Ava and Ella both loved him, and while she’d never introduced him as anything more than Nash, Aunt Nat’s best friend, she was relieved at how much they liked him.
While she wasn’t looking, he’d slipped so easily into her life, and it scared her.
But that was something she could dissect later. Right now, she was on a mission to throw the best surprise birthday party Havenbrook had ever seen.
“Mac, would you mind grabbin’ some more of those pale pink votive candles, please? I want the backyard to look like it’s lit up by a thousand stars.”
Mac dropped her head back on her shoulders and groaned. Shopping with her was nearly as bad as dragging Ella along—who, thankfully, was getting up to trouble at Mimi’s with her sister. Unfortunately, Will, Rory’s usual shopping partner, was busy and couldn’t get away.
Rory tapped her chin, picturing the placement of them in the backyard and calculating how many she’d need. “I’m debating if we should get one or two…”
“Dozen?”
She shot Mac a horrified look. “Hundred, Mac. One or two hundred. What’s the matter with you?”
Mac stared at her in silence for a full ten seconds before she shook her head, snagged a buggy, and strolled off in search of candles without a word.
“If they don’t have enough pink, ivory will work, too!” she called after her sister’s retreating form.
Mac lifted a hand in a wave without turning around. Rory was pretty sure she’d been holding up her middle finger while she’d done it. Her sister, always a lady.
Rory rolled her eyes and ran a nail down her list, scanning everything she had left to pick up. She’d already gone into Parkersville earlier in the week to get the majority of the things, but there were always last-minute items she’d forgotten about or changed her mind over. Now that they were only a couple days away from the party, she was getting down to the nitty-gritty.
The food was being catered by The Sweet Spot—a local business owned by family friends that had, thankfully, recently expanded to also include lunch fare instead of strictly desserts. Back in high school, the owner’s son, Hudson, and Mac had been best friends. Though the two had seemed to lose touch after Hudson had enlisted and moved away, Mac had kept up a relationship with the Millers. Thank heavens, too, because the connection had given Rory a little leeway in planning this party on such short notice.
She pushed her buggy down the aisle, scanning the shelves for what she needed. When she finally found the section all the way at the end, she nearly sagged with relief. She wasn’t sure they’d have the tiny lights in stock and had worried she’d have to make another long trip to purchase them.
She tossed one box into her cart and reached for another before someone said her name. She glanced up to a still-empty aisle and twisted around to find where it was coming from. When she realized they weren’t speaking to her but about her, she narrowed her eyes and craned her neck to hear. If this was Carol Ann again going on about her, Rory couldn’t be held accountable for her actions…
“Poor thing,” one woman—definitely not Carol Ann—said. “I don’t think she’s taken this whole situation well at all.”
“Do you blame her? Her husband was off gettin’ up to no good while she was home raising those babies.” The second woman—Verna, maybe, from town hall? Rory wasn’t sure based on voice alone—tsk-tsked. “Wouldn’t blame her one bit if she was chumming up this workin’ relationship with Little Nash to make Sean jealous.”
Rory could barely keep in her groan and was almost positive her eye roll could be heard for miles. Yes, she had nothing better to do with her life than try to make her ex-husband jealous.
“I was thinkin’ the same thing,” Not Carol Ann said. “I have a hard time believin’ the rumors that they’re really together. She’s a beauty for her age, but she’s so much older than him! And she can be a little…well, you know.”
Maybe Verna hummed in agreement. “Hard to keep a man around with all those demands and expectations weighin’ him down. And if she couldn’t keep that no-good, cheatin’ sack of bones happy, she doesn’t stand a chance landin’ Little Nash.”
Rory blanched even as her body lit on fire from the inside out. The words landed like knives in her chest, and she gripped the handle of the buggy just to keep herself upright.
Nothing they said was news to her—she’d thought those exact things about herself dozens of times. Her high demands and expectations had kicked her in the ass more than once, and they were something she’d vowed to work on. Something she was in the process of right now, actually.
As for the age difference…she’d worried about it more than once. Had wondered what kind of future they could possibly have outside of sex.
Or at least…she used to. Somewhere along the way, things had changed. For her, at least. Maybe when he’d cooked her dinner. Or when he’d stayed with Ella the day Ava had needed her. Or when he’d surprised her with a beautiful porch swing she hadn’t asked for. Or when he’d started showing up as a natural fixture in her life. Sometime in between their marathon sex sessions and their banter-filled days on the job sites, she’d fallen just a little bit in like with Nash.
But though she already knew all those things about herself, hearing them from an outside source—having her deepest fears and insecurities not only confirmed but used as reasons she didn’t deserve Nash—hurt like hell.
“All right, I got ’em,” Mac said from behind her. “They only had twelve packs of the pink left, so I got eight of the ivory. That cool, or do you want an even amount of each?”
Rory couldn’t find the brain space to respond to her, too stunned to do anything but keep right on listening to the Chatty Cathys around the corner. Despite having been in this snooping position enough times to know nothing good would come of it… Despite the fact that her stomach churned and her face felt as if it were on fire, she just couldn’t help herself.
