by Lili Valente
“Oh. Yeah. Great,” Mason says, but he doesn’t sound particularly pleased by the coincidence. “But Aria’s here, just so you know,” he adds, explaining the hesitation in his voice.
Mason doesn’t know all the dirty details—we weren’t close back when I got tangled up with the eldest March sister—but he gets that Aria and I have a past, and that we don’t care for each other. The disastrous BBQ he invited me to earlier this summer, back when he’d had no clue I knew Aria and thought setting me up with his girlfriend’s sister would help me get over Rachael, made that pretty damned clear. Aria and I barely made it through the meal without biting each other’s heads off.
She’s the original bad news redhead, the first girl to rip my heart out, still beating, from my chest and toss it to the ground like a peanut shell she’d already plucked clean.
“She’ll be getting off the ride soon,” Mason adds.
“Then I’ll be quick. See you in a second.” Ending the call, I make a beeline for the rollercoaster’s graceful skeleton at the far right of the fairgrounds.
By the time I reach the corn dog stand halfway down the line of thrill rides, I’m jogging, weaving my way through the slow-moving crowd.
I could really do without seeing Aria tonight.
She gets to me even more than Rachael.
But then, Rachael and I never talked the way Aria and I did. We didn’t connect on that soul-deep level that felt so real, so right. I never believed Rachael was “the one.” If I’d proposed to her, it would have been because I’d decided to compromise in the name of getting out of the dating rat race and finally settling down and starting a family.
With Aria, there was no compromising involved. I’d been head over heels for her. I’d thought she was the prettiest, funniest, most fascinating person I’d ever met, right up until she’d made it clear she was just slumming for the summer and I’d never been anything to her but a passing distraction.
Yep, definitely don’t need a reminder of that. I’m already full-up on feeling like a fool tonight.
Thankfully, when I finally reach the small group of people waiting outside the exit to the rollercoaster, Mason is still alone.
“Hey there, good to see you, man.” I jog the last few feet across the dusty ground, taking Mason’s offered hand and clapping him warmly on the back.
Mason and I fell out of touch for a while, but he was one of my best friends back when we worked construction together in the summers after high school. When he came back to town a few months ago, we fell back into a close friendship without a hitch. Not even the fact that he’s marrying Aria’s sister can come between us, though I’m sure it will make the wedding party awkward.
To say I’m not looking forward to sharing best man and maid of honor duties with Aria March is an understatement.
“You, too,” Mason says, squeezing my hand tight before letting go. “I’d invite you to join us, but...”
“No worries, I get it. Not all friend groups mix as well as we’d like.”
“True.” Mason casts a glance back at the coaster’s exit, but none of the people streaming out look familiar. Looks like we’re safe for a few more minutes. He turns back to me. “Usually I’d feel fine about heading off with you for a while and meeting up with them later, but Aria’s had a pretty hard night. I feel like I should stick around for moral support.”
My brows lift. “Oh, yeah? How so?” I ask, surprised to find I’m curious.
But then, why shouldn’t I be curious? I’m a nice guy, but even nice guys enjoy tales of the suffering of evil ex-girlfriends from time to time.
“Her ex is suing for full legal and physical custody of the baby,” Mason says with a sigh. “Even though he hasn’t seen Felicity in months and refuses to send Aria a dime in child support. He’s such a complete sack of shit it seriously boggles the mind.”
“Sounds like it,” I say, meaning it.
Evil ex or not, just from the one night I spent in their company, it was clear Aria adores her baby girl and Felicity worships her mama. What her ex is doing is cruel, and absolutely not in his daughter’s best interests.
Mason’s scowl deepens. “Yeah, apparently, he got remarried and decided that means he’s better for Felicity than her single mom, which is, of course, ridiculous.” He glances over his shoulder again. “But don’t say anything about it to anyone, okay? I probably shouldn’t have mention it, but—”
“Don’t worry about it. I would never share your family’s private business,” I assure him, happy to change the subject. I don’t like feeling anything for Aria, especially not empathy or compassion. “So why aren’t you riding? Afraid of heights?”
