Hometown Troublemaker

by Brighton Walsh

  Will and Finn were making googly eyes at each other, totally oblivious to everyone else surrounding them in the Square. And, honestly, it made Rory a little sick. Sure, she understood they were in love and they wanted to celebrate their exciting news and their future and blah, blah, blah, but Lord in heaven, didn’t they have any decency? If she had to watch Finn grab a handful of Will’s ass one more time, she was going to scream.

  Mac elbowed her in the ribs. “Who’s on the end of your death glare? ’Cause I know it’s not our sister and future brother-in-law. That’d be rude. And we both know Rory Haven is never rude.”

  Rory snapped her gaze away from Will and Finn and pasted a serene smile on her face. “Course not. I was glarin’ at Carol Ann over there, pretendin’ to chat with them, while no doubt gettin’ dirt to spread around. Honestly, that woman has no shame.”

  “Mhmm.” Mac hooked her arm in Rory’s, tugging her in the opposite direction and out of the mass of people milling about in the Square, awaiting the fireworks. Lowering her voice so only Rory could hear, she said, “We are happy for her…right?”

  “Course we are!” Rory replied without hesitation. “Why on earth would you ask that?”

  Mac raised a single eyebrow and just stared back at Rory.

  This natural ease between them hadn’t always been present, and their relationship was still a little rocky. Rory’d never been close to any of her sisters, all of them so very different from herself, but she’d been working hard to change that. It’d come the easiest with Will, but Rory was hopeful that things between her and Mac were mending themselves, slowly but surely. Her youngest sister, Natalie, was a whole other issue she wasn’t quite ready to tackle just yet. The two of them weren’t just opposites—it was as if they came from two different universes, despite having grown up in the same house.

  But just because Rory was working toward a better relationship with Mac didn’t mean she had to give away all her secrets. Never mind the fact that Mac definitely saw right through her. Rory’d been putting up a front her whole life, and she’d gotten very good at it.

  “I suppose we’ll have to start plannin’ soon,” Rory said. “I wonder what color bridesmaid dresses she’ll want.”

  Mac groaned and dropped her head back on her shoulders. “Why’d you have to ruin a perfectly good day like that? Point taken, Satan. You don’t wanna talk about it.”

  “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Rory said with a smile.

  “Since we’re not talkin’ about that,” Mac said, tipping her head toward Will and Finn, “maybe we can talk about Sarah Beth.”

  Rory clenched her jaw at the mention of her ex-best friend. As if it weren’t bad enough that Sean had slept with his assistant—and nearly every other single woman in town—he’d also done so with Rory’s best friend since kindergarten. The girl she’d grown up with, shared every secret with, and had roomed with in college. They’d gotten married within months of each other, were in each other’s weddings, and then had gotten pregnant at the same time. They were their daughters’ godmothers, for heaven’s sake, and had raised their girls together to be just as close as the two of them had been. And she’d been the shoulder Sarah Beth had cried on when her own marriage had ended.

  But apparently that kind of history meant a lot more to Rory than it did to her former best friend, because she’d never throw all that away for a little sex. And most certainly not for the barely mediocre sex her ex-husband could provide.

  “I’d rather shove toothpicks under my fingernails, but thank you so much for askin’,” Rory said in a saccharine tone.

  Mac snorted. “I don’t blame you. But she asked me about you earlier.”

  Rory jerked to a stop, spinning around to stare at her sister as she gripped her forearm. “She did? What’d you say?”

  Mac shrugged. “I told her to fuck off and that if I ever heard your name come out of her mouth again, I’d release a bag full of snakes in her yard.”

  She gaped at Mac, both horrified and…absolutely delighted at the idea. “You did not!”

  Mac blew out a long-suffering sigh. “You’re right, but I can.” She brightened, a smile sweeping over her mouth. “And I can punch her in the boob while I’m at it if you’d like. Just say the word.”

