Hometown Troublemaker

by Brighton Walsh

  Nash could only shake his head, his hands curling into fists at the overwhelming urge he had to punch something. Or someone.

  “I hate that fucking guy,” he said as he slid back onto his stool.

  Drew nodded. “He’s pretty much the worst.” He gathered the wad of bills Grant had left behind and held it up between them. “But he tips great, so we let him keep comin’ back.”

  “Who’re y’all talkin’ about?” Nola asked as she stepped behind the bar, carrying a plate full of food. “Grant?”

  “Yep,” Drew said. “Was runnin’ his mouth tonight about Nash and Rory.”

  Nola’s brows lifted, and she shot Drew a look out of the corner of her eye before meeting Nash’s gaze. “He talks outta his ass more than his mouth, that’s for sure. But…you know he’s not the only one talkin’, right?”

  “About Rory?” Nash asked, his muscles bunched again.

  “About you and Rory. And what kind of ‘working’ relationship y’all have.”

  Nash blew out a long breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, I sort of figured that was comin’ since this is Havenbrook. You can’t shit in the woods without someone talkin’ about it.”

  Drew snorted. “Pretty much. Just ignore ’em, man. Y’all know what’s goin’ on between you, and that’s all that matters.”

  Yep, he knew exactly what was going on between them, and that was the problem. The truth wasn’t something either of them could afford to let get out. If that happened, Nash would be grouped right back in with his father after working his whole life to set himself apart and struggling to gain the trust of the families his old man had screwed over. Literally.

  “These huge-ass burgers with the works should help to get your mind off that jackass.” Nola set his plate down in front of him. After she slapped some silverware on the bar top, she eyed him up and down. “Where do you put all that anyway? You’re nearly as bad as this one.” She hooked her thumb toward Drew. “All muscle and no meat on those bones.”

  Drew crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. “If I said something like that to you, you’d have my balls in a sling.”

  She shrugged, not bothering to deny it as she strolled back toward the kitchen. “Yeah, well, I’m prettier than you, so I can get away with more.”

  Nash laughed under his breath and shook his head. No way was he getting in the middle of those two. They’d been like that back in school too, but their bond had only seemed to grow the older they’d gotten. He couldn’t count how many times he’d heard people speculating about them being a couple, but he recognized the same kind of easy affection between them that he had with Nat. And Nat was as close to a sister as he had.

  “Remind me why I thought it was a good idea to start a business with her?” Drew rested his elbows on the bar top and leaned toward Nash.

  Nash raised an eyebrow. “Wishin’ you hadn’t? Better hope she didn’t hear that.”

  He held up his hands and laughed. “I didn’t mean it, I swear,” he said loud enough to be heard over the din of the bar.

  Drew waved to someone over Nash’s shoulder, and he turned around to look. Will, Mac, and Rory stood by the front door, all three of them laughing. For the life of him, Nash couldn’t drag his gaze away from Rory, despite now knowing they had a spotlight on them.

  She’d changed since Miss Sally’s house and now wore a sundress with some kind of strappy heels on her feet, her hair pulled back in a twist. Pristine Rory once again, but he held an odd satisfaction that he knew the real her beneath all that shine. He knew she preferred T-shirts and stretchy pants to just about anything else. That leaving her hair up for too long gave her headaches because it was so thick. That she could swear like a sailor, but she only did it when she was talking to herself or cussing him out—and never in front of her girls.

  “Look, man, I’m not sure what’s goin’ on there, and this is probably none of my damn business—”

  Nash twisted around at Drew’s words. “Nothing and you’re right.”

  “—but I’d be a shitty friend if I didn’t remind you to think with the head on your shoulders and not the one in your pants.”

  “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Nash’s hackles were up, preparing once again for a fight.