“I get motion sickness,” Mason mumbles with a shrug.
“Wimp,” I tease, making him laugh.
“Fuck off,” he says. “I can still ride the carousel, man. I’m a total badass on the carousel.”
I laugh. “I bet. I’ll let you get to that. Just wanted to ask if you planned on taking the boat out tomorrow. If not, I thought I might go fishing.”
“Can I get back to you later?” he asks. “Lark and I were planning a picnic on the island in the middle of Lake Elsie, but after what happened with Aria I don’t know if she’ll be up for it.”
“What about Aria?” The light, feminine voice drifts through the air from the ramp behind Mason.
A beat later, I look up to see Aria March pushing through the exit gate ahead of her sisters, looking so gorgeous that every man near the exit turns to stare.
Chapter Six
Nash
Since they were girls, the younger March sisters have been the talk of Bliss River. With their wavy blond hair and big brown eyes that radiate sweetness, Lark and Melody are the kind of All-American beauties that belong on a plastic tub selling fresh-churned butter. Or on a 4H poster, encouraging kids to get involved in raising baby farm animals.
But even before I knew her personally, I always thought Aria was the most stunning of the three. Even when I hated her, her clever green eyes made my heart beat faster.
Tonight is no exception.
Even in a pair of cut off shorts and a green tank top, with her hair pulled into a ponytail, she manages to look elegant, poised, and a little too well-bred to be wandering around a backwoods Georgia town. The electric energy that hovers in the air around her is reminiscent of actors and rock stars and other people with too much charisma for their own good.
I wasn’t surprised to hear she’d run off to Nashville with a record producer. I was surprised to learn the guy had replaced her with a younger model so quickly. Even back before she’d grown into her long legs or learned that self-assured way of holding herself, Aria wasn’t the type of girl who was easy to forget.
After that summer at camp, I hadn’t dated anyone for over a year. Some part of me hadn’t been able to get over her, no matter how badly I’d wanted to.
“Did I hear my name?” she asks, stopping beside Mason, her sharp gaze shifting back and forth between us.
Mason’s expression is unreadable, as always—he has one hell of a poker face—but I’m betting I look guilty. I can’t help feeling like I shouldn’t be in possession of secret family information about Aria, not when there’s clearly no love lost between us.
“I was just telling Nash that Lark and I might cancel our boat trip tomorrow,” Mason says smoothly.
“No, you weren’t,” Aria says, her lips quirking up on one side. “You can fool most of the people most of the time, Mason Stewart, but you can’t fool me.” She hiccups, giggling as she points a finger at his face. “You were telling my tale of woe to my old friend, Nash, weren’t you?”
She’s drunk. Wasted.
She has to be, or she’d never call me an “old friend” let alone be amused that Mason’s been talking about her behind her back.
“Sorry.” Mason cringes as Lark widens her eyes at him. “I’m pissed off on your behalf, and Nash is a friend and it just…came out.”
“I swear, you
boys are worse gossips than Nana’s friends at church,” Melody says, wrapping her arms around Aria’s waist in a show of solidarity.
“It’s okay.” Aria waves a hand unsteadily through the air. “Everyone will know soon enough. Stupid small town. Stupid talking.” She hiccups again. “I need more beer. Let us away to the beer tent, my ladies!”
Melody arches her brows pointedly at Lark.
“I think we should hold off on that for a little while,” Lark says casually. “Why don’t we head over to the agriculture building and check out Nana’s watermelon before it gets too late?”
Aria’s lips push into a pout. “No. Beer first. Then watermelon.”
“I don’t think you should, Ra,” Melody says. “I think you’ve had enough.”
“Well, I don’t,” Aria says as she detangles herself from Melody’s arms. “And I’m sure I can find someone around here to buy me a beer.” She turns, pinning me with a sleepy gaze that makes my heart skip a beat. “What about you, Nash? Would you buy me a beer?” She tips her head back to meet my gaze, her lips curving into a wide grin.
