Loving Her Crazy (Crazy Love) Page 3

  Nash nodded. “He’s a lucky boy to have you.”

  She ducked her head, her cheeks blushing pink. “Yeah, well.” She smiled and wiped her fingers. “You finished? Should we go see if we can find something to do?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “You want a refill?” she asked, nodding at his empty coffee cup with a slight grimace.

  He laughed. “Naw, I think I’m good. What do you drink in the mornings since you don’t do coffee?”

  “Nothing usually. Or nothing specific, anyway. Water, milk. Sometimes a smoothie. Hot chocolate in the winter.” She laughed as he continued to stare at her in dumb fascination. “What? So I don’t drink coffee. That doesn’t make me a total freak.”

  He squinted at her. “I’m not so sure about that. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who didn’t drink coffee. I’m not sure you’re even human.”

  Iris leaned in and whispered, “Well, maybe if you’re a really good boy, you’ll get to find out.”

  Before he could question whether or not she meant what he thought she meant and what exactly he’d need to do to prove he was a good boy—because damn—she’d gathered up her trash and was waiting for him by the garbage cans.

  He tossed the rest of his cinnamon roll, his appetite for food completely eclipsed by his appetite for all things Iris, and grabbed their bags. They headed away from the food court, though he had no real idea where they were going.

  “All right, darlin’, where to? We’ve got”—he checked his watch—“way too many damn hours to kill. What shall we do first?”

  “Hmm, well first we need to figure out how to get out of this zoo of an airport. And then…did you happen to pack anything to wear that will stand up to that?” she asked, pointing out the window where the runways of the airport had turned into a glittering, white wonderland.

  Nash stopped in his tracks. “No. Not even close. I’m supposed to be on my way to Miami.”

  “Yeah. I’m supposed to be lounging on a beach. All I’ve got in here are a few sundresses and a bikini.”

  Nash’s eyebrows rose. He’d love to see her in that. But when she was pink and warm and needing to cool off. Not when just the mention of the skimpy garment made him shiver with cold.

  “Didn’t you just come from Wisconsin?”

  “Yeah, but I just borrowed my sister’s clothes while I was up there. I didn’t want to haul around a suitcase full of winter wear when I was on my way to a tropical resort.”

  “Ah. Good point. Well. Any suggestions?” he asked. “I guess we could go buy some clothes, though it seems kind of a waste.”

  Iris thought for a second. “You know, Chicago is a huge city. I bet there are some thrift stores around where we could find something. Then we could donate them in the morning and not be out much.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” he said, tipping his hat to her.

  She gave him a smug smile. “Don’t be so surprised. I’m full of great ideas.”

  “I bet you are.”

  Iris winked at him and spun back around, looking at the huge sign above their heads. “Baggage claim. Let’s head that way. There’re always exits and a line of taxis near the baggage claim. Well, hopefully there’re taxis. Not sure how many will be running in this weather.”

  “One way to find out. Lead on.”

  She gave him an appraising look. “Hmm, a man who lets a woman lead. I think I like that.”

  “Give me time, darlin’. I’m sure there’s a lot you’ll like about me.”

  That burning gaze swept over him again. “You know, cowboy. I think you might be right.” She took his arm again. “Let’s go find us a ride.”

  Chapter Three

  Iris slipped her arm through Nash’s and they followed the flow of people through the airport until they found the baggage claim. A few more minutes and they stood before the exit doors. The snow continued to fall, though the steady downfall had lightened to flurries that would have been beautiful to watch had they not been on their way into them.

  Every time the doors opened, an icy blast of wind rushed in to steal their breath. They looked at each other.

  “You know, I must have something I can put on,” Iris said, grabbing Sloane so she could rummage.

  “Yeah, I must have something in here.” Nash opened Clyde and started digging through his stuff.

