“I still can’t believe this.” Presley breathes, dreamily gazing at my husband and me.
Looking down at the ring on my left hand, I can barely believe it, too.
“Never thought I’d see another ring on that finger,” I murmur, sending up a silent prayer that Travis is okay with all of this.
Keaton puts an arm around my shoulder. “He’d be happy for you.”
Forrest’s hand laces in mine, an identical ring on his left hand. And if that isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“A low-key wedding for my high-maintenance wife. I’m assuming you want a diamond to go with that?” He points to my finger.
Hell, he really does know me. “Nothing too showy … maybe a carat or three.”
Bowen chokes on a sip of beer. “You two are a nightmare.”
“In the best possible way!” Lily recovers for her husband. “Let us watch the kids for a few days, so you can at least go out of town on a honeymoon.”
“I’ll have their arms ready for the Little League World Series by the time you get back.” Bowen looks all too happy to take my kids off my hands, and I know that Lily is going to cave and give him a baby soon.
“That sounds pretty great, actually,” I say, leaning into Forrest.
“Where do you want to go?” he asks, rubbing my back.
How fucking crazy is life? Forrest and I hadn’t even talked about marriage before … hell, we’d barely had enough time to profess our love before he was whisking me down the aisle of a courtroom. The town would be ablaze with gossip and opinions about this. Let them talk because it will never make any sense to naysayers anyway.
It makes sense to us. What we have is passionate, illogical, fiery, and altogether confusing at times. But, it works. I know, moving forward, he will keep my head on straight when I am about to lose it. He has a firm but gentle way with the boys and is exactly the kind of friend and father they need.
And me? I need him more than I need my next breath. How had that come to be? What started as a dirty little secret has grown to be one of the most important relationships in my life. Even now, days after Corey’s death, I can’t wrap my brain around the lengths that Forrest went to protect me. It will take years, probably … and I’ll spend them with him.
“Well, before that, I’d like a first dance.”
Forrest grins and hops up to walk over to the jukebox at the front of the restaurant.
“I can’t believe you’re having your wedding reception at the Goat. Who are you?” Presley laughs.
“A woman in love, apparently.” I sigh, watching as Forrest flips through the pages of song selections.
Arms come up to hug me around my waist, and I look over to see Lily. “I’m so glad you’re finally my sister. Welcome to being a Nash.”
“It’s about time.” Fletcher nods.
The opening chords of Luke Combs’ “Beautiful Crazy” hum to life from the jukebox, and Forrest crosses the dusty, sticky hardwood with his hand extended.
“Mrs. Nash, may I have this dance?”
My heart melts at the endearment, and I let him sweep me off my barstool.
He begins to sway me, right there in the middle of the Goat, in the middle of the morning.
“You picked a pretty decent first song,” I compliment him, our cheeks pressing together.
His lips tickle my ear. “Only the most fitting for my bride.”
“When do we get to hightail it out of here and consummate this thing?” My body is already hyperaware of his closeness.
Forrest’s hand on the small of my back squeezes lightly and pulls me more firmly to him. “Did someone miss me?”
“Not you. Only your cock.” I shrug, smiling into his strong jawline.
“I think it’s only appropriate we go out back to my car then. For old time’s sake.”
The idea has me wanting to dash out the back door right now. “Does this mean our sex life will get boring and sparse?”
“Never.” Forrest tilts his head back so he can look me in the eyes. “Race you to the car?”
There is a challenge in those denim blues that signals he isn’t joking.
“Lily? You’re in charge of the kids, starting now. We’ll be back in a few days. Boys, be good for Aunt Lily and Uncle Bowen!”
Our family looks bewildered, but as Forrest and I sprint for the exit, we’re followed by whoops and hollers.
“And you think we’ll become predictable.”
My husband chuckles, taking my hand and pulling me in the back seat of the car.
Epilogue
Forrest
Two Years Later
“Stir that sauce, don’t let it chunk up or you’ll never be able to pour it,”
I instruct Travis, standing over him as he swirls the ladle into a huge pot of steaming, bubbling caramel.
“It’s so hot in here, Dad. When will this be over?” Matthew complains, sweat trickling down his flushed face.
Squatting down next to where he mans the cash box, I clap my stepson on the back. “I’ve been at this for almost three decades, and Mimi E still hasn’t let me stop. So, when you figure out how to sweet talk your way out of this one, let me know.”
My mom chuckles from the other end of the tent where she’s helping Ames scoop golden puffs of popcorn into the traditional carnival serving boxes. The fact that she obtained not one, but three grandsons when I married Penelope … well, she’s been over the moon about it since the day we signed the license at city hall. The boys call her Mimi E, since they had already dubbed Marion as Nana and Penelope’s mother was given the honorary title of Grandma.
How astonishing is it that life can change so drastically in two years? It feels like only a moment ago that I was living as a bachelor, alone in my own house, with no qualms about never wanting to have a wife or kids. I lived a life online, never daring to get close to someone in a real personal way. My relationship with my brothers was all surface level, I was bitter at the world, and I really thought I was happy at the time.
