I can see the shiny, light wooden floors with yoga mats unrolled all over them. I can see the wall of mirrors I’ll install on the entire back of the space. I’ll call some of my friends from the city, see if they can get me some merchandise shipped down here that I could sell. The whole studio will have a relaxed, homey vibe and it will be a peaceful space for Fawn Hill to not only get their bodies in shape but their minds, too.
I’ve already told Lily and Penelope about it, and, of course, those two then told everyone else. I’ve gotten phone calls and passerby conversations about how excited the women who already take my class in the park are.
The sale of the bookshop, and the acquisition of this space plus the courses I’ve been taking and the contractors I’ve been interviewing … it has all kept my mind off of Keaton.
Sort of. Okay, not really, but a girl can use denial as a tool and a shield, right?
I take a sip of coffee, loving the bitter but energizing bite of it, and turn my head to look at the bustle of Main Street in the morning. Fawn Hill may be a small town, but its citizens are grinders. They’re up before dawn tending their farms, they’re loyally ordering their coffee from Java, they’re mailing their packages and dropping their kids off at school or opening their own businesses’ doors to welcome in other residents. I like that the studio is at the end of the block, that I can observe the morning busyness from afar, but still catch a glimpse of it. It’ll remind me who I’m doing this for.
I’m scanning the crowd running their morning errands down the street, so I don’t catch his face separating from the rest of the townspeople until it’s too late and awkward to just walk off.
“Hi.” Keaton walks toward me, a coffee in his hand as well.
My heart picks up the pace, while my brain tries to tell the stupid, foolish thing to quit it. He dumped us, remember?
“Hi.” I nod politely and sip my coffee, turning my head so that I’m looking at my future studio and not the man who broke my heart.
He stands next to me, looking like the definition of fall in his worn-in blue jeans and cream cable-knit sweater. He looks cozy and warm, and I have the sudden urge to be wrapped up all day in him like a good blanket. I have to physically restrain myself from moving closer.
“How have you been?” Keaton’s voice is tender, and I wonder why he’s even over here.
Has he been watching me watch the studio each morning? Does he think about me anymore? It’s only been about two weeks since he ended things on that horrible night we saved Fletcher, but it feels like an eternity.
I look down at my feet out of habit. “I’ve been good, thanks.”
This conversation is awkward and stifled … and strange. Strange because even when we first met, even when I turned him down the first, and second, time, Keaton and I have always known how to banter. We’ve always been able to be honest in talking to one another. And now, I’m just straight up lying.
I can see his head bobbing up and down in a nod. “I heard through the grapevine that you bought this place.”
A small smile breaks my frown. “You can never do anything in this town without everyone knowing.”
“No, you cannot.” Keaton takes a sip of coffee. “So, a yoga studio? That’s what you’re going to turn it into, right?”
“Yes.” I don’t feel like being here.
Talking to him is painful, doesn’t he know that? Well … maybe he doesn’t. I never told him how I felt. He ended it before I could.
But as much as I want to be angry with him, I can’t. As much as I want to accuse him of ruining things between us, yell at him and demand to know why he sought me out … I won’t. I know why he ended things. Keaton Nash is the most responsible man I know. He has so much on his plate that he can’t make room for a woman who is so indecisive about her feelings and her future.
Keaton turns so that he’s standing in front of me, not next to me like before, and I’m forced to look at him. His facial hair is scruffier than usual, and although he’s as gorgeous as ever, his eyes hold exhaustion. I’d heard through that ever-present town grapevine that the Nash family had taken Fletcher to rehab, and I know how hard this must be for Keaton. He’ll look at it as his own personal failure.
“You’re going to do so great. I’m really proud of you, Presley. You’re following your dreams, and that is amazing.”
Keaton looks like he wants to say something more, and his hand raises as if he’s about to run it through my hair. Just like he did every morning we were together. As if his fingers connecting with my locks was just as soothing for him as it was for me.
