Fleeting: The Nash Brothers, Book One

by Aarons, Carrie

  “Sure.” I nod. “Ask away.”

  “Well, first, I want you to know something about me. Because I saw your face when we walked in. Sure, I could have taken you to Lancaster, or somewhere farther away where the restaurants are more upscale and we’d be away from the prying eye of nosy townspeople. But … I want you to really know who I am. Fawn Hill has been my home forever, and I love it here. I’ve never resented my small-town roots, and my dream was always to take over my father’s practice. I enjoy knowing every single person sitting in this restaurant, the intimacy and routine are comfortable to me. Plus, this place has the best chicken parm you’ll ever taste, so don’t judge the food by the checkered tablecloths.” Keaton winks at me. “What I’m trying to say is … I may not be your usual speed. I know that I’m a ‘nice’ animal doctor who settled in his hometown. But, I’m glad you gave me a chance.”

  Wow. And that right there is the reason I said yes to this date. Keaton Nash swung between nervous and bumbling, to sure and confident and then back again within days. I never knew what side of him I was going to get. And while his description of his preference of life didn’t really match my own, and honestly made me a bit jumpy, I could respect his forwardness.

  “I didn’t have a face.” I can’t help the smirk that pulls at my lips.

  “You definitely had a smirk. But it’s okay, you haven’t had the calamari, yet.”

  “I’ll trust your judgment, for now.” I raise my eyebrow. “But … thank you for being honest. It’s refreshing. And I don’t find it one bit boring. Truthfully, I’m a little jealous of you. You seem like you’ve always known what you wanted to do, whereas I am an untethered boat washing further and further out into sea.”

  “Oh, come on, there must be something you’re passionate about.”

  Yoga is the first thing that comes to mind, but I don’t tell Keaton. Telling people that you’re passionate about exercise and controlling emotions through the form of physical exertion … well, they just toss it aside as a hobby. If you’re passionate about anything creative, someone is going to roll their eyes or doubt you.

  “Hmm, I’m just not sure. I’m not one of those people who had the blueprint of their life mapped out in their head since they entered high school.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing opposites attract.” Keaton chuckles as a steaming bowl of balsamic calamari is set down between us. “You’re looking at the man who recited five-year plans in his head rather than play NASCAR video games.”

  I spoon some onto my appetizer plate and have to close my eyes after the first bite melts on my tongue. “And a central-Pennsylvania boy would be playing NASCAR games instead of Madden. This is delicious, by the way.”

  Keaton nods as he chews and reaches for a glass of the red wine he’d ordered. I had the same, but I always found it a little feminine when a man ordered wine.

  Honestly, I didn’t know how I felt about Keaton Nash yet. With each second, there were more things added to the pro and con sides of my mental list.

  “Racing is life, around these parts. There is an old dirt track I should take you too, sometime. Anyway, didn’t you mention your love of yoga the other day? Maybe there is something with that you could pursue.”

  I almost choke on a squid ring. He’d remembered that little detail? “I, uh … yeah, I do like yoga.”

  “Like I said the other day, Lily at the library could help you get a class going. Might be a great thing for this town.”

  “Yeah.” I nod, still stunned that he recalled the short moment when I’d professed my love for the exercise.

  “So, tell me about your family, if we’re covering basics first.”

  An hour later and one stop for dessert, we’ve extended the date to the local park as the stars make their appearance above. Neither of us suggested ending the night after dinner, and the date has fallen into that dreamy state where we laugh more than talk and dance around each other in the best kind of foreplay possible.

  We walk around the lake with ice cream in hand, my stomach already threatening to burst but the mint chip is so good, I can’t stop.

  “My God, I think I’ve died and gone to ice cream heaven.” I moan as another spoonful hits my tongue.

  Beside me, Keaton clears his throat, and when I look up at him, his eyes are molten lava cake. They’re perusing my neck and décolletage lazily as he spoons another mouthful of the Oreo fudge swirl past his lips.

