Fleeting: The Nash Brothers, Book One

by Aarons, Carrie

  “Someone left me famished throughout the night.” I giggle as his hands roam to my hips, squeezing the ticklish spot.

  “Hmm, I could whip us up something.” He makes no move to get out of bed.

  “Can you make Shirley Temple eggs? I’ve been craving them and no one makes them like you.”

  As I say it, my mouth waters. Thank God I found a man who can cook, ’cause lord knows I can burn the water in a spaghetti pot without even trying.

  “That I can do … if you weren’t so distracting.” Keaton flips me over, laying on top of me as his hands frame my face.

  He’s about to kiss me … when my stomach makes the most horrific gurgle I’ve ever heard. We both crack up, and he sits up on his knees, maneuvering out of bed.

  “All right, all right … I get it. Breakfast first, then sex. Guess your stomach is dictating what happens this morning.” He laughs as he pads into the bathroom.

  My feet hit the floor and I walk across the bedroom that I’ve missed so much. Going to his dresser, I pick out one of the worn, soft T-shirts that I love to wear as a nightgown.

  And I know that when we do make it down to the kitchen, I’ll sit on the middle stool at his counter as I watch him cook, sipping a cup of coffee.

  It’s our routine. Our boring, same day-in and day-out schedule that we’ve created since we got together. And I love it.

  Look at me, learning to settle down and commit. And what’s more, absolutely loving the life that had always meant to find me.

  40

  Keaton

  The grill flames lick into the sky, the scent of spices and meat and the last of the summer vegetables mingling in the air.

  “Are we sure we trust him to cook us dinner?” Forrest points at me using his beer bottle.

  “I’m the best cook out of any of you, just ask Mom,” I shoot back.

  Mom holds her hands up from where she sits next to Presley on the patio couch. “I will not vote in this matter. I love you all equally.”

  Forrest snorts. “Yeah, right.”

  “Presley?” I ask my girlfriend.

  She tilts her head. “Well, I do love you. But … I haven’t tasted your brothers’ cooking.”

  “Traitor.” I give her a stink-eye.

  I’m about to ask her who gave her an orgasm this morning and did she want more of those … and then I remember that my mother is sitting beside her and clamp my lips shut.

  We’re all gathered in my backyard on the first day of October. It’s kind of a celebration of the end of summer months, with the cool breeze blowing through our hair and the fire pit spitting flames nearby. It’s also an excuse to all get together, not that we don’t see each other almost every day. But now that Presley is part of our circle, Mom will use any fake holiday to get all of her children together.

  Well, almost all of her children.

  It’s been about three weeks since Fletcher went to the rehabilitation center, and he’s doing well. We all try to call once a week, if he’s allowed phone calls at the times we call, to talk about his progress and just to take his mind off of how hard the road ahead is going to be. When I do talk to him, he sounds clearer than I’ve heard him in a very long time. I pray to whoever is up there that he’ll be just as successful when he gets out of there.

  “Hey, do you think the Pirates are going to win the wild card?” Bowen asks as he walks out of the sliding doors into the backyard, carrying a bunch of condiments and sides on a tray.

  I shrug. “I hope they do.”

  “Would be a hell of a fun ride to the World Series.” He nods, setting the table.

  “Forrest, help your brother set the table,” Mom instructs our youngest brother.

  “I’ll help do the dishes,” he lies through his teeth.

  Presley snorts. “That’s what you always say.”

  We all start cracking up as Forrest scowls at my girlfriend. “How do you know what I’ve always done? You’ve only been around full time for a short time, don’t start getting cocky on me, Pres.”

  Usually, I would smack my brother upside the head for talking to my woman like that, but Presley can handle herself. I chuckle at the verbal beat down that is inevitably coming as I use the spatula to put the meat I’m cooking on a serving platter.

