Staying Home (Roped by the Cowboy Duet Book 2) Read online

  “I’ll have what he’s having,” she said, “and this bottle of water.” As she handed over the cash to pay, she looked up at Nash and smiled. “I’m a sucker for gluten.”

  “Gluten?” Nash laughed a little.

  “It’s an addiction,” she affirmed with a straight face. “Thank God I’m not allergic to it like so many people are, but it goes straight to my thighs.” She shrugged. “You win some, you lose some, right?”

  Nash was too busy checking out said thighs to respond right away. Try as he might, he didn’t see any problem. Not an ounce of misplaced fat to be found.

  “Are you checking out my ass?”

  Nash’s gaze jerked up and he felt his face begin to heat. Thankfully, his order arrived just in time to save him from any potentially embarrassing explanations. Clearing his throat, he said, “Enjoy your movie,” and walked off.

  ***

  The last hour of the film was uncomfortable. Nash had to continue pretending he wasn’t completely aware of his object of interest sitting down below, and he had to pretend he didn’t care about the rich tool beside her who constantly found ways to touch her.

  Innocent as those touches may be, Nash knew they were all a setup for more to come. When he was alone. With her.

  He ground his molars. Why the hell did he even care?

  Because you do care, a little voice inside his head whispered.

  Nash shook it away. He didn’t want to be so tied up inside over someone who had left him and one of the most important people in his life so easily. If he pursued her again, who was to say that she wouldn’t up and leave again when the going got tough? Nothing. Thanks, but no thanks. Nash had been down that road before and he wasn’t eager to repeat the journey.

  “I love the start of winter, don’t you?” Sylvia’s head was tilted back, her eyes closed, as she inhaled the night air.

  After the movie, they—more like she—decided it was too early to take her home, and Nash didn’t want to take her back to his, so he’d suggested a late-night stroll through downtown. The night was cool and the air crisp, the sidewalks quiet as if snow were coming, the soft, intermittent streetlights paving a serene yellow path from doorstep to doorstep of each of the shops, which were all either closed or closing.

  “It’s nice,” he agreed.

  Sylvia smiled softly. “I could do without the cold, and I miss swimming, but there’s just something about the winter that soothes me. It’s so quiet and calm, as if a blanket has been wrapped around the whole town. Cozy,” she said with the snap of her fingers. “That’s the word I was looking for.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Nash had always been a man short on words. Some people found that odd. Some called him stuck up or an asshole because of it. But Nash had always found that the less he spoke, the more he heard. People tended to dismiss the quiet ones, as if they didn’t fit so they didn’t count. Nash learned a lot that way about his neighbors. It was the main reason he chose to keep to himself. While he enjoyed the people he shared the town with, their loosely kept secrets were enough to convince him not to get too close.

  A quiet life was preferable to a drama filled one.

  He took a look at Sylvia while she kept her eyes trained on the view laid out before them. She was a good-looking woman, pretty and petite. If he hadn’t known she was a fitness guru and a health fanatic, her lean figure more than gave it away, and he could appreciate the time and energy she took to take care of herself. That kind of discipline was admirable.

  But there was just something about a woman who knew how to let loose a little and say, eat a damn pretzel with cheese.

  Nash knew he was in trouble. Not that it wasn’t painfully obvious before. He just couldn’t keep thoughts of Vivian out of his head. What was she doing right now? Was she still running around with Howard the Coward, or had he dropped her off at home already? Would she sleep with him on the first date? Or would she just kiss him good night?

  The thought of that ass’s fish lips touching her plump, sensual mouth made Nash’s fists clench at his sides. He didn’t want a single cell of that man’s DNA to touch her flawless skin.

  Mine.

  Nash blinked, suddenly aware of his own racing heart and the dark directions his thoughts had taken.

  “Are you okay?”

  Looking down at the petite woman beside him, Nash’s first instinct was to tell her he was fine and keep walking, but he didn’t want to drag this charade out any longer than necessary. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

  “Actually, I think it would be best to take you home now.”

