Loving Her Crazy (Crazy Love) Read online

  But telling a woman he barely knew that she was his version of perfect might have her hightailing it back to the airport with the Sloane Ranger as fast as she could. And then what would he and Clyde do? Iris and Sloane made them look pretty for once in their lives.

  “What?” she asked. He’d been staring far too long.

  “Nothing. Just assessing that perfection comment. I think you’re right.”

  “I’m what?” she asked, her embarrassment turning to indignation.

  “You’re right. You aren’t perfect.”

  She folded her arms and mock-glared up at him. “Oh really? And why is that?”

  He shrugged. “Well for one, you don’t drink caffeine. I can barely drag my ass out of bed without at least two cups. And yet you, a nurse, somehow manage to get through every day, not to mention what I’m sure are insanely long shifts, without any caffeinated help whatsoever.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Yeah. So?”

  “So. That makes you one of those irritatingly perky people who probably bounces out of bed in the morning and keeps on going. It’s inhuman. It’s not natural. Ergo, you are not perfect.”

  “Ah, you’re just jealous I don’t have to rely on chemical stimulation to survive the day.”

  He laughed. “You’re probably right. Well, you may not be perfect, Oh Perky One, but you are close. Definitely close.”

  Her cheeks blushed hot, and he wondered why compliments, even roundabout ones, seemed to agitate her so. She didn’t seem the type to get easily flustered. She had practically felt up a total (and scary looking) stranger on the train. She’d turned getting stranded at the airport into an adventure. He would’ve found a nice quiet museum or something to wander through for a few hours. Instead, he was traipsing around Chicago dressed like a reject from a seventies sitcom. And having the time of his life. All because of Iris. Yet a simple compliment had her red to the roots. Not upset necessarily, but not like she really believed what he was saying.

  He’d just have to try harder.

  Chapter Six

  Iris put her phone away, a tingling pleasure still rushing through her. And it wasn’t just leftover desire from that kiss. Nash seemed to have a way of knocking her world off-kilter at the oddest moments. The compliments he kept paying her, the way he’d look at her. But it was even more than that. Anyone could say something pretty or put on a nice smile. It was a little more difficult to hide what you were feeling.

  She’d had plenty of people tell her she was outgoing or carefree or some similar phrase. But they rarely meant it as a compliment, even if it was phrased as one.

  Oh Iris, you’re so spontaneous. I could never just throw caution to the wind the way you do without caring about the consequences.

  Oh Iris, I love your new hairdo. That’s so gutsy. If anyone ever shaved half my hair off I’d never leave the house. You’re so brave.

  Translations—you’re reckless and make poor decisions. Bad Iris.

  But Nash… His compliments didn’t seem fake or forced. Yes, he might be surprised at her actions, but he genuinely seemed to approve. He didn’t make her feel weird or wrong.

  He made her feel…special.

  She cuddled in a little closer to him, and he leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

  Warmth and happiness spread through her at the tender gesture. She’d seen that move dozens of times in movies, but no one had ever done it to her. She liked it. A lot.

  They passed a huge lawn area beneath a massive trellis of intersecting metal poles. At the head of the field was a stage of some sort, set back in an area that looked like a bunch of metal had been peeled back with a vegetable peeler.

  “It’s too bad it’s not warmer,” she said, gesturing to the area. “Supposedly, they play movies there during the summer. And concerts.”

  “Now that would be cool,” Nash said. “Maybe we could meet back up here in June and catch a movie.”

  Iris’s heart skipped a little beat, and she nodded before she’d even made a decision to do so. “We could do that.”

  “Good. It’s a date then,” he said, smiling down at her.

  Even though he probably didn’t mean it, and she certainly wouldn’t hold him to it, it was nice to hear all the same.

  Across from the lawn area was a large space that was supposed to be a garden. At the moment, however, it was covered with snow. In fact, the entire landscape looked like something out of some sci-fi movie. All white and silver metal surrounded by glass skyscrapers. The snow had a way of muting the sounds of the city.