  It hadn’t been that long ago when Mac wouldn’t have poured water over Rory if she’d been running around on fire. Okay, that wasn’t true. Probably. But the fact that Mac would defend Rory now without a second thought just reiterated how far they’d come over the past year. And while Rory would love nothing more than to sic her sister on her backstabbing traitor of an ex-best friend, she had to be an adult about the whole thing. Let bygones be—

  Rory gasped, her eyes narrowing on the very person they’d just been speaking about. Honestly, how much did the good Lord expect her to handle in one day?

  Her children were supposed to be with her former mother-in-law, as they usually were on Sean’s days when he was working and the girls weren’t at day camp. That’d been the plan—Rory would meet Susan just before the fireworks to gather up the girls and enjoy their favorite part of the holiday together. Except her daughters weren’t with Susan. Instead, they trotted along behind their daddy and Sarah Beth, and Rory saw red.

  She shoved Mac in their direction. “Go get my babies.”

  “Ow,” Mac said, shooting Rory a glare over her shoulder. “What the hell? Pushy much?”

  “Now, please.” Her voice was tight, her fists clenched at her side. This wasn’t what she and Sean had agreed on, dammit. Though why she expected him to keep his word on that when he couldn’t honor his marriage vows was beyond her. He thought with the head in his pants instead of the one on his shoulders—neither of which were anything to write home about. And for the hundredth time that week, she thanked her lucky stars she didn’t have to put up with either of them any longer.

  Rory had never been more grateful for Mac’s no-nonsense approach than she was in that moment, because as soon as Mac turned to see what Rory had shoved her toward, she stormed in that direction without another word.

  And Rory? Well, she hid behind a cart full of Uncle Sam hats and red, white, and blue streamer wands. If that made her a chicken, so be it. She’d had enough fanfare for one day, thank you very much, but she couldn’t resist the chance to watch them unawares.

  “Never took you for a voyeur, princess.” The low voice rumbled right next to her ear, startling a squeak out of her.

  She didn’t need to turn around to know who stood behind her. If the ridiculously irritating nickname didn’t give it away, the scent that enveloped her would have. She could feel Nash’s heat against her back, tightening her nipples to hard points, and she fought the urge to lean back. Just to see how solid he was. To see if he’d be able to hold her up when she got too tired of doing it on her own.

  She cleared her throat and smoothed a hand over her hair. “Never took you for a creep lurkin’ in the shadows, and yet here we are.”

  He chuckled, moving to stand alongside her, his gaze locked exactly where hers was. His hands were in the pockets of his cargo shorts, his posture carefree to anyone who happened to glance his way. But Rory had studied Nash over the past several months. A lot. And there was no denying the tension in his shoulders, the harsh cut of his jaw as his teeth clenched. He was…mad. On her behalf?

  She ignored the flurry of butterflies that kicked up inside her at that notion. He was no doubt irritated with Sean the same as everyone else in town—simply because he’d crossed one of the town sweethearts. Hell, Edna, Havenbrook’s mail carrier, refused to put Sean’s mail in the mailbox and just left it in a pile on the front steps, rain or shine.

  Never mind that Rory’s heart hadn’t been invested in her marriage for a long time, if ever. But if Havenbrook did one thing well, it was standing behind their own.

  “He’s not worth your anger, princess.”

  She huffed. “I know that.” As if knowing would simply make the emotion vanish.
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  They stood in silence for long moments, Rory’s eyes locked on Mac retrieving the girls, but her attention was on the man standing next to her. He’d hardly spoken at all, but somehow…somehow, she knew he stood there simply to offer her support when she needed it.

  So much like he’d done that night in The Willow Tree last year. The night she’d never spoken of again. The one she’d tried her damnedest to forget.

  She closed her eyes at the flashes of memories—too much vodka and her ridiculously loose-lipped tales from the first time she’d found her husband cheating. Nash had been there. Had sat next to her at the bar, matching her shot for shot, and…listened. Commiserated. Laughed and talked and joked with her until they’d closed down the place. Stared at her with heated eyes when she’d let it slip how attractive she found him. Then he’d made sure she’d gotten safely to her sisters’ home for the night.