“Rory,” Mac said again. “What—”
“Well, if Little Nash is anything like his daddy, he’ll get tired of her sooner rather than later,” Not Carol Ann said.
“Mhmm, poor thing. And now with Sean and Sarah Beth…” Maybe Verna tutted. “Still can’t believe he had the gall to propose! Right there in the Square for everyone to see.”
“Showin’ off and provin’ to everyone he’s moved on faster than Rory, I suppose. Bet those rumors about her and Little Nash pushed that timeline along a bit.”
“No doubt about that. I sure hope Sarah Beth’s smart enough to realize what she’s gettin’ into with that one. Once a cheater, always a cheater.”
“Mhmm. But you know, she was the one who—”
Their voices trailed off as they finally walked away, and all Rory could do was stand there, frozen in place, a package of fairy lights in her hand and her stomach in knots. It was too much to process. Confirmation that the people of Havenbrook saw her exactly how she feared, that her working relationship with Nash had been twisted to suit their narrative. Realization that Sarah Beth wouldn’t just be a thorn in her side for a while, but now a permanent fixture in her life—and in her girls’ lives—and the reminder that she wasn’t quite enough. Still, she wasn’t enough.
“Well, fuck that guy,” Mac said, her voice too loud for the public place they were in. “Fuck him straight in his lying, cheating, no-good—”
“Mac.” Rory shook her head, smoothed a hand over her hair, and placed the package of lights in her buggy. “I’ve almost got everything on my list. Just need to run over to the fabric store and grab some tulle to wrap these lights in, then we’ll be all set and can head back to Momma’s to start decoratin’ the backyard.”
“Rory…”
“Everything’s fine.” She pasted on a smile, but it felt brittle. “I’m fine.” Except it wasn’t. She wasn’t. And she wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all herself.
She’d spent years not being fine and had faked every second of it—had tricked every single person in her life to belie
ving it. But somewhere along the way, she’d forgotten how to hide that part of herself. Forgotten to keep that fake smile plastered on her face every second of the day. Forgotten to step into town with her armor on.
Without realizing it, she’d been letting the real her shine through.
She’d need to keep that armor firmly in place now, though, because something was playing on repeat in her mind and wouldn’t let up. A worry that’d been eating at her since that very first night with Nash, a whisper those women had turned into a roar.
If she couldn’t hold on to a guy like Sean—someone who was a mediocre father, a shit husband, and an even worse lover—how did she ever expect to hang on to one like Nash?
Rory had spent the afternoon and early evening with her momma, sisters, and daughters, setting up the backyard for Gran’s party. Fortunately, the busywork had kept her mind occupied, and she hadn’t been able to dwell on the thoughts that had consumed her at the store.
Now, though, back in her house, with her daughters at their father’s—no doubt hearing all about the upcoming wedding—there was nothing to do but play those worries on an endless loop in her mind. Even if she worked tirelessly, continued to grow and change, would she ever be enough?
Her phone pinged with a text, and she stretched to grab it from the side table. She wanted to silence it, but she didn’t like to do that while the girls were gone. Especially not since the call she’d gotten from Ava. She wanted to make sure her girls knew they could call her anytime and she’d be there without hesitation.
She flipped the phone over in her hand, seeing Nash’s name on the notification screen.
Netflix and chill? (Both kinds…)
If she weren’t in such a shit mood, the simple text would’ve made her smile. It’d been something they’d joked about since the evening she’d said it. Before, she’d always laughed—had found amusement in his amusement, even if it was at her expense because he’d been laughing with her not at her. But now, it served as just another confirmation of how obvious it was that they didn’t belong together. Apparently, everyone else in town could see it. Why couldn’t she?
It’s been a day. I’m not good company.
The three dots popped up to indicate he was typing something before they disappeared. She stared at the screen for another minute, waiting for them to show up again. When they never did, she tossed her phone onto the cushion and curled into the arm of the couch, hugging a throw pillow to herself.
Ever since she’d gotten home, her chest had been aching over what she’d heard. Never once did any of the talk of her situation with Sean bother her this acutely, so why was this getting to her so much? What made this different?
Needing something mindless to watch, she cued up the most recent season of MasterChef and settled in for a quiet night alone.
An hour later, a knock sounded at her door, and a brief flash of fear fluttered in her chest. Thank heavens she hadn’t decided to watch the season finale of The Haunting of Hill House by herself, because she would’ve screamed at the sudden interruption. Her house was out of the way enough that people didn’t just drop by. Not out of the blue, and not at nine o’clock in the evening. For once, she was glad Nash had finally gotten her in the habit of locking her door.
Knowing she was being overly cautious but not caring in the least, she grabbed her phone, prepared to dial 9-1-1 if needed. She pulled the curtains covering the front door window just enough so she could peek out.
Nash stood there, holding up a bottle of wine and a white paper bag with The Sweet Spot’s logo on it for her to see. He raised an eyebrow, and then pointedly looked down at the knob and dead bolt.
After letting out a huge exhale, she unlocked the door. “What’re you doin’ here? I told you I wasn’t good company.”
He pulled open the screen door before stepping over the threshold and right into her space. “I’m not interested in Perfect Rory—never have been. Real Rory is the one who keeps me comin’ back.”
