She set it down on the counter, opened it, and pulled out the supplies she’d need.

When she was ready, she reached for Nate’s wrist and pulled his arm up on the counter where she could reach it. She swabbed the alcohol pad over the three lines of blood. Joanne was aware of Nate’s eyes on her the whole time, and she shifted uncomfortably. He never flinched as the alcohol hit the scratches.

His forearm was warm, and she watched the muscles move as he flexed his fingers. She felt the strength beneath her trembling fingers.
Trembling? Why the hell am I shaking?
she wondered.
I’m a freaking nurse, for God’s sake. I clean cuts and worse all the time. Maybe it’s the hangover,
she decided as she brushed the hair from her face with the same shaky arm. Her other hand never let go of Nate’s arm, not wanting to lose that contact yet.

She applied ointment to the scratches and covered them with two large bandages before letting go of his arm. She gestured to him. “Now for those.”

“Excuse me?”

“The scratches on your chest. You’ll need to take your shirt off.”

Nate glanced down, and his eyes widened in surprise as he saw the spots of blood on his shirt. “I didn’t even know he’d scratched me there.” He stood, pulled the T-shirt from his jeans, and lifted it over his head. Joanne tried not to be affected by the sight of those muscled abs so close to her.
It’s just the hangover, it’s just the hangover,
she kept repeating to herself. Surely that was the only reason he seemed to affect her so.

He laid the shirt over one leg as he sat back down. Joanne grabbed another alcohol pad, took a deep breath, and stepped between his open legs so she could reach him. As she touched him this time, she felt him flinch. She glanced up into his eyes. “Sorry. It might sting.”

“It didn’t,” he said curtly.

She didn’t see pain in his eyes, she saw something else. She broke their gaze, and she felt the heat flood her cheeks again as she returned her focus to his scratches. His chest was hairy, and Joanne was surprised that she found it sexy on him. She’d never thought about chest hair being sexy before.

She finished quickly, even though she would have loved an excuse to keep her hands moving over that beautiful body, and she turned back to the medical case to put the supplies up. She felt Nate stand up behind her and pull his shirt back on.

She didn’t look at him again as she led him back to the front door. “Thanks for bringing my car home. And for catching Oliver.”

“You’re welcome.” He turned to go and then stopped and half turned back. “And Joanne, try to stay out of trouble.” He grinned, which eased some of the sting of his words.

She nodded in reply before pushing the door shut. She leaned against it and closed her eyes. What a crazy morning. And the day had only just started. She sighed and pushed herself away from the door. She had a rehearsal dinner to prepare for. It was going to be a long day.

‡

N
ate checked his
phone to get the location of his next job. He was sitting in the parking lot of the Nissan dealership, having just dropped off a vehicle that had broken down on I-65. He heard a sound that he didn’t recognize. He turned the radio down and looked around the truck cab, trying to identify the noise. Leaning over, he saw a phone wrapped in a pink plastic case underneath the passenger’s seat.

He reached under the seat and picked up the phone. He knew it was Joanne’s. No one else had been in his truck in the last couple of days. Still chiming, her screen lit up, and he saw a text message visible there.

JoJo don’t do this. Call me.

Well crap. It looked like Joanne might need her phone. He should probably return it to her. He grinned as an idea occurred to him. Pushing some buttons, he saw her phone was unlocked. Quickly, he added a number to her contact list.

Texting his dispatcher that he was taking a short break, he drove out of the dealership and headed back towards Green Hills.

A few minutes later, he stood on Joanne’s stoop. The door was open, but the screen door was closed. Peeking through, he didn’t see anyone in the living room just inside the entryway. He pressed the doorbell and rested his forearm on the door jamb above his head. In just a few seconds, Joanne came around the corner and towards the door. She had changed into clingy yoga pants and a tank top. She paused when she saw him outside.

“What are you doing here?” she asked without opening the door. Oliver came to the door and meowed, rubbing against her ankles.

“Forget something?” He held her phone up for her to see.

“My phone!” She reached down to scoop up the cat before opening the door and reaching for her phone.

Grinning again, he yanked the phone out of her reach. She scowled at him.

“JoJo? You go by JoJo?”

“No, I don’t. Where did you hear that anyway? I hate that nickname.” She tried to grab the phone again, which brought her into his personal space. Oliver hissed at him. “Ollie, quit. Give me my phone.”

“Someone texted you; they called you JoJo. You know, you really ought to lock your phone.”

“Why? So people like you can’t snoop on me?”