Nash

by Lynn Hagen

  Keller was seated in the living room, talking on his phone when Nash entered. “Hold on a sec,” he said to whomever he was speaking to. “Where’s the food?”

  “Decided to have the wake catered.” Nash dropped into the recliner and tilted his head back, letting the central air cool him off. “Met a guy who works at a restaurant in town. He said his family would cater.”

  “Did you ask how much?”

  Damn. Nash hadn’t thought of that. He’d been too busy staring at Layne’s mark. “I guess I’ll find out when I talk to them. Do you know how many people are coming?”

  “Let me call you back,” Keller said into his phone before he hung up. “Probably the whole town. We’ll serve the food on the back lawn so the house isn’t too crowded. I just talked to my supervisor at the hospital.” Keller tapped his cell phone against his thigh. “I can stay a week, but after that, I have to get back to California.”

  Nash had been discharged from the army two years ago, and had wandered around for those two years, so he was in no rush to get anywhere. In fact, while he was there, he needed to decide what he would do with his life.

  “The wake is in two days,” Nash said. “That’ll give you time to help us sort through Aunt Beatrice’s things before you have to go operate on someone’s brain.”

  “I’m just an ER doctor,” Keller replied. “No big deal.”

  Nash wasn’t looking forward to sorting through their aunt’s belongings. He felt as though he would be invading her privacy, but all four had agreed to sell her house, and they couldn’t do that if it was still cluttered with her possessions.

  “I’ll do what I can while I’m here. But in the meantime, if you’re gonna have the wake catered, I suggest you get on the phone.”

  “Yes, sir, Dr. O’Brien,” Nash said, proud that Keller was a bigwig doctor in California.

  He’d missed all his brothers, and it felt good to be around them again. It had been five years since he’d seen them—ten since he’d seen Keller—and hated that they would all be gone in a week, going back to their lives while Nash tried to figure out what to do with his.

  “I think I’ll drive to the restaurant. That way I can see their menu and haggle over the prices.”

  Keller shook his head. “Not when it comes to Beatrice. Spare no expense and charge it to my card.”

  This time when Keller offered, Nash took the plastic. If they were going all out, it was best the doctor of the family pay for it since Nash was pretty much broke.

  He hopped back into his truck, pulled out the business card Layne had given him, and drove to Buchannan’s Bistro. How the hell had Nash forgotten about this place? He’d come here a lot when he was a teenager. He and his buddies had practically lived there on Friday and Saturday nights.

  It was like stepping back in time as Nash entered through the rear door. The interior had changed but not by much. There were new tables and booths, and the counter had been redone, but other than that, the place looked like it had ten years ago.

  Nash spotted an older woman by the order window, wiping down the counter. There were customers seated at the tables, enjoying their meals and conversations.

  Nash felt nostalgic as he approached the counter. “Excuse me, Mrs. Buchannan?”

  She turned and her face light up bright. “Nash O’Brien! I can’t believe my eyes. Is that really you?” She hurried around the counter and squished Nash against her bosom. “How long has it been?”

  Nash was embarrassed that she remembered him so clearly when he hadn’t thought about her once since he’d been away from Kendall. He pulled away and smiled.

  “It’s nice to see you again.” Nash squeezed her forearms before he took a step back. “I ran into Layne at the grocery store. He gave me his card and said you’d be able to cater my aunt’s wake.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “I still can’t believe Beatrice is gone.” She dabbed at her eyes. “She was so sweet and well loved.”

  “She was.” This wasn’t something Nash wanted to talk about. He’d hardly made it back there to visit his aunt in the ten years he’d been gone. Nash had spent eight years in the army, reenlisting after his first hitch was up, and then had spent two years wandering the globe, trying to find himself.

  Which he still hadn’t done.

  In all that time he’d seen Aunt Beatrice three times. The guilt ate at him. “So, can you do the catering, Mrs. Buchannan?”

  “Of course!” She walked behind the counter and reached under it, pulling out a menu. “First, call me Sheila, and you just select the things you want served and Gilbert and I will make sure everything is taken care of.”

