Then we walked across the street to the supermarket, where we picked up Daniella’s favorite crappy sushi and the same huge frozen pizza we baked for every football game.
She pushed the shopping cart while I threw the items we liked inside. To onlookers, we probably seemed like the perfect picture of domestic bliss, just another happy couple grocery shopping together.
We had done all of this a thousand times before, and there was something comforting in the routine. It seemed like nothing could ever truly shake us up. My life with Daniella was next to perfect. Wasn’t it?
I ignored the gnawing feeling that something wasn’t quite right as Daniella and I made our way to the checkout conveyor.
Chapter Five
Lacey
Nolan’s house was pale brick with dark wooden beams cutting across the exterior to form a masculine arch over the front porch. It was all one story, but appeared roomy nonetheless.
I trotted up the steps at five minutes to three carrying a big platter of smoked brisket, guacamole, and queso, with a bag of tortilla chips tucked under my arm. Nolan had insisted that I didn’t need to bring anything, but my Southern hospitality demanded that I not show up empty-handed. And I might have been putting in a little extra effort because I figured I might meet Daniella today.
I was curious about this “other woman” in Nolan’s life . . . his side piece. Until I realized that she got there first, and so I was actually the side piece.
With a strange feeling dancing in my stomach, I hesitated at his door. Shit. What am I doing here?
Nothing in my life could have prepared me for this moment. Yet here I was, standing at his front door, debating whether to knock.
Just stick to the plan.
Raising my knuckles to the door, I knocked twice.
Nolan opened it, looking as handsome as ever. His deep blue gaze latched onto mine. A warm shiver pulsed through me, bringing awareness once again to the intense attraction I felt toward him. He was dressed casually, in a white T-shirt that clung to his muscled torso, and loose jeans that still hinted at his powerful thighs.
Damn it. Eyes up, Lacey.
Without a word, Nolan allow his gaze to travel down my figure, taking in my casual, yet alluring ensemble, lingering over my breasts, my hips. It seemed he wasn’t the only one being mentally undressed.
I’d paid extra attention when getting ready this morning. Blow-drying my hair so it fell in a thick, straight curtain down my back, slipping into my nicest jeans—dark washed and slim fit to hug the curves of my hips and round ass. My burgundy Oklahoma Sooners T-shirt was just a little too taut over my breasts. It had shrunk the first time I washed it; at the time, I’d gotten upset, but now it seemed that the almost-too-small top was a blessing in disguise.
I expected some wisecrack about wearing my team colors, but instead, Nolan leaned in for a brief hug.
“You look nice.” He breathed the words barely an inch from my ear, sending warmth rushing over my skin. It was the first time we’d had such close contact, and my body heated up accordingly.
We came inside to the kitchen. Nolan unloaded my armful of food onto the counter, next to a piping-hot oven pizza.
“What’s all this?” he asked, looking down at the several containers.
“I thought we might want some game-day snacks.” I bent down to pet the dog who had come out to sniff my feet. “And you must be Sutton.”
He let out a grunt and wiggled his stubby tail. Nolan watched with approval as I gave the dog a few good scratches behind the ears.
“Is Daniella here?”
Just the woman’s name sent hot jealousy spiraling through me. I’d never be okay with this. But it didn’t matter. I had a plan. And I would stick to it come hell or high water. I just wanted to know what I was getting myself into.
“She’s at work. Why, did you want to meet her?” he asked, his brows raised as if the idea of us meeting never crossed his mind.
I shrugged. “I just assumed. Since I was coming to your place . . . and she lives here.”
He shook his head.
As a knock sounded at the door, I was struck by the unmistakable feeling that things were about to get a whole lot more confusing.
Nolan opened the door and greeted a tall, muscular man who stood there. They did that thing guys do, a thump on the back and a one-armed hug.
“Lacey, this is Greyson,” Nolan said.
Greyson smiled warmly at me, giving the impression that Nolan had supplied more information than that behind the scenes.
“It’s good to meet you, Lacey,” Greyson said, his rough voice neutral, but his eyes dancing with mischief.
“Former SEAL?” I asked him, ignoring the unspoken messages passing between the men.
“How’d you guess?” he asked.
I tipped my chin toward the trident tattoo peeking from his sleeve. I’d been around enough SEALs growing up to recognize it anywhere. More than that, I was no stranger to the world these men had lived through—the blood, sweat, and tears that tattoo represented. Most women probably threw themselves at such strong, confident men, even before they found out their past professions, but I only viewed them with a healthy dose of respect.
“Very good,” Greyson said, clearly impressed.
Nolan, on the other hand, gave me a curious glance. “Drinks?” he asked.
“I thought we were just going to stand here staring at each other all afternoon,” Greyson said, smiling warmly at me.
I chuckled and followed them back into the kitchen. A formal tour wasn’t necessary. Nolan’s home was an open floor plan. The living area held two warm brown leather couches and a flat-screen TV mounted above a stone fireplace. The kitchen was all rustic mahogany cabinets and smooth cream-colored granite. It suited him. Airy, comfortable, and non-pretentious.