Chapter Six
Match + Flame = Boom!
Rowan
“He’s home!” I called out. The moment I spotted the car turning onto our street I knew it was Nash. Maeve stepped up beside me and linked her arm through mine. I dropped my head to her shoulder and smiled. Nash was finally home. My pulse leapt into my throat as I watched him exit the car. Never had a green flannel shirt and faded jeans looked so good.
“He needs a haircut,” Maeve grumbled. I disagreed. Longer hair and facial scruff made him look rugged, outdoorsy…hot.
“Thanks, man,” he said to the driver. His lips turned up into a smile when he saw us standing in the doorway. Butterflies fluttered through my belly. Nash was going to be under the same roof as me for the next five days. I was excited, but at the same time worried.
From the moment I stepped foot into the Bostwick residence and set eyes on the man of the house, I knew I was in trouble. Nash Bostwick wasn’t just any man. He was the lead guitarist in a famous rock band. His profession alone should have sent me running for the hills, but then I met Maeve…lovely, kind, cancer ridden Maeve, and my instinct to run was overridden by my need to help her survive. Nash’s love for his mother was humbling. The job was a risk, but for some reason I couldn’t leave. The more time I spent with Maeve, the deeper entrenched I became. Nash didn’t make it easy. In fact, at first he made it downright difficult. I wasn’t just the hired help. I was his mother’s primary caretaker. My job was to make Maeve’s life easier. In order to do that, I had to make some changes in the household. Nash fought me every step of the way. A few months into the job, Maeve and I made the decision to move her to the downstairs bedroom. This meant that Nash would need to move upstairs. When I told him this, he acted like a spoiled little boy. He even went so far as to threaten to fire me. That was the only time I let my temper get the best of me. After calling him some colorful names, I stomped off to my room to pack my bags. By the time he caught up with me, I was all packed up and ready to go. Instead of firing me, however, he apologized and asked if I would please stay and move into Maeve’s upstairs suite. This would put him in my much smaller bedroom down the hall. I was shocked, but also impressed. The last thing I expected from him was an apology. From that moment on things got better. Nash and I talked when he was home on break, and when Maeve was admitted to the hospital after a particularly awful round of radiation, I called to let him know. After that, he called me every day to check in. Slowly, a friendship formed, and then I began to have feelings. I didn’t realize how deep they ran until the day he was shot by Luke. Nash Bostwick was so much more than his good looks. He was intense in nature, generous at heart, and profoundly deep. We were like two magnets. He was my North and I was his South. Whenever we were near each other the attraction was undeniable. That we refused to act on it didn’t change the fact that it existed. If anything, it just intensified it.
“My girls,” Nash said as he neared the spot where we were standing. Maeve stepped forward and pulled him into her arms. Our eyes met over her shoulder, and I was once again swallowed by the intensity of my feelings for this man.
“Get yourself in this house. I hope you’re hungry, because we’ve made enough food for an army,” Maeve commanded. Nash’s fingers grazed mine as he brushed past me, and my body tingled with the warmth of his touch.
“Good to see you, Ro,” he whispered in my ear. I waited for him to pass before giving into the full body shiver that his nearness produced. Yes, the next five days were most definitely going to be challenging.
Over dinner, Nash regaled us with stories about the tour. He told us all about the new guy, Evan, and about Blane’s new intern program, which he felt was a waste of both time and energy. I’d learned bits and pieces of his daily life during our nightly talks, but nothing compared to hearing it face to face.
Nash turned in after dinner, while Maeve and I cleaned the kitchen and locked up the house. On the way to bed, I paused outside his door. I lifted my hand to knock, but pulled it back before contact was made. I wanted to spend more time with him, just to talk, to be near him, but then thought about how tired he looked at dinner, and decided better. There was always tomorrow.
The next morning, I was up bright and early. By the time Maeve joined me in the kitchen, I had breakfast ready and the table set. I was about to tell Maeve to yell for Nash, when out of nowhere he appeared. I tried not to stare, but couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away. I’d seen him like this a million times before. Nothing had changed, yet everything felt different. I felt different. As he neared me, I dropped my eyes and focused on his t-shirt, flannel pajama bottoms, and bare feet.
“Looks good,” he whispered in my ear as he passed by me. I watched him saunter over to the coffee maker. Maeve was definitely wrong. Long hair and facial scruff fit him perfectly, especially when that hair was mussed from sleep.
Nash told us more about the tour over pancakes and bacon. The conversation eventually drifted to how Maeve was doing. Maeve swore up and down that she was feeling better than she’d felt in months. The hopeful look on Nash’s face gutted me. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that we were standing in the eye of the storm. To explain how this was just a fleeting moment would do more damage than good. Eventually, he would have to know, but for now, he and Maeve needed this time together, and I was going to do everything in my power to make sure they got it. While they talked about Grant and Mallory, I made myself useful, and began clearing the table.