“Yeah, well, Real Rory’s had a real shitty day.”
“Yep, that happens sometimes when you drop that plastered-on smile.”
She stilled and looked up at him, her eyes darting between his as she tried to read him. Did that mean…had he noticed that about her? Noticed she’d been pretending nearly her whole life? That the person the townspeople saw wasn’t the real her and certainly not the her she’d allowed herself to be with him?
She tipped her chin toward the bag. “Thought they closed three hours ago.”
One side of his mouth ticked up. “They did.”
“Then how’d you manage that?”
He shrugged. “One of the benefits of livin’ above the shop. And I promised I’d build ’em a new awning out front.”
A new awning? That meant he’d given up half a day’s work just to get her a single cupcake.
“What’d you do that for? We’ve got too many clients booked for you to give up that much time.”
“I believe the response you’re lookin’ for is thank you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Thank you.”
He nodded once and smiled. “You’re welcome. You and your sister might not have a lot in common, but I’ve been best friends with a girl long enough to know that sometimes all you need is a cupcake to make it better.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers before strolling toward the kitchen.
He’d been there enough times now that he knew where everything was and didn’t have to ask her to point out where she kept anything. He didn’t pause as he pulled down a glass, uncorked the bottle of wine, and poured her a healthy serving. Didn’t falter as he plated the white chocolate raspberry cupcake he’d received in a totally uneven barter, apparently just to make her day a little brighter.
Still silent, he guided her to sit on the couch, placed the cupcake in her hand, and set her glass of wine on the table next to her. Then he sank onto the opposite end of the couch, pulled her legs until her feet rested in his lap, and stared at the TV as episode two of MasterChef played on the screen.
She couldn’t deny she enjoyed these quiet moments with him. But there they were, once again tucked away at her house—she realized with dawning horror that she’d never even seen his—where no one could find them. No one would even know he was there.
That’d all been her doing, but what good had it done? The people in town were still talking about them—about her. Still going on and on about what a shameless and apparently pitiful cougar she was to go after someone like him.
She hated that she’d conformed to some invisible Havenbrook standard and had tried to stifle the gossip. And she hated even more that he’d let her.
“All we ever do is watch TV and have sex,” she grumbled, biting into the delicious cupcake but refusing to moan.
He glanced over with a raised eyebrow. “Last I counted, you were puttin’ in about sixty hours a week, not including time with your girls. I think you deserve a break. Besides, I happen to like TV.” He squeezed her foot. “And I really like having sex with you.”
She finished off her cupcake, licking every remnant from her fingertips. “We’ve never gone anywhere but my house. I’ve never even seen your place.”
Though he was no doubt remembering the time he’d attempted to take her out, he didn’t bring that up. “You’re welcome to my tiny apartment anytime you want, princess.” He squeezed her foot. “But I think this is the part where I say we don’t have to go anywhere. We have everything right here.”
“That’s not true. What if… What if I wanted to go dancin’?”
“Nothing’s stoppin’ us from dancin’.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, people don’t do that in real life. That’s only some romantic bullshit directors put into romcoms to build unrealistic expectations.”
“Sounds awfully cynical to me.”
Yeah, well, she was a thirty-three-year-old divorcée, mom of two who’d never truly experienced love or romance and had just been reminded exactly how ou
t of her league she was in thinking this thing with Nash could be about anything but sex. Honestly, it was a miracle she wasn’t more cynical than this.
“It also sounds like a challenge.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, brushed his thumb over the screen a few times, then set it on the coffee table in front of them.
A slow song started to play, something with a soft, subtle beat she’d never heard before. He stood from the couch, plucked her plate from her hand, then pulled her up in front of him. Didn’t stop until they were pressed together, not even a paper’s thickness separating them.
He settled her hands on his shoulders before sweeping his own down her arms and back until his fingertips skimmed the upper curve of her ass. Rocking them side to side, he lowered his lips and brushed them against the side of her neck. “I dunno, princess. This feels pretty real to me.”
Real… Yeah, it’d started to feel real to her, too, and that was exactly what terrified her.
“Hmm…seems dancin’ isn’t doin’ the trick,” he said against her neck.
“What trick?”
“Gettin’ you to loosen up.”
After the day she’d had, that’d take a damn miracle, but she kept that to herself.
“Looks like I need to move on to Plan B.”
“And what’s that?”
Before she could even get the words out, he’d slipped his hands around her front and under her shirt, sliding it up and over her head. He lowered his head to her breasts, his tongue splitting its attention between her nipples. Soon, her fingers were in his hair, gripping him to her, and she couldn’t remember why her day had been so bad.
In a feat of epic proportions, he managed to rid her of her clothes while he worshiped her breasts. And then before she could blink, he shed his own, plucked a condom from his pocket, and sat them both on the couch with her astride him.
He pulled her against him, ducked his head, and took her already wet nipple into his mouth again. He licked and sucked, fondled and stroked all the parts of her that made her body sing. That made her wet and aching. That had her rocking against his erection, desperate to feel him inside her. The first glide of his cock into her always managed to steal her breath, and she desperately needed that right now.
Hometown Troublemaker Page 19