  Five minutes later, Iris had a scarf tied around her head, a sarong draped over her shoulders like a cape, and her favorite fuzzy sock slippers on her hands. Nash fared much better since he’d already been mostly covered. A few snips from a travel manicure set Iris had (that had miraculously made it past security) and a spare pair of socks covered most of his arms.

  He looked her over with a huge grin. She snorted. “Yes, I know. I look fabulous.”

  “You do, actually,” he said.

  Her stomach did a queer little flip that she both loved and feared. Stomach flips were kind of fun in the same way riding a roller coaster was—terrifying and exhilarating and enjoyable for a very brief time. And the odd feeling could mean she was just really attracted to the guy and wanted to see if his lips tasted as good as they looked. But it usually meant she liked a guy. And the last thing she wanted to do was like him. Liking guys brought her nothing but trouble, and that wasn’t what she was looking for at the moment.

  “Well, hopefully it’ll keep me from completely freezing to death between the door and the cab.”

  “Ah, no worries, I won’t let you freeze. I’ll carry you back in, if it’s that bad.”

  “Good to know,” Iris said, bumping him with her shoulder. “All right. Ready?”

  Nash nodded and made sure Sloane was stacked snugly on top of Clyde. “Ready.”

  “Let’s go!”

  They rushed out the door. Unfortunately, the only cab anywhere near them sat idling, the light that indicated it was available turned off. The driver looked like he might be enjoying a midmorning coffee break. Nash turned to go back into the building.

  “Where are you going?” Iris asked.

  “Back inside. It’s a lot warmer in there if we’re going to have to wait for a cab,” he said with an adorable lopsided grin.

  “There’s one right there.” She pointed to the off-duty cab.

  Nash looked like he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that and finally said, “Um, I don’t think he’s taking riders at the moment.”

  She bit back a laugh. Everything about him screamed straightlaced rule follower. Well, she’d have to work on that. She, for one, had no intention of freezing her perky little ass off wandering up and down the sidewalk waiting for a cab or going back into the airport to die a slow death from boredom.

  “Ah, don’t pay attention to that. Come on.”

  She took off toward the cab, Nash following in a cloud of confusion, as she reached the cab, opened the door, and jumped in the backseat.

  “Iris,” he hissed, hurrying to catch up.

  The driver looked at her in the rearview mirror, eyes wide with surprise.

  “I’m off duty,” he said.

  She gave him her most charming smile. “I know, but we just got stranded here and, as you can tell, we are totally unequipped for the weather. If we have to wait for another cab we’ll probably freeze to death. Surely, you could take us.”

  The driver wavered, and Iris turned up the charm. By the time Nash stuck his head inside the car she was already well into negotiations with the poor, stunned driver. A minute and a half flat and Iris had the driver shaking his head with a smile, waving them in.

  Finally, Nash clambered inside, dragging the luggage in behind him. Good thing the man had agreed to take them. Just the short excursion to the cab had Iris’s teeth chattering and her extremities trembling.

  The driver flipped on the meter and asked, “Where to?”

  “The nearest thrift store, please,” Iris said.

  The cab pulled out and they settled back against the seats, sighing with pleasure at the heat coming throu
gh the vents. She’d have liked to settle back against Nash, but the only snugglin’ she was getting was from Clyde, which was shoved into her ribs, since neither one of them had wanted to stay outside long enough to put him in the cab’s trunk.

  It was slow going on the snow-covered roads, though at least there wasn’t much traffic. At least, not as much as there generally was, she assumed. Apparently, there weren’t many people crazy enough to be out searching for thrift stores in the middle of a snowstorm. Even so, it didn’t take too long to get there. As soon as the cab pulled up, Nash and Iris tumbled out of the cab and into the store as quickly as possible.

  The girl behind the counter glanced up. “We’re getting ready to close,” she said.

  “We won’t take too long,” Nash promised. “We’re just looking for something warm.”

  The girl looked him up and down, a warm blush staining her cheeks. Iris couldn’t really blame her. Nash was a manly eyeful of yumminess, for sure.