  And she’d never entertained discussion of it after that.

  “For the record,” he said, breaking her trance, “I’m glad you finally kicked his ass to the curb. Someone like you, Rory…” He stared straight ahead, never meeting her eyes. “Someone like you deserves a man who’d cut off his own balls just for the chance to lie next to you each night.”

  She blinked, searching his profile for a hint of humor, because certainly—certainly—he had to be joking. Right? “I… What?”

  Commotion to her left shifted her attention away from Nash and to the sight of her daughters walking over with their aunts, smiles on all their faces. Ava, her oldest, tittered excitedly with Will about what kind of junior bridesmaid dress she’d get to wear, while Rory’s youngest, Ella, stood next to Mac, both of them grumbling the whole way.

  The sight filled her heart with happiness, with a lightness she hadn’t felt in far too long. She couldn’t wait to share the fireworks with some of her favorite people in the world. But first, she needed to find out what the hell Nash had meant when he’d said that. He’d done all he could to push her buttons over the past year-plus since they’d first started working together on The Willow Tree, but this was taking it a bit too far, even for him. He’d never been one to tease her about her failed marriage, but apparently, there was a first time for everything.

  Except when she turned around to confront him, he was gone.

  Nash wasn’t quite right in the head. There was no other explanation for his utter stupidity with Rory on the Fourth. What had he been thinking, opening his mouth and letting whatever shit came to mind just pour out?

  As soon as he’d said the words, he’d known what a colossal mistake he’d made. He’d also known he couldn’t stick around, not all that interested in listening to her rip him a new one for even thinking about being in her bed. The last thing she needed to know was exactly how often those particular thoughts came to mind.

  Avoidance was key at the moment. He needed to give himself time to cool down and remember exactly why keeping his distance was necessary. He had a whole laundry list of reasons why he didn’t get involved with anyone, let alone a Haven girl. But that, specifically, would be troublesome for him, considering his best friend—and Rory’s youngest sister—Nat would skin his balls for even looking in Rory’s direction.

  God help him if Nat ever found out how much jacking off he’d done in Rory’s name while they’d been in high school. She’d kill him. Then she’d bring him back to life just to kill him all over again.

  In his twenty-five years, Nash had avoided relationships and local hookups like the plague. When your old man had screwed his way through most of Havenbrook’s female population in his own age group and had started working on the next generation, well… Nash would take care of his business in another town just so he didn’t run the risk of double dipping with dear old dad.

  Considering his fuckup the other day, there was no time like the present to remind himself exactly why he had those rules in place. Without knocking, he opened the front door of his childhood home. It was small but nice—couldn’t own the only contracting business in town and live in shambles—but it’d never held happy memories for Nash. From the day his momma’d walked out of this house until he’d moved out at seventeen, life within these walls hadn’t been anything but letdowns and loneliness.

  “Pops?” he called, glancing at the TV playing to an empty living room. He poked his head into the also barren kitchen, then started down the hall before he heard voices.

  A second later, a woman—one of the neighbors—emerged from his dad’s bedroom, with him following close behind. Her laughter halted the second she saw Nash.

  “Oh hey, Little Nash,” Marie said with a wave. “Though I guess there’s not much little about you anymore, is there?”

  “Quit hittin’ on my boy,” his dad said, smile evident in his voice. That good old King charm working hard. “One King is plenty for you tonight.”

  Nash had had enough experience with these kinds of run-ins over the years that it no longer fazed him. He tipped his head toward Marie and offered her a tight smile. “Hey, Marie.”

  She clasped her hands in front of her. “All right, then. Well, I’ll just get a move on and let you boys have your time.”

  His dad walked her to the front door, gave her a brief kiss, and slapped her ass—a move Nash knew was just a way to shove her out of the house as quick as possible. He’d seen the same thing done to plenty of other women dozens of times before.

