Though the afternoon had a rocky start, eventually, the Booker family dynamics kicked in, and the tension and bad vibes disappeared. It was slow going at first. Cam was too quiet, Nash’s mom too animated, his dad too jovial. And no one commented on the absence of Melody’s husband. It was the oddest Thanksgiving Nash could remember, but Tink’s enthusiasm was contagious, and eventually, everyone came around. The kid had a way of livening things up. Even Cam’s stony face had given way to the occasional smile.

Though most of those were directed at Honey. Nash frowned at the thought. Honey had good instincts when it came to people. He’d seen them firsthand at the bar. But Cam had always had it easy—too easy—and he’d honed his skills to a dangerous edge when it came to women. Nash hoped Honey was smart enough to see through the bull. And if she wasn’t, he had no problem setting her straight.

Nash glanced around the kitchen. His mom had hit one out of the park, and Nash assumed she’d gone above and beyond because she hoped the amazing meal and huge assortment of desserts would stop him from ripping into his brother. But it wasn’t the meal or his mother’s feelings that stopped Nash. No goddamn way. When he and Cam got into it, they needed to be in a place where breakables didn’t hold sentimental value and furniture could be easily replaced.

He closed the dishwasher and put away the tab bucket. The Bookers were an equal opportunity kind of family. The women did most, if not all, of the prep work, so it was only fair they put up their feet and enjoy a glass of wine while the men cleaned up.

Nash put away the last pot and wondered what Honey thought of his family. She hadn’t said much during the meal, but he’d watched her, and she sure as hell was listening. The woman was a bit of an enigma, and Nash was intrigued. Or as intrigued as a boss man allowed himself to be with one of his employees.

Honey Harrison wasn’t anything like the women he took up with. And that wasn’t to say that he was attracted to doormats—he liked spunk in and out of the bedroom. But Honey was different. She was all hard edges and biting tongue. She had attitude and a lot of it. Aside from the whole boss/employee thing, he didn’t have time for complicated. And there was no doubt in his mind that Honey Harrison was complicated. And moody. And prickly as hell most of the time.

She also had a smile that could light up a room, a dry wit, and a keen intelligence he could appreciate, and a butt that filled out a pair of jeans like no tomorrow. But he’d be doing all that appreciating from afar, because he was pretty damn sure if he and Honey ever got involved, things would go from complicated to combustible in less time than it would take to grab her up in his arms and plant a big old kiss on those delectable lips of hers.

Shit. Nash glanced around sheepishly. He needed to get his head back in the game and forget about Honey Harrison.

His father left the room, mumbling something about garbage—an excuse to sneak out back for a smoke—and Nash tossed a soggy dishrag into the sink.

“Didn’t take you for the strong, silent type.” Cam leaned against the island. “You’re usually the first one to get up in my business.”

“Not now,” Nash replied, eyeing his brother. At twenty-nine, the kid was five years younger than him, so he wasn’t exactly a kid anymore, but to Nash, he’d always be the little brother. The one he looked out for. It was one of the reasons this situation was so damn hard. He couldn’t help Cam. And truth be told? He didn’t want to.

“It’s just the two of us. I think right now is good.”

“Not doing this, Cam.”

Cam’s expression was unreadable. “You believe what you’ve heard.”

The anger that had burrowed deep in Nash’s gut for the last two weeks erupted. He clenched his fists and glared at his brother. There were three things Nash didn’t tolerate. Talking during the national anthem. Mistreating a lady. And anything to do with drugs.

He wasn’t preaching from a pedestal, and he wasn’t some noble man with a point to prove. He’d seen firsthand how drugs destroyed people. When he played college ball, his wide receiver—the most talented receiver he’d ever had the pleasure of playing ball with—got hooked on meth. In less than a year, he’d lost his scholarship and dropped out of school. A couple of years after that, he’d been found dead in an abandoned building in Seattle, a syringe still in his arm. The guy had left behind his college sweetheart and their three-year-old daughter.

“A kid ended up in the hospital, Cam.”

“I’m aware.”

“A kid who bought drugs that apparently belonged to you.”

“That’s not how it went down.”

“I don’t give a flying crap how it went down. I’m not Mom or Dad. Your pretty face isn’t gonna do shit when it comes to me.” Nash had to take a moment, because the fire in his gut was about to erupt. He looked away and ran his hands through his hair. “What happened to you, Cam? I thought you were better than that.” He swung his gaze back to his brother. “You were better than that. When in hell did you become the kind of man I despise?”

Cam squared his shoulders, and his eyes narrowed. Nash’s heart tightened. This was his line. The one he’d never cross. Not even for his brother.

“Guess you’ve made up your mind, then.”