  My cheeks burn as I look away, because I promised we wouldn’t knock boots … but we’ve been moving closer and looking longer with each lap we do around the lake in Bloomsbury Park. I have to put some distance, and some words, between us before I mount him over there on that park bench.

  As I’d suspected before it had even begun, this was the best date I’d ever been on.

  10

  Keaton

  This is the best date I’ve ever been on.

  I don’t know what it is about Presley McDaniel that constantly keeps me interested … because to be honest, she is the kind of woman I stay far away from. She’s flighty and has no plans, where I’m severely type A. She’s a city girl with city tastes, except when I took her to our small-town’s best eatery, she couldn’t get enough of the food. When I ask her about her family, she tells me they aren’t really close … and I’m not sure that’s an answer I even comprehend. My family is so up in each other’s business that it’s hard to tell my brothers apart at times.

  Everything about Presley is different from me, and from the girls I usually date.

  And yet … I’m enamored. Every time she talks, I want to hear more. Her sarcasm is refreshing. The way she plays with her vibrant hair nervously when she talks, even though she seems like the most confident woman alive, is such a contradiction.

  And the way she’s eating that ice cream, making those tiny satisfied noises in the back of her throat … it’s driving me insane. I’m pretty sure I’m looking at her as if I might swallow her whole, and I’ve fixed my dick trying to tent my pants more times than I can count.

  It’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman … the poor appendage is probably considering just falling off.

  I take another bite of Oreo fudge to try to cool down. “Fawn Hill has some of the best creameries in the state surrounding it. We may not have Jamba Juice, but we’ve got a hell of a ton of good ice cream.”

  “Which is honestly the better thing. Who cares about diets and smoothies when you can eat this all the time?” Presley laughs, her red locks tousling in the moonlight.

  I brought her to my favorite spot by the lake because it’s peaceful … and I didn’t want to take her home yet. Heading back toward Hattie’s house would mean the date was over, and it was too beautiful of a summer night with too beautiful of a girl to do the gentlemanly thing right now.

  At the sake of intruding further, I press something that’s been on my mind. “You know, the meadow over this hill would be great for a yoga session. You’re lucky you moved to Fawn Hill during the summer … that’s its best season. And I think a morning class would do great among the women in this town.”

  “Men can do yoga, too.” She gives me a judgmental glare.

  I hold the hand with a spoon in it up in surrender. “Not what I meant at all … I was simply saying this might be a nice location.”

  “Hmm.” Presley looks around, and I know she can see it as well.

  While she’s scoping out the park, her feet accidentally carry her closer in toward me, so that our shoulders bump as we walk. The minute the flesh of our arms connects, there is an instant spark. It’s almost visible, like a firefly you weren’t quite sure you saw in the darkness. But I hear the sharp intake of breath from Presley, and when I look down, the moonlight is illuminating the lust in her eyes.

  She clears her throat, those green pools trained on mine. “So, can I ask the ever burning question? Why are you still single?”

  Internally, I sigh. Because I know what she’s doing. She’s trying to talk about the
least sexy thing possible, the ex-factor, and douse the simmer building between us. We’re seconds away from doing something we can’t take back, and I have never taken a woman to bed on the first date.

  Although Presley McDaniel could be the one to change that.

  I force myself to step away from her, to breathe in through my nostrils. I’m so aroused that my balls ache and pulse with each step.

  “Oh, you know, just haven’t found the right one.” I give her the cliché answer.

  The last thing I want to do on this first date is get into the real history of my love life. Or the hack job that Katie Flint did to my heart.

  Presley taps her chin. “I think you’re hiding something.”

  “And I think someone should mind their own business.” It comes out quicker and harsher than I intend, and I cringe the moment it leaves my lips. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

  “So there is some bad history there.” Presley nods, not looking at me.

  I relent. “There is. But it’s not something I like to talk about. So … I answered the question. Now it’s your turn.”

