After the meeting down at the store ended on a sour note it took every shred of my willpower not to call Nash or drop by the house the following day. When he said, “I’ll be in touch,” I wasn’t sure if he was irritated with my pushiness about the store or if he just needed some space to figure things out on his own. I’d happily move mountains for Colin but my role was limited because I wasn’t his guardian. Nash was his guardian.
I didn’t expect to hear from him after ten p.m. with panic in his voice as Colin screamed in the background. Nash didn’t strike me as a man who got anxious easily. He wouldn’t ask for help for himself. But he’d reached out for Colin’s sake. As we sat together in the urgent care waiting room I started to understand that Nash wasn’t the stoic character he seemed to be. Taking care of Colin wasn’t just an obligation to him. It looked more like love.
And for the first time I agreed that Chris and Heather had placed their baby boy in exactly the right hands.
“Do you need a medicine dropper?” the pharmacist asked as he bagged up Colin’s medication.
“Yes, please,” I said.
It was after midnight by the time I was on my way to Nash’s place. After I pulled up to the hundred-year-old Victorian house that must have witnessed its share of drama and tragedy over the decades I remained beside the car for a moment and just gazed at the old house.
The streetlights cast a pale glow on the intricate trim along the gables. I’d always loved this place. Growing up just down the street I’d been fascinated by its charming gingerbread house appeal. Since Heather married Chris Ryan and moved in here I’d probably come to visit a hundred times. Part of me still couldn’t believe they weren’t immersed in their idyllic happy lives just on the other side of the red front door.
The door opened and Nash appeared. He must have been watching for my car. Years ago I’d been aware of the rumors about him, about Heather. At the time I assumed they weren’t true. Even after Heather resigned from her office position at the high school I refused to believe that there was anything unseemly about her choice. Everyone knew Nash ran around with a variety of girls but there was no way my beautiful, haughty cousin would get involved with a teenager. Not even one who was on the verge of manhood and as sexually charged as Nash Ryan. Eventually I found out differently but by that time I wasn’t shocked. By then I knew all about mistakes. And secrets.
Nash carried Colin in his arms and he raised one hand in greeting, probably wondering why the hell I was hanging out beside the curb.
I held up the white paper bag from the pharmacy and made my way over to them in the darkness.
Colin didn’t like being awakened to take his medicine. After we got the first dose down his throat I took a good look at Nash and noticed the weariness in his face. He didn’t argue with me when I said I’d take Colin to his room and rock him until he fell asleep again.
Nash stayed downstairs while I brought Colin to the nursery and sat in the rocking chair my mother had given Heather as a baby shower gift. I softly sang the words to “You Are My Sunshine” just like I sang to Emma every night at bedtime.
And I wished with all of my heart that his mother were here rocking him to sleep instead of me.
Colin’s forehead was cool and his breathing even when I placed him in the crib and turned on the sound machine that faintly broadcasted white noise.
“I love you, angel,” I whispered before I left the room because every child in the world should hear those words as often as possible, whether they understood them or not.
I found Nash sitting on the living room couch, staring at an empty television screen. His dog, Roxie, had been sleeping in a corner. She raised her head when I came downstairs, then settled down with a sigh.
“How is he?” Nash asked.
“Sound asleep.” I sank down on an empty space on the leather couch.
Nash’s gaze flickered over me and I realized I’d sat down awful close to him. I didn’t shift away though. Neither did he.
There was a small stain on the left sleeve of his shirt. I pointed to it. “I think you were hit by the spit up train again.”
He looked down, shrugged and pulled the shirt off, exposing his tattooed arms and toned chest. He raised an eyebrow at me. “Better?”
Hell yes.
I cleared my throat and tore my eyes away from six packs and pecs. It wasn’t easy.
“You should get some rest,” I said. “He’ll probably sleep for a while and I can stick around in case he wakes up.”
Nash stared at me. “Aren’t you tired? It’s almost one a.m.”
I smiled and nudged him. “I’m a night owl.” That was true. My busy schedule often required me to stay up late and operate on little sleep.
He yawned. “You probably have a million things to do in the morning.”
“No. It’s Sunday. And Emma’s fine at my mom’s house.”
He leaned back on the couch with a sigh and gave me another long, searching stare. “I don’t know how to thank you, Kathleen.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I mean it. Thanks for being here for Colin. Thanks for showing up tonight even though I’m a dick.”
“You’re not a dick.”
He thought about it. “I’m a dick sometimes.”
“Sometimes,” I conceded.
He grinned. He should do that more often. Nash’s smile had a dose of magic in it. Then his smile faded.
“I should have known,” he said and there was a raw current of emotion in his voice.
“Nash, you couldn’t have known that Colin had an ear infection.”
He shook his head. “No. I meant I should have known that something like this could happen, that time on this earth is never a guarantee, that you can lose people at any time.”
I folded my hands in my lap. “It’s impossible to predict the future.”
“That’s true,” he said and now there was a hard tone to his words. “I can’t predict the future. But I already knew that in this life there’s no contract for a happy ending. I’d found that out when my mother was killed by the man she loved.”
I didn’t know what to say. Over a decade ago the murder of Nash’s mother was big news here even though it happened down in Phoenix. Murder-suicides were still rare enough then for the case to be shocking. The story was ugly, painful to even think about. Nash’s mother had been shot in the head while she slept. Her killer was the man she’d married just two months earlier. After he shot his wife the man shot the family dog. Then he shot himself. Nash was lucky he was up here visiting his father for the summer. Otherwise he would likely have been killed too.
