As she moved to pass him, Nash hooked her elbow and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I like the skirt.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll bet you do.” He watched her hips sway as she walked away.
“You can stop staring at her derriere and come keep me company.”
Nash grinned like the Big Bad Wolf. “I could. But what’s the fun in behaving?” He settled into the leather couch and adjusted his tie to lie over his stomach.
She chuckled, the sound like sandpaper rubbing together inside her chest. “You’re a firecracker.” With a sigh, she patted her short, thinning hair. “How’s married life treating you?”
“Today? I’d say pretty great.”
“That’s the best you can hope for. In three years, those days may be few and far between, and in seven, you’ll wonder if they existed at all. But if you can make it to twenty and still like each other, you’ve got it made.”
“Why? What happens at three years?”
Grandma tapped the side of her nose. “Babies.”
Nash tapped his foot. “Well, we aren’t … I mean, we haven’t talked about …” The image of Kenzi playing with Hattie came to mind. He loved the way she smiled for the little girl. If they had a baby and he got half that much love, then he’d be blessed.
“I realize I jumped to a conclusion at the funeral, but don’t you want children?” Grandma demanded an answer. Her wrinkled forehead became even more wrinkled as the painted-on eyebrows rose.
“I do.” He answered without thinking. Had he taken an hour to form his response, it would have been the same. He wanted to be a father. More than that, he wanted to partner with Kenzi to raise children. She’d make sure the kids had good grades and he’d make sure they learned how to throw a baseball, a football, and a pass at a woman—all at the appropriate stages of development, of course.
Grandma studied him. “Well? What’s there to wait for, then?”
A willing partner? “The right time. We’re wrapped up in the transfer of the company right now, and we just got married.”
Grandma flicked a piece of lint off her burgundy slacks. “What was your home like growing up?”
A pang of regret rang through Nash like the sound of a gong, deep and echoing. He waited until it was quiet enough that he could hear himself speak. “My dad was always the team coach or the one who started the water fights. We had a lot of fun growing up with him. Although, if you ask my mom, he never grew up. Mom was the disciplinarian—she had to be, or Dad would let us stay up until midnight on a school night.”
“What about God?”
“We went to church at least once a month and prayed over dinner.” He resisted the urge to tug on his collar. Grandma was getting close to the things he didn’t want to talk about, and he wasn’t sure how to steer her on another course. For a woman who resembled a raisin, she sure was quick-minded.
“Okay, I’m dressed for an intervention.” Kenzi glided into the room, wearing loose lounge pants in a blue-green and white billowy top that hovered dangerously near falling off her shoulder. Her hair was down and recently brushed, draping over one shoulder.
Nash swallowed, his tongue suddenly two sizes bigger. “Where to?” He got to his feet and buttoned his jacket, then unbuttoned it.
“Not you.” Grandma pointed a gnarled finger at him. “Ladies only.”
“O-kay.” Nash silently asked Kenzi if she was okay with this. She rolled her eyes and smiled, putting him at ease.
“Well, have fun on your intervention.”
“We will.” Kenzi unlocked the wheelchair and headed for the main house.
Nash glanced around the living room, wondering what to do with himself now that he didn’t have a wife in the room to flirt with. His wife. He was thinking the phrase just as easily as Kenzi had saidmy husbandearlier. What a pair they were.
Did Kenzi want children? He tugged at his bottom lip. Was she even interested in a family, or did she want to devote her life to Hazel’s Dairy Delights? The idea that she may never hold their baby in her arms didn’t sit right with Nash. Neither did the idea that he should be a father. He wasn’t exactly the glowing example his dad had been.
He shook out his arms, feeling as though he were being pressed into a small box, and burst into action. He needed a swim.