Shit, I’d known close to nothing. And with all of my IQ points, too. Shame.
Now, I’m married to a woman who both fights and fucks just as passionately as I do. I love her with all of my being, and sometimes when I wake up in our bed next to her, I wonder what the hell finally opened her eyes so she saw me?
I sold my house and moved into hers, adding my shoes to the piles on the stairs and learning how to cook her favorite spaghetti sauce. Together, we tackle the boy’s schedules. I’m a glorified carpool chauffeur, and I fucking love it. Shortly after our wedding, Penelope confessed that she wasn’t able to have more children and that she would hate herself if she’d trapped me in a marriage where I couldn’t have everything I wanted.
I’d taken her face in my hands and told her that our life was chaotic enough with three boys, and I loved them enough for twelve children. It’s true, I adore the boys. And while Penelope had changed her last name, we’d given them the option to keep their fathers. They’d wanted to remain Briggs’, but I was in the process of legally adopting them. They were my children, and if anything happened, I want them to be protected.
“Aunt Lily, come see what I made!” Ames yells as he spots Lily walking up to our tent.
Bowen moves out from behind the table to greet his wife, dropping to his knees in front of the entire town to rub her very swollen belly.
“How’s my little girl? Only a couple more days until we get to meet you. Your mom is a trooper, you know.” He talks directly at her pregnant form as if the baby inside can actually hear him.
Meanwhile, Lily dreamily smiles down at him, as if my broody, sullen brother hangs the moon. They’re due with my first niece in a matter of days, and the two of them are so happy, it’s almost like looking at the sun. Honestly, it kind of hurts, but it’s also pretty sweet.
“How you feeling, sis?” I ask, grabbing a folding chair from our booth for her to sit on.
“Like a balloon and loving every second of
it.” Lily smiles, thanking Penelope as my wife hands her a cup of cold water.
“I’m going to be there, letting you crush the bones in my hand the whole time.” P smiles down at her best friend.
Lily asked if she’d be in the delivery room along with Bowen, since Lily had been there for the birth of all the boys.
“Have you heard from Presley and Keaton?” My mom walks over.
“They landed in Seattle about an hour ago.” Fletcher holds up his phone, signaling he’s been texting with them.
The two are at a business conference specialized to owners of yoga studios, and how they escaped caramel corn duty, I’ll never know. Not that I mind since I largely took over the responsibility with my family a year ago.
For a while, we all thought that Keaton, Mr. Fawn Hill, would take it over from Mom. But the boys seemed interested, and I wanted traditions I could start with them. So, Penelope and I had taken the reins, and along with Friday night family movie and the Halloween parade we’d started on our street, the caramel corn tent was one of our solid traditions.
“How you feeling, beautiful?” I snag P in a quiet moment, as our family converges on Lily to ask questions about the baby’s nursery.
“Perfect.” She smiles, her permanent glow giving off its usual sparkle and charm. “And you?”
“Well, I burned my hand and having children for helpers makes double the work in the tent … but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I give her a sly smirk, because I was the one who asked for this in the first place.
She grins. “I suppose I could tend to your wounds when we get home.”
Wrapping my arms around her waist, I sway us a little, haughty in my flirting. “Is that right?”
My wife begins to lower her mouth to mine, and my lips tingle with anticipation. The heat between us mixes with the warm summer air, and just as her tongue slips into my mouth …
“Ew! Get a room!”
Matthew cackles wildly, finding our PDA both embarrassing and hilarious.
I release Penelope until I’m just holding her hand and talk back to my stepson. “We have one. It’s right next to yours!”
“Gross.” He pretends to fake gag, and all the adults crack up.
And it is, right next to his. In the house that we’ve all made a home. With the incredible woman who, most days, argues with me until I’m inside her.
But, like I said to my wife, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Have you read Fleeting? Here is a sneak peek of book one in the Nash Brothers series! Without further ado, the first chapter of Presley and Keaton’s story …
Chapter 1
Presley
“This is probably the most embarrassing doctor’s visit I’ve ever had. And it’s not even for me.”
Looking down at my grandmother’s four-year-old dog, Chance, I try to give him my best stink-eye. It’s a well-trained expression of mine, and it must work, because his big brown eyes, at least, hold some guilt as he drags his butt on the ground.
I have to physically pull him up the brick steps by his leash and onto the porch of the veterinarian’s office, which doesn’t look like an office at all. The building that houses the pet doctor is a Victorian home, with maroon shutters and dark blue whimsical trim that makes it look more like an old-school carousel than a place to treat sick animals.
The bell over the door jingles as I turn the antique brass knob to the front door, and I’m greeted by the smell of fresh cotton and lingering dog hair.
A pretty, older woman with gray hair in floral scrubs sits behind a white-washed desk, her hands flying over a keyboard as she talks to someone on the other end of the phone.
“Dr. Nash has a surgery tomorrow, but he can come up and see the horse on Thursday. Just keep at it with a lot of water, and if you don’t see improvement, you know the after-hours number. All right, you too, Martha. Okay, thanks, see you then.”