“That reminds me,” Nash said loud enough for me to hear. “Grant and Mallory are having a Christmas Eve party and we’re all invited.” My eyes shot to his, and he smiled. Grant and Mallory were great, but a party meant press, and photographers meant possible exposure. As familiar tentacles of panic crept up my spine, I closed my eyes and inhaled a deep breath through my nose. As I exhaled through my mouth, I realized that Nash was still watching me. He cocked his head in question, and I mentally scolded myself for being so transparent.
Plastering a smile on my face, I turned my attention to Maeve. “I think you’re strong enough to go, don’t you?”
“Heavens no,” she responded. “Those things don’t start until well after my bedtime. You kids go. I’ll snuggle up here in front of a fire with a good book.”
Shit!
Turning back to Nash, I raised a critical brow. “I’m not sure that leaving Maeve alone right now is such a good idea.” The smile on his face fell. God, I was such a shrew. Why couldn’t I be like everyone else? Conor, that’s why.
Nash’s eyes flew to his mother. “Is there something you’re not telling me? I told you not to keep things from me.” Maeve shot me a stern look, and I tried not to flinch.
“I’m fine, honey. Rowan is just being a worry wort. How about this, we’ll have a nice Christmas Eve dinner, and once I’m settled, you two can whisk yourselves off to the party. Sound good?” Maeve stared daggers at me, as if daring me to contradict her.
Maeve sent Nash to the store for some ice cream later that morning. Once he was gone, she sat me down and launched into a motherly lecture about moving on. If only she knew. She wanted me to know that not all men are abusive, that I should start living my life, and that going to the party would be a step in the right direction. She refused to take no for an answer. So against my better judgement, I gave in and agreed to attend the party with Nash.
By mid-afternoon I was feeling claustrophobic. Christmas Eve was a day away and I lacked the appropriate attire for the party, so I used the need for a dress as an excuse to get away from the house and catch my breath. With Maeve’s permission, I left her in Nash’s very capable hands and headed for the local mall. Two hours later, I was home with a dress, shoes, makeup, hair accessories, and a new perfume to try. It had been months since I’d stepped foot in an actual store. I’d forgotten how invigorating shopping could be, not to mention liberating. Maybe Maeve was right. Maybe it was time to plant a few seeds. It would be nice to finally grow roots somewhere. I loved Austin. What if I made a few friends? Maybe I was too guarded. Maybe I could let go with Nash and enjoy myself. Maybe…
On the off chance that Maeve was taking a nap, I decided to go through the back entrance instead of the front. The back door led to a hallway that opened into the kitchen. Next to the kitchen was Nash’s music room. I’d barely made it through the door when I heard him singing. Tingles shot up my spine and danced across my scalp. I’d heard him play his guitar, but rarely had I heard him sing. His voice had a sexy-as-hell rasp to it. God, can the guy be any more perfect? Quietly, so as not to disturb him, I closed the door and set my packages on the floor. Then I crept closer to the entrance to the music room, where I leaned against the wall and listened.
He walked.
You stayed.
She died.
I raged.
The pain, it swallowed me whole.
Darkness, sweet darkness – my temptress, my friend.
You love me. You have me. This can’t be the end.
Please say it isn’t the end.
Tears welled in my eyes. I could practically taste his pain. It made me want to pull him close, push him away, rage at God, and rail against death. Life was so damn unfair.
Nash stopped singing. I held my breath for fear he’d heard me sniffling like a baby while lurking in the hallway. After letting out a string of curse words, I heard the clunk of his guitar as he set it on its stand. That was my cue to leave, and I quickly scurried to check on Maeve.
Maeve was sound asleep. My heart melted when I saw the beautiful, red, long stemmed rose lying on the pillow next to her. Nash was such a sweetheart. However, the rose was awfully close to her face. I didn’t want her to roll over and accidentally prick herself on one of the thorns. I’m sure he’ll understand if I move it, I thought as I plucked it from her pillow and carried it into the kitchen to find a vase.
Maeve was awake and in the bathroom when I returned to her room. Knowing what a stickler she was about her privacy, I quickly set the vase on the bedside table and hurried back to where I’d left my packages.
That night we had a low key dinner followed by a movie marathon. I fell asleep during the second movie and Nash woke me when it was over. After locking up the house, he walked me to my room, where he said an awkward goodnight before disappearing down the hall to his room.