  “Well, I guess we can stay open a little longer.”

  “Thanks,” Nash said, tipping his hat to her.

  The girl blushed again, and Iris turned away, an unexpected twinge of jealousy hitting her. She had no call to be jealous about a man she’d known for an hour, but there it was: a niggling sensation in the pit of her stomach that made her want to mark him as hers.

  An utterly ridiculous notion since the man in question was not, and never would be, hers. They barely knew each other, lived on separate sides of the country, and had completely different lives. A minor detail her libido apparently didn’t recognize. She wanted the man, plain and simple, and had since the second she’d clapped eyes on him back on the plane.

  So, maybe she didn’t get to keep him. They could have a hell of a lot of fun together for one night. And while she’d never stoop low enough to make a claim on him were they in their real lives and it might make a difference, for this one night, at least, they could amuse each other. She could definitely handle a night of flirting and frolicking with a drop-dead gorgeous cowboy. He was making what had been a miserable situation something enjoyable.

  She caught his eye, gratified when he kept his gaze locked on hers with an amused smile.

  Iris grabbed a slightly dingy full-length slip and held it up to her body.

  “What do you think?” she asked, keeping her eyes wide and innocent.

  “Hmm,” Nash said, stepping close enough that the faint musk of his cologne drifted over her. “Not nearly nice enough to do you justice.”

  Whatever quip she’d been about to throw his way evaporated on the tails of that pretty line. She had herself a smooth talker. Goody.

  He took the slip from her, stepped back, and held it up to his own chest. “What do you think?”

  Iris burst out laughing and Nash frowned, looking down at himself. “What?” he asked. “Not my color?”

  “No,” she said, still laughing. “You definitely need something a little more colorful.”

  “Ah, right.” He put it back and whipped out a canary yellow scarf decorated with bright red sailboats. He wrapped it around his neck, leaned his arm against the rack, and crossed one ankle over the other, hooking his finger in his jeans. A toothpick appeared from somewhere, the rim of his hat maybe, and he chewed on it while looking up at her from under the rim of his hat. Hottest freaking cowboy pose EVER. With or without ridiculous scarf.

  “How’s this?”

  Iris let her eyes rove over him from the top of that hat of his down to the tips of his boots, lingering on all the deliciousness in between. She had to swallow a few times to get the word out. “Perfect.”

  He returned the favor, checking her out from top to bottom with an appreciative gleam in his eyes that seemed to savor every inch of her. He bit his lower lip, and she may or may not have come right on the spot.

  “I’ll keep it then,” he said, leaning forward until his eyes were level with hers.

  She smoothed the scarf down his chest. “You do that.”

  He winked at her and then stepped away, continuing to sift through the racks. Iris gave herself a mental shake. The man was sex on a stick, and she wished desperately she could spend a little time nibbling on him. He definitely made her rethink her stance on one-night stands. They were both flying out the next day, so there was no danger of anybody getting attached and wanting to keep things going. Iris had played the long-distance relationship game before and had no desire to do so again. Especially with someone from nearly the other side of the country. But one night of mind-blowing pleasure was a whole other matter.

  Then again, sex just complicated everything. Probably best they wouldn’t have the opportunity. Really, how much trouble could they get into while wandering around a snowed-in city? Speaking of which, they needed some extra layers, STAT.

  “All right. Warm stuff! Let’s see what they’ve got. I’ll head this way and you head that way and I’ll meet you back here,” Iris directed.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Nash said.

  They took off, making a loop around the store and snagging everything that looked like it might fit them and be remotely warm, and met back in the middle.

  “Okay, you show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” Iris said.

  Nash’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “I’d love to, darlin’, but first I really think we ought to find something to wear.”

  Iris’s jaw dropped though she didn’t try to hide her amusement. “Maybe later, then.”

