Nash held her while they watched, his arm tucked just below her breasts and his permanently stubbled jaw pressed against her temple. He brushed his thumb up and down in a mindless rhythm, almost as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
About halfway throughThe Great British Baking Showepisode, she was finally relaxed enough after the scarefest that her mind began to wander back to a couple weeks ago at her parents’. Namely, finding out that her youngest sister had no problem making time for everyone else but couldn’t seem to show Rory the same courtesy.
She’d been attempting to reach Nat since then. Had left a couple voice mails and even more texts—all of which had gone unanswered. Rory and Nat might not get along all that well—or atall—but Rory loved her gran more than almost anything. If Gran wanted Rory’s brat of a sister home, then she was going to make it happen, come hell or high water.
“Nash?”
He hummed in response, his fingers seeming to drift a tiny bit higher each passing minute.
“You talk to Nat much?”
After the briefest pause in his movements, he shrugged. “Few times a month, I guess.”
Rory sat up straight and whipped around. “You too? What thehell?”
“Me too, what?”
She knew it wasn’t fair to put him in the middle—between one of his best friends and the girl he was sleeping with—although she really,reallywanted to. The old Rory wouldn’t have given it a second thought. This new, so-called improved Rory was irritating as hell.
Blowing out a defeated breath, she turned back around and sank into him. “Nothing. I’ve just been tryin’ to get ahold of her is all.”
“You text her?” He tucked his arms around her again. “She doesn’t always get great cell service, dependin’ on where in the world she is.”
“Yes, I tried textin’. I’ve tried callin’ and leavin’ messages, too, and she’s ignorin’ all of it.”
“Something goin’ on?”
Rory shrugged. “I decided to throw Gran a big party for her eightieth, and the only thing she wants for her birthday is to have Nat home. I’m tryin’ to make that happen as a surprise, but the little witch is makin’ it damn near impossible.”
“Maybe she’s just out of touch. Never knowin’ with Nat. She could be in a remote village in Africa right now. Has she posted any Snaps recently?”
She turned her head to look at him. “What the hell is a snap?”
He laughed. “Snapchat. Here, let me look.”
After a few seconds, he held up the phone for her to see. There was a pic of Nat in front of what looked like the Grand Canyon. Her hair was pink now—an ever-changing rainbow, that one—her smile was huge, and an ache tugged in Rory’s gut.
They didn’t get along on their best days—and nearly hated each other on their worst—but when it came right down to it, she missed her baby sister. Brat and all.
There hadn’t always been animosity between them. When Nat was born, Rory’d taken on a maternal role and had treated her like her own real-life baby doll. In those early years, they’d been close. Nearly as close as Will and Mac. But when Nat had hit about eight, something shifted. Shifted and changed…evolved into whatever chasm this was that was now between them. A chasm Rory wasn’t even sure was reparable.
“She’s stateside, at least,” Nash said. “Give her a couple days. I’m sure she’ll get back to you.”
Rory knew that wasn’t true because she’d given her a coupleweeks, but she kept her mouth shut. She wouldn’t trash-talk one of his best friends to him. Even if Rory’d given Nat years, it still wouldn’t be enough time. Whatever. She was getting Nat home one way or another, if it was the last thing she did. She just wasn’t sure how.
Nash set his phone on the coffee table, then wrapped his arms around her. This time, though, he didn’t stop below her breasts. He brought those large, callused palms up until they cupped her, his thumbs and forefingers teasing her nipples into tight points.
Against her ear, he said, “We done talkin’ about your sister now? I’d like to get to the true Netflix and chillin’ portion of the night.”
Rory could worry about how she was going to get her sister home later. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to forget everything but the feel of Nash’s skin against hers.
Havenbrook had always been Nash’s home, and he could never see himself living elsewhere. Asher and Nat had both wanted something more, for as long as he could remember. Considering the life he’d led up to now,heshould’ve been the one itching to leave. To be able to move somewhere new and start over with a clean slate. A place where he wasn’t known as Little Nash. Where people didn’t see him as the boy whose momma left him or the kid of the town playboy. Where he could just be himself without any stigmas or preconceived notions brought on by his name.
But the truth was, he loved Havenbrook. Loved the town and the people. Loved that, though there was gossip, the townsfolk cared about and looked out for one another. Loved how it’d always felt like a home to him, even when his had been crumbling around him.
What hedidn’tlove was that it was damn difficult to get the supplies and equipment he needed in a town that was little more than a tiny dot on a map.
His normal lumber supplier hadn’t received the shipment they were expecting, which was how Nash found himself driving an hour to get what he needed. With how many clients he and Rory had booked, there was no room for delay in their schedule, so he couldn’t wait. Unless he wanted to be pulling some eighteen-hour days—and he absolutely did not—he needed to move to Plan B, and that meant a road trip.