Christmas Eve was the next day. After slaving in the kitchen for most of the afternoon, the three of us sat down to a candlelit dinner. Maeve ate a plain baked potato, while Nash and I had beef wellington, fingerling potatoes, and asparagus. Maeve’s inability to stomach most foods was just a telltale sign of her impending decline. Nash noticed, but didn’t say anything. Christmas music played in the background and the scent of pine permeated the air. The knowledge that this was most likely Maeve’s last Christmas made it all the more special as well as heartbreakingly bittersweet. As soon as we cleared the table I headed upstairs to get ready for the party, while Nash and Maeve reminisced about Christmases past.
I took one look in the mirror and laughed. My curls had dried into a mass of ringlets that desperately needed taming before I walked out the door. As I worked on them, I couldn’t help but think of what tomorrow was. Christmas was once my favorite time of year. Mine and Gavin’s. I thought back on my last Christmas in New York, and the precious moments before Conor had ruined our lives. I had Christmas Eve dinner with my father. After dinner, we exchanged presents. I gave him a new tie and he gave me my mother’s pearl earrings. Later that night Gavin and I drank cheap champagne and watched It’s a Wonderful Life, followed by The Ref. The next morning I was so hungover I could barely lift my head from my pillow. Thinking about Gavin made my heart hurt. With time, the pain had receded to a dull ache, but no matter where I was or what I was doing Gavin would always be with me. My thoughts drifted to Conor, and everything he’d taken from me.
As long as I lived, I would never forget the day I discovered that Conor had killed Gavin. After smashing my phone to smithereens, I pulled myself together enough to realize that it was only a matter of time before Conor found me. After all, I’d left several messages on Gavin’s phone with details of where I both worked and lived. The chances that Conor hadn’t accessed them were slim to none. Either way, it wasn’t a risk I was willing to take. This left me with only one choice. I had to run.
I didn’t have many belongings, so it didn’t take long for me to pack. All the while I thought about what to tell the hospital. The only thing I could come up with was a death in the family, and how I was needed at home for the foreseeable future.
As it turned out, I didn’t have to worry. The hospital took it surprisingly well. On my way out of HR, I stopped by the nurse’s station to say my goodbyes, and that’s when I saw him.
Conor.
He was standing at the end of the hallway talking to someone I didn’t recognize. Conor wasn’t in New York. He was already here, in Florida. At first I thought I was seeing things, but then he turned his head in my direction. His eyes glanced my way before focusing back on his conversation. Fear, followed by a helpless rage, threatened to swallow me whole. As if sensing my eyes on him, he started to turn toward me again. I panicked. My mind screamed run, but my feet refused to move. I was literally frozen. Regret washed over me as I stood there staring at my downfall. If it wasn’t for me, Gavin would still be alive. Conor’s eyes were almost to me when the person he was speaking with pointed in the opposite direction, and he took off down the hallway. The moment he was out of sight my mind and my feet decided to check back in, and I ran. Somehow, whether it was through divine intervention or simply dumb luck, I managed to escape.
That night I stopped at a little motel in Alabama. Right as I whipped out my credit card to pay for the room it hit me. The card was traceable. My name, cards, license plate, all of it was traceable. There was nowhere Gillian Gallagher could run that Conor O’Brien couldn’t eventually find her. I needed to start paying for things in cash. I needed a plan. That’s when I had an epiphany. What if I was no longer Gillian Gallagher? What if I was someone else?
“We need to get a move on!” Nash called out from somewhere in the house. I quickly finished my makeup and slid into my simple, black dress. Gillian would have chosen the form fitting, strapless red dress. It was times like these that I really missed her. I sincerely hoped that Conor O’Brien was rotting in hell.
Maeve and Nash were waiting at the front door when I traipsed down the stairs. Maeve was mumbling at him while fiddling with his tie. I paused for a brief moment to take in how amazing he looked in dress clothes. His dark blond hair was brushed back from his face and he’d shaped his burgeoning beard into a sexy goatee. As if sensing my presence, his head turned. His eyes raked over me and his lips parted in obvious surprise. That made two of us.
“Rowan!” Maeve gasped. “You look beautiful! Doesn’t she look beautiful?” Nash just stood there staring at me. Maeve nudged him, and let out a cackle of humor. “Put your tongue back in your mouth, son. Doesn’t she look beautiful?” she repeated more firmly.
“Oh, uh, yes. You look beautiful,” he finally responded. Maeve looked so much like the cat that ate the canary that I could barely contain my laughter.
“Marcel is here!” she called out.
“Marcel?” I asked as Nash held up my coat. I turned and dipped my arms into the sleeves. His hands brushed against my bare skin as he helped to secure it on my shoulders, and goosebumps erupted all over my body.
“Marcel and Sean are running security for the party,” Nash explained.
“You two have fun. I expect to hear all about it over breakfast tomorrow morning, so don’t drink too much.” Maeve’s warning made me smile. We said our goodbyes, and were escorted to the car. Marcel held open the car door and waited for us to slide in before closing it.