  Gilbert being her husband.

  Sheila touched Nash’s hand. “Food isn’t something you need to worry about right now. I know planning a funeral takes a lot out of a person. I had to go through the same thing last year when my mother died. It was a trying time.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your mother.” Nash grabbed the menu, desperate for a change of subject. “Do you mind if I take this with me? I’ll have an order in by this evening. I just want to go over the choices with my brothers.”

  “I heard Keller was here.” Sheila blushed. “He’s a doctor in California, right?”

  Nash nodded. “Quinn got here yesterday, as well. We’re still waiting on Nomad to arrive.” Nash would’ve said they were waiting on Hayward, but hardly anyone knew Nomad by his real name. The sad truth was he wasn’t even sure Hayward went by his nickname anymore. Nash had lost touch with all his siblings and had been shocked when Keller had managed to find him in order to tell him about their aunt.

  “Let me know by seven,” Sheila said. “Especially if it’s going to be a big order. I’ll need time to prepare everything.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Nash gave her his information, including his cell number then turned and headed for the door. He’d almost reached it when Layne walked in, a brown paper bag hugged in his slender arms. They stood there staring at one another before Nash cleared his throat. He was dying to ask if Layne was already mated, although he shouldn’t be thinking about things like that.

  Even if Layne wasn’t, what was Nash gonna do about it? Not a damn thing. He wasn’t ready to settle down, let alone start a family. He had nothing going for himself, was broke, and sometimes wasn’t right in the head because of his time overseas.

  “Layne,” Sheila called out. “Bring me that bag from the farmers market. I need the fresh herbs.”

  “Thanks for the save.” Nash winked at him. “You did me a solid.”

  Layne licked his bottom lip, and Nash’s gaze followed his pink tongue. “Glad I could help. It was nice seeing you twice in one day, but my mom needs this.”

  Nash looked over his shoulder as Layne walked away. The guy was simply gorgeous, with those big blue eyes and that nicely shaped ass encased in his skinny jeans.

  With a long sigh, Nash left. He’d come back to attend a funeral and sell his aunt’s house, nothing more, and he needed to keep it that way.

  Chapter Two

  The following morning was a flurry of busyness. Layne’s parents closed the restaurant for the day in order to cook for the wake. Nash hadn’t phoned in his order like he’d promised. He’d come back in, handing over a list of what the O’Brien men wanted.

  That had given Layne another chance to drool over him and make an ass of himself. He’d burned his fingers on the steam rolling from the pot of cooked pasta while he’d been draining it. He’d tripped twice, once nearly sending said pasta into Nash’s face. Layne had even scorched a few pieces of fried chicken in the short time that Nash had been there.

  Layne had wanted to crawl under a counter and start his evening over. Nash hadn’t said a word about Layne nearly burning the guy’s gorgeous face.

  His mom finally demanded that Layne sit down somewhere until Elvis left the building before he either burned the restaurant down or disfigured someone. This was what happened when you were hooked on a straight man. Total flipping
disaster.

  Now Layne was finding excuses to text the guy. Nash had just written down “pies” on his order, so Layne had to text and ask what kind. Nash texted back, Hell if I know. You pick them.

  The same happened with the drinks he wanted served. Nash was of no help, but Layne’s heart did a somersault every time he heard his phone chirp. Nash O’Brien was texting him, and that was all that mattered. They could have been discussing cow dung on toasted rye bread and Layne’s stomach still would’ve filled with butterflies.

  “Look at him, Gilbert,” Layne’s mom said as she smiled. “The boy’s in love. We’ll be getting no work out of him today if he doesn’t put that phone down.”

  “Kids these days are birthed with a cell phone in their tiny hand.” His dad chuckled. It was a hearty sound that was so familiar that it brought Layne comfort. “I saw a boy at the market, no older than five, playing games on his phone.”

  “Oaf!” His mom patted her chest, leaving flour handprints on her blouse. “Technology is corrupting those young minds. Children need to be outside playing, running around, and making friends.”

