Why does his question feel loaded? “Yes, Andi’s behind on her reading. I think it’d just take a little—”
“Fuck.” He lifts his baseball cap off his head and runs his hands through his hair. When he places it back on his head, he flips it around until it’s backward. Wow. There’s just something about a guy with his hat on backward that gives me happy chills. Well, maybe it’s just Nash. “She doesn’t want to get pulled from class for special shit. She doesn’t want to miss her other class stuff.”
I stop staring at him and his hat situation and focus. “What about recess?”
“Nope. Not recess. Kids need a chance to breathe some fresh air during the day.”
That’s true. I believe that too.
“After school, then.” I place my hands on my waist.
“Idon’t have time for that.”
“I could come out to the farm. I could drive her home.”
He stares at me for a good long minute. It’s uncomfortable, his gaze on me.
He leans in just enough for me to feel his breath on me. “Are you sure that’s all you want?” He leans back slightly and looks at me. All of me. His eyes move from my face down to my chest, then back up.
I don’t like what he’s insinuating with that look. “It’s my job. Yes, that’s all I want.”
Nash scoffs, then steps back from me. Turning, he steps off the curb toward his truck. At his door, he looks up at me. “I’ll think about it.”
I smile for the first time since he pulled in the driveway. “Good.”
Expecting him to jump in his pickup and leave, I start to turn, but I halt when I see him approach me again. With a low, husky voice, he adds, “But if you think you’re going to come on over and make yourself at home, weasel your way into my bed, you’ve got another thing coming. I don’t need a woman around, especially not you, squirt. Women better than you have tried and failed to help out ‘poor Nash.’”
I feel the burn on my neck and face in seconds. I open my mouth to rebut his statement, but he’s back to his truck and pulling out of the lot before I can say a word. I’m shocked, honestly. What would make him think…? Women better than me? What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not gonna lie. That hurt.
7
Nash
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
Saying that crap was unnecessary. Well, itwasnecessary for me to say the words even though they were a pack of lies. Everything I said was a pile of bullshit, because Isabelle Harmon is my kryptonite. I’d hoped I’d never see her again. Sure, maybe in passing like when Isaac has a kid or something, but for brief bits of time. I prayed she’d never step foot in this town again after seeing her at Isaac’s wedding.
When she went off to college, Isabelle was a plump eighteen-year-old. Pretty, sure. Isabelle has always been a pretty thing. But when she walked into the church for the wedding rehearsal a year ago with her skirt swirling around her legs, I nearly swallowed my tongue. It’d been a couple of years since I’d seen her last, and let me just say, the years have been very good to Isabelle Harmon. She is a bombshell––a drop-dead gorgeous woman. Probably the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in her heels and simple blue dress the same color as her eyes. Her chestnut-colored hair was down, curling around her face, and all I wanted to do was run my hands through it and tug on it, so her baby blues were on me. Only me. Oh, and let’s not forget those lips. I wanted those as close to me as possible.Fuck,her lips. Plump and pink. They were shiny that night. No need for Isabelle to wear lipstick. Gloss is all she needs.
A lot of women think men like those stick thin things that strut around like they own the place, but one look at a woman like Isabelle and all that changes. She’s got everything. She’s built for sin, but in fact, she’s sweet as sugar and kind as a saint. She’d help a stranger even at her own peril. I know this about her. I’ve seen it. She’s compassionate to a fault. She loves her family and farm life. I can see she loves her job too from just the two times she’s tried to talk to me about Andi. I’m positive she’s only doing this for my kid. She has no ulterior motives. Not Isabelle.
I wasn’t kidding though. If you knew how many of the single ladies in town thought they’d head on over to the Watson farm to “fix” Nash Watson, it’d make your head spin. The second my mom moved into town, they were on me like flies on cow dung, and not just because they wanted my cock. No, they were after the money too. We’ve got a big farm, almost the biggest and most profitable in the county, second only to the Harmon farm. But I put a stop to that pretty damn fast. My kid doesn’t need a mother; she’s got me and my mom.
“What did Miss Harmon want, Daddy?”
I’m pulled from my Isabelle thoughts by Andi’s question. “She wants to read with you.”
“Hm” is all she says. Then, “She means well.”
I chuckle because the shit she says. I swear my kid is an old soul. “Yeah, she means well.”
“I think I’d like to read better.”
I turn my head and quickly peek at my kid. “I thought you didn’t want to get pulled from class.”
“And recess,” she adds. “But I heard her say she’d come to our place after school.”
