Nash Brothers Box Set

by Carrie Aarons

  My muscles yelp with soreness, but in a good way. It’s been a while since I had a good, centered yoga practice … it was something Presley got me into when we lived in New York. But since moving away, and becoming so involved with my ex-boyfriend, I put a lot of my interests on hold.

  It feels good to get back to what I used to love.

  The shower does me good, working the hot water over my aching body, and I take my time lathering and breathing in the steam.

  When I’m done, I apply my moisturizer, deodorant, and body lotion. I’m nothing if not a stickler for routine.

  I exit the tiny bathroom, a towel wrapped around my wet hair and not a stitch of clothing on my dewy, bare skin.

  So it’s no wonder I squawk like a frightened bird when Fletcher Nash walks into my accommodations, causing every muscle in my body to freeze as his eyes lick a hot, wanton trail down my naked flesh.

  4

  Fletcher

  After my shift at the grocery store, where I’ve been working as a cashier since before I got sober, I drive across town.

  Mom’s shower head in her master bathroom is leaking again, and I told her I’d fix it two days ago. She, and the rest of my family, have already done too much … it will take me the rest of my lifetime to pay them back. So over to Keaton’s I go, to borrow his toolbox.

  Keaton and Presley aren’t home when I pull into the driveway, of course. Those two barely ever occupy the same space these days, what with her studio and his animal patients. It works for them, both of them whole people on their own who happen to love each other beyond reason. I admire that kind of companionship, that kind of dedication. It’s what I want in a partner … if I ever find one worthy.

  Not of me, hell, a sewer rat would be classier and more noble than the woman I deserve to end up with. But, I mean worthy of climbing over the speed bump I’ve set up for myself.

  Visions of Ryan in the passenger seat of Presley’s Jeep fill my thoughts, and I push them away. I walk to their fridge, pulling out a pitcher of lemonade I’m sure Keaton made, and not Presley. He’s the better cook of the two.

  The cool, tart drink hits my throat and my temper instantly cools, my hackles having been up for the past eight hours. The shifts at the grocery store were getting old … really old. Dealing with asshole customers, ringing up item after item in an assembly line of boredom, biting my tongue when the dickhead of a manager makes some snide comment. We went to high school together and now he holds a position of power, albeit a pathetic one, over me and relishes it to no end.

  Just a couple more years, I think to myself. I’ve been squirreling away money and living with Mom helps. I’ve had a few decent commissioned pieces from buyers, and I hope that someday, my woodworking can serve as my only source of income. For now, though, I’m not getting bigger than my britches.

  It’s all a process, to attain the life I really want. And yes, I’ve been listening to self-help podcasts … that shit helps sometimes.

  Going in search of the toolbox, I walk outside and into the converted shed. My brother and sister-in-law made it a guest house of sorts when they thought I was going to move in with them for a while. It didn’t work out that way; I feel more needed at Mom’s and want to repay my debt to society, but it’s still good if someone needs to crash.

  The minute I walk through the French doors, whose shades I didn’t realize were drawn until after the fact, every bit of lust in the atmosphere slams into me like a bullet train.

  Standing in the middle of the studio-like guest cottage is Ryan Shea.

  Completely naked save for a towel wrapped around her head.

  I might go into cardiac arrest, that’s how hard my heart is pumping. It has been a long time since I’ve seen a naked woman in the flesh, my computer helps me out with the simulated part. The fact that this woman is slender but curvy, olive skin stretching across all of those hidden, erotic places …

  The fact that this woman is Ryan … my throat dries up in seconds, and my cock goes from zero to midnight in a flash.

  Her pussy is bare of any hair, and I long to sink to my knees and plant a kiss between her perfect thighs. My eyes travel up to her breasts, full and supple, her budded nipples the shade of a dark rose. The scents of vanilla and citrus waft through the air, and suddenly, I want to unwrap the towel and see if that smell lingers in her hair.