  Before he could respond to that, she tossed a puke green shirt at him. He caught it easily, grinning, though his eyes gave her an appraising look. He started lifting bits and pieces out of the pile he’d accumulated while she did the same. The items ranged from serviceable, to amusing, to straight-out horrifying, and by the time they’d reached the bottom of their stacks they were both laughing.

  She gathered up an armload of clothes and headed for the dressing cubicles set up on one side of the store. Nash trailed behind her with his own armload. She dumped her clothes inside and poked her head out of the curtain.

  “Meet me back out here in five.”

  “Make it three.”

  Iris grinned. “Deal.”

  She darted back in the dressing room and sifted through the pile at her feet. She had everything from a flannel nightgown to a pair of chaps. Where the hell a thrift store in Chicago had come by a pair of black leather chaps she had no idea, but she wasn’t complaining. They had some definite promise, especially if she could talk Nash into them…with nothing underneath.

  She ended up going for the chaps over her jeans, a red and green Christmas tree covered sweater-vest over a Disney princess thermal shirt that she just barely squeezed into, and a pink and blue faux fur coat that looked like someone had gone out and skinned a Muppet. A pair of white “southern lady” gloves like her nana was always wearing in pictures from the fifties, and one of those big fur hats that looked like it should be on a Russian explorer, finished the ensemble.

  “You ready?” she called out.

  Nash answered with a snort. “As I’ll ever be.”

  Iris opened the curtain and stepped out, one hand on her hip, the other held out like a queen ready to be admired. Nash looked her up and down, his grin growing wider by the second.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “You look absolutely perfect,” he said laughing.

  Her eyebrow quirked up as she took in his outfit. “Right back atcha, cowboy.”

  He’d kept his jeans, his boots, and of course the hat. The yellow sailboat scarf was still wrapped around his neck. But he’d also added a pea green corduroy jacket with worn brown patches on the elbows over a sweater with green, blue, and white horizontal stripes straight out of the early eighties.

  “Oh, very nice,” she said. “Makes those gorgeous hazel eyes of yours really pop.”

  He took a bow. “Why thank you. And,” he said, swinging another jacket around his shoulders. He slid his arms into a faux leather jacket—with honest-to-God fringe—that was a
t least two sizes too big for him.

  “Are you going for a cowboys and Indians hybrid look? I didn’t think you guys were allowed to play both sides,” Iris said, tilting her head like she was trying to get a better look at him. And she was. Even dressed in the hideous old clothes, the man was a lean, mean, sex machine. And she couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to take him for a spin.

  “Look who’s talking,” he retorted, amusement shining from his eyes. “It looks like Fozzie and Cookie Monster procreated, and you’re wearing their love child.”

  “Ew. Nice image. Besides, Fozzie wasn’t pink.”

  “It scares me you know that.”

  Iris winked at him. “Oh, I know lots of interesting things.”

  “I bet you do,” he said, his voice dropping an octave into seriously sexy territory.

  Her mouth dropped open, and she fought to find a coherent thought in her suddenly scrambled brains. But before she could say anything, the cashier cleared her throat.

  “Are you guys almost ready? I was hoping to get closed up before the weather got much worse.”

  She obviously wanted to get the hell out of there. Iris couldn’t blame her.

  “I think I’m good to go. You?” she asked him.

  “Yep. I’ll do, I think.”

  “What about gloves?”

  He paused at that and finally held up a pair of purple velvet evening gloves that would extend to his elbows when he pulled them on.

  “Oh. Lovely.” Iris barely managed to get the last word out past the laughter that threatened to erupt.

  Nash’s eyes narrowed. “It was either these or a pair of gardening gloves and frankly, these are softer.”

  Iris lost it at that and laughed her ass off all the way to the register.

  “Allow me,” Nash said, once the girl had rung up their purchases.

  For a moment, Iris wanted to argue and insist on paying for her own, but he was already paying, and she didn’t want to make an issue of it. Dinner could be on her.

  “Well,” he said, gathering up Sloane and Clyde and pulling on his gloves.