  Drew raised an eyebrow, no doubt at Nash’s tone, but he didn’t call him on it. “People are already talkin’. You’ve got a brand-new partnership to think about, and last I heard—from you, by the way—a business you needed to buy and quick. Even if I were somehow attracted to Nola and didn’t think of her as that annoying as fuck sister I love but never wanted, I still wouldn’t act on it. I couldn’t. Too much at stake. You see what I’m sayin’?”

  Yeah, he saw. And he didn’t have to be told again because he’d been repeating the same damn thing to himself over and over from the get-go.

  But when he glanced back over his shoulder and found Rory staring at him, his muscles tightened. Her lips curved up into the smallest smile, just for him, and he was a goner.

  There was no amount of warnings in the world that would keep him away, damn the consequences.

  Rory hadn’t even been home long enough to change out of her town hall clothes before her doorbell rang, and her pulse fluttered. It was probably too much to hope that it was Nash who stood on the other side of her door, but she still couldn’t stop the wish from coming.

  She hadn’t seen him since the night he’d kind of, sort of asked her out on a date and she’d turned him down in not so many words—or any, really. She was a little nervous what that’d mean for them and this pseudo-relationship they had. She wasn’t ready to move to the next level, but her chest ached at the thought of what they had ending.

  The whole thing made her head hurt. She didn’t know enough about this stuff to have even an inkling of an idea of what she should do now. This was one of the times she wished she could talk to her sisters about it, because they sure as hell knew a lot more about dating and relationships than she did.

  When she pulled open the front door, she couldn’t stop the smile from curving her lips. “Nash, hey.”

  “I see you’re finally listenin’ to me and lockin’ your doors. ’Bout time.”

  Actually, she’d come in through the back and hadn’t yet made it to the front to open it up, but she’d keep that tidbit to herself.

  She hummed and leaned her shoulder against the doorjamb, propping open the screen door. “Weird how you happen to know the nights the girls are at their daddy’s.”

  “Are they gone? Huh, imagine that.”

  She nearly called him out, because she was almost certain he knew and that was exactly why he’d come by. This was the third time he’d shown up when Ava and Ella were at Sean’s, and that, combined with her having been home only minutes, told her there was more than just coincidence at play. But since she wasn’t one hundred percent sure, she kept her mouth shut. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if Nash had been paying enough attention to her that he’d learned her schedule. And if he had, what did that mean?

  “What’re you doin’ here?” she asked.

  “Just came by to grab the measurements for the floating sink in your master bath so I can get that ordered.”

  It was only then that she noticed he still wore his tool belt, which meant this was a business call and not personal. Well, now she just felt like an idiot and inwardly cursed herself for attempting to be flirty when all he’d come to do was write down some numbers and leave.

  “Sure, of course. Come on in.” She stepped back as he walked over the threshold, attempting to hide any outward reaction when his biceps brushed across her breasts. “You need me back there?”

  “Nah, I got it. Don’t wanna keep you from whatever you were doin’.” He strode down the hallway—the same one he’d carried her down a dozen times before—and didn’t look back.

  Well, she certainly wasn’t going to sit around waiting for him as if she didn’t have anything else to do. Never mind that she d
idn’t. She’d planned to veg out on the couch all night and watch more of that hideous horror show he’d unknowingly gotten her hooked on. She was addicted now—though she could only watch one episode at a time, followed immediately by something light and cheery—but she couldn’t tell him that. Not after all the smack she’d talked about it.

  To keep herself busy, she grabbed her mail and sorted through the bills, paid the ones that were due—while cringing at her ever-decreasing checking account balance—and planned a menu for the nights the girls would be home. She really should do it for when she was by herself too, because popcorn and a bottle of wine probably wasn’t technically considered a nutritious meal.

  Fifteen minutes later, Nash strolled out of her bedroom, past the dining table where she sat, and…straight out the front door. Her shoulders slumped, and knots tightened in her stomach. She knew she had no right to expect anything from him—certainly not a kiss or anything so couple-y—but didn’t she at least warrant a goodbye? Leaving without one was just plain rude.