It’s a tipsy smile, but still bright enough to dazzle.
Buy her a beer?
Well…why not?
Why the hell not?
“Sure. I could use a beer.” I bob a reassuring nod at Mason and Aria’s sisters. “We’ll get a drink and meet y’all in the Ag building in a few.”
Lark’s forehead bunches. “Are you sure about this, you two?” Her troubled eyes shift my way “Nash?”
“Yes, mother, we’re sure.” Aria rolls her eyes and loops her arm through mine with an unexpected familiarity, while I try to ignore the way my pulse beats faster. “We’ll be fine. I’ll see you later. Goodbye, family. Love you lots.”
Without another word, she sets off toward the beer tent, towing me behind her with that surprising strength of hers. She’s deceptively fragile looking for a person with one of the strongest wills I’ve ever encountered.
Aria March is a woman a man underestimates at his peril.
Maybe that’s why, as I glance over my shoulder, I find both of her sisters casting their worried looks my way, not hers.
But their fears are unfounded. I can handle myself around Aria.
Right?
Chapter Seven
Aria
God, this man…
Why does he have to be so damned fine from head to toe and everything in between?
Nash is even bigger than he used to be. Huge, in fact, with muscles popping out on top of his muscles and a powerful physical presence that makes people turn to stare—and then take a step back—as he walks by. They cleared a path for us as we charged into the beer tent, and we only had to wait a couple of minutes before the harried bartender hurried over to take our order.
Which is good.
I was starting to un-numb and that’s not on my agenda tonight.
I’m going to stay gently drunk until I tumble into bed. I know I’ll regret it when Felicity wakes me up in a few hours, but right now I don’t care. I just need to hold the fear and dread at arm’s length a little while longer.
“You realize your forearm is as big around as a fully-grown boa constrictor,” I say, my voice slurring a bit.
Okay, so maybe I’m more than gently drunk. I’m fully intoxicated and clearly not in my right mind or I never would have suggested Nash and I go anywhere together. Ever.
I hate Nash Geary. Mostly. Except when he was being sweet to Felicity at the BBQ a while back. And when he looked at me with that pained, hopeful expression as he left that night, almost as if he remembered, just for a second, that we hadn’t always been enemies.
That we actually used to like each other a whole, whole lot…
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Nash asks, glancing down at his arm.
“Neither. Just an observation,” I reply, squinting up into his face. Yep, it’s still as stupidly handsome as it was the last time I looked. “Have you ever seen a boa constrictor? In real life?”
“Can’t say I have,” he drawls, taking a pull of his twenty-four-ounce draft.
I was a little worried when he ordered the extra-large—by law, we have to stay in the beer tent until we’re finished with our drinks, and my sisters will freak out if I take too long to meet them at Nana’s watermelon—but at this rate he’ll be done with his drink long before I finish my twelve ounces.
“What about you?” he adds.
“Yes, I have.” I nod, the motion making my head swim a little. “My ex has a pet boa constrictor. He kept it in the basement. Next to his guitar collection. If by some insane stretch of the imagination he gets custody of Felicity, I’m going to sneak in there and kill it.”
“You should,” Nash says, with an intensity that surprises me. “What kind of asshole has a boa constrictor and a baby in the same house?”
“A stupid asshole,” I agree, bobbing my head again. “The stupidest asshole who was ever an asshole kind of asshole.” I take another swig of beer, willing the alcohol to do its work. I can’t think about Liam taking Felicity anymore tonight or I’m going to go crazy.
Maybe I already have.
That would explain why I’m suddenly so chummy with Nash.
He clears his throat. “Yeah, I heard. I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I can imagine how hard it must be.”
“Thanks.” I fight to swallow past the fist suddenly shoving up my throat.
Kindness from Nash is harder to take than sarcasm.
Kindness lowers my defenses.