I’m waiting with bated breath, because I can feel the hope sparking between us. It’s building in the air, and I want so badly to reach out and grab it, spin it into something that’s tangible and real that I can give to both of us.
“I only ever started on this journey because of you. You made me believe in myself,” I whisper, my eyes searching his.
Tell him you love him.
It’s on the tip of my tongue, but Keaton cuts me off.
“You had it in you all along. I just reminded you of what you could be. Good luck, Presley. You’re going to be incredible.”
And then he turns on his heel and slowly walks off, shaking his head.
I’m left standing in front of my future studio, wondering what the hell just happened?
38
Keaton
And, nerdy, fumbling Keaton Nash was back.
Remember him? The guy who couldn’t get Presley McDaniel to agree to a date until the third time he asked. And even then, she rejected me at the end of it.
I thought I’d been charming, if not a little nervous, in those early encounters. And then I’d won her heart, so, of course, she knew me. Knew how I operated.
But apparently, I’d forgotten all of my slick moves in the three weeks we’d been broken up. I’d forgotten that I had enough game to win her over the first time around. That’s why I’d completely crashed and burned, and chickened out, in front of her future yoga studio a couple of days ago.
It took a pep talk in my bathroom mirror before I was able to walk down to the Pumpkin Festival around six p.m. Thank God, Mom didn’t wrangle us into a booth for this carnival. Even though caramel corn would be a lot easier to make in the fifty-five-degree weather tonight, rather than the almost ninety in the summer that threatened to sweat our balls off.
But I had the night off, and I knew a certain gorgeous redhead didn’t, which worked to my advantage. Through the trusty Fawn Hill gossip line, I’d learned that Presley would be helping Lily at the library’s used book stand tonight at the festival. Since I could pin down her whereabouts, and had finally gotten up the balls to tell her how foolish I was for letting her go, I was going with plan B.
Or Forrest’s plan, as he was bragging about it earlier.
The grand gesture.
I head straight for the library tent, which is always in the same place in the lineup of businesses advertising in Bloomsbury Park at this festival. The air smells like cinnamon and apples, and the colors of fall are draped over every possible surface.
Lily spots me first, smiling as I approach. “Are you here to buy or sell?”
I look past her, waiting for Presley to turn around and see me. Her long scarlet hair falls in curls down her back where a gray sweater dress wraps around her curves. The swell of her ass, the skin on her bare legs … they’re distracting. But I keep my eyes up, my head straight. I’m on a mission.
“Neither. I’m here for a Ferris wheel ride.”
At my voice, Presley’s back straightens, and she turns, her green eyes wide.
She doesn’t speak, so I ask again, holding my hand out. “What do you say? Join me?”
“I-I’m working here,” she stutters.
Lily jumps in. “No, I’ve got it. You go take a break, you’re due anyway.”
“I got here half an hour ago.” Presley scowls at her.
“It’s not even busy! I can handle it. You go have fun.” L
ily practically pushes her out of the booth.
Once she’s standing out in the grass with me, stripped of her duties, the nervous energy sparks between us.
“Shall we?” I start to lead the way and breathe a sigh of relief when she follows.
We climb into the Ferris wheel car, and I have to focus on the fact that I have her in this death trap for the next twenty or so minutes, completely alone. I have to say what I need to say.
The bar closes over our laps, and déjà vu moves in swiftly. It might not be the exact same Ferris wheel, but it’s in the exact same spot in Bloomsbury Park, and my jean-clad leg is touching hers, and the nervous energy flowing through my veins almost matches that of the first time she agreed to go on a date with me.
“So, you wanted to take me up here?” Presley looks at me as the car rises.
I dive right in. “I chickened out the other day on Main Street.”
Confusion marks her expression. “What?”