  “I wouldn’t call that an answer, slick. But, I’ll play. And it’s much the same as your first answer, although it’s the truth. I haven’t met anyone I really like … and commitment just isn’t on my list of priorities right now.”

  Her answer burns a hole in both my chest and my gut. I knew she was a free bird, someone who didn’t like plans or being tied down. But … I guess I hadn’t realized that a relationship wasn’t on her very small to-do list.

  “So … you’ve never been in a relationship?”

  She shrugs. “Not really.”

  “Right.” I zero in on my ice cream, trying to drown out my doubts and fears with dessert.

  We walk a little longer, talking about subjects that have the depth of a kiddie pool. The easy conversation returns with the surface-level conversation, and she finishes her mint chip before I’m scraping the bottom of my cup. And then our hands are free, floating by our sides as I contemplate whether I should lace my fingers through hers.

  Should I make a move? What is she thinking right now? Is it appropriate to kiss her?

  This is why I haven’t seen anyone since Katie left two years ago. The pressure, the game … it’s just not me. I don’t like it.

  We’re walking around the side of the lake closest to the parking lot, and our bodies have subconsciously gotten almost shoulder to shoulder again. The buzz of attraction is back, and it seems I can’t help but be drawn to this woman. Even if I know she isn’t good for me.

  I take a deep breath and decide to go for it, gently taking hold of her elbow so that she stops and I can turn to face her.

  My other hand goes to her hair, the feature of hers I’ve been most enthralled with since the first time I saw her. It’s soft and thick under my fingers, falling through them like silk. I stare down at her gorgeous, dainty face, which is tipped up to watch the slow descent of my mouth to hers. Her tongue pokes out, wetting her lips, and those clover-green orbs are locked onto my lips.

  The heartbeat slamming out erratic rhythms in my chest sends reverberations to every part of my body, and I’m so anxious I could almost jump out of my skin. But at the same time, I’m as calm and steady as I’ve been my whole life about the path I’m on … and Presley is the next illogical, improbable step.

  Our noses brush, and the current of electricity bending between us could level a city. We’re two opposing magnets trying to push through the repelling force and almost succeeding.

  “Keaton …” Presley’s voice dashes all of my hope in a nanosecond.

  Her hand comes up between us, gently pushing my chest back. “I’m not ready for it.”

  Shit. I told her next time I asked to kiss her, I’d make sure she was ready. Not only had I not asked her, but I hadn’t made sure she was ready. I wasn’t lying when I said this woman turned all of my plans to mush.

  I straighten, coughing through the embarrassment of yet another rejection from Presley McDaniel, and try my hardest not to adjust the uncomfortable erection now screaming to be released from the zipper on my jeans.

  “Honestly, I’m not sure that I even like you, yet.”

  “Jesus, that’s harsh,” I choke out, my insulted ego becoming even more injured.

  Presley tries to grapple for her thoughts, using her hands to talk. “No, no, that’s … I like you, Keaton. I think you’re a good person and you were such a gentleman tonight. But … we are just very different. For everything you say that I agree with, there is another idea or opinion of yours that I find myself disagreeing with. And I think it’s the same for you. I could have let you kiss me, wanted to even, but I’m trying to do this thing where I think before I act. Because that usually gets me in trouble. And you’re just so different from me, I’m not sure I’ve figured out what I think about this, yet.”

  A beat of silence passes as I digest her words. She’s thinking more like I usually would than I have in the last hour.

  “I’ll get you home, then.” My voice is gravelly as I walk just a step ahead of her back to the car.

  Let me rephrase my earlier statement. This was the best date I’d ever been on.

  And now I highly doubted I was going to get a second one.

  11

  Keaton

  My house is a neat split-level two streets over from Main, in a neighborhood near the elementary school.