Or maybe he saw it a different way. Maybe he thought if he’d been there he would have been able to stop the horror from unfolding. Whatever the case, the echoes of that event must torment him. Even the young girl who already adored him from a distance had noticed how he changed after his mother’s murder. He spoke less and fought more. He was always popular and yet always somehow apart from everyone else. He seemed haunted back then. In a way he still did.
“I’m sorry,” I said because I regretted that there was nothing I could do to ease his sorrow.
Nash grimaced and stared down at his hands. “I could have visited, Kathleen. I could have called more. I could have made things right between my and my dad, especially because I was aware of how much he wanted that to happen.”
My eyes filled with tears. “Nash.”
His head was still lowered. “I’m no role model for fuck’s sake. Why in the hell did they pick me?”
I didn’t know the answer. I could only guess, based on what I knew of my cousin and her husband. And what I’d learned of Nash so far.
“Because your father had absolute faith in you. Because he knew you’d rise to the challenge, that you’d love and protect that baby boy. Nash, your father and Heather didn’t doubt you.” I touched his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
He wouldn’t look up. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Kathleen.”
“I know enough.”
Now he raised his head. Our eyes met. His were no longer full of exhaustion. They were full of pain.
And then when I moved my hand from his shoulder to his face they became full of something else.
His jaw was rough under my fingertips, bristly with a day’s beard growth. In a distant time I’d fantasized about being this close to Nash Ryan. I’d daydreamed that some day he would look at me the way he was looking at me now. With uninhibited desire.
I knew what would happen next. This had nothing to do with the past. Or the future. Or the heartbreaking circumstances that had led us to this particular moment. This was just about here and now.
And here and now we both wanted the same thing.
I moved my hand lower and proved it.
“Kat,” he groaned as my hand closed around him through the fabric of his gym shorts. He was hard, thick, perfect. I boldly stroked him and he groaned again, this time with a curse. I hadn’t been with anyone in a long time and a primitive need pooled in my belly then rolled lower, between my legs. Nash directed my hand inside the elastic waistband of his shorts and I touched hard, heated flesh. I’d almost forgotten how this kind of triumph felt, how empowering it was to bring a strong man to the brink of ecstasy. I started to slide to my knees, intending to take him in my mouth. But he stopped me.
“Get rid of this,” he demanded, yanking on my shirt.
I obeyed, slowly drawing my shirt up and then over my head. In my haste to get out the door earlier I’d forgotten a bra. I wriggled out of my long skirt, then hooked my thumbs in my damp panties and rolled them down. As I knelt on the floor in front of him, Nash stared at me for such a long moment I started to feel self-conscious.
He seized me with no warning, his big hand fastening onto the back of my neck and pulling me in for a kiss that was ferocious, electrifying. This was what I’d been missing, the way it felt to be overpowered by a kiss. I hardly felt myself being lifted but suddenly I was in his lap. My hands roamed over the hard muscles of his chest but not for long. I was as impatient as he was, maybe more, straddling him, grinding against the feel of his skin in a desperate quest for relief.
He shoved his shorts down and looked me in the eye. “You’re sure you want this?”
I couldn’t talk. I just nodded.
Nash surprised me when he became gentle, easing inside of me slowly, like he feared I might break if he was too rough. My skin stretched and quivered as I took him all the way in and I couldn’t stand it. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and rode him with furious rhythm until he seized my hips and demanded to assume control. I gave it to him. I let him move me at the pace he wanted and reveled in the primal frenzy of our bodies colliding.
It didn’t take me long to come and holy shit did I come hard. The orgasm was an avalanche and all I could do was get temporarily buried by it, stifling the urge to scream as the tremors wracked me in waves. Nash’s arms kept me from collapsing into a spent puddle as the aftershocks kept rising and falling.
“Too fucking close,” he finally gasped and withdrew from me. Dimly I realized why, understood that he was right to pull away. We’d been absurdly reckless, not even using a condom. Another few seconds and we might have had a problem.
But we weren’t finished yet. I closed my fingers around his thick, unsatisfied cock and stroked the solid length, teasing the tip until he shuddered, moaned my name again and came in my hand.
We were both sweating, gasping, panting as hard as marathon runners. I slid off his lap and onto the couch, trying to catch my breath and figure out what should happen next.
Nash recovered first, swiping his shirt off the floor and carefully mopping the evidence off my hand. He watched as I gathered my clothes and held them to my chest in a rumpled heap.
“I should let you get some sleep,” I said.
Nash brushed the back of his right knuckle across my arm. My shiver was involuntary.
“I’m not tired,” he said.
“Even after all that?”
He thought the question was funny. “Especially after all that.”
I swallowed. “I think I should go.”
“No you shouldn’t.”
I pulled my panties on because I was starting to feel ridiculous sitting on the couch butt naked. Nash, on the other hand, didn’t seem troubled at all. He looked as relaxed as I’d ever seen him.
“What should I do then?” I asked, adding a playful note to my voice.
“Nothing.” He slid down to the floor, opened my legs and pushed my panties aside before treating me to a brief exploration of his tongue as I gasped and arched my back.
“Don’t do a goddamn thing just now,” he ordered in a gruff whisper and the feel of his bristled jaw against my sensitive inner thighs was almost as wickedly good as his tongue. So I followed his orders. I didn’t do a goddamn thing.