“Momma? Who’re you—” Rory popped her head out the front door, eyes widening when she saw him. “Oh. Nash. I didn’t realize you were here already.” She scrutinized him, no doubt wondering how much—if any—of the fight he’d heard.
“Just got here,” he said. “Takin’ stock of how many pieces I’ll need to replace to make sure this porch doesn’t threaten to collapse when you walk on it.”
“You’re helpin’ Rory?” Caroline asked, a genuine smile curving her mouth. “That’s just wonderful! I was worried about her doin’ it all on her own, you know.”
Rory stepped out onto the porch and crossed her arms. Through a strained smile, she said, “I’d have no problem doin’ it on my own, Momma.”
“Well, of course not, but now you won’t have to. Isn’t that lovely?”
Before Rory could respond, her youngest, Ella, dashed out from the house, her dark hair flying out behind her through the hole in her baseball cap. “Mimi! Come on, come on, let’s go! They said we’d be catchin’ frogs today, and I don’t wanna miss any of it!”
Caroline laughed, her attention on her youngest granddaughter. “Well, all right, then. We better get goin’. Where’s your sister?”
“Throwin’ a fit in her bedroom.” Ella shrugged, as if she couldn’t be bothered with her older sister’s tantrums.
Caroline looked at Rory, eyebrow raised in question. “Is that right?”
Rory slid her eyes to Nash before returning them to her momma. “Ten goin’ on sixteen, that one. She’s upset because I told her she couldn’t go to Kelsey’s today instead of camp.”
Caroline hummed, her gaze studying Rory, something passing between them Nash couldn’t hope to understand. “I see. Well, let’s find out if she gives Mimi any sass.” She stepped through the front door and called out for Ava.
“Gimme a hug, baby,” Rory said to Ella. She wrapped her daughter in a tight squeeze, then pressed a kiss on her cheek—which Ella immediately wiped off with the back of her hand. “You sure you wanna wear that hat today? I could French-braid your hair instead?”
“No thanks,” Ella said. “The hat’ll keep all the frog slime outta my hair. Bye, Momma! Bye, Nash!” With a quick wave in his direction, she dashed down the front steps and into the back seat of Caroline’s car, practically vibrating with excitement.
Ava, on the other hand, nearly slunk out of the house, her grandmother’s hands on her shoulders seeming to be the only thing pushing her forward.
“Give your momma a hug and let’s go,” Caroline said. “We don’t wanna be late.”
After a tense goodbye between Rory and Ava, Caroline waved out the car window as she turned around and drove down the dirt path.
Rory stood against the railing, staring off at the dust just settling back on the road. All the while, Nash stared at her. The morning sun glinted off her hair, which she had piled on top of her head in some kind of knot again. The rays turned the dark-brown strands into burnished gold. She wore sneakers, a tank top, and a pair of way-too-small-for-his-sanity shorts, showcasing the thick thighs and toned calves of her petite legs.
This was quite possibly the dumbest idea he’d ever had. Entering into a partnership with the woman who’d been a near constant in his fantasies for the past, oh, ten years? Nothing could possibly go wrong there.
Too bad he didn’t have much of a choice. If he wanted to keep King Construction in the family, he needed to do something. And that meant thinking outside the box in order to make it the premier building company in the nearby area—hell, from here to Jackson. He didn’t just want to dominate Havenbrook, but he wanted to give Bozeman Builders a run for their money. And in his gut, he knew pairing his builds and remodels with Rory’s designs was doing exactly that.
Thankfully, he knew better than to shit where he ate. He just had to keep reminding himself of it.
“Rough mornin’?” he finally asked.
She huffed out a not-quite laugh but didn’t answer like he thought she would. Didn’t tell him off for eavesdropping—never mind that it hadn’t been his intention.
As much as Ball-busting Rory grated on his last nerve, he found that he…missed all that sass. He didn’t want Docile Rory. That wasn’t her, and something tugged in his gut when he took in her forlorn expression.
