Nash Brothers Box Set

by Carrie Aarons

  Bowen deals the first hand, and we play in silence for a while. The only words are unspoken glances across the table, competitive nudges, and suggestive goading trying to get each other to fold.

  “Heard you went on a date with Penelope.” Keaton eyes me well into our second hand, a grin playing at his lips.

  My head whips to Fletcher, who shrugs. “What?”

  “You told him? I should have known better than to assume you’d keep your fucking mouth shut.”

  “Oh, come on. You took her out in Lancaster. Showed up to her house with a bunch of flowers. As if people weren’t going to find out.” Fletcher waves me off, rolling his eyes.

  “How did you know that?” My suspicions rise.

  “Bonnie at the grocery store told me you stopped in to pick up daisies,” Bowen chimes in, looking too smug to just be a bystander in this conversation.

  “You’re all nosy assholes.” I bury my head in my cards, pissed that we’re discussing this.

  I don’t need gossip sessions or feelings circles like my brothers. What business I have with Penelope is just that; ours.

  “Well, I’m personally offended that you have all been carrying on for months and didn’t tell any of us. Oh, and if you hurt her, I’ll murder you.” Bowen levels me with a sobering gaze.

  “You’re my brother!” I remind him.

  Fletcher switches out one of his cards. “But Lily is his wife. And technically, Penelope is like Lily’s sister. Whose side should he take?”

  My eyes almost bug out of my head. “My side! I’m his blood! Wait … why are we even discussing this? I don’t care whose side he takes, because I’m not going to hurt Penelope. And I’m also not going to be roped into talking about our relationship.”

  Keaton’s eyes dance with amusement. “Seems like you’re already roped in. And relationship? Congratulations, I’m happy to hear it.”

  “Another Nash bites the dust,” Fletcher says, shaking his head.

  “Have you told the boys, yet?” Bowen asks, unruffled by that fact that he just threatened to kill me mere moments ago.

  I sigh, knowing I won’t get out of here without talking about this.

  “Yes, I went on a date. No, I’m not going to hurt her. If anything, she’ll be the one bludgeoning my heart to smithereens. No, we haven’t told the boys yet. Penelope won’t even let me come over for dinner to introduce me as someone in her life.”

  “Well, the boys know you already,” Fletcher points out.

  “But not as a man who is dating their mother. Or someone who could possibly be a male authority in their lives,” Keaton answers him.

  Bowen butts in. “Maybe Penelope thinks it’s too early to present that idea to them. After all, they have already lost one father.”

  I fold my arms, leaning back in my chair. “No, by all means, talk about me and my situation like I’m not here.”

  At least Keaton has the decency to look apologetic. “Sorry. You were trying to tell us. It’s just that … well, I can’t remember you ever openly confiding in us about anything.”

  “Yes, because it’s going so well right now.” I level the table with a glare.

  Fletcher hangs his head. “We’re sorry. Proceed.”

  Hating having been interrupted when I actually do need advice, I sigh in annoyance. But … decide that I need their help more than I want to be a smug bastard and stay silent.

  “When we first started …” I trail off, not wanting to embarrass Penelope by spilling details about our hookup pact.

  “Fucking. You can say it. We all know that you and Penny were bang buddies.” Fletcher fills in the blank for me.

  I feel like punching my twin but refrain. “Fine. When we started, she didn’t want to tell anyone. Had reservations about me being younger, acting like a dick most of the time.”

  “Well, you do.” Bowen grins at me.

  “Stop interrupting him.” Keaton silences my brothers with a resolute demand.

  I nod in thanks at him. “But something changed, and she agreed to go on a date with me. A lot of people don’t know still, along with Lily so please don’t say anything.”

  I’m expecting Bowen to argue with me here, but he keeps his mouth shut.

  “And now it’s been a couple of weeks. Things are going … great, honestly. You all know my pitiful track record with actual romance, and I don’t want to fuck this up. I like her, a lot. I want to be a part of her life, but I know what she’s been through. We all do. I don’t want to push her, but … I’ve waited a long time for her.”