  She nodded, as if she’d expected him to say as much. “Okay, let’s head back then.” Slipping her hand into the crook of his arm, she allowed him to turn them around and lead them back to the truck. She was quiet again, thoughtful, and then she asked, “Is it that woman…what’s her name? Viv?”

  “Huh?” Nash played dumb, not wanting to go down this road of questioning. He wasn’t a person prone to lying, but he also didn’t enjoy being put on the spot and having to admit a truth to someone he wasn’t even ready to face himself.

  “I could tell at the restaurant that you were troubled. And when Ms. Gretta mentioned that woman’s name, and I saw your reaction—as quick as it was—I had the feeling something was up. And then tonight…”

  Nash glanced down at her again. “What about tonight?”

  “Do you even remember what that movie was about?”

  “Of course,” he said defensively. “It was…it...well, there was…” He sighed. “I don’t remember a thing.” Grimacing, he said, “I’m sorry, Syl. I’m a terrible date.”

  She squeezed his elbow and tilted her head, her temple touching the side of his arm. “No, you’re not. You’re just a man in love.” Her pretty brown eyes rose, understanding reflecting back at him. “Was it the woman sitting below us? The one on a date too?”

  Nash couldn’t look her in the eye. “Yeah,” he admitted around the sudden lump in his throat.

  “Well, I don’t know the story, but from what I saw, I think you should tell her how you feel.”

  “That’s not an option,” he responded, his voice full of steel determination.

  “I think Ms. Gretta is going to have something to say about that.”

  “I think Ms. Gretta has enough to say about everything. Look, Syl, this was a mistake. Ms. Gretta set us up as some kind of game to get me to see things her way, and I’m such an ass that I played along. I’m sorry you got caught in the middle.”

  Her expression was sad but filled with understanding that Nash couldn’t understand. He would be spitting mad if he were in her shoes. “The heart is a funny thing. You can’t control who it chooses to love and people do crazy things when they try to force it to.”

  “Yeah, you’re right about that.” He looked off again, his gaze catching on two distant figures emerging from a late-night diner at the end of the block.

  “That’s them,” Sylvia announced, her gaze following his. “Nash, can I make a confession?”

  His eyes found hers again. “Go for it.”

  “My heart isn’t completely my own either.” Nash’s brows furrowed and she turned her gaze toward that couple again. “We dated for a long time, almost four years. It was never easy between us, always arguing about this or that, but we loved each other so much. The last argument was over something so stupid, I don’t even remember what it was about. He threatened to leave, and I was so stubborn, I told him to go.” She shook her head, and her voice trembled as she remembered something that Nash wasn’t privy to. “I never thought he would do it.”

  As Nash listened, two things occurred to him: one, she and Howard had been together and she was still in love and wanted him back; and two, Ms. Gretta was playing a bigger game than he could have imagined.

  Gently removing her hand from his elbow, Nash put his arm over Sylvia’s shoulder and started them walking again, toward his truck, and perhaps rather serendipitously, toward the approaching
couple. They would reach the truck before the couple ever reached them, which made the plan turning in his head work out all the more perfectly.

  “Syl,” he said thoughtfully, “do you believe in coincidences?”

  “No?” she said, a question in her voice. She was suspicious of where he was going with this, and rightly so.

  Eyes ahead, he said, “What if I said that I think I can get us both what we want, but you’re going to have to trust me?”

  “Umm…I don’t know. Sure, I guess?” She’d noticed where he was looking, and Nash wasn’t sure if she was cluing into his plan or if she was just too curious to question it, but when they reached the truck and he leaned into her as if to open her door, but instead pulled her in for a kiss, she didn’t fight him.

  And if the gasp of surprise behind him was any indication, the well-timed move had had the desired effect.

  Score one for the home team.

  NINE

  “What are you playin’ at?”