  “Excuse me, Forrest James, I know that’s what you’ve always done because I’ve watched you do it on five different dinner, lunch, or breakfast occasions. You promise you’ll clean after everyone cooks and prepares, and magically, you’re nowhere to be found when the crap lands in the sink! Sooo, I know you’ve done it your whole life because people are creatures of habits. Who also form those habits because their family and friends allow them to get away with it. But that’s not the case tonight. I’ll make sure you clean those dishes if it means stapling your stomach to the counter and cabinets.”

  We all stare at Presley, slack-jawed, until Mom starts clapping her hands and laughing so hard that tears spring forth from her eyes.

  “My God, girl, I knew I loved you.” Mom hugs Presley.

  Presley just stares at Forrest with a smug, victorious look on her face, and my most egotistical brother seems to cower in fear.

  I knew I loved her, too, even before she gave Forrest a total dressing down. That’s why I’m going to convince her to move in with me. Not that she knows that yet. But I’m going to do it so subtly, she’ll think it’s her idea. How smart am I? First I got her to fall in love with me, and now I’m going to trick her into spending the rest of her life with me.

  I’m a lucky, lucky man and I know that. Before Presley blew into town, I thought happiness was just a mild feeling. That the life I was living was decent and I shouldn’t strive for more.

  How wrong I’d been.

  Mom, Forrest, and Bowen begin to take their seats around the table while I finish off the rest of the main course on the grill. As I slide the last burger onto the plate, I feel arms wrap around my waist, and catch a lock of fiery hair blowing in the wind out of the corner of my eye.

  “I think I should get you one of those aprons that says Kiss the Cook,” Presley jokes, nuzzling her cheek to my sweater-clad shoulder.

  “You don’t need the apron, I’m yours. You can kiss me anytime you want.” I look back at her over my shoulder.

  “Even in front of your family?” She raises an eyebrow.

  I shrug. “My brothers may taunt us, but they’re just jealous. Go ahead, lay one on me, gorgeous.”

  So she does. Plants one on my lips with a searing, hot, quick kiss. And just like I predicted, my brothers begin to heckle us while my mom tries to admonish them.

  The smile that traces my mouth and transfers to Presley’s is genuine, and I give her lips one more gentle brush before we move to join the taunters for dinner.

  And as I look around the table, my family chatting away under the stars, I know that this was the life I was waiting for.

  She was the woman I was waiting for.

  Epilogue

  Presley

  Eight Months Later

  “Thank you all so much for coming today. This was a lifelong dream that I never realized I had until I moved to Fawn Hill. The people here, they’ve become my family and welcomed me in so loving of a way that I only had the courage to open this studio because of them.”

  The small crowd gathered on the shiny hardwood of my brand new yoga studio are all faces who have helped get me to this place. A soft open for my brand-new business venture, featuring the people in Fawn Hill I love the most. Grandma, in her jeans and boots … I knew she wouldn’t be open to the free class I was giving for my most valued customers, but she was here and that’s what mattered. She’d believed in me when no one else had … and after all, the business was half hers.

  Lily and Penelope, and a couple of my other park yoga regulars who had helped with the concept and design of the studio. I’d made lifelong friends from the moment I’d started to develop this dream, and I’d never be able to put into words how much they meant.
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  The entire Nash family is here, and they had become my family, too. They had helped with the construction on the studio … but no one more than Fletcher. While Keaton helped with every spare second he had, he wasn’t always available. And once Fletch had gotten out of rehab, he needed something to occupy his time.

  We’d grown close, and I’d learned he had much the same feelings about his place in the family as I had with my own brother and sister. Not that it was my place to share that with my boyfriend, but I knew when he felt comfortable enough, Fletcher would open up.

  Fletcher stands next to his mother, escorting her around as if she’s breakable. He’s run to get whatever she needs, and I think he’s just so grateful to her for what she helped him through that he feels he owes her, and his brothers, a debt he’ll never be able to repay. Which only compounds his feelings of inadequacy. He’s been sober for almost nine months, not that there haven’t been some almost falls off the wagon.