  It feels weird, talking about a relationship with my brothers. I was always the one who eschewed emotions and mocked them for falling in love. But I’m hopelessly sinking further and further into my feelings for Penelope, and they’re the only help I’ve got.

  “She’s finally taken to you and seems to be happy with the way things are. You’re young, and Penelope has the kids and the picket fence already. Why can’t that be enough?” Bowen asks.

  “You know better than anyone that it isn’t enough. I don’t want there to be any question that she’s mine. I don’t want her to get spooked in a week and run. And I also want to make sure that she gets the help she deserves. I don’t just want to be her outlet on a night out … I want to—”

  “You want marriage and kids.” Bowen smiles fondly.

  I sputter, his statement making a tidal wave of heat flood my gut. It’s that pinpricking sensation of awareness, or fear. “Well … I don’t know about that, I … I—”

  “You’re in love with her,” Keaton says simply.

  They’re pissing me off even more than when they were interrupting me before. “I knew you wouldn’t listen.”

  “No, they’re listening perfectly, brother. So am I. All we hear is that you love Penelope and want to claim her, and her children, as your own. When it all boils down, that’s the answer you’re left with. The question is, when are you going to tell her that?”

  Fletcher lays it all out, effectively shooting bullet holes into my shaky defenses. He’s all but eliminated the vague language I tried to use, and gotten to the heart, literally, of what I was trying to explain.

  “How do I tell her, when I’m not even sure she’s looking at this with the same view?” I resign myself to being vulnerable in front of them.

  Keaton is the one to offer advice now. “With Presley, I just had to tell her how I felt. Sure, she freaked out a little … okay, a lot. But I knew I loved her. Life is too short, Forrest. It’s one of those things people say but look at Mom. She had Dad for the time she had him for, and now he’s gone. Do you want to wake up some day, regretting that you never told Penelope how serious you are about her?”

  All of their words sink into my flesh, absorbing through the layers and into my internal organs. My gut, my heart, my brain … they sync up in one swift motion and know that what my brothers are saying is true.

  “Jesus, I thought we were just coming over to play poker,” Bowen grumbles. “Was this your way of trying to win a hand?”

  The tension breaks, and we’re back to our sibling rivalry. I set down my hand, which is rather stacked with a royal flush.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time I beat you with both smarts and sleight of hand.”

  My middle brother flicks me his middle finger, folding his cards as they all slide their chips in my direction.

  “Tell the woman you love her. Maybe she’ll make an honest man out of you yet.”

  29

  Forrest

  “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, gorgeous P, happy birthday to you.”

  My singing voice is far from decent, but for her, I’ll belt a tune.

  “Will you stop that?” Her voice lilts from her bathroom.

  I lie on top of her bed, the ruffly pink comforter so different from mine. It’s only the third time, in the months and months we’ve been consorting, that I’ve been invited into her bedroom.

  Penelope’s home reminds me
a lot of my childhood one; littered with boys’ sneakers, children’s artwork, overstuffed couches, soft blankets, and pictures of the family covering every wall. It’s a home that, as soon as you walk in, you’re instantly comforted by.

  “Where are the boys tonight?” I ask.

  I’m a little curious, as her house has usually been off limits.

  “At my mother-in-law’s,” Penelope shouts out from the bathroom. Poking her head out, she eyes me. “Why, did you want the kids to be here?”

  I should tell her that, no, I don’t. Although we’re all but out in the open now, I don’t want to freak Penelope out.

  But last time we were all together … I have to admit it was kind of fun. Teaching Matthew basic HTML was kind of cool, and the way Travis throws a baseball, he’s going to be a natural outfielder. Plus, watching Penelope wrangle her boys is kind of sexy. Who knew observing someone be a mom could really be a turn on?

  And after the conversation with my brothers at poker night … all I can think about is telling her how much I love her, and how I want to be a part of her and the boys’ lives.