So he said exactly what he needed to to rile her up. “You’re certainly dressed the part, but that’s about it. You want me to bring you a glass of sweet tea so you can continue starin’ off in the distance while I get some actual work done? We’ve got a list of clients chompin’ at the bit for us to start, so at least one of us needs to get to it.”
She shot him a glare, her pink lips pursing. Shit, maybe poking her hadn’t been a good idea, after all. Fiery Rory got his dick hard, no question about it.
“There’ll be no sweet tea, so I hope you weren’t expectin’ any.” She spun around and stormed into the house.
He caught the screen door just before it slammed closed behind her. “Wouldn’t dream of it, princess.”
“And I won’t be answering the door in heels and pearls because I’m findin’ I don’t feel particularly hostessy with you.”
He followed her straight into the kitchen and waited until she glanced back at him before he allowed his eyes to sweep over every inch of her body. From her sun-kissed shoulders only broken up by the thin straps of her tank top, to the downright indecent dip of her waist, to her shapely legs he wanted wrapped around his head while he buried his tongue inside her.
Yeah, this was definitely the dumbest fucking idea he’d ever had.
When he finally lifted his gaze to meet hers, her cheeks had gone pink, and her lips parted with each exhale.
“I don’t mind a bit,” he said, his voice thick with want he was getting damn tired of hiding. “Casual looks good on you, princess.”
FROM THE MOMENT Rory had said yes via text last night, she’d questioned her sanity. What was she thinking, inviting a man like Nash King into her home—into her life—more than was absolutely necessary? She wasn’t thinking, and that was the problem.
The trouble was, she couldn’t discuss her concerns with…anyone. It might’ve been something she confided in her best friend about, but her and Sarah Beth’s sharing days were over. As long as you didn’t count Rory’s ex-husband in the mix.
She certainly couldn’t tell her sisters. They were already privy to her money troubles, to her ex-best friend and ex-husband’s betrayal, and to her strained relationship with her oldest daughter. How was she supposed to tell them that a man made her stupid on top of all that? And not just any man, but one she’d known his whole life? One she’d babysat.
She shook her head and glanced over at the man in question. He looked like he’d stepped out of one of those inappropriate calendars they sold for charity—the blue-collar edition.
July in Havenbrook meant near-hell levels of heat, and Rory’s place only had shoddy window air-conditioning units in the bedrooms. Which meant it was hotter than Satan’s armpit everywhere else in the house. Nash had lasted all of ten minutes inside before stripping off his shirt and getting right back to work. And Rory most certainly had not been staring at him every chance she’d gotten, trying to make out the individual designs of his tattoos.
Currently, he stood clear on the other side of the kitchen with his tape measure out as he scrutinized her cabinets. He mouthed something to himself, then plucked the pencil from behind his ear to jot a note on a piece of scratch paper.
He was so intense when he worked. So focused. So precise. What would it be like to have all that concentration directed solely at her?
“What’re you thinkin’?” he asked.
She snapped her eyes up to his, her cheeks flaming scarlet. Not only had he caught her gawking, but apparently, he was a mind reader too. That was just fantastic. “What?”
He stared at her for a beat, his eyes narrowing slightly, before he tapped his outstretched tape measure on an upper cabinet. “In here. You gonna try to
reuse these or get all new?”
An exhale left her in a loud whoosh, and she nearly sagged against the wall in relief. “Oh, um, I’d like to save the money and just repaint them. If you think they’re salvageable?”
“They’re in pretty good shape, so I think you’ll be okay.” He reeled in the tape measure and hooked it onto his tool belt.
Leaning back against the counter, he crossed his arms over his gloriously hard and bare chest, his biceps bulging at the move. She’d had no idea men looked like him in real life. Heaven knew Sean hadn’t.
“If you’d like, I can price out adding a short set above these so the cabinets go all the way to the ceiling. That way you can maximize your storage space since the room’s on the smaller side.”