  Finally, our eyes lock, her face free of any makeup, but then again, a woman as gorgeous as this doesn’t need any. She lets me look at her, unabashed, for another moment.

  “I’m so sorry.” I let out a sharp hiss, jumping to turn away.

  I can hear Ryan fumbling behind me, probably reaching for some clothing. “Oh my God.”

  “I didn’t know you were staying in here, or with Presley and Keaton at all. Fuck, I’m a moron, of course, you’re staying here. I just mean, I didn’t mean to barge in on you …”

  The rambling won’t stop, and I can’t seem to stop picturing her naked body. The mental image is burned into the front of my brain, and I know it will be the number one called upon memory in my spank bank for a long time to come.

  “Looking for your athlete’s foot cream, again?” She chuckles at my turned back.

  If she were looking at me dead in the face, she’d see the furious blush working its way over my cheeks. “Thankfully, I don’t have that problem anymore.”

  I am a damn liar. I still have athlete’s foot, a result of constant running. I’m surprised she remembers that embarrassing moment when I walked into Forrest’s house years ago, asking for the medicinal cream, and she’d been sitting on his couch.

  “Well, I guess we’re both even on the embarrassment front,” I manage to choke out.

  There is a pssh sound from behind me. “This is way more embarrassing than you asking for foot cream! You saw me naked!”

  My fingers won’t stop moving, tapping on my legs and wringing themselves in the other hand. I drop my head, unable to stop the words from rushing out of my mouth.

  “There is nothing embarrassing about this, Ryan. Other than the fact that I walked in without knocking. But your body? Seeing you naked … I assure you, there is nothing humiliating about it. I’ve thought about this for a long time. Probably too often, if I’m being honest. Which, I guess, since we’re getting down to the bare bones of it, I have to be. You’re absolutely beautiful, every part of you. I only wish I had more time to examine every dip and crevice that makes you up. I apologize for surprising you, it won’t happen again.”

  My lungs burn with the words I shouldn’t have let out, and I’m too much of a coward to turn around and face her before I bolt for the exit.

  5

  Ryan

  “Can we slow down a bit? I’m winded, gosh, do I feel out of shape.”

  Lily pushes the stroller with baby Molly in it, some paces behind Presley and me. Penelope is trying to wrangle Ames, her youngest son, from jumping in a pond fully clothed, and I have to smile at how much adulting we’re doing.

  “You just had a baby, give yourself some grace,” Penelope chides her best friend as we all fall into step together.

  When Presley suggested a Saturday morning walk with her sisters-in-law, I’d been a bit hesitant. These three spend so much time together, and even though I knew her first and she’s my best friend, it’s almost like Presley is closer with Lily and Penelope now. I don’t like to feel like the odd one out and was anxious to try to converse with people who spoke to each other every day.

  “Says the woman with three kids who looks like a supermodel daily.” Lily rolls her eyes.

  The baby whines for a moment, and Presley peaks inside, pulling back the blanket on her niece’s body and rubbing her tummy a little. Lily smiles at Presley in thanks, and Molly is fast asleep before I can blink an eye.

  “Jeez, who knew you were so good with kids,” I say to Presley.

  She shrugs. “Keaton and I babysit a lot for this growing brood.”

  “Speaking of growing, is there anything y
ou want to tell us?” Penelope eyes her hopefully.

  Presley shakes her long red locks. “Not yet, although we’ve been talking about starting to try.”

  That tidbit of information catches my attention. “Really? I thought you didn’t know about kids.”

  We’d always talked about how neither of us was sure if we wanted to have children. Presley was too flighty, and I was too selfish. Listing off all the things I’d have to give up for a child … it seemed endless. I wasn’t sure if I wanted my life to change so drastically, and having a child meant putting everything you loved second.

  Her green eyes are shifty as she glances from her sisters to me. “Well, I … I know how great of a father Keaton would be. I feel like I’d be robbing him of fulfilling some destiny. And, well, babysitting has really given me the fever. If I get a baby half as good as Molly, I’ll be lucky.”