  “They do have friends,” Layne said as he watched his screen, waiting on Nash’s next text like an addict waiting on his next fix.

  “Facebook friends don’t count,” his mom admonished. “Real friends that they can see and interact with. No wonder people lack social skills these days.”

  His folks were a bit quirky, but he did love them. “You have a hundred Facebook friends,” Layne reminded her. “You even have a Twitter account.”

  “Don’t sass me.” She went back to making the pies as his father dropped some more chicken into the fryer. “I tweet my latest creations and when we have specials.”

  “You gossip with Harriet.” Harriet owned the salon in town. “You two compete on who can tell the craziest stories.”

  “Don’t sass your mom.” His dad winked at him. That was his way of saying he agreed with Layne but didn’t dare contradict his wife. Layne’s mom was a petite woman, but when she was fired up, everyone ducked for cover. She’d once chased Layne’s dad with a frying pan when he told her she was putting on a little weight around the hips. Good times.

  “Take your texting into the dining area.” Layne’s mom shooed him with her hands. “You’re in the way if you’re not helping.”

  “I am helping,” Layne insisted. He turned his phone so she saw the screen. “I’m clarifying some things on his order.”

  She gave Layne a knowing look and coaxed him toward the door. “Do that outside the kitchen.”

  “Fine.” Layne wasn’t hard-pressed to stay. His mind wasn’t focused on cooking anyway. He wanted Nash to text him something other than what he wanted served at the wake.

  Like how Nash would like to get Layne naked and rock his pathetic world. Layne would risk a speeding ticket racing to Nash if the guy gave him the slightest hint that he wanted him.

  Layne had gone out the back door to soak up the morning sun when a rusted red pickup truck pulled into the parking lot. Hartley Paine got out and gave Layne a generous, toothy smile.

  Hartley had been flirting—harassing—Layne for years. Hartley so wasn’t his type. The guy came on too strong, bragged too much, and reminded Layne of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  “Hey, handsome.” Hartley hitched his thumbs into his front pockets. “I was hoping to get some of your mom’s cooking for breakfast.”

  Layne pointed at the sign on the rear door of the restaurant. “We’re closed today.”

  Thank fuck or Layne would’ve had to wait on Hartley’s arrogant ass. Hartley was demanding when seated in one of the booths, vying for Layne’s complete attention, even when Layne had other customers to tend to.

  The guy thought he was the cat’s meow when, in truth, he was a snake’s hiss.

  “Are you sure I can’t sneak in?” Hartley strutted toward him. “Come on. You can make an exception for me.”

  Layne sent a quick text to his dad, asking his father to bail him out. No matter how many times Layne told Hartley he wasn’t interested, the guy still acted as though Layne swooned over his every word.

  It was sad that Layne needed his daddy to rescue him. He normally handled things on his own. Layne was an adult, after all. But Hartley was an exception. Just not the kind he wanted to be.

  His dad opened the back door and smiled at Hartley. “Sorry, we’re closed today. Layne, your mom needs you.”

  “Have a nice day.” Without giving Hartley a smile, Layne walked back in. “Thanks.”

  “You need me to go out there and have a stern talking with him?” His dad glanced toward the door.

  That wouldn’t do any good, and besides, his dad was short, squat, and didn’t have a very deep voice. Most respected him, but there were some who teased him behind his back.

  Layne shut those pricks up every single time with a good tongue-lashing. When he shook his head and his dad went back to the kitchen, Layne looked out the door. Hartley was still there, pacing by his truck.

  What a creep.

  Then Layne’s heart climbed up his throat. Nash pulled in next to Hartley. Layne couldn’t take his eyes off Mr. Stud as he got out of his truck and looked Hartley over. Layne imagined Nash shoving his foot up Hartley’s ass and sending him on his way.

  No such luck.

  Nash’s gaze found Layne’s staring at him through the glass door. The sexiest smile ever created was turned on Layne, and Layne wanted to faint. Nash was probably just being polite with that smile, but in Layne’s head, they were already having sex.