  They came across an incredible snakelike bridge, but it was closed for the winter. Iris was dying to go on it and tempted to find a way onto the bridge anyway, but even she wasn’t crazy enough to risk a frozen bridge that could collapse beneath her, plunging her to her death. Objects high off the ground just didn’t hold enough appeal to test her law-abiding abilities.

  They retraced their steps back to the pavilion area. A gate blocked them from actually entering the band shell, but the massive curving metal design framing the shell offered some protection from the wind.

  Iris turned to face the lawn area and looked up. The snow and ice covering the trellis made it appear as if it were made of diamonds. “Oh wow. This is so cool.”

  Her voice carried, and she turned to grin at Nash. “And the acoustics rock!”

  He laughed, and she threw her head back and belted out, “The sun’ll come out, tomorrow!” then spun toward him to continue with the lyrics, letting her voice ring through the park.

  She didn’t have a particularly wonderful singing voice, but a girl couldn’t let acoustics like this go to waste. A few of the people still meandering about the park stopped and stared. A couple even treated her to some applause and a catcall or two when she completed her number, an unexpected gesture that Iris loved. It was always nice to get applause, especially with the extra effort it had taken to get the words out through her frozen lips. Iris took a bow and then clapped her hands to her mouth to warm her face.

  Nash stared at her in wide-eyed amusement, his mouth open in surprise. “You are so crazy,” he said, laughing.

  She shrugged. “I’ve never had anyone accuse me of being normal. Kinda proud of that.”

  “You should be. Well.” He rubbed his velvet-covered hands together. “What now?”

  Iris glanced at the huge expanse of snow in front of them. She couldn’t resist. “Do you wanna build a snowman?” she asked, not quite singing but not quite speaking, either.

  Nash groaned. “Stop! I never even saw Frozen, and that damn snowman song still got stuck in my head for months. If you start singing it, I swear to God…”

  “What?” She blinked at him innocently, gave him the sweetest smile she could muster, and then belted out the next several lyrics.

  Nash lunged for her, and she yelped and scrambled away. Before she could do anything else, a snowball hit her square in the chest. She glanced down at it, confused for a second before realizing what he’d done.

  “Oh, it is so on!” She stooped to gather her own snowball, so jazzed at the thrill running through her she almost couldn’t contain it. Hell, who was she kidding? There was no containing the excited joy permeating every inch of her. She giggled like a goon and let her snowball fly.

  It hit Nash right in the butt as he bent over to gather more snow.

  He spun around. “Okay, no more Mr. Nice Guy.” He lobbed one at her that she easily ducked.

  She blinked at him, feigning confusion. “Being nice? Is that what you call it out there in Hickville when you can’t hit the broad side of a barn? Come on, Hazel, you can do better than that.”

  He squinted at her, taking aim, and chucked another one. It grazed her shin.

  “Really? That looked like something my niece would throw, and she’s only a month old.”

  He gasped in mock outrage. “Are you saying I throw like a girl?”

  “Of course not. If you threw like a girl you’d actually be hitting something.”


  “Oh, you’re going to pay for that one, Cookie.”

  He pelted her with another snowball, but she had two more ready to lob back. Nash grabbed Clyde and used him as a shield, deflecting everything she tossed at him.

  “No fair! You can’t hide behind Clyde.”

  He ducked behind the ugly brown case as she chucked another one and then popped up grinning. “Why not? There’s nothing in the rules that says I can’t.”

  “What rules?”

  “Exactly.”

  He briefly lowered Clyde, just long enough to toss another ball in her direction, and then ducked back to safety.

  Iris looked at a spot behind him and sucked in a startled breath. “Oh my God, what is that?”

  Nash lowered Clyde and turned to look. “What?”

  The snowball Iris threw hit him square in the head, showering him with powdered snow.