It makes me remember things…
Stupid things like how good it felt to rest my cheek against his solid chest, feel his strong arms around me, hear his husky drawl telling me how much he cares in a way that made me believe it.
But that was all a lie. Nash proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt, and I would be a fool to forget it, even over a decade later.
“Whatever,” I say, banishing the dangerous thoughts with another drink. “It’s fine. I’ve got time before the hearing. I’ll figure something out.”
“I’m sure you will,” he says, but he’s watching me out of the corner of his eyes, concern still written clearly on his face.
“Seriously, Nash, I don’t need you to feel sorry for me,” I say, refusing to cry. I can’t lose control in front of him. It would be too mortifying. “I wish Mason had kept his mouth shut,” I mumble, though I’m not really mad at Mason.
I’m mad at myself for being such an emotional wreck. I should be used to this kind of thing from Liam by now. I should be stronger.
Nash grunts. “Well he didn’t so… Guess I owe you a confession.” Before I can assure him he doesn’t owe me anything, he takes a deep breath and says, “I broke up with someone recently, too. I ran into her a few minutes ago, and found out she’s already engaged to marry a loser I used to play football with in high school.”
I blink. “Wow. That sucks. I think mine is worse, but that really does suck.”
Nash sighs. “He’s the same guy she was cheating on me with. The one I found in my bed when I came home from work a little too early one afternoon.”
I wince around another swig of beer. “Ouch. I’m so sorry. Cheating is the worst. You’re definitely narrowing my lead in the pain Olympics.”
Nash’s lips curve in a wry smile. “Well hold on because I’m about to close the gap. Instead of walking away without saying anything like a sane person, I lied and told her I was engaged, too.”
My jaw drops. “What? So you just…made up a fake fiancée?”
“Yep.”
I giggle. “That’s nuts. I didn’t know you were nuts.”
“Neither did I,” he says with a laugh, his eyes rolling up to study the roof of the tent. “I don’t even have a girlfriend. I haven’t dated anyone since Rachael left, and I’m sure she knows it. It’s not like it’s easy to keep secrets in this town.”
I snort. “What? In this not-at-all gossipy cesspool? Yeah, if she doesn’t
know you’re lying now, she will by tomorrow. Or maybe tonight, depending on who she runs into while waiting in line for corn dogs.”
“I know,” Nash says, color flushing his cheeks. “So yeah. I’m about to look like a bigger fool than I do already.” He glances down at his beer. “Too bad my friend, Sandra, moved away.”
“Why? Who’s that?” I ask, my buzz making me unapologetically nosy.
“She always hated Rachael. With a burning passion. I probably could have convinced her to get engaged for a while. Just to save my damned pride.”
I frown. “No way. You wouldn’t really do something like that?”
“Yeah, I would,” he says, with a shrug. “We almost got married a few years ago, actually. She has Crohn’s disease. She was going through a really rough patch with her illness and couldn’t afford her meds. Since neither of us had any romantic prospects on the horizon, we were going to get hitched so she could be on my insurance.”
My lips purse and the lump reforms in my throat again. “Wow. That’s…really sweet. Illegal, but very sweet.”
He shrugs again, more uncomfortably this time. “But then she met someone amazing and she and her new girlfriend moved to Boulder. They’re getting married this spring, and I don’t have any other female friends as crazy as Sandra, so…”
My stomach knots, my heart lurches in my chest, and suddenly I feel stone-cold sober.
But I’m not sober.
If I were, I’d never have the guts to say, “I’ll do it.”
“What?” A line forms between Nash’s eyebrows, an exclamation point that seems to emphasize the insanity of what I just said.
“I’ll do it,” I repeat, my pulse fluttering in my throat. I set my beer down as my arm begins to tremble. “Though I might need more than a fake engagement. My ex is saying he’s a better parent because he’s already married and has a house of his own without any perverts like my dad living in it.”
“The report on your dad’s arrest came across my desk last week,” Nash says, a hard note creeping into his voice. “Can’t say I was sad to see it.”