“Give me a reason to change it.”

Cam grabbed a container of leftovers and moved toward the doorway. He paused and looked back at Nash, his eyes dark with thoughts and words that should have made Nash wonder, but the pent-up anger and disappointment inside Nash were too much. He didn’t see it.

“I can’t tell you what you want to hear.” Cam disappeared, and Nash swore, turning when he heard his mother come in.

“His situation isn’t what you think,” she said softly, crossing the kitchen and grabbing the kettle from the cupboard beside the fridge. Her smart moss-green skirt was a tad wrinkled, and her creamy blouse sported a few new grease stains. She picked at one near her collar while she waited for the water to boil.

When the silence had stretched on long enough, Nash leaned against the counter. “You going to elaborate on that?”

She glanced up, and his heart twisted when he saw the unshed tears that made her eyes glitter like ice-chip diamonds. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “It’s not my story to tell. But you have to trust that your brother would never do what he’s been accused of. He just…he wouldn’t.”

As much as he felt bad for his mother, he was frustrated with her. She’d always caved when it came to Cam. It was as if his brother was born with the hand of God on him. He could do no wrong, and it had been that way for as long as Nash could remember. Maybe it was time for him to share some of Cam’s so-called truths. Time to throw some shade on all that glitter.

“Do you remember when I was thirteen and got in trouble for spray-painting the side of old MaGee’s barn?”

She nodded.

“It wasn’t me. It was Cam. I took the fall for him because he was supposed to leave the next day for summer camp, and he started bawling. He looked up at me with those pretty eyes, and I felt bad. I was grounded and missed football practice, which meant that I didn’t start for a few games. Do you know how hard that was for me?”

His mother looked shocked.

“Hell, he was only eight and already a pro at manipulating the situation. Cam has always been reckless, and we’re all to blame for allowing him to be that way. But this…” He shook his head. “This is something else entirely.” He paused. “Don’t let him drag you into his mess. Let him deal with it on his own. He needs to deal with it on his own.”

His mother was quiet for a few moments and then took a sip of tea. She set down her mug and looked him square in the eye.

“You’re wrong, Nash.”

Un-fucking-believable.

“This time, there is more to the story.”

Nash glanced up at the ceiling and prayed for strength. What was it with her and her youngest child? He was never going to change his mom’s mind, so why even try?

“Let’s just drop it, okay?”

She nodded and sighed. “Where’s your father?”

“He’s outside. Said something about garbage.”

Lisa Booker made a face. “I wish he’d give up that nasty habit.”

“I wish he’d come clean about it,” Nash grumbled. “I mean, we all know he sneaks smokes.”

“Your father would die before he admitted that to any of us, considering he supposedly quit ten years ago.” His mother’s tone changed, and he shot her a look. “Honey seems like an interesting girl.”

God. Here we go. “There’s nothing going on, Mom.”

“She’s got a beautiful smile.”

“Hadn’t noticed.”

“And she’s so pretty.”

“Seriously, Mom. Nothing going on.”

“My goodness, she has lovely hair.”

An image of Honey half-naked in her underwear, all that silky hair flying around her shoulders, crept into his mind, and he had to shake it off. His mother was looking at him strangely. “What was that?” he asked.

“I just said she has some interesting tattoos. She told me she has six.”

Six? Hell, he’d only seen three. Made him wonder where the others were hidden.

“Are you heading over to Hudson’s soon?”

“That’s the plan.” Ever since fifth grade, Nash went to his buddy Hudson’s after Thanksgiving dinner was over. The boys would drink soda and eat popcorn and watch football. Of course, as they’d grown into men, the menu changed to beer, and there were several gap years when neither one of them had been home for the holidays. But since Hudson had returned to Crystal Lake, they’d fallen back to their old ways, and he was looking forward to hanging with his oldest pal.

“You give that sweet boy a kiss from me,” his mom said.

“I’m sure Hudson will appreciate it,” he replied with a wink. “And I’ll make sure to give one to the kid too.”

“The kid has a name,” she said with a chuckle. “Though the last time I saw Hudson, I heard him call the little guy Hank. I thought his name was Jameson?”

“It is.” At his mother’s curious look, he shrugged. “I have no idea why.”

He took a step toward the hallway that led to the front of the house and the family room when he stopped. “What’s up with Melody and Jason?”

Lisa Booker fiddled with her mug. “I’m not sure. She said he had to work.”

“And you believe her?”

Lisa glanced up. “No.”

He crossed the room and grabbed up his mother in a hug. “It’s not exactly the Thanksgiving you were hoping for.”

Again, she spoke, her voice a soft tremble. “No.”