  “Well, that wouldn’t be too appropriate for this marathon of fuck, would it?” I shut down all thoughts of something deeper because she only asked for one thing on her birthday.

  My cock.

  Yes, the only thing this woman wanted on her birthday was a night free of kids, and a dick down. I was only too eager to help her out with that request.

  She walks out of the bathroom in what can only be described as a smoldering scrap of lace. The deep purple chemise is nearly see-through and only falls to the middle of her thighs. It highlights every curve, and when she turns around, the entire strip down the middle of her back is only lace. I see part of her ass cheeks, the dip of her tailbone, and the way those blond locks fall in thick sheets over the thin spaghetti straps holding the lingerie up on her shoulders.

  “Jesus Christ …” I shove my fist in my mouth, bite it and let my eyes wander her luscious figure.

  The only thing sexier than a naked Penelope is this bombshell in lace. It’s as if the garment leaves just enough to the imagination to get my blood boiling and my cock roaring to life.

  “I thought I’d wear my birthday suit, then decided this would be better.” She stops in the middle of the room, striking a sex kitten pose.

  “Happy birthday. Blow out your candle,” I tell her, standing from the bed, completely naked with my hands on my hips.

  The candle I want her to make a wish upon is hard, pulsing, and dying to be inside her.

  “You’re so corny.” She chuckles, sauntering across her bedroom to me.

  That may be, but I am the one she decided to spend her day with, and I am going to give her everything she asked for.

  Catching her waist as our bodies meet, I run my hands over silk and exposed flesh. Penelope is something out of my wildest fantasies, mile-long legs and curves for days. Her emerald orbs blaze into mine as I explore her form, taking my time to float my fingers over every swell and dip.

  After what feels like an hour, my digits make it to the hem of her lingerie, the nightie barely reaches past the bodacious bump of her ass, and I skate past the material, ready to feel my favorite place on her body.

  I thought I’d encounter a pair of underwear, blocking my way … but my cock twitches in lustful fury when I discover her pussy completely bare, her obvious arousal coating my fingers.

  “Are you trying to make me prematurely ejaculate?” I groan, squeezing my own ass cheeks together to try to stop the familiar tingling in my balls.

  “I thought I trained you better than that by now.” Penelope sighs, dropping her forehead to my shoulder as I thrust two fingers inside her.

  “You have, Mrs. Robinson.” My teeth bite down gently on the top curve of her ear as I milk her slowly, fucking her with my digits.

  Penelope flicks me in the nipple, the sensation both painful and yet ebbing with pleasure. “The last thing I want on my birthday is age jokes. Shut up.”

  Next thing I know, she’s pushing hard at my chest, the backs of my knees hitting the bed and buckling. I fall back, taking her with me, and my cock wedges between us.

  “Ride me. Now,” I demand, not able to wait any longer.

  Funny, I always mean to take my time with her … but then we get each other alone and I feel like a boy on the cusp of losing his virginity. Every time.

  She obeys, straddling my lap as she adjusts to exactly the right position, and then slides down onto my shaft. I lift up the material of her lace nightgown so I can watch as she slowly impales herself on my cock, and both the visual of it, and the sensations burning down my spine cause me to nearly stroke out.

  Once fully seated in my lap, Penelope begins to slowly gyrate her hips back and forth, a motion I know brushes her sensitive clit against the rough stubble of my pelvis.

  “God, you’re fucking beautiful.” I breathe, mesmerized by her.

  All she can do is moan in response, too engrossed in stroking herself on my dick to focus on words. It’s a rare treat, to watch her like this. Typically, I like to be in control, the race to my own climax almost as important as getting her off. But tonight, it’s all about what she wants. I’m giving over the reins and sitting back to watch her set the pace.

  With every inch she rises, my blood heats a little more. It scorches me from the inside out, setting my heart ablaze with the longing I seem unable to contain any longer. Penelope is a vision, taking what she wants as she wholly focuses on herself. Her fingers knead the tight buds of her nipples, her hair wafting around her like a golden curtain of silk.

