Works with his hands. Check. Has a smile that lights up his whole face. Check. Has already seen you at your worst and didn’t run away. Check.
Nash is safe. He’s a good guy who won’t be around long enough to get clingy. Or demand more than I’m willing to give. And he’s damn fine to look at.
Ain’t no surprise I want him. Hell, it’d be strange if I didn’t.
By the time Nash arrives, I’m almost calm. Until he gets out of the car. It’s warm today, and he’s wearing a dark blue t-shirt that molds to his arms and shows off every curve and dip of his muscles. “Give me a hand?”
“Good mornin’ to you too,” I say, leaning against the mangled trunk and appreciating the view as he reaches into the backseat.
He straightens and hands me a white box with a wink. “Be careful with these. I had to go all the way to Mill Creek for them.”
God. He smells so damn good. His hair curls over the collar of his shirt, and as he stretches to snag his backpack, I catch a whiff of spice. And a glimpse of smooth skin.
I have to put some space between us before I say—or do—something I’ll regret. Like grab the back of his neck and kiss him until he can’t remember his own name.
“Raelynn?” Nash touches my shoulder, and I jerk back to the present. If I didn’t have a death grip on the box of donuts, they’d be in the gutter. “You do like donuts, right?”
“Of course, I do.” I take a quick peek into the box. “But you’re damn lucky you got two maple bars. I’d hate to have to fight you for one.”
“I’ll trade you the rest of my maple bar for another cup of coffee.” Nash nudges the donut box closer to me with a hopeful grin.
“Rookie move.” Not waiting for him to change his mind, I snag the rest of the prized confection, holding it just out of reach. “The coffee pot is full—and unguarded. You could have kept this and refilled your mug.”
“Maybe I just wanted to see you smile like that.”
Flames race up my cheeks, and I can’t remember the last time I blushed. Or spent an hour with a guy, enjoying his company and just…talking. “Get to work, Mr. Fix-It. I’ll keep you in coffee all day long.”
“Promise?” His blue eyes sparkle as he clutches the cup to his chest. “Because I have to cut into your drywall today to connect a whole new electrical panel. It’s not going to be pretty. Or quick.”
“Will my lights stop flickerin’ for no reason whatsoever? Because if so, you can make as much of a mess as you want, and I’ll be happy as a pig in shit.” Shoving the last of the maple bar into my mouth, I move to the cabinet next to the sink and pull out the bag of coffee beans. “If you get my heater workin’ at the same time, I just might kiss you.”
His mug lands on the counter with a rattle. I didn’t notice him get up. Or move so close, we’re practically touching. He stares at me, the intensity in his eyes almost feral.
Oh, shit. What did I—?
Nash grabs me, one hand cupping my neck, the other molding to my waist. His lips are the stuff of legends. Soft, yet strong, with a hint of stubble scraping against my skin. I can’t think. Not with the way he tastes. With the heat of his body setting me ablaze.
Lord have mercy, this man can kiss.
And I’m kissing him back.
He traps me against the counter, but escape is the last thing on my mind. The low rumble in his throat and the growing bulge in his jeans make my heart race and heat gather in my core.
Scoring my lip with his teeth, he tugs at the swollen flesh until I moan, then touches his forehead to mine.
“Rae…” he whispers. “That…”
The fire burning through my veins cools in an instant. “Let me go.” I shove at him, twisting out of his hold. “Don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that.”
Tears make the room shimmer. My chest tightens. I have to get out of here before I lose my shit.
I race through the house and up the stairs. Nash calls after me, telling me to wait, apologizing, asking what he did wrong. But I can’t answer. All I can do is slam my bedroom door in his face.
My tears soak into the pillow. I don’t even remember falling onto the bed. He knocks repeatedly, but eventually, his footsteps echo on the stairs, and I’m left with the sounds of my own grief amid the silence.
I wish I knew what to say to him. Or how to explain what he did. It’s been four years since anyone called me Rae—since Brooks called me Rae. For so long, I heard his voice every time I closed my eyes. As much as that hurt, it was also a comfort. A reminder that once...I’d been loved by someone who treated me like I was his whole world. That once I’d loved someone who was my everything.
But now…the memory scratches and skips like one of those old records Brooks loved so much and will never play again.