  Gretta’s sharp words caught Nash off guard, although he’d known it was coming. Setting aside the wrench he’d been using to affix the remaining part on the tractor, he suppressed a smile, although barely, as he picked up a shop rag and wiped his dirty hands.

  “What the hell took ya so long?” He’d begun to think word of that little kiss hadn’t made its way back around to her.

  Gretta, moving as fast as her frail body could carry her, marched up to him, and she only stopped once they were nearly chest to chest. At roughly a foot shorter than him, he towered over her, forcing her to arch her neck back in order to meet his eyes.

  Hers were filled with righteous indignation while his were most certainly swimming with mirth.

  “You,” she said, stabbing a finger into the center of his chest, “are up ta no good!”

  “I assume you’re referrin’ to me kissin’ Syl?”

  She shook her head, clucking her tongue. “Honestly, boy, fakin’ a kiss just ta get under that poor girl’s skin…I oughtta tan your hide!”

  “Who said anythin’ was fake?”

  “I said.” She lifted her chin, her jaw set. “Now my Viv won’t say it outright, but that was a low blow. Doncha have any shame?”

  Nash refused to allow himself to feel bad. She’d started this. “Hey, you’re the one who set us up with other people. Can’t go gettin’ mad when ya make a match.”

  “Come now,” she scoffed. “We both know that was just for show. You two were supposed ta see the error of your ways and get back together.”

  “Ms. Gretta,” Nash admonished, “you gotta stop screwin’ with other people’s lives. I seem to remember you tellin’ me once ‘what will be, will be.’ Stop meddlin’, would ya?”

  “I will when the people around here start makin’ the right choices.”

  Nash shook his head. She was unbelievable. “Then be prepared for some disappointments.”

  “Oh, I’m plenty disappointed. Why can’t y’all just do things my way? It would make my life so much simpler.”

  Nash chuckled and bent to wrap his arms around her. “Now where would the fun be in that? Besides, you know you like a good challenge.”

  Gretta sighed deeply and returned the embrace. “Some days, I think it’s the only thing that keeps this old ticker tickin’.”

  “No, that’s your mean streak.”

  Gretta slapped his back and pushed away, laughing along with him. “You’re a rotten man.”

  “And you’re a mean old lady who doesn’t know how to mind her business.”

  Her gray brows popped. “Touché.”

  Nash checked the clock hanging on the barn wall. “It’s lunchtime. Whatcha bring me?” He made a show of looking around her for any sign of a basket filled with goodies.

  “Not a damn thing,” she asserted. “What makes you think I’m goin’ ta feed ya after all the trouble you caused?”

  Nash grinned. “Because you love me.”

  Gretta narrowed her eyes. “Confident, are we?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She huffed and then rolled her eyes. “Fine. I ain’t bringin’ nothin’, but if you wanna stop by, I’ll whip somethin’ up.”

  Nash’s back straightened. “You know how I feel about that.” He hadn’t been to her house for a meal in weeks, and she knew why.

  Gretta propped her fists on her hips and stared him down. “Now why in the world do you haveta keep your distance if you’ve moved on an’ that girl don’t affect ya anymore, hmm?”

  Nash paused, no ready words to offer. They both knew the truth, and if he was going to keep up with their game, he couldn’t very well give her the truth, could he?

  “You’re right. Let’s go.” If anything could give away Nash’s true feelings, it was the way his heart had suddenly started racing as if running a marathon. Good thing it wasn’t something anyone else could hear or feel; otherwise, he’d have some explaining to do.

  Turning Gretta bodily with a firm arm still hooked around her narrow shoulders, he led them out of the barn and across the property, onto the path that divided their land and led to her house.

  Nash wasn’t an actor by trade or practice, but he would have to be today in order to get through lunch.

  As it turned out, his worst fears were unwarranted. Much to his surprise, pleasure, and a dash of disappointment, Vivian wasn’t home when they arrived. Apparently, according to the note she’d left on the refrigerator, held down by a round flower magnet, she’d made a trip into town and she’d be back “asap.”