They didn’t say anything more, and after a few seconds, Nash pulled away. “You want me to stay? I don’t have to go to Hudsy’s.”

“Go.” She shushed him with her hands. “Have a good night, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

He headed for the hall.

“And Nash?”

“Yeah?”

His mom smiled. “Make sure you take Honey with you.”

Nash didn’t bother to reply to that comment and headed for the family room. He walked in and was immediately accosted by Tink, who practically jumped into his arms.

“Uncle Nash! Honey shooted a gun once! At a robber!” Tink’s eyes were huge round balls of blue that filled up his face. The little guy shoved a curl off his brow and shook Nash’s shoulders. “A robber was trying to steal her bear.”

Nash shot a look toward Honey. This was going to be good.

“A bear.”

Tink was nodding furiously. “Uh-huh. Her special pink bear.”

“Special pink bear.” Nash raised an eyebrow, his gaze still on Honey. “Did this bear have a name?”

She flipped her ponytail and angled her head. It exposed the soft skin at her neck and the top of one of her tattoos. One of six. In that moment, he would have given anything to know where the others were.

“Daisy.” She cleared her throat and held his gaze.

“You had a pink bear named Daisy.”

“I did.”

“And someone tried to steal this pink bear.” He was trying to keep a straight face, but it was hard. Damn hard.

“Yes.”

“And you shot at this person for trying to steal your pink bear.”

“I did.”

“And how old were you when this happened?”

She cleared her throat and said something under her breath.

“I didn’t hear that.”

“Five.”

Nash blinked. That was unexpected. “You were five years old.” Who the hell gave a five-year-old access to a gun?

“Almost six.” Her chin jutted forward. “It was a BB gun.”

“What’s a BB gun, Uncle Nash?” Tink squirmed until he managed to wiggle his way from Nash’s arms. He ran to his mother, who was watching the entire conversation from the sofa under the window.

“Well, Tink. A BB gun can be as dangerous as a real gun. It’s why they should always be locked up somewhere safe and not left lying around for a five-year-old to grab.”

“Almost six.” Honey got to her feet.

“And what happened to the robber?” Nash had to ask.

Honey shrugged. “I missed and broke two bottles of my mother’s finest gin, and he got away.”

“And the bear?”

She shrugged. “He managed to grab my mother’s stash but left the bear behind.”

Nash got the feeling there was more to the story, but it was getting late, and he had places to go and people to see. He kissed his nephew and promised he’d have him to the cottage one night for popcorn and the game. He hugged his sister and, when she pulled away, decided to poke the elephant in the room.

“Where’s Jason at?”

She glanced at her son, but Tink was busy looking through the bin of old toys that used to belong to Nash and Cam.

“Probably with his girlfriend.” She exhaled and shook her head. “Don’t tell Mom. No one knows.”

His heart fell. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

She was silent for a few moments and then nodded. “So am I.” She gave him a quick kiss, put a big smile on her face, and called Tink for bed.

“Everything all right?” Honey asked after his sister left the room with his nephew.

“Not really.”

“I’m sorry.”

He looked away and clamped down on the anger inside him. Wouldn’t do anyone any good for him to dwell on his brother-in-law’s actions. At least not right now. If he ran across the sonofabitch, well, that was an entirely different story.

“I’m headed out.”

“Okay.” She slid past him. “Let me thank your mother for dinner.”

“Hey,” he found himself saying as his gaze rested on her. Honey paused and looked at him over her shoulder.

Take her home.

It was a good plan and one Nash should have listened to, but for some reason, he was distracted by her eyes. The curve of her cheek. The shape of her mouth. Suddenly, he didn’t want the night to be over. At least, not the part where she was involved. He found himself doing something he didn’t normally do, which was to mix his work life with his down time.

“I’m going to Hudsy’s place to watch the game.” Shit. Was he really going to do this? Nash hesitated. He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie.

“And you’re telling me this because…”

Nash waited a heartbeat longer. He was going to do this. “It’s early, and I thought maybe you’d like to join us.”

“I don’t think…” She turned around and faced him. “Hudson Blackwell?”

He nodded. “You’ve met Rebecca. She used to work for me. Not sure if you’ve met Hudsy, but he’s a good guy. It’s casual. They won’t mind.”

“I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to crash two family gatherings in one day.”

Take her home.

“It’s just Hudson and his wife. The old man would have left hours ago, and I don’t think his brothers are in town.”

Honey held his gaze for the longest time, and Nash had the weirdest sensation. He found himself thinking about the tattoo down her spine and wondering what the hell it meant. What was it with Honey Harrison and tattoos? And all that skin?

“Okay,” she said softly.

“What?” He brought himself back to earth and focused.

“I’ll come with you.”