There was something really wrong with her when her knees went weak over a man talking to her about kitchen cabinets. Of course, it didn’t help when said man was downright indecent. Everything from his broad shoulders, to his cut biceps, to his corrugated abs, to that distracting trail of hair leading straight into his—
She jerked her gaze away from his zipper. “That’d be great, thanks.” Without another word, she spun back around and continued attacking the wallpaper with a ferocity better suited for war.
But this was war as far as Rory was concerned. A war between her traitorous body and her absolutely-knew-better mind.
It was just a dumb infatuation, that was all. Rory’s libido was sick and tired of being shoved into the bottom drawer along with the pocket vibrator she should’ve thrown out—the one Nat had gotten her as a gag gift one Christmas. No doubt for the sole purpose of watching Rory lose her mind when she’d opened it.
But, well, when your orgasms had only ever come by your own hand—despite having been married for more than a decade—sometimes it was nice to spice things up a bit. And keeping that little toy was a hell of a lot easier than worrying about ordering something new. How were those items packaged, anyway? Would it show up on her credit card bill? Did the shipping label spell out SEX TOYS in huge block letters for all the world to see?
It made her heart leap into a gallop just thinking about what Edna would have to say about delivering something like that to one of the Havens. That woman was nice as could be but was a huge gossip, and the last thing Rory needed in her life was more of that directed at her.
“I’m surprised you’re takin’ down the wallpaper,” Nash said from right beside her.
Rory jumped, bracing herself against the wall so she didn’t totter off the chair. She’d done well so far today, making sure to keep a decent distance between them while they worked. And now he’d gone and shot it all to hell.
He stood so close, she could feel the heat pouring off his body. What would all those hot muscles feel like under her hands? Or her mouth? The thought lit a match inside her, stoking a fire in her lower belly that hadn’t been kindled in far too long.
With her standing on the chair, her breasts were nearly eye level with Nash, and absolutely nothing good would come of that. She was already primed, the apex of her thighs growing warm as her nipples tightened beneath the ridiculous excuse for a top she wore. Thankfully, she’d had enough forethought to don her most heavily padded bra so her body couldn’t give her away.
“What?” she asked, not recalling a word of what he’d said.
One side of his mouth lifted in a cocky grin, his eyes never leaving hers. “The wallpaper.” He tipped his head toward it. “I’m surprised you’re gettin’ rid of it.”
That snapped her out of her stupor. The wallpaper in this house was horrendous and covered every square inch of it. Rainbows and lily pads and geometric shapes. No rhyme or reason to the designs at all, which was a nightmare in and of itself. Nothing went together, and it drove her absolutely mad. In the kitchen and dining area? The walls were covered from top to bottom with a farm scene, complete with barns and enough roosters to fill them.
“I’m offended by that. Why in heaven’s name would you be surprised? It’s hideous.” She gestured toward the remaining paper on the wall. “Do I seem like the kind of woman who likes hideous things?”
He shrugged. “Not really, no. I just figured every woman needs a good cock in the house.”
She snorted. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t know anything at all about a good cock.”
It took her half a second before she realized what she’d said, and she whirled toward him on a gasp, the move upsetting her balance and sending her teetering toward Nash. Without missing a beat, he caught her before she could fall, but that might have been better than the current situation.
His thick arms held her flush against his body, her feet dangling off the floor like she was nothing more than a rag doll. And why did the proof that he could manhandle her if he wanted send shivers up her spine?
She rested her arms against the chest she’d been daydreaming about all morning. It was hard. And hot. And the light dusting of hair that covered it was so soft. Softer than she’d imagined. She knew that because she couldn’t still her fingers. They smoothed over his pecs, ran back and forth in an almost unconscious effort.
All the while, he stared at her, his eyes dark with lust, his breath sweeping across her lips. And then, before she could blink, before she could push away or tell him to put her down, he inched his face forward. Slowly. So slowly there was absolutely no excuse for her allowing it to happen. Yet she did. She didn’t say a damn thing as she waited for Nash’s lips to touch hers.
