Rory gasped, her eyes narrowing on the very person they’d just been speaking about. Honestly, how much did the good Lord expect her to handle in one day?
Her children weresupposedto be with her former mother-in-law, as they usually were on Sean’s days when he was working and the girls weren’t at day camp. That’d been the plan—Rory would meet Susan just before the fireworks to gather up the girls and enjoy their favorite part of the holiday together. Except her daughters weren’t with Susan. Instead, they trotted along behind their daddy and Sarah Beth, and Rory saw red.
She shoved Mac in their direction. “Go get my babies.”
“Ow,” Mac said, shooting Rory a glare over her shoulder. “What the hell? Pushy much?”
“Now, please.” Her voice was tight, her fists clenched at her side. This wasn’t what she and Sean had agreed on, dammit. Though why she expected him to keep his word on that when he couldn’t honor his marriage vows was beyond her. He thought with the head in his pants instead of the one on his shoulders—neither of which were anything to write home about. And for the hundredth time that week, she thanked her lucky stars she didn’t have to put up with either of them any longer.
Rory had never been more grateful for Mac’s no-nonsense approach than she was in that moment, because as soon as Mac turned to see what Rory had shoved her toward, she stormed in that direction without another word.
And Rory? Well, she hid behind a cart full of Uncle Sam hats and red, white, and blue streamer wands. If that made her a chicken, so be it. She’d had enough fanfare for one day, thank you very much, but she couldn’t resist the chance to watch them unawares.
“Never took you for a voyeur, princess.” The low voice rumbled right next to her ear, startling a squeak out of her.
She didn’t need to turn around to know who stood behind her. If the ridiculously irritating nickname didn’t give it away, the scent that enveloped her would have. She could feel Nash’s heat against her back, tightening her nipples to hard points, and she fought the urge to lean back. Just to see how solid he was. To see if he’d be able to hold her up when she got too tired of doing it on her own.
She cleared her throat and smoothed a hand over her hair. “Never took you for a creep lurkin’ in the shadows, and yet here we are.”
He chuckled, moving to stand alongside her, his gaze locked exactly where hers was. His hands were in the pockets of his cargo shorts, his posture carefree to anyone who happened to glance his way. But Rory had studied Nash over the past several months. Alot. And there was no denying the tension in his shoulders, the harsh cut of his jaw as his teeth clenched. He was…mad. On her behalf?
She ignored the flurry of butterflies that kicked up inside her at that notion. He was no doubt irritated with Sean the same as everyone else in town—simply because he’d crossed one of the town sweethearts. Hell, Edna, Havenbrook’s mail carrier, refused to put Sean’s mail in the mailbox and just left it in a pile on the front steps, rain or shine.
Never mind that Rory’s heart hadn’t been invested in her marriage for a long time, if ever. But if Havenbrook did one thing well, it was standing behind their own.
“He’s not worth your anger, princess.”
She huffed. “I know that.” As ifknowingwould simply make the emotion vanish.
They stood in silence for long moments, Rory’s eyes locked on Mac retrieving the girls, but her attention was on the man standing next to her. He’d hardly spoken at all, but somehow…somehow, she knew he stood there simply to offer her support when she needed it.
So much like he’d done that night in The Willow Tree last year. The night she’d never spoken of again. The one she’d tried her damnedest to forget.
She closed her eyes at the flashes of memories—too much vodka and her ridiculously loose-lipped tales from the first time she’d found her husband cheating. Nash had been there. Had sat next to her at the bar, matching her shot for shot, and…listened. Commiserated. Laughed and talked and joked with her until they’d closed down the place. Stared at her with heated eyes when she’d let it slip how attractive she found him. Then he’d made sure she’d gotten safely to her sisters’ home for the night.
And she’d never entertained discussion of it after that.
“For the record,” he said, breaking her trance, “I’m glad you finally kicked his ass to the curb. Someone like you, Rory…” He stared straight ahead, never meeting her eyes. “Someone like you deserves a man who’d cut off his own balls just for the chance to lie next to you each night.”
She blinked, searching his profile for a hint of humor, because certainly—certainly—he had to be joking. Right? “I… What?”
Commotion to her left shifted her attention away from Nash and to the sight of her daughters walking over with their aunts, smiles on all their faces. Ava, her oldest, tittered excitedly with Will about what kind of junior bridesmaid dress she’d get to wear, while Rory’s youngest, Ella, stood next to Mac, both of them grumbling the whole way.
The sight filled her heart with happiness, with a lightness she hadn’t felt in far too long. She couldn’t wait to share the fireworks with some of her favorite people in the world. But first, she needed to find out what the hell Nash had meant when he’d said that. He’d done all he could to push her buttons over the past year-plus since they’d first started working together on The Willow Tree, but this was taking it a bit too far, even for him. He’d never been one to tease her about her failed marriage, but apparently, there was a first time for everything.
Except when she turned around to confront him, he was gone.
Nash wasn’t quite right in the head. There was no other explanation for his utter stupidity with Rory on the Fourth. What had he been thinking, opening his mouth and letting whatever shit came to mind just pour out?
As soon as he’d said the words, he’d known what a colossal mistake he’d made. He’d also known he couldn’t stick around, not all that interested in listening to her rip him a new one for even thinking about being in her bed. The last thing she needed to know was exactly how often those particular thoughts came to mind.
Avoidance was key at the moment. He needed to give himself time to cool down and remember exactly why keeping his distance was necessary. He had a whole laundry list of reasons why he didn’t get involved withanyone, let alone a Haven girl. But that, specifically, would be troublesome for him, considering his best friend—and Rory’s youngest sister—Nat would skin his balls for even lookingin Rory’s direction.
God help him if Nat ever found out how much jacking off he’d done in Rory’s name while they’d been in high school. She’d kill him. Then she’d bring him back to life just to kill him all over again.
In his twenty-five years, Nash had avoided relationships and local hookups like the plague. When your old man had screwed his way through most of Havenbrook’s female population in his own age group and had started working on the next generation, well… Nash would take care of his business in another town just so he didn’t run the risk of double dipping with dear old dad.
Considering his fuckup the other day, there was no time like the present to remind himself exactly why he had those rules in place. Without knocking, he opened the front door of his childhood home. It was small but nice—couldn’t own the only contracting business in town and live in shambles—but it’d never held happy memories for Nash. From the day his momma’d walked out of this house until he’d moved out at seventeen, life within these walls hadn’t been anything but letdowns and loneliness.