  His dad met Nash’s stare with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that. Our little celebration was done, and it was time for her to leave.”

  “Celebration of what? A day endin’ in y?”

  “I like how you think.” His dad tipped a beer can in his direction and settled into his recliner. “But this was real celebratin’. Got a call today from the Bozemans over in Parkersville.”

  For as long as Nash could remember, his old man hadn’t had a single good thing to say about Bozeman Builders or the competition they brought to town. They may not have been located in Havenbrook, but they were close enough that it proved to be a challenge for King Construction.

  “About what?”

  “Seems I’ve been doin’ something right with King Construction. They wanna have a little chat about buyin’ me out and takin’ over in Havenbrook.”

  “They what?”

  “How about that, huh?”

  “Since when are you actively lookin’ to sell?” And since when had it been to anyone but Nash?

  “Since I decided I’m gettin’ too old for this shit. I’ve been doin’ this for thirty-five years, kid, and I’m tired of it.”

  “So, what, you’re suddenly retiring now? You’re barely fifty.”

  “My back says I’m eighty.”

  “You and I both know I’ve been doin’ the bulk of the manual labor for years now. So maybe your back trouble has less to do with construction and more to do with your after-hours activities,” Nash said dryly.

  His dad shrugged. “Doesn’t matter the reason, just that it’s happenin’.”

  Nash shook his head. “I don’t understand what the sudden rush is. Last time we talked, you said I had a couple years.”

  “Yeah, well, last time we talked, I hadn’t been plannin’ on this. But when an opportunity drops in your lap, you gotta snatch it up.”

  “I’m your opportunity, Pops. Not the fucking Bozeman brothers. Those guys are jackasses—you’ve said it yourself a hundred times. They do shit work for overinflated prices and don’t know their heads from their asses.” Nash raked his hands through his hair and turned in a tight circle. King Construction was all he knew. Was all he wanted to know. He had no idea what he’d do if it were suddenly gone. “I can’t believe you’d sell this business to just anyone. Granddad built this from the ground up, and now you just wanna turn that over to a bunch of strangers?”

  Nash’s dad barely spared him a glance out of the corner of his eye, most of his attention focused on the TV. “What’re you gettin’ so upset about? Thought you hated this business.”<
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  Nash fucking loved this business, and his dad’s response only proved that nothing at all had changed about their relationship from the time his momma had left until now. Nash had spent his entire adolescence trying to gain his father’s attention. Had gotten in so much trouble, most parents would’ve sent him off to military school—or at least grounded him. Hell, he’d dropped out of high school on a whim just to see if his old man would glance his way, even it if was to yell.

  In the end, he hadn’t said a thing. Not a single damn word. Nash had decided on his own to get his GED and had never spoken of either again. Since Nash’s momma had left, his old man had become too self-absorbed to see anything beyond his own nose.

  “King Construction is my legacy, too.” And Nash loved it enough that he’d do just about anything to make sure it didn’t get sold out of the family. “What kind of timeline am I lookin’ at here?”

  His dad waved a hand in the air. “Relax, kid. They’re still wooin’ me. Probably drag ’em on like this for a while. Maybe if I make ’em sweat a little bit, they’ll up their offer.”

  “Do me a favor and warn me, all right? When things are gettin’ serious?” He had no fucking idea how he was going to make this happen, only that he needed to try. Needed to do everything in his power to make sure King Construction stayed in the King family.

  Without waiting for a response or a goodbye from his dad, he walked out the door. He’d learned a long time ago not to expect either.

  Nash’s plans to avoid Rory were completely shot to hell. Since his conversation with his dad yesterday, he’d worked through every possible scenario. Had crunched numbers, looked at the year’s projections and his bank account balances, and had come to the same conclusion. He was fucked.

  Unless he figured out a way to dramatically increase the number of clients in the pipeline and the revenue from them, he wouldn’t be able to buy King Construction. That meant that not only would his family legacy be gone, but he could find himself working for a shitty operation doing shitty work. Or worse, out of a job completely.