  “I’ll remember you said that when your little one is up at midnight, clawing at your boob,” Penelope jokes.

  Lily nods in agreement. “Although, it’s the greatest thing on earth. I didn’t know how badly I wanted to be a milk machine until I had a child.”

  I have to tamp down the shudder that runs through me because that doesn’t sound at all like something I’d want.

  The silence that follows when no one responds makes my skin crawl. Maybe they’re not pushing the discussion further because I’m here, an intruder on their family talks.

  “Ryan, I’m glad you’re back in town. Are you working remotely?” Lily asks politely.

  Penelope tunes in as Ames runs ahead of us, and Presley grins at me. They’re all trying to make me feel included, which is nice, but I still feel like an outcast.

  “I’m between projects right now.”

  It’s a better line than, I’m taking a break from work. I feel like that would only worry people more, because my job has been my spouse for the last decade. But how do you explain that you feel you’ve ridden the roller coaster of a career to its end? Because that’s how I feel. Once upon a time, I thought I had the sickest position in the game. Hacking or coding for whoever I wanted, wherever I wanted. Using the skills that came so easy to make massive amounts of money … the kind I could never even have dreamed of as a kid.

  But over the past two years, I’ve become resigned. My work doesn’t bring me excitement anymore. Honestly, the last time I got any joy or spark from what I do was when Forrest asked me to consult on his cyber thief case.

  So, I was taking some time off, until I could find something that inspired me again. I’d saved enough money, and I was staying for free with Presley and Keaton. Working my ass off for ten years … yeah, I think I could afford to take a sabbatical.

  “And you … just came off a breakup, right?” Penelope’s voice is cautious and delicate.

  I assume Presley told them about my dating woes, if not an expanded version of the story. Everyone was probably wondering why I was here, anyway.

  “Yep. It was pretty brutal. Found the bastard cheating on me, in our bed. With two women.” That age-old practice of talking shit about men who’ve wronged us felt like an appropriate activity right now.

  Plus, I hadn’t gotten to vent much, and after rampaging through my phone two days ago, deleting any evidence of him, it felt good to talk about.

  “Oh, no he didn’t! What a prick! Has he seen you? You’re like Minka Kelly’s younger, hotter sister.” Penelope snaps her fingers as if she’s about to fight Yanis on my behalf.

  That makes me snort. “First off, Minka Kelly is already young and hot, way more so than me. Unfortunately, he had seen me, for a year and a half while we were in a relationship. The fucking Greek asshole. Claimed it was the European way.”

  “Language …” Lily scolds me, eyes flicking to Molly and Ames.

  I cover my mouth. “Whoops, sorry.”

  “Ignore her, my boys hear more cursing from their mother than they ever will on the school bus.” Penelope rolls her eyes. “Anyway, I hope you slit his tires.”

  Shaking my head, I sigh. “I wish, but all he owns is a donkey and a moped. There was no need for a car where we lived. I did slap him in the face, though.”

  “Atta girl.” Presley claps twice. “He deserves to fall all the way down those Santorini steps and right into the ocean.”

  “Oh, the bloody fantasies I’ve had about injuring him.” My hands clasp together like I’m plotting his demise.

  In truth, I could always feel something like that coming from Yanis. As much as I want to claim I was blindsided, I wasn’t. He’s a Greek artist, famous for being the next big thing in impressionist painting. From the moment I met him, I’d been swept up in his robust attitude for life, love, and good food. He gave me the grand tour of Greece, made me fall into bed with him, and I was fascinated ever since. But that little voice in the back of my head, and heart, told me there was something wrong. I knew I shouldn’t have fully trusted him, and in the weeks leading up to his indiscretion, I’d already been thinking about how we were falling out of love. The spark wasn’t there anymore, it had died out just like all the other affairs I’d sworn were epic love sagas and would never end.