  Keaton stands at my side, a look of pride beaming from his face. I know I never could have done this without him. Even when he had no idea who I really was, had no idea how much I loved the practice of yoga, he’d believed in me enough to suggest going to the library and starting a class in the park.

  From the moment I met him, he had done nothing but support and uplift me. He’s shown me the side of myself I’d always been searching for, and in doing so, made me fall in love with him.

  I’d moved in almost immediately after the Pumpkin Festival, and it had been going well so far. Besides my messy tendencies and some of the late nights Keaton had to work, we’d been crushing the whole living together thing. Ryan had even come to stay with us for a long weekend, and she approved not only of Keaton, but of Fawn Hill. I had a feeling she’d be back soon.

  “Do you mind if I say a couple of words in your honor?” He leans over to me, squeezing my hand.

  I shake my head, pleasantly surprised. “Not at all.”

  Not that I expected anyone to say anything, but I’ll take praise if my man is willing to give it.

  Keaton steps forward, waving to the small crowd and then turning to me. His eyes, the ones I’ve memorized in every state of emotion, lock on me, a warm smile marking them now.

  “I didn’t want to overshadow your day, but I didn’t know the next time we’d have everyone we cared most about all together in one room, and I couldn’t resist telling you how much I love you for all of our friends and family to hear.”

  My hands begin to shake because you don’t say a sentence like that if it isn’t pre-empting something monumental. I feel the tears already gathering in the corners of my eyes, and he hasn’t even asked the question I know will eventually pop out of his mouth. We haven’t talked about this, not in a real sense.

  But leave it to the man I taught spontaneity to deliver a surprise I never saw coming.

  “Presley, you came into my life at a time when I wasn’t sure my path would ever be any different. You turned that thinking, and my world, upside down. You made me fall in love with you from the very first moment even if neither of us could recognize that until later. You’re everything that is good, wild and pure about this life. And I can’t think of anyone I’d rather walk through it with. I love you … so much that I can’t believe sometimes that I’m the one you chose to love back. But you do, and I am never going to take that for granted. So, with that being said …”

  Keaton pulls a velvet box from his pocket, holding it up as an offering. When he opens it up, I gasp. A sharp, hot breath sticks in my lungs … because my God does this man know me.

  The ring is a gleaming opal surrounded by a halo of diamonds. It is the shape of a flower, and it’s so unique that my knees buckle. I love a good piece of jewelry, but this ring means more than that. Keaton knows me so well that he knows I don’t want a regular diamond engagement ring. He loves me and sees the differences inside of me … this ring translates those and tells them to the world.

  “Keaton, oh my—” Now the tears really do start to fall.

  “Presley, will you marry me?”

  His question is simple, no more declarations. It’s no-nonsense, straight-forward, and real. Just like the man that I love.

  “Yes. Yes.” I nod emphatically, moving for Keaton’s arms at the exact same moment he stands to catch me.

  Our mouths meet, and I kiss him as if it’s the first time in a forever of kisses.

  Friends and family cheer around us, and somewhere, someone pops champagne.

  “I hope this was an okay proposal spot,” Keaton whispers to me as our kiss ends, his lips trailing up my jaw and to my ear.

  “I couldn’t think of a better way.” I breathe, in such shock that I need someone to pinch me.

  And I really couldn’t. To have the man I love ask me to marry him in the space that I’m hoping will bring so much happiness to my future … it couldn’t have been more perfect.

  Keaton slides the ring onto my finger, and I stare at it in awe.

  “We’re getting married.” I beam at him.

  “You’re going to officially be a Nash.” He kisses me again.

  “I’m going to have a daughter!” Eliza comes over, pulling me into a hug and I squeeze her back.

  As we get separated for a while, both welcoming an onslaught of hugs and congratulations, I let the love in the room suffuse my soul. Eventually, we make our way back to each other, and Keaton pulls me to the far corner to have a little alone time.