“I was coming over to tell you that … I was an idiot. I was selfish. I was hurt and confused and just wanted it all to stop so I took the easy way out by ending us. But, you need to know. I love you. More than any of the other things that consume my life. I was a coward and a moron, I should have never let you go. I should have told you I’d be here, that I’d wait while you figured your feelings out, instead of running like a scared boy. I’m ready to be the man you can count on. I’m in love with you, Presley.”
We stop at the exact peak of the wheel, and I internally high-five myself for having the foresight to slip the teenage ride operator twenty bucks yesterday. I needed to manufacture a little bit of this, just to make sure it went perfectly.
It wasn’t every day you needed to grovel for the love of your life.
She sucks in a gasp, and I want so badly to touch her, but I know I have to give her a minute.
“I knocked on your front door that night fully intending to tell you that I was in love with you.” Presley’s green eyes are open, vulnerable.
Shock pulses through me. “You were? Wait … you love me.”
She gulps, and I watch her elegant neck during the motion. “I love you, Keaton. I know I had to work up the courage then, just like I do now. I’m so sure of it, and yet I’m scared out of my mind. I’ve never loved someone this much. Loved someone with so much of me that I’m fighting my instinct to run with every fiber of my being.”
“I don’t want to change you.” I lace my fingers through hers.
Because truly, I don’t. If staying here, with me, for me, is that painful for her … I’ll break my own heart again to set her free.
“Well, see, that’s how I felt in that moment at your front door. I was fighting that instinct. But now, I barely feel it at all. You ended things, and that gave me the clarity to see that this is the place I belong. With or without you, Fawn Hill is my home.”
Something else clears from the fog in my brain that took over when she said she was in love with me.
“You were coming to tell me you loved me, and I ended things.”
Presley looks away, out over the setting sun on the horizon, and nods. When she looks back at me, a single tear escapes her eye.
Instantly, I pull her into my arms. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I … I freaked out. Everything with Fletcher, it overwhelmed me. I hadn’t heard from you in days, after telling you how I felt, and my responsibility to my family … it all was too much in that moment. I thought I had to be a certain way. My entire life, I’ve felt like I have to be a certain way.”
She pulls back, a half-laugh half-sob coming out of her mouth. “And that’s one of the reasons you’re such a good man. Why I love you.”
I cut her off, just because I need to get this out. “But you came along and threw my straight and narrow out the window. And thank God you did. You showed me that life doesn’t have to be black and white, it can be shades of gray, or better, shades of color. We can go off script and still accomplish goals and be there for the people counting on us … honestly, it makes life that much sweeter. You taught me that. I was too afraid to see it, too scared of throwing away the rule book, but I’m not now. I have you.”
Presley kisses me first, practically jumps in my lap and sends the car teetering dangerously back and forth. I wrap my arms around her, threading my fingers in her hair because I’ve missed that feeling so much. Her mouth consumes mine, and I pour everything I have into my own kiss to her.
My apologies.
My love.
My excitement for a future with her.
As we exit the ride, we do it hand in hand. We’re connected, our past left somewhere at the top of the wheel.
There is only the great, wonderful future ahead of us.
39
Presley
We wake on and off throughout the night; the sheets cocooning our bodies, our hands wandering.
Our fingers are drunk with sleep, but the haze of lust is more powerful, and won’t let us slip back under until we’ve satisfied each other. Keaton’s sighs tingle down my frame, leaving goose bumps in their wake. My eyes aren’t even open, I’m with him only by touch and sound.
“I love you,” he murmurs in my ear as he rolls on top of me, slipping into me.
I bury my face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his skin as he slowly rolls in and out of me. “I love you so much.”
He makes love to me softly, slowly, achingly. The warmth of his skin seeps into mine, our moans mingle until they are one. Keaton stokes my desire, leaving me burning long after I climax. He follows on my orgasm’s heels, growling quietly as his tongue assaults my mouth, his cock pulsing inside me.