“You really do look beautiful tonight,” Nash quietly stated.
“Thank you. You look pretty amazing yourself.” He brushed his fingers across my cheek and I fought the urge to lean into his touch.
“A feather,” he said, and held up his fingers. My face heated with embarrassment. I needed to get a serious grip. I was going to a party with my employer and friend. End of story. Even if I did have feelings, that’s all they were…feelings. I needed to stop romanticizing things between us. The rest of the drive there, I stared out the window. I could feel Nash watching me, but refused to get caught up in the moment again.
Luckily, there were only a couple of photographers at the party. There were a few close calls as we made our way inside the house, but I was pretty sure I’d managed to steer clear of the cameras. The house was decorated to the nines. With a tree in every room, not to mention a front lawn filled with fake snow, it looked like a winter wonderland. Whereas Nash’s house was comfortable, Grant’s was extravagant. Personally, I was more a fan of comfortable.
The party was somewhat subdued until Nash spotted Chaz and Hank in the crowd.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked between back slaps and laughter.
“What does it look like?” Chaz retorted. Nash considered Chaz his friend, but I didn’t know what to make of the guy. He seemed quite grumpy if you asked me.
“I’m catching the red eye back tonight,” Hank explained. Both Chaz and Hank looked over at me. Nash squeezed my hand and smiled.
“You both remember Rowan, right?”
“Yes, good to see you again,” Hank said.
Chaz’s brow shot up in obvious surprise. “The nurse?” I stiffened at his derogatory tone and Nash shot him a dirty look. Before Chaz could say anything else, Hank excused them both, and jerked him in the direction of the bar.
“Sorry about that. Chaz is a douche.”
“He doesn’t seem to like me very much.” I couldn’t say why this bothered me, but it did.
“Chaz doesn’t like anyone.”
“I thought you two were friends?”
“We are, but he still can be a massive douche.” For some reason this made me laugh.
Everyone assumed I was Nash’s date. After what seemed like the fiftieth time of trying to explain that we were just friends, Nash told me just to go with it. I had to admit, being on Nash’s arm all night was terrifying and exhilarating. I felt like the belle of the ball.
Mallory looked amazing in her green, silk dress. Grant was clearly as smitten with her as she with him.
Toward the end of the evening Grant stopped the music and called for everyone’s attention. As Grant made a heartfelt speech about how he came to fall in love with Mallory, Nash slipped his hand in mine. I glanced over at him, but he was immersed in what Grant was saying. The only emotion he exuded was the slight pressure he placed on my fingers when Grant mentioned Luke’s death. Chaz, on the other hand was full of things to say.
“Why anyone would want to get married is beyond me,” he whispered as Grant slid the ring onto Mallory’s finger. He’d spent the evening getting rip roaring drunk and was now slurring his words.
“I think it’s beautiful,” I sighed.
“I bet Paula would be disappointed to hear you say that,” Nash responded under his breath.
Chaz and I both turned to him, and asked, “Who?”
Nash gave Chaz a scathing look, before answering, “Your girlfriend.” He glanced from Chaz to me, and repeated, “His girlfriend.”
“Oh, her.” Chaz let out a snort of humor, and Nash shook his head.
After several rounds of congratulations were given, Nash announced that he was ready to go. I tried to talk him into staying longer, but he wouldn’t listen. Marcel, Sean, and Hank were all busy, so he summoned an Uber on his phone. Nash used Maeve as an excuse for our early departure. Even though I knew he was lying, I didn’t dare contradict him. Then again, I didn’t have to because Chaz was drunk enough to do it for me. After a few choice words for Chaz, Nash ushered me into the car and slid in beside me. Then he dropped his head back on the seat, closed his eyes, and didn’t say a word the entire ride home. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but I didn’t want to upset him.
Maeve was asleep when we got home. While Nash dealt with the fire Maeve had left burning in the fireplace, I turned out the lights.
“Good night,” I called out, before heading up to my room.
“Hold up,” he called out. I waited for him to catch up with me, and then we walked upstairs together.
We stopped outside my bedroom door, and, not able to stand it any longer, I asked, “Are you okay?”
He leaned in and touched his lips to mine, and I froze. I should have pushed him away. Instead, I did what I’d wanted to do for months. I kissed him back. His fingers grazed across the back of my neck as he deepened the kiss. My body ignited. My mind blanked. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t stop myself. I felt his erection against my pelvis as he pressed me deep against the wall. Warning bells screamed in the back of my mind, but I ignored them. I wanted this, him, now. Just a taste. One minute he was kissing me like his life depended on it, and the next he was down the hall and closing the door to his room.
As I stood there staring at his door with my fingers pressed to my lips, reality slowly crept back in. Bad move, Ro. One of us was going to get hurt, and I was pretty damn sure that someone was going to be me.