“And what direction is that?”
He shook his head, squinting in the sun as he glanced at her. “I have absolutely no idea.”
“Well, you’ve been through a lot of changes these past few weeks. A lot more still to come.”
“That’s true, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m gonna have to figure something out. There’s a publishing house that wants to discuss bringin’ me into their stable of songwriters, but Carla didn’t wanna pursue it if I was still gonna try for something with the label. But then I wonder if either job is good enough. They’re both crazy.”
“Crazy how?”
“Unpredictable. Havin’ a steady income is something Judge Seville is gonna take into account for his decision. I’ve got some money stashed away in savings but not enough to last more than a couple months. I need a job, which means I need to figure out what I wanna do, and fast.”
Gran hummed. “That’s a question for the times, isn’t it? What about Nat?”
“I don’t think she’s gonna swap out photography for singin’ with me,” he said on a laugh.
“No, I don’t suppose she would. What’s she plannin’ to do with her career? Havenbrook’s not exactly teeming with the kinds of jobs she’d take.”
“Not exactly,” he agreed.
And that was the sticking point, wasn’t it? He had asked her to stay, to play her part in this lie, but when he’d asked her to do that, he hadn’t expected things to change so drastically between them. Mixing in sex had played a part in that, of course, but it was more. He’d never realized just how easy it could be between them. They had the best of both worlds—the kind of friendship both of them had always been able to count on, paired with the kind of raw sexual chemistry books were written about. And he wasn’t so sure he wanted to give that up.
He’d had a brief flicker of hesitation the night when he and Nat had first slept together, not wanting to jeopardize what they had. That’d been why he’d forgotten all about his crush on her when they’d been teens, because he’d seen firsthand how things had shaken out between her and Nash after one kiss.
He and Nat had done a hell of a lot more than kiss.
But he should have known better than to worry about that with them. While some friends couldn’t cross the line of romantic involvement, they’d once again slayed all preconceived notions and plowed ahead without a backward glance. Things between them hadn’t been awkward in the least. Hot as hell? Without a doubt. Uncomfortable? Not even a little.
They fit. Seamlessly. Effortlessly. He’d never had a laugh swallowed up by a moan during sex. Had never wanted to cuddle the hell out of someone as much as he wanted to fuck them. With Nat, he wanted both in equal measure.
“You know,” Gran said, “Nat used to come out here with me all the time when she was a little girl. I got some free labor out of her, and she got to avoid her overbearin’ daddy.”
Asher snorted. “Avoidin’ things is probably her favorite hobby.”
“Without a doubt. We had a whole lot of conversations back here. I remember one time—she was maybe eleven or twelve—she asked me if I liked livin’ in Havenbrook because she didn’t much.”
“What’d you tell her?”
“Told her I’d made my choice to stay, marry her granddad, and have her daddy. Set down some roots. And that as much as I sometimes wished I’d traveled the world, life wasn’t for regrets. It’s for livin’.”
“I think she’s got that part figured out.”
Gran hummed and regarded him, her gaze connecting with his under the brim of her sun hat. “She sure does. Pretty sure she took my words that day and made them her mantra in life, ’cause I also told her it was in her bones to fly, and that girl’s spent the past eight years doin’ nothing but flyin’.”
Spent eight years flying and ten prior to that talking about it. He glanced over to where she and June played, and though she looked happy—though she’d been happy these past few weeks with him—he knew it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. Not when she’d been trying her whole life to get out of this town, and if things went the way he was praying they would with the kids, he’d be coming back to Havenbrook permanently.
“Would you mind grabbin’ me one of the flats, sugar?” Gran asked.
“No problem,” he said, pushing up to stand.
“Just set ’em right here, please.” She pointed to the spot next to her, and he obliged. “Fortunately for y’all, it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. Havin’ a home base here isn’t any different from her havin’ one in Portland. Speakin’ of…when are y’all gonna get her belongings out here?” Gran asked, a note of something heavy in her tone that he couldn’t quite decipher.
Shit. They hadn’t discussed that. Hadn’t come up with a plan for when someone asked. Hadn’t even anticipated anyone asking, though they should have. Gran read too many damn mystery novels for her own good and loved sleuthing out a story.
“Look who I found,” Caroline interrupted as she stepped out onto the patio with Owen in her arms, Richard trailing behind them. “He’s still a little grumpy.”
“You talkin’ about that sweet sugar bug in your arms or my son?” Gran asked as she scooted on her garden cart to the next hole, dragging the flat of flowers along with her.
Caroline laughed and strolled toward them, taking a seat at the table under the umbrella. “Now, don’t be mean to him. He’s grillin’ our steaks tonight.”