She looks up at me after finishing the note on her screen and smiles. A genuine, pearly-white grin … to me, a complete stranger. It’s something I haven’t gotten used to in the three weeks I’ve been living in Fawn Hill, Pennsylvania. The rural niceness of this community is so foreign to my New York City mindset. You can’t pull a girl out of six years of living among urbanites who are rude on arrival and expect her to take genuine caring at face value.
“Hi, there, how can I help you?” She looks down at Chance, the boxer practically frowning at her. “Oh, Chance, dear, we meet again. You must be Presley, Hattie McDaniel’s granddaughter. It’s nice to meet you.”
Her steamrolling of the conversation catches me off guard. That’s the other thing about living in a small town, everyone knows who you are and who you’re related to, even if they’ve never seen your face.
“Uh, hi. Yes, Chance here … he ate something he shouldn’t have, and I think it’s … stuck. I called about twenty minutes ago.” My face heats even though I don’t mention exactly what he swallowed.
“Oh, yes, dear, I forgot! We’ve had such a busy morning. A horse is sick up at the Dennis’ barn, and just this morning Dr. Nash has seen two cats with incontinence issues, and a rabbit with a broken tooth. It sure is a funny farm around here!”
I’m not sure what to say to this, and Chance whimpers where he sits next to me. “So, can the doctor see him?”
The receptionist stands from her desk, still smiling. “Of course, Chance is a frequent flyer. It’ll be another minute or two. I’m Dierdra, by the way. Gosh, I’m sure glad you came to town to help your grandmother. With her sight, it’s a wonder she’s been able to keep the shop going.”
I get the feeling that Dierdra is a bit of a gossip, but a well-meaning one. “Thank you, yes, I’m glad I could move here to help her.”
“Have you eaten at Kip’s Diner, yet? Best pie in this part of the state although it’s a bit of a hidden gem. The whole of Fawn Hill is, really.”
She laughs jovially, and I feel myself warming to her. She might be a bit chatty, but her kindness puts me at ease. And she’s right, because since I’ve been here, I realized I needed a bit of Fawn Hill medicine.
Not that we’d visited a lot growing up, because Dad moved away from his hometown right after high school and didn’t look back. But the two times we’d made the trip from Albany to Grandma’s house for Christmas, I’d marveled at the storybook community she lived in. Fawn Hill was the quintessential small town, a gem of farmhouses and Victorian homes situated on either side of Main Street. The backdrop of the Welsh Mountains dotted the skyline, and the children here still walked to the singular elementary, middle, and high schools the town boasted.
It was picturesque, quiet living, and it wasn’t a mystery what my grandmother loved so much about it. Even if I missed the bustle of the city, I could appreciate Fawn Hill for its charm.
“I haven’t yet, but now I’m going to wrangle my grandma into buying me a slice of apple.” I nod at her.
Chance excites when another owner walks through the door with a small, tan dog. I have to brace myself as he almost pulls my arm out of its socket and barking ensues.
Behind me, a door clicks shut, and Dierdra is talking to someone as I try to rein in Chance.
“Presley, Dr. Nash will see Chance now.”
A lock of my hair is caught in my mouth as I finally turn, breathing hard with the leash looped seven times around my wrist so I can keep my grandmother’s mongrel from friendly attacking the other patients.
“Come on in.”
Holy crap. Why didn’t anyone warn me that Fawn Hill also had the hottest veterinarian I’ve ever seen? Talk about a hidden gem.
A tall drink of water with dirty blond hair, eyes the color of my favorite dark chocolate swirled with caramel, muscled thighs that couldn’t possibly belong to a doctor and a smile that could charm the pants off of Simon Cowell.
Okay, I’d been watching too much America’s Got Talent.
“You’re Dr. Nash?” My voice held a tone of skeptical rudeness, and I cringed at my
self. “You just … look so … young.”
What I’d meant to say was hot … you’re way too hot to be a vet. This guy had sex hair, the kind you grabbed onto while he slowly stoked your fire. He looked straitlaced, a little too good-boy for my taste, but with those chiseled cheekbones and cleft chin, a girl would be blind not to feel that familiar tingle south of the border when he turned those mocha eyes on her.
But instead of the word sexy, I’d said the word young instead, and now he was giving me an amused raised eyebrow.
And then I remembered why I was here.
Oh my God. This gorgeous specimen is going to be responsible for pulling my hot pink lace underwear out of this damn dog’s butt.
Click here to read Fleeting, book one in the Nash Brothers series, now!
Read the rest of the Nash Brothers series, available now!
The Nash Brothers Series:
Fleeting
Forgiven
Flutter
Falter
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About the Author
Author of romance novels such as Red Card and Privileged, Carrie Aarons writes books that are just as swoon-worthy as they are sarcastic. A former journalist, she prefers the stories she dreams up, and the yoga pants dress code, much better.
When she isn’t writing, Carrie is busy binging reality TV, having a love/hate relationship with cardio, and trying not to burn dinner. She lives in the suburbs of New Jersey with her husband, daughter and dog.
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Flutter: The Nash Brothers, Book Three Page 19