  Nash was going to do his best to be gone by then.

  Gretta clearly wasn’t having it.

  Nash took his time eating the chicken salad sandwiches she made and sipped three cups of hot coffee—a delicacy she only broke out in the chilly winter weather—while they chatted about life and love and relationships, her three favorite topics.

  When Nash started to announced his departure, Gretta announced her need for help with a few projects around the house. The bathroom sink on the second floor was dripping. He replaced the washer. Then the drain in the downstairs bathroom was clogged, as was the garbage disposal in the kitchen. He snaked them out and got them running good as new. After that, there were a few bulbs blown out in high places that only his “long, strong arms” could reach. Now she had more light than she knew what to do with.

  “Anything else you need doin’ around here, or am I free to go?”

  Gretta pursed her lips in thought as she looked around the room, as if able to peer through walls. “Well, I ‘spose the only thing left is to get that damn tractor up and runnin’.” Cloudy eyes lifted to his. “Any chance that’ll be happenin’ anytime soon?”

  Times like this, Nash wondered if maybe she was his true mother. She sure behaved like it. He shook his head. “Nearly there, I think.”

  Tsking, she said, “That’s what my old man used ta say, too, whenever he was pussyfootin’ around about somethin’.”

  “Are you accusin’ me of pussyfootin’?” Nash was rightly offended—not really. He enjoyed their lighthearted banter.

  “Well, if the shoe fits.” She glanced away and back up at him, a small smile creasing her lined cheeks. She bumped his side with her elbow. “Right now you’re lookin’ at me like you wish I were standin’ on the top step of a steep staircase.”

  “Looks like ya can still read me well.” Nash winked.

  She gasped. “Why you rotten little…! I swear that mouth gets smarter every day.”

  “What can I say, I learned it from you.”

  Her chin lifted with pride. “Well, then you learned from the best.”

  “That’s right.” Nash wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “You’re the best teacher I coulda asked for.”

  Gretta was about to say something uncharacteristically sweet and thoughtful and not snarky, Nash was certain of it, and then they heard the front door open.

  “I’m back! You wouldn’t believe some of the amazing things I found at the
antique shop today,” Vivian called out.

  Nash listened to bags rustling and shoes plunking one after the other onto the floor, followed by the door closing to shut out the frigid air. He could tell instantly that she had made herself at home here. A smile lit inside of him, one that he refused to wear on the outside. And he could tell by Gretta’s sudden change in demeanor—the lift of her shoulders, the grin on her face, the way her eyes lit up—that she was happy to have her there.

  This was a good thing—possibly for both of them. As much as some liked to make him out to be, he wasn’t a scrooge or a cruel man in any way. He didn’t wish ill will on anyone, least of all Gretta, which extended to Vivian by default. If she made the old broad happy, if she brightened her day in some way or another, then who was he to throw a tantrum about it?

  She was headed their way, her voice growing closer as she chattered on about her day’s findings, and Nash felt his chest constrict, his heart beating a little faster as he fixed his gaze on the archway where he knew she’d appear any moment.

  When she finally did, his breath left him entirely.

  Vivian Parish was stunning. In a red, long-sleeve sweater with gold buttons down the wrists to accent, and a pair of black leggings tucked into a pair of knee-high, flat-heeled black velvet boots, he couldn’t imagine a woman in town pulling off sexy and sophisticated quite the same way she did.

  It was as if he were laying eyes on her for the first time all over again, except this time she was wearing far more clothing and that air of superiority wasn’t as rich, and she seemed more capable too. She may not be able to change a tire yet, but Nash would no longer take a glance and peg her for any damsel in distress.

  So maybe Gretta was right to say that Vivian had grown, which would just confirm what he already knew but ignored in an ongoing effort to deny feelings that he didn’t want to have, let alone buy into.

  Romance. Pah! Who needed it? All it’d ever gotten him into was trouble. Was it really something he wanted to dig back into, knowing how it would likely end?