  “I can’t believe you fell for that!” She giggled and then shrieked as he dropped Clyde and charged her, his face alight with laughter and the desire for revenge.

  She tried to run, but the snow was too deep and she was laughing too hard, and truthfully she didn’t really have any desire to escape. He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the ground.

  She squealed and halfheartedly squirmed, trying-but-not-trying to get away. Until he dropped a handful of snow down the back of her shirt. She shrieked, laughing, and kicked in earnest, trying to dislodge the ice that trickled its way down her spine.

  Her heel connected with his shin and he set her down with a grunt of pain and an amused, predatory look in his eye.

  She backed away from him, shivering a little at the ice water still trickling down her back, and held up her hands in surrender. “Truce?”

  He watched her with narrowed, wary eyes and then finally dropped his snowball. “Okay, truce.” Then he grinned. “So, do you want to build a snowman?”

  Iris snorted. “Ha! Sure. But you keep those freezing cold hands of yours where I can see them.”

  “If you insist.”

  …

  They got to work rolling the bottom section of their snowman, slipping and laughing as they tried to pack the snow into a semi-round ball. If anyone had told Nash earlier that morning that he’d be spending the night making a snowman in a park in the middle of Chicago with a beautiful goofball of a woman, he’d never have believed them. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d done something like this. He was actually enjoying himself. Pretty sad that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that, either.

  “Whatcha thinking over there?” Iris asked.

  He blinked at her, not realizing he’d been silent a little too long. For a second, he thought about lying and saying he’d been thinking about some ranch issue, but she seemed genuinely interested. And for once, he wasn’t afraid to be judged for something that came out of his mouth.

  “I was just thinking that I couldn’t remember the last time I had such a good time.”

  Iris gaped in surprise. “Really? Making a snowman is that much fun?”

  He slapped another chunk of snow onto their growing ball. “All of it. Getting the clothes, the ice skating, dinner, all this,” he said, waving his hand around the park.

  “So freezing to death is your idea of entertainment. Good to know,” she said with a wry grin.

  He leaned across the partial snowman to give her a swift kiss. “Only if it’s with you.”

  She stared at him for half a second, a tiny smile on her lips before she ducked her head and gathered up more snow to start on the middle section.

  “So, what’s your story, Hazel?”

  “What do you mean?” It should probably bother him that she kept calling him Hazel. But he kind of liked it. Their own personal inside joke. It was nice to have something like that with her.

  She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. I’m kind of curious what kind of boring life you must lead since this thrilling evening in the freezing cold seems to be the highlight.”

  He inwardly flinched. That remark hit a little too close to home. “My life isn’t boring.”

  Iris’s face softened. He’d apparently not hidden his reaction as well as he’d hoped, because she had an apologetic-but-curious look on her face.

  “So tell me about it.” He released a sigh, and she laughed. “Yeah, I know. I can be a pain. I bet the horses and cows are looking pretty good right now, huh?”

  That got a smile out of him. “They always look good. I’m actually kind of homesick.”

  “Ah, I bet they miss you too,” she said with a wink.

  “Hey, don’t tease. They probably do miss me. I delivered most of them. I’m like their surrogate papa.”

  She laughed again. “Ah, no worries, Hazel. I’m sure they won’t forget you while you’re gone.”

  “They better not. Ungrateful beasts.”

  “So, spill it, cowboy. Other than the barnyard brigade, is there anyone waiting for you? You have a girlfriend back home?”

  She was blunt, he’d give her that. Most girls would come up with some subtle, roundabout way of asking if he were available. Iris went right for the jugular. It was refreshing. A little disconcerting, maybe. But refreshing.

  “No. No girlfriend.”

  He hadn’t dated anyone, seriously anyway, since Allison had stormed out, fed up with the long hours he worked, the endless list of chores, and not nearly as much money in his bank account to make it all worthwhile And she’d grown up on a farm. How would a woman like Iris fit in there?

  She probably wouldn’t.

  “Just no. That’s it?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Nothing more to say, really.”