  Though maybe that was what she should expect. There was enough of an age gap between them that she still floundered to find common ground at times. Maybe walking straight out of someone’s home without so much as a wave was perfectly acceptable with his friends? Since he’d been inside her mere days before, she figured she deserved at least a bit of preferential treatment, but—

  Nash slipped in the front door sans tool belt, a grocery bag in one hand and a wine bottle—her favorite—in the other, with a six-pack tucked under his arm. He glanced up at her as he strolled straight into the kitchen, his eyebrow raised, no doubt at her dropped mouth. “You didn’t think I was leavin’, did you?”

  “Course not.” The words burst out of her, too forceful and too fast, but he didn’t press her on it. Didn’t even give her a cocky grin in response.

  He hummed and started unloading the bag he’d brought in—bread, deli ham, cheese, and a tomato all spread out on her counter.

  “What’re you doin’?” she asked.

  “Since I plan on keepin’ you busy most of the night—” he glanced up and winked, heaven help her “—I figured I’d be a gentleman and feed you first.”

  Her stomach did a somersault, images of exactly what he’d keep her busy with flitting through her mind. “You’re…cookin’? For me?”

  “Well, I was hopin’ maybe you’d let me have a bite or two, but yeah. That okay?” He lifted his eyes to hers, eyebrows raised in question.

  “Sure. Yeah, of course.” Okay? It was fan-freakin-tastic and just another first to have under her belt. She’d never had a man even help her cook, let alone do it for her.

  She could sit there and watch him all day—how he moved with such confidence, even in a space that was foreign to him—but her momma didn’t raise her to be rude. She stepped up next to him as he sliced the tomato and rested her fingers on his back, resisting the urge to slip them under his T-shirt and feel all that hot, smooth skin. “What can I help with?”

  He glanced down at her. “Nothing. Go on and sit down.”

  “There must be something I can do.”

  He set the knife on the cutting board and wrapped his fingers around her nape, pulling her to him and pressing his mouth against hers. When he slipped his tongue through her lips, she met him stroke for stroke, resting her hands on his chest and melting right into him. Didn’t matter how many times they’d done this or how long it’d been since they had, her knees went weak every single time.

  When she was good and panting, he kissed his way to her ear and nipped her earlobe. “You can help by stayin’ outta my way and tellin’ me about your day.” He pulled back, turned her around, then swatted her bottom and shooed her toward the dining table.

  While he made their grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, she filled him in on her hellish day at town hall, lamenting how boring her job was and how frustrating it was working for a man who had no respect for her or her time. He updated her on the appointments they’d scheduled—they were now booked out through December—and wondered if they needed to hire someone to handle the scheduling and front office stuff because of how busy they were becoming.

  It didn’t go unnoticed that he hadn’t asked her to do it or just assumed she would. It was a near replica of what she did at town hall, but it wasn’t what she wanted. It wasn’t what she was good at. And she didn’t know what it said about her father that Nash recognized that about Rory without her having to say a word, but her flesh and blood hadn’t managed the same feat.

  By the time Nash brought their plates over, her stomach was rumbling, and all manners had fled her body. She dug in with fervor, moaning at her first bite. It was a simple enough adaptation of a traditional grilled cheese, but it was delicious.

  “You like it?”

  She glanced over to find him staring at her, his eyes fixed on her mouth. Her lips quirked up. “I think my moan probably told you that.”

  “We both know when you’re really enjoyin’ something, you go silent.”

  Warmth bloomed inside her, though not from embarrassment. He was so…aware of her—so much more so than anyone in her life had been previously. Not just intimately either. He noticed her moods, noticed when she was having a fantastic day or an utterly shit day. She couldn’t hide with him. Wasn’t even sure she wanted to. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once.

  “I didn’t take you for a chef.”

  “Grilled cheese with deli ham and a tomato is hardly gourmet.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe not, but it’s amazing. Your daddy teach you how to cook?”

