Chapter Thirty-Three
Nash stared after Kenzi, his heart as weak as Peanut Butter Ripple made with too much milk. He stared in a daze, his mind turning over the half dozen options he could have explored that would have brought a different outcome.
First and foremost, he should have told her about his sentence. His fear of losing her had paralyzed him into a corner, and he hated being backed into a corner. Yet he’d gone willingly, rationalizing his actions as protecting Kenzi when all he’d done was work to protect himself.
In his haze, he felt movement in the room. When his eyes focused on Harrison right in front of him, his brain was a half step behind and he took the full force of Harrison’s fist in his face.
Raquel clapped.
Nash stumbled backward, groping for a chair or the table or anything to break his fall. He landed awkwardly over the arm of a chair. His ribs argued the position. He twisted to get his butt in the seat.
Harrison loomed over him. “If I knew how you pulled this off, I would have you thrown back in the slammer.”
Nash hadn’t taken anything in prison. If some guy got up in his grill, he let him have it. He wasn’t about to be run over. The only thing keeping him from taking Harrison to the ground and knocking his teeth out was his hope that he could salvage his marriage. Kenzi loved her cousin, and Nash loved Kenzi more than he cared about his pride. “You’re the one who came up with the whole marriage idea.”
“I knew it!” Raquel lifted a fist in triumph.
Harrison glared at her. His body inflated when he sucked in air. “I purposely didn’t tell the board they could vote for you. How did you know?”
“I didn’t!” Nash protested. His cheek was on fire and the bones screamed for him to protect them, but he forced his hands to grip the armrest.
Harrison grabbed the front of his shirt. “Who told them, then?”
“Arthur did.”
Everyone spun around to see Everett standing in the doorway.
He cracked his knuckles, his hands thick and beefy. “It’s been a few years, but you can have a go at me if you’d like.” He made acome onmotion with his fingers, inviting Harrison to throw the first punch.
Harrison shook out his hands, which had wrinkled the front of Nash’s shirt. “My fight isn’t with you.”
“It might be.” He strolled into the room and took Nash by the shoulder, swiveling his chair around, examining his cheek. “That’s a nice bruise you’ve got there.”
Nash grunted. “I deserve it.”
“Don’t be a martyr, kid.” He tapped the back of Nash’s head and faced Raquel. “About two years ago, when they started running scans and tests, your dad pulled me into his office and we talked about all the things he wanted to do with the company and how he was afraid he might not be able to do them. Even then, he had a feeling that his time was short.” He rested his hand on Nash’s shoulder and spoke right to him. “Talking to you that day over lunch was like sitting down with my friend again. It was like Arthur was standing behind you, feeding you lines.” He paused for a moment as if gathering his emotions, and yet not a stitch of them showed on his face. “I knew what I had to do. It wasn’t easy.” He shook his head. “Kensington deserved better.”
“Ah … What about me?” Raquel jabbed a finger into her chest.
Everett stepped away from Nash and put his arm around Raquel. “You reminded Arthur so much of your mom that he said he felt like an angel lived in the house.”
“He said that?” she asked in disbelief.
Nash tried not to roll his eyes at how easily Raquel was distracted from her question. Everett had sidestepped her anger with flattery and a tender message. Nash could give him some props for that, and possibly learn something too.
“Kept your picture right by his computer screen.” Everett guided her out of the room, leaving Nash alone with Harrison. The man had probably come in just to break up a potential fight. He was a decent guy, and if Nash couldn’t get Kenzi back in her office, then he’d be happy to work with him.
He peered up at Harrison from his chair, contemplating the possibility of the lawyer throwing another punch. Everett’s interruption seemed to have restored Harrison’s level head—at least for the moment. The man’s arms hung so low his swollen knuckles scraped the ground.
“I don’t want to hurt her.” Nash’s eyesight went fuzzy as he thought back to the moment that meant the most to him. “She’s … a quiet moment on Front Porch Farm with a bowl of peach cobbler and a hand-stitched quilt.”
Harrison sagged into the seat next to him. “She took you to the farm?”
Nash nodded.
“Well, crap.” Harrison dragged his hand down his face. “She’s in love with you.”
Nash leaned his arms on the table, needing something to help hold him up. He’d screwed up. Kenzi was right in that he should have told her. He knew he should have told her. The whole time they were together, his secret was in the back of his head, begging to be out in the open. The funny thing was, she seemed more upset that he’d not told her about prison than she was about him actually being in prison. “She might have been in love with me.” She’d said she was, and he’d wanted to tell her he loved her too. “But I’ve messed that up pretty good.” He dropped his head to the table, the thunk echoing in his sore cheek. That was really going to hurt tomorrow.
