Fleeting: The Nash Brothers, Book One

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Fleeting: The Nash Brothers, Book One Page 7

by Aarons, Carrie


  This new information changes the light I see Keaton Nash in. From first glance, I thought he was a hot animal doctor. After talking on different occasions, I know he’s a small-town boy with a big heart and speaks honestly. But with this new download from Lily? I get a glimpse of the hurt lingering around Keaton Nash.

  Thinking about it now, his whole aura is tinged with sadness. He might not show it, but it’s there, buried under the surface. I’d nicked it once, and he’d snapped at me for it. Having the woman you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with up and leave you? That changed a person. It said to me that Keaton wasn’t as put together as he tried to appear, that he had demons and heartbreak lurking close by.

  But losing your father, the man who groomed you for your career, pass away shortly after that? It altered a person. Tragedy would always warp the soul and take just a little piece of humanity away from the body.

  “Wow, I … I had no idea.”

  Lily tilts her head. “No, you wouldn’t, would you? No outsider would. That’s the thing about living here … everyone knows your secrets. Maybe Keaton thought you could be his clean slate.”

  And I’d dirtied his slate right back up again with my refusals. I’d basically told him that I thought he was too … small for me. Too pure. Too good.

  I had a feeling, now, that I knew very little about the man.

  “Maybe he was.” I pondered, looking out the cafe window and across the street at his office.

  15

  Presley

  Apparently, Fawn Hill moms and twenty-somethings can spread news faster than a viral meme.

  Within three days, my next yoga class was the talk of the town, and Lily had booked my next Friday class to the max. She’d had so much interest, that she’d asked if I would be open to hosting a Saturday morning class as well. Both paid for by the attendees, and I had, hopefully, found myself a new gig.

  I thought life in rural Pennsylvania was going to be slow and boring, but between learning the ropes at the bookshop and planning my weekly yoga classes, I was pretty damn busy.

  In New York, I’d worked double waitressing shifts and taught five yoga classes a week. I was burnt out all the time, rarely went out with friends, and had zero direction. When I was in it, I thought I was happy. That I was hustling, grinding as a twenty-something and living my life my own way. I would never be the professional career person that my brother and sister were. I reveled in the fact that I was the family’s black sheep. It was my spiteful cross that I bared and I wore my scarlet letter proudly.

  But now, I wondered, for what? I wasn’t working toward anything. If I had to be honest, I was miserable.

  Pulling out clothes now, in preparation for tomorrow, my Saturday morning class, I can’t seem to find my favorite sports bra. Pale pink, crisscrossing straps in the back, keeps my girls in place and supported.

  “Where the hell …” I muse as I rifle through drawers.

  And then I hear it. The burp from the other side of my bed. Rounding the queen frame, I look down.

  Right into the guilty face of Chance, my grandmother’s bad, meddling dog.

  “You have got to be kidding me.” Both hands fly to my hips as if giving this creature attitude will force my bra to magically appear from his stomach.

  Shit. Well, I have other bras, but the dog should probably get checked out.

  I walk down the stairs of my grandmother’s house. It’s a two-story colonial with three bedrooms. The design is old, but she keeps it neat, and there is a certain charm about living in a home with so much history and character. There is even one of those old ironing boards slash desks that flips down from a wall in the kitchen.

  When I find my grandma, she is sitting in the recliner she’s laid claim to, no one else can sit there, watching a rerun of The Golden Girls.

  “Your stupid dog ate another piece of my clothing,” I whine.

  Her eyes flick up. “Another thong? That dog is such a hornball. You’d think I never cut off his balls.”

  Gross. “No, he ate … one of my sports bras this time.”

  She chuckles. “Ah, the matching set. At least he knows what to pair things with. Well, call the vet.”

  Her finger hits the volume button on the remote, turning it up a few notches.

  “Can’t you call? It’s your dog, and I took him last time.”

  Grandma turns to me, her green eyes full of sass. “I’m not the one who can’t keep my room clean. Don’t blame this all on the dog. Plus, aren’t you knocking boots with Dr. Nash? I’m sure he’d take much more kindly to an after-hours call from you than he would from me.”

  “Why does everyone assume we’re knocking boots?” I throw my hands up. Goddamn this town and its rumor mill. “We’re not, by the way. Nor are we seeing each other. So can’t you just call him?”

  This time, she doesn’t even spare me a glance. “No can do, darlin’. Your bra, your mess. Call the man. And go out with him again, you’re wasting a perfectly handsome face on your commitment issues.”