  A harsh laugh burst from Nash. “The only thing my old man taught me was how not to cut off a finger while workin’ a rotary saw. Everything else, I learned on my own. Sorta had to figure shit out if I wanted something besides cereal for supper.”

  Rory didn’t know a whole lot about Nash’s home life. Nat, of course, would know the most, but she’d certainly never shared anything with Rory. Rumors were, his momma had caught his daddy cheating on her and had left them both without looking back. Though rumors in Havenbrook were usually only partially rooted in reality.

  But the Big Nash she knew…well, there were more than just rumors to substantiate the claims that got passed around. He went through women faster than underwear, and she’d witnessed it enough firsthand to know it wasn’t just a rumor. Was her Nash like that, too?

  She wanted to ask so many things, but she worried she’d overstep some invisible boundary she was too naïve to realize was there. Instead, she said, “I suppose he was busy workin’ to support y’all.”

  Nash huffed out a laugh, though his face didn’t show any humor. “Something like that.”

  Rory sensed that was as much as she was getting out of him, so she guided them to less sensitive subjects, touching briefly on a last-minute addition to her master bath she’d thought of. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a real, grown-up conversation at supper, save for with her sisters, and she loved every second of it.

  After she’d devoured the last bite of her sandwich, she grabbed their plates from the table, shooing away his hand when he tried to take them from her. “You cooked. I’ll clean up.”

  “Fair enough.”

  While she made quick work of their few dishes, he uncorked the wine bottle to top off her glass before grabbing another beer from the fridge for himself.

  “I didn’t interrupt your plans tonight, did I?”

  “Not really. I was just gonna veg out on the couch.” She bit her lip to stop the question from tumbling out, because she didn’t know if hanging out in her living room was part of their deal or not. They had sex—a lot of sex, at all hours of the day and night—but except for that first evening together, they hadn’t done anything quite so…mundane. He’d shown up here, though, had cooked her supper and asked about her day as if it’d been no big deal. She could treat this just the same. “You wanna Netflix and chill with me?”

  “Why, Rory, that’s awful
forward of you,” he teased.

  Her brow furrowed. What was so forward about hanging out on the couch and watching TV? She hadn’t told him they’d be doing it naked. “How so?”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “What do you mean by ‘Netflix and chill’?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.”

  “Humor me.”

  She gestured toward her couch and TV, feeling stupid now for even asking him in the first place and wishing she could just take it back. If he didn’t want to do it, fine, but he didn’t have to balk at the suggestion. “Lounging around watchin’ Netflix.”

  A low laugh rumbled out of him, and he set his beer bottle on the counter to his side, grabbed a handful of her dress, and pulled her right up against him.

  He skimmed a hand under her skirt, his fingers grazing the outside of her thigh as he brushed his lips against her ear. “The only way it’d be Netflix and chillin’ is if I’m buried inside you while we watch.”

  Her body relaxed under his touch, so much so that she nearly missed his words. When they finally clicked in her brain, she jerked back, pushing against his chest to look up at him. “What?”

  “I’m certainly not protestin’—to either, actually. Just wanna know what I’m gettin’ into is all.”

  “Oh. My. Word. Nash!” She slapped his chest like he was her cause for embarrassment, when that honor lay solely on her shoulders. Groaning, she covered her face with her hands and banged her forehead against his chest.

  Laughing low, he rubbed a hand along her back. “What’s the big deal? It’s just me.”

  Without lifting her head from his chest, she shook her head. “’Fraid not.”

  “What—” He broke off as his body rumbled beneath her when he finally seemed to get her meaning.

  “Don’t laugh! This is mortifying. Do you have any idea how many people I’ve told I was doin’ that?”

  “How many?”

  She simply groaned in response, too humiliated to even calculate the number. Edna, for one thing. Her momma. Her freaking dentist the last time she’d been there for a checkup. The only thing keeping her from drowning in a pool of self-pity was the hope that maybe none of them had a clue either.