  It’s quiet, like the rest of the town, but I like that the cluster of houses had a sidewalk where I could run if I didn’t feel like going to the park. When I purchased my house, it was a total gut job. I bought it three years ago … back when I thought I’d be sharing it with a wife and our children. I renovated the entire place, from bathrooms to bedrooms, and even taught myself how to install a tile backsplash, which was a bitch and I should have hired someone to do it for me.

  The house was an investment in the future, and my longtime girlfriend, Katie Flint, Gerry’s daughter, had helped me pick almost everything out. Maybe it’s why I never felt like this was my home … that everything in it was matched with the taste of a ghost, a person who no longer lived here.

  But I stayed because that’s what I did best. For a while, I was the fool waiting for her to come back. And when I realized she wouldn’t, I was the fool who stayed here as part of some spiteful plot that she didn’t even care about.

  “So, when were you going to tell us you had the hots for Hattie McDaniel’s granddaughter?” Forrest makes himself right at home, flipping on the television and turning right to the baseball game.

  At least he hadn’t put on one of his sci-fi shows.

  “Or that there was fresh meat in town?” Fletcher asks.

  “Don’t refer to her like that.” He’s already pissing me off.

  “Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be this territorial,” Bowen muses, going to my pantry to root around for snacks.

  “I’m sorry, who told you three you could come over?”

  “Or that you took her on a date to Alfiano’s?” Forrest continues the line of questioning.

  I growl at their intrusion, but I should know better by now. My house was the hangout spot now that none of them wanted to laze around at our childhood home. Too many memories of Dad and too much of Mom’s nagging meant they all freeloaded off me and my fridge on the weekends. Saturday and Sundays, I was on call. I’d always go in if an owner needed me, but the office itself was closed for wellness visits or surgeries. What couldn’t wait until Monday, I’d take on, but a man needed a few days of relaxation here and there.

  “What is this, a firing squad?”

  “Yeah, aiming right at your balls if you don’t spill the tea.” Fletch flops down on my sectional sofa, right on the chaise part.

  “Spill the tea?” Bowen smirked … well, as much as Bowen could smile. It honestly looked like a grimace.

  “You’re all so stuck in bumfuck that you don’t even know the current slang. Spill the tea? Tell
us the gossip. Fill us in on the dick down.” Fletch says these things like they’re not completely ridiculous.

  “Okay, where the fuck did you come from?” Forrest throws a chip at his twin.

  “Same womb you did, brother.”

  “Gross, don’t even make jokes like that.” Bowen shudders. “But, really, Keat, what is going on with you and the redhead?”

  I sigh, knowing they’ll only keep on with their ridiculousness if I don’t answer. “Her name is Presley. She brought her grandmother’s dog in after he ate a foreign object—”

  “Wait … Chance is Hattie’s dog, right? Wait a fucking minute, is this the dog who ate the lace underwear?” Forrest’s eyes light with glee.

  I now regret telling them any story from my job, even if they looked at me with something other than bored, forced interest for half a second.

  Pointing my finger at my brother, I continue, “I’m not answering that. Anyway, I saw her around town … and I asked her out.”

  “First girl you’ve looked at enough to do something about since Katie,” Bowen says quietly.

  I know that he knows it’s not just some one-off thing for me to ask a woman out on a date.

  “So … how’d it go? You are tighter than the broad—”

  “Do not finish that sentence!” I yell at Fletcher. “It … let’s just say there probably won’t be a second date.”

  Forrest stops flipping through channels and Bowen stops mid-bite of his chip and salsa. And then all three of my brothers say at the same time,

  “The sex was bad, wasn’t it?”

  The male ego of this conversation could punch a hole through concrete. “We didn’t have sex.”

  “Well, there is your first problem.” Fletcher ticks off a finger.

  “I agree.” Forrest nods.

  “As if I’d take the first woman I’ve dated in two years to bed on the first night.” I roll my eyes.

  Bowen grins sheepishly. “Honestly, Keat, and I know you … but I agree with them. If anyone needs to get off, it’s you.”