  Heated, embarrassed blood fills my cheeks. How dare she pinpoint the exact thing I’m afraid of and call me out for it? It sucks having a mirror shoved in your face.

  “I don’t have his phone number.” I throw out another reason.

  “It’s on the notepad by the fridge, along with all the other emergency numbers. You should probably learn those. And take Chance out to pee before you put him in the car, would you?”

  It’s a miracle steam isn’t billowing from my ears as I pull out my cell phone on the way to the kitchen. Who actually kept a pad by their fridge anymore?

  The number listed is for the veterinary office on Main Street, and I know it has to be closed at eight p.m. But I call anyway, listening to the phone ring over and over. Then the call clicks over and the ringing sounds different, and I’m surprised when someone picks up.

  “Hello, this is Dr. Nash.”

  That crisp, manly, good-natured voice has a small smile spreading across my lips. Of course, all the after-hour calls are transferred directly to him.

  “Hi, Keaton, it’s Presley.” I shuffle my feet nervously. Thank God no one can see me.

  A beat of silence. “Presley? Sorry, I answered like a stuffy doctor, I thought this was my work line transferring over.”

  “It is, I’m calling because Chance ate something. Again. I wanted to see what you thought I should do?”

  A gruff chuckle. “God, that dog is something else. Has he eaten tonight? Gone to the bathroom?”

  I try to think. “Um, well he ate dinner before he ate my clothing. And I haven’t tried to take him out yet …”

  As I finish the tail end of filling Keaton in, Chance walks into the kitchen and starts making gagging noises.

  “Oh, crap. Now he’s making those horrible dog vomit noises.” The sound makes my skin crawl. It’s akin to nails on a chalkboard.

  Keaton sighs, and I can hear him moving or shuffling on the other end. “Better bring him in. Can you meet me at my office in fifteen minutes?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry to have to make you come in after-hours.” I genuinely feel bad for this dog’s crap timing.

  “Don’t worry, it’s all part of the job,” he responds, hanging up after a goodbye.

  A tiny pang of wishing moves through me.

  Part of me kind of wished he were doing this because it wasn’t part of his job. And how twisted is that?

  16

  Keaton

  Twenty-five minutes later, and my arm is fist deep in Chance’s rectum again.

  The things you think you’ll never say … and then you become a vet.

  “I don’t feel anything yet, no tangling or irregularities.” Removing my hand, I snap off my glove and throw it in the trash.

  Being on-call all the time is pretty much part of the job description. I’m the only veterinarian in town, and in most of the rural surrounding towns. I’d say I see an animal after I close up shop about three out of the seven days of the week. I do
n’t mind really … what else am I doing? I’m a bachelor who eats mostly frozen microwave meals and watches whatever sports game is on television that night.

  Moving around Chance, who lies lazily on the table in front of me, I feel his abdomen and throat. They both feel fine, no obstructions or bloating.

  “Just keep an eye on him and monitor his bowel movements. You should see most of the … I’m sorry what did he eat, again?”

  Presley flushes a deep pink, and I’m reminded of the first day she walked into my practice. “He ate one of my sports bras.”

  I run a hand through my hair, blowing out a smiling breath. “He’s a randy bastard, isn’t he?”

  “That he is.” She laughs.

  It’s … strange having her here. In my office, just the two of us, an exam room light the only thing burning the midnight oil. Well, I guess we have Chance the undergarment eating dog here as well, but he’s about ready for bed. Whereas, all I can do is try to look anywhere but at the beautiful vixen standing on the other side of the table.

  “Just monitor him for the next few days, but he should be fine. And try to keep him gated off until Hattie takes my advice on those training courses. One of these times, he’s really going to hurt himself.”

  She nods, looking guilty. “I’m a bit of a slob, so I guess tidying up is part of his treatment, too. Thank you again for coming in for this. I really apologize if we interrupted your night.”

  My laugh is a quick hoot. “If by my night you meant a Hungry Man on the couch with the baseball game on in the background, then yeah, you ruined a lot. I’m not exactly the one painting the town red if you hadn’t noticed.”

  Presley toys with the cardigan she has on, and I wonder if she’s hot in it. The thought of stripping her out of it has my blood heating. Jeez, maybe my brothers are right. It’s been a long time for me.

  “Something I admire about you is your honesty, Keaton.” The words out of her mouth surprise me.

  “Okay? Thanks?” I’m not sure if she’s trying to pad my wounded ego from what happened between us