  “Ah, now that’s not the truth.”

  He frowned. “Meaning?”

  It was her turn to shrug. She lifted a huge chunk of snow and dropped it onto the snowman. “It just seems that when people give such short, definitive answers to a question like that, there is often a massive mess of a backstory involved.” She stopped, her jaw clenching as if she were gritting her teeth or something, and it took her a second to continue. “If you’d never had a serious girlfriend, your face wouldn’t have gone all stony, and you would have maybe joked about not finding the right woman or something. Instead, you froze up and ended the questioning as quickly as possible with a no. No girlfriend. So my guess would be that you did have one, one that was serious enough to leave a nice gaping wound that hasn’t quite healed yet. Maybe the one you mentioned before…who thought you loved your ranch more than her. Am I right?” she asked quietly.

  Nash watched her pat the snow into place, not sure if he should come clean and bare his soul or run screaming. Instead, he asked what he wanted to know, ignoring her question.

  “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  She stopped, her face turning as stony as his must have been, though she had to be expecting the question.

  “No,” she answered softly. “No boyfriend.”

  Ah. He could see what she meant. The pain still showed. It was there in her eyes, in the small crease that formed on her forehead, in the rigid way she held her body. A gaping wound that hadn’t healed yet.

  He suddenly wished that he could help fill whatever hole the asshole who’d hurt her had left behind. Not fill it. Overwhelm it. Obliterate it. Make it so she didn’t even remember the miserable bastard’s name. So that look would never cross her face again.

  And maybe she can do the same for me, some small part of his mind whispered.

  He stepped around their snowman and pulled her into his arms, brushing a wet velvet fingertip across her cheek. She shivered but leaned into his touch all the same.

  He tilted her face up to meet his, their frozen lips moving together until the heat they generated not only warmed their lips but the rest of them as well. He pulled away far sooner than he wanted, but he could feel her shivering in his arms.

  “We should probably get out of all this snow,” he said.

  She glanced beh
ind him at their half-built snowman. “And leave poor Clarence unfinished?”

  “Clarence, eh?”

  She twirled away from him and slapped enough snow on top to make a small head. Nash helped shape it and they stood back to survey their handwork.

  “Wait,” he said, taking off the yellow sailor scarf. He wrapped it around Clarence’s neck.

  “He needs a face,” Iris said. “Ooo, hang on.” She trotted over to where they’d dumped their luggage and rummaged through the Sloane Ranger for a second, coming up with a small bag.

  She extracted a makeup brush and shoved it into the snow head to make a nose and then popped two pieces of gum in her mouth. The wrappers she wadded up to make beady little snowman eyes, and after a second of chewing she took the fluorescent green gum from her mouth and stretched it into a grin that she plastered on Clarence.

  “Kinda gross, but it works,” she said, nodding at her masterpiece.

  Nash pulled out his phone, turned her around, wrapped his arm around her, and held his phone up in the air. “Selfie?”

  Chapter Seven

  “Oh my God,” Iris said, laughing. She could not believe he’d just said that. “Welcome to the dark side.”

  “Shut up and smile,” he said.

  She cuddled up to him and smiled as best she could through her frozen lips.

  “Folks, the park is closing soon. Might want to wrap things up here.”

  They straightened, and Nash nodded at the officer who was watching them with a slight frown. He probably couldn’t decide if they were vagrants who needed help or just idiot tourists. He must have figured idiot tourists because after making sure they would be on their way, he left them alone.

  “He must think we’re nuts,” Nash said, gathering up Clyde and the Sloane Ranger.

  “We are,” Iris said, though her teeth were chattering so hard she could barely talk. Nash’s weren’t quite that bad yet, but his lips were an interesting shade of purple.

  “You know,” he said, pulling her into his arms so he could rub his hands down her arms and back. “While it is incredibly gorgeous out here in the moonlight, I think we stand a really good chance of freezing to death if we stay out here too much longer.”