  Hartley said something to Nash. Nash shrugged and headed toward the door. Layne’s hand trembled as he opened it for him and allowed Nash to pass right by. Layne felt the heat coming off Nash as he closed the door, actively avoiding Hartley’s glare.

  “What brings you here?” Layne locked the door just in case Hartley got any ideas.

  “Keller made a few changes to the menu.”

  “Oh no,” Layne said. “My mom and dad have been cooking since early this morning.”

  “It’s nothing big,” Nash said. “But I thought I better come by instead of calling or texting.”

  He was wearing a teasing smile that melted Layne’s heart, but he noticed how it never reached Nash’s eyes. “What do you want to change?”

  Layne headed to the kitchen, his hand on the door, when he heard his mom talking softly to his dad. “He’s never gotten his life together,” she said, and Layne had no idea who she was talking about.

  “He’s still pretty young,” his dad said. Layne was still clueless. “Nash’ll get his act together, babe. You never know. He could be Layne’s mate. We have to give it time.”

  The word mate gave Layne pause. Hadn’t his mother and grandmother used that word? Now his mom had his dad believing that crap. Layne didn’t. There was no such thing as a soul mate.

  “What if Nash leaves town?” she asked. “You remember when he left for the army? Layne was crushed, moping around for an entire year. I don’t think I can stand to see him so heartbroken again.”

  Layne pulled his hand away, curling his fingers in. He had no idea his parents had paid him that much attention. He’d tried hard to hide his sadness that Nash had left, but clearly he hadn’t hidden it well enough.

  “Something wrong?”

  Nash was at Layne’s back, his sultry voice right in his ear. Layne jumped and spun, his ticker nearly giving out. “No, nothing. I just forgot to ask what changes you needed.”

  Why did Nash’s closeness always make Layne feel like he was freefalling? Like he was grabbing for air as he raced through the atmosphere? That heart-pounding experience that gripped Layne’s chest, the thrill crashing through his limbs, and the rush of excitement that made every nerve come alive.

  Layne’s mom opened the door, nearly knocking it into him. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were so close. Sorry, honey.”

  He waved a hand at Nash, almost smacking the guy in the face. “He needs to make a few
minors changes to his order.”

  “Changes?” Her brows shot up. “What changes?”

  She looked five seconds away from passing out.

  “More like additions,” Nash corrected.

  Layne’s mom looked relieved. “We can add on. What do you need?”

  “Keller wanted to know if you could include potato salad and some baked beans.”

  “Perfect!” She hugged Nash. “We’ve already got that covered. You should’ve called and saved a trip.” She held up a finger. “Let me get you a sampler plate of what we’ve cooked so far.”

  Layne hid his smile. Sheila Buchannan didn’t believe in anyone leaving the restaurant hungry. She had that same rule at home. Layne should’ve weighed a million pounds from her southern cooking. Thankfully he had an amazing metabolism that kept him skinny.

  His dad hadn’t been so lucky. He was rotund, but it worked on him.

  “You might as well have a seat,” he said to Nash. “She’s gonna ply you with food.”

  Nash winked at him. “Just as long as I have something to wash it down with and good company, I won’t complain.”

  “Are your brothers coming?”

  Nash laughed. “I was talking about you. Join me.”

  “At least you won’t be texting all day,” Dad said as he brought out a pint of beer. “Just like your ma said, interacting face to face instead of social media friends.”

  Layne prayed Nash didn’t ask about that. He didn’t. The guy was too busy watching Layne, making him squirm in his seat under that intense scrutiny. Those mysterious gray eyes had Layne trying to catch his breath whenever they turned on him.

  It had been that way since the first time they’d met, when Layne had spotted a young Nash goofing off with his friends in the school hallway. After that afternoon, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Mr. Stud.

  Until Nash had joined the military and took Layne’s very existence with him. Yes, Layne had been in love with Nash for that long. Side note, unrequited love sucked hairy balls.