  When I survey the room, gazing over the special group who helped us both get to this place, my eyes catch on two people. Bowen and Lily, their bodies closer to each other than I’d ever seen them since I moved to Fawn Hill. Lily has her hand on his arm, and she looks like she’s pleading with him. Meanwhile, Bowen is as icy as ever, staring at her with those dark blue eyes that give off this “either fuck you or fight you” vibe. It’s actually kind of hot watching them … the two have the chemistry of a box of fireworks. Illegal ones.

  “Bowen and Lily talking? Are pigs flying over this building?” I look up at the ceiling, pretending I can see those animals with wings.

  Keaton presses his forehead to mine. “He agreed to be civil today. I’ll have to tell you that story some other time. But … crazier things have happened. Like a city girl becoming a country mouse and agreeing to marry me.”

  From what it looks like, I wouldn’t call their conversation civil. I would call it hushed, impassioned, tense … but not civil. Something was going on between those two, and I’d get to the bottom of it a different day.

  I sigh and snuggle farther into his embrace, pressing my cheek flat against his chest. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty crazy.”

  “Who would have thought, when you brought your underwear-eating dog in, that someday I’d put a ring on your finger?” Keaton chuckles.

  A laugh bubbles up out of my throat. “Oh lord, Chance. I guess I owe that dog one, huh?”

  Keaton bends down, pressing his lips to my ear. “You know what I’d like to have seen? You, in that pink thong.”

  A shiver moves over my skin. “I think we can do a little better than pink lace. Didn’t I mention that under this pair of yoga leggings, I don’t wear underwear?”

  His body goes rigid and in the next instant he’s dragging me by the hand toward the door of the studio.

  Laughter bubbles in my throat as I dig in my heels and pull him back to me. Keaton catches me by the waist, looking at my ring as I place my hand on his chest.

  “We have our whole lives ahead of us to leave parties early and touch each other inappropriately in corners.” I smirk at him, raising an eyebrow. “Let’s enjoy our friends and family while they’re here.”

  He relents. “You’re right. But get ready, we have an eternity of spontaneity, and settling, ahead of us.”

  Those two opposites had never sounded so right.

  Those two opposites had never fit as perfectly as we did.

  Want a sneak peek of Bowen and Lily’s story? Here is the first c
hapter of book two in the Nash Brothers series …

  Chapter 1

  Lily

  Smoke pours out from under the hood of my car, and a clap of thunder has me gently banging my forehead against the steering wheel.

  “Why now?” I groan, asking the universe why my karma has gone from zilch to double zilch in the last ten minutes.

  Of course, my brand new vehicle is breaking down on the side of the road right as it’s about to storm. What a perfect metaphor for my life.

  Okay, it’s not that bad, I’m just being dramatic. But I’m tired after smiling and shaking hands at one of my father’s rallies across county lines, and all I want to do is curl up on the oversized couch in my townhouse living room with the most recent romance novel I checked out. Now, it looks like I’ll be waiting for a tow truck instead of pulling on yoga pants.

  The sky splits in a flash of light, right down the center, and not three seconds later does a boom from the heavens seem to shake the earth below my tires. The rain is threatening, and I dig in my bag for my phone to call Johnny at the garage I regularly use in Fawn Hill.

  But the line just rings and rings, and either he’s talking to every single resident of my small hometown, or I’m out of range. It’s probably the latter, and I have to suck in a shaky breath to keep from crying.

  Today has been trying. This week has been trying. Hell, the last ten years of my life have been trying. That’s just how it goes when you are nowhere near where you expected to be at this age. At one time in my life, I thought that by twenty-eight, I’d be married with two children, watching from the stands as the only man I ever loved—

  I have to mentally shut the images flooding my brain down. Now the tears do come, sharp and brutal, stinging my face just as equally as they’re stinging my heart. How, after all of these years, I can still be such a mess over him … it’s the cruelest act of fate I’ve ever seen.