And when they did, she lit up like a firework.
She melted against him, opening her mouth for his seeking tongue, whimpering when it touched hers. His answering groan sent shudders through her, and she matched him stroke for stroke. Nash clutched her closer as he worked her mouth over with his own. He reached down and gripped her ass, lifting her higher and closer to him. The move did nothing to disguise the hard bulge pressing against her stomach, and she’d never been more desperate to feel anything in all her life.
This man fried her brain, made her lose her mind. Death by sexual tension. While she’d wanted desperately to know what it felt like to have his hands on her, she wasn’t sure the reality of that was such a good idea. Until her last breath, she’d never be able to erase the memory of Nash’s long, thick fingers clenched tightly around her side, his other hand gripping her ass so hard, she’d be surprised if she didn’t end up with finger-shaped bruises. And she couldn’t even bring herself to care.
Just as fast as the kiss began, he pulled away, set her down, and stepped back. He locked eyes with her—his so hungry and full of want, she could barely breathe—and brushed his thumb across his swollen bottom lip. He looked like a man desperate for her. Like he wanted to devour her right there in her kitchen, hideous cocks as witnesses to the whole sordid affair.
“I— Um…” she said, her tone husky thanks to the impromptu make-out session.
“Well, aren’t y’all cute!” a voice called from the front porch. “Hope I’m not interruptin’ anything.”
Rory pried her gaze away from Nash’s hypnotizing stare and toward the front of the house.
Edna stood on the other side of the screen door, waving a handful of mail in greeting, her eyes positively gleaming. “I swear, Rory, I haven’t seen Nash toddlin’ around you since you used to babysit him and Nat when they were knee-high to a grasshopper!”
The words might as well have been a bucket of ice water to Rory’s libido. What the hell was she doing? Allowing herself to entertain this nonsense with Nash. Allowing him to kiss her and get her all worked up. Hell, she’d practically writhed in his arms, desperate to get closer and rub herself all over him. Had, in fact, been closer to coming from that mere activity than she’d ever been with Sean.
It was Nash, for heaven’s sake. Her pseudo-business partner. Her youngest sister’s best friend, not to mention that he was eight years her junior. She had absolutely no business even thinking of him as she had been, let alone kissing him.
And she’d best remember that.
What kind of woman had Rory turned into? Hiding and ducking out of obligations simply as a means of avoidance. She did not avoid. She faced shit head on and dealt with whatever needed dealing with, and then she moved on.
Or…at least she did with all things excepting Nash King.
It’d been nearly two weeks since the infamous cock fiasco and subsequent kiss, and she’d managed to avoid another run-in with him. Her cheeks heated at the memory of the incident. How his naked chest had felt under her questing hands. How he’d groaned into her mouth the moment their tongues had touched. How he’d clutched her to him as if he’d needed her even closer. How thick and hard he’d felt against her.
That was just about enough of that. Her naughty imagination was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place.
She shook those thoughts from her head and read Nash’s latest text. Never took you for a coward. The twelve before had all been some variation of, Are you bailing on me?
Bailing? No. She wasn’t bailing. When she gave her word, she meant it. And despite having agreed to this arrangement with Nash by basically playing chicken with Mac, it was the smart thing to do. If Rory had any hope of spending her days doing something other than working for her daddy, she needed to go after this dream that had lain dormant for way too long. And working beside Nash, building up her portfolio, was exactly how she was going to do it.
She just… Well, she just needed to get her damn hormones under control so she could be in the same vicinity as him and not be tempted to jump his bones. Again.
She blew out a deep breath, typed out a reply, and hit send.
Nothing cowardly about spending the day with Gran. Work will have to wait.
With a smile, she dropped her phone into her purse. See? That bought her another day. And she wasn’t lying—she and Gran were going out today. Never mind that Rory had just shown up unannounced and insisted on a lunch date with the woman. Tomorrow, she’d be at town hall, so no excuse needed.
Hometown Troublemaker (Havenbrook Book 2) Page 6