  I brand her hips with my hands, steadying her as she begins to tremble. All at once, the sharp awareness of my release slams into me, and just as she sinks down for a final time, giving her hips one last spasm to push her over the edge, I unravel.

  Pulling her down to me, my arms clamp around her back as I thrust upward, riding the cyclone of pleasure ripping through me.

  When my senses come back, in a dazed, muted way, I roll us so that she can nestle in my chest. My cock is still inside her, the evidence of our releases staining her sheets.

  With her lying in my arms, my tongue begins to loosen. The chains I’ve always roped thickly around my heart threaten to break their lock, and I want so badly to confess what’s been running through my mind for days.

  I love you. I want to make a life with you. I want to be the man who you lean on.

  I want to care for your children.

  The thoughts shock me just as much as they probably shock anyone who knows me in the slightest. For years, I’ve said I don’t want marriage. That kids aren’t for me. But until you get a taste of the one life that you know, for sure in your heart, you’re supposed to live … you can’t know how much you really do want those things.

  Penelope is my taste, and now I want the entire restaurant.

  “Penelope …” I begin, so nervous that I’m not even sure how I’ll get the words out.

  She snuggles closer. “Mmm, I’m so glad we could have an easy night. This is exactly what I wanted for my birthday. No flowers, or candles, or some movie-level grand gesture. Just sex in my own bed, and you.”

  Her head tilts up, her green eyes appreciative. “Thank you for just following my simple wishes.”

  All the air in my balloon-like heart deflates. This is what she wants. Simplicity, nothing complicated or dramatic. Penelope asked me here, and sent her kids out for the night because she wants to enjoy me … separately from her actual life.

  I burn with embarrassment and foolish pride. Am I a fucking idiot? What kind of love potion had my brothers spiked my iced tea with at poker night?

  Two seconds ago, I’d been about to spill my most romantic feelings and notions to this woman … who clearly likes our easy, no-strings relationship.

  So, I keep silent, shutting off the part of me that yearns for more.

  “Of course. Anything for you, P.”

  And that is the
truth. I’d do anything for her. Even if it didn’t fall in line with what I truly want.

  30

  Penelope

  “I can’t believe you didn’t let us celebrate your birthday.”

  Lily is still pouting, three days after I turned thirty-one, as we sit in the stands at Ames’ karate lesson.

  These days, the only time I can spend with my friends is in the bleachers of their sporting events. And that’s if my friends don’t mind coming to gossip about their perfect married lives while sleep-deprived parents sit around watching their four-year-old’s kick at air.

  “I turned thirty-one, Lil. It’s not like we could go to Vegas for the celebration of my legal drinking age. It just means I have more wrinkles now.”

  “Birthdays are special,” my best friend whines.

  Lily has always been … well, a librarian. The perfect, organized, girl next door who shows up to a Christmas party with perfectly wrapped presents, complete with a bow. For my baby shower, when I was pregnant with Travis Jr., she froze tiny sprigs of bluebells into the ice cubes and made a diaper cake six tiers high. On her birthday this year, Bowen found a horse-drawn carriage to take her around a park like Cinderella.

  I may love her, but her idea of holidays and traditions are extra as fuck.

  “Anyway, how is the kitchen remodel going? Or are you guys making babies instead of making countertop decisions?” I rib her, trying to get the information I actually want.

  Lily blushes, just like she does any time I talk about her sex life with Bowen. The little freak, she’s the one who lost her virginity in a public park gazebo.

  “We’re going to enjoy being married for a while. We wasted so many years … Bowen and I are just happy to have some couple time before we add a baby to the mix.”

  “But he does want them, right?” Grilling her is my job as a best friend.

  And because I know she wants children, I better not hear that Bowen is reluctant.

  Lily looks around, ducking her head to quietly talk. And that’s when you know you’re going to be told the good stuff, when someone lowers their voice.