  This is how I was with men. I fell in love in two seconds, dove head first into a relationship and living together without a backward glance, and ended up royally fucking burned when it all came crashing down on top of my head.

  “Well, Fawn Hill might be small, but there are a few eligible bachelors if you want us to set you up,” Lily suggests cheerfully.

  My fingers come up in a X. “No, thanks. I’m swearing off men for at least a year.”

  “Good for you.” Penelope chuckles. “They’re nothing but trouble, in all forms and ages. If I could trade mine all in for a week or two and sit in silence by myself, I would.”

  “Amen,” Lily and Presley echo her.

  I laugh because it’s what I’m supposed to do, but I’m reminded by their sarcasm that they’re all in loving, healthy relationships. Their husbands would all jump in front of a bullet for them, as opposed to lying and scamming.

  And I know I claimed I wanted nothing to do with the single men of Fawn Hill, but I can’t get the most enticing one out of my head.

  It was only two days ago when Fletcher walked in on me butt naked and spilled all of his feelings about exploring my body. Christ, even thinking about it now makes my skin ignite and my stomach dip with temptation. The way I’d let his eyes comb over every inch of me for just a brief moment … Lord, it had felt like I would combust from just his gaze alone. All the air had gone out of the room, and the sexual desire between us had practically suffocated me. It was dirty and yet so right.

  For a brief second, I’d almost gone to him, asked for something that went completely against my vow to myself. By then Fletcher had done us both a favor and turned around, but not without obliterating me in the process.

  “I’ve thought about this for a long time. Probably too often, if I’m being honest.”

  If he only knew …

  “We’ll beat them off with a stick, then. Anything for our girl.” Presley slings an arm around my shoulder, trying to subtly hint that I was a part of their world now.

  “Thanks. Hey, can we go get those sticky buns from the coffee shop? I’ve been dreaming about them since I left two years ago,” I ask, trying to change the subject.

  Penelope raises her hands, praising my suggestion. “Hell yes, I need sugar and carbs, stat.”

  6

  Fletcher

  Each plank of wood was smooth and soft to the touch, the work I’ve put in on each board apparent.

  With a steady hand, I run the sander over the grain, rounding off any sharp edges or splinters. The pieces would have no hazards once they were stained and sealed, but you could never be too careful. This is the crib for my first niece, after all.

  I hadn’t known what to get Bowen and Lily when Molly was born and having little money to my name didn’t help. But what I lacked in financial gains, I made up for in homemade g
ifts the past few years. First, it was the gift I gave Keaton and Presley for their wedding. Then, I built the flower arch that Bowen and Lily stood under for their wedding. Then I designed a bench for Bloomfield Park, and have done some other work for local friends and family.

  Recently, I’ve been commissioned to design a chuppah for a prominent Jewish couple in New Jersey who found my work through Instagram. They surprised the hell of out of me when they offered two thousand dollars for the piece. It has been my largest sale thus far, and I’ve gotten a few inquiries recently just from their word-of-mouth praise.

  I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to do this full time. Build furniture, make wooden art pieces, use my hands to distract from the shaking cravings that run through my body almost all hours of the day.

  That’s why I started doing this. At first, it had been model ships in rehab. One of my counselors there had suggested a distraction that got me off the grid of TV or Internet … because alcohol commercials could pop up at any time. Even those were triggering for me back then. He said that reading could help, but my attention span was so shot that I gave up on that idea quickly. Arts and crafts were a last-ditch effort, that I found, shockingly, helpful.

  I built three model ships during my time spent at the in-patient facility. Once I came home, I knew I had to find a way to distract myself from the constant temptation to drink.

  It was fate that I stumbled on an old friend from high school who now ran his parent’s farm. He’d randomly started talking about some scraps of woods and old pallets he needed help getting rid of. I offered to make use of them, take them off his hands … and what started as just tinkering around with no knowledge or skill, turned into a passion.