I’m not sure what time it is when the light finally reaches behind my lids and has me blinking out of my sleep. Keaton is still in the bed beside me, which is rare for him, because he’s usually an up-at-dawn kind of person. It gives me a chance to observe him, to trace the lines of his body and face with my eyes, while he’s this vulnerable and peaceful.
When I went to work the Pumpkin Festival with Lily last night, ending it on the Ferris wheel telling Keaton I loved him was the last thing I thought would happen. Obviously, I’m incredibly elated that it did, but this all still feels pretty surreal.
One minute, I was in denial about nursing a severely damaged heart, and the next, my real life dream man was kissing me back after I took a chance and attacked his mouth.
But, that’s how Keaton has always been with me. Honest, open, and he has no qualms about how serious he is about a future with me. That’s what I wanted to show him, how I wanted to tell him about my feelings. Up on that Ferris wheel, I meant it when I said I wasn’t scared, that I had no urge to flee at the first sign of commitment anymore.
That’s how much I love him.
Now, his chest rises and falls in time with his sleep-breathing, and I admire the curve of his bicep where it’s tossed over my waist. His eyelashes fan his cheeks, and there is a little bit of drool on his pillow.
Mr. Perfect isn’t entirely perfect, after all.
Except … he is.
My stomach growls, loudly, and I try to shrug away from him as to not disturb his beauty sleep. But Keaton stirs, smiling as he pulls me back to him, and I bury my head in the warmth of his chest.
“Hungry, huh?” He chuckles, rubbing his big hands up and down my back.
“Someone left me famished throughout the night.” I giggle as his hands roam to my hips, squeezing the ticklish spot.
“Hmm, I could whip us up something.” He makes no move to get out of bed.
“Can you make Shirley Temple eggs? I’ve been craving them and no one makes them like you.”
As I say it, my mouth waters. Thank God I found a man who can cook, ’cause lord knows I can burn the water in a spaghetti pot without even trying.
“That I can do … if you weren’t so distracting.” Keaton flips me over, laying on top of me as his hands frame my face.
He’s about to kiss me … when my stomach makes the most horr
ific gurgle I’ve ever heard. We both crack up, and he sits up on his knees, maneuvering out of bed.
“All right, all right … I get it. Breakfast first, then sex. Guess your stomach is dictating what happens this morning.” He laughs as he pads into the bathroom.
My feet hit the floor and I walk across the bedroom that I’ve missed so much. Going to his dresser, I pick out one of the worn, soft T-shirts that I love to wear as a nightgown.
And I know that when we do make it down to the kitchen, I’ll sit on the middle stool at his counter as I watch him cook, sipping a cup of coffee.
It’s our routine. Our boring, same day-in and day-out schedule that we’ve created since we got together. And I love it.
Look at me, learning to settle down and commit. And what’s more, absolutely loving the life that had always meant to find me.
40
Keaton
The grill flames lick into the sky, the scent of spices and meat and the last of the summer vegetables mingling in the air.
“Are we sure we trust him to cook us dinner?” Forrest points at me using his beer bottle.
“I’m the best cook out of any of you, just ask Mom,” I shoot back.
Mom holds her hands up from where she sits next to Presley on the patio couch. “I will not vote in this matter. I love you all equally.”
Forrest snorts. “Yeah, right.”
“Presley?” I ask my girlfriend.
She tilts her head. “Well, I do love you. But … I haven’t tasted your brothers’ cooking.”
“Traitor.” I give her a stink-eye.
I’m about to ask her who gave her an orgasm this morning and did she want more of those … and then I remember that my mother is sitting beside her and clamp my lips shut.
We’re all gathered in my backyard on the first day of October. It’s kind of a celebration of the end of summer months, with the cool breeze blowing through our hair and the fire pit spitting flames nearby. It’s also an excuse to all get together, not that we don’t see each other almost every day. But now that Presley is part of our circle, Mom will use any fake holiday to get all of her children together.
Fleeting (Nash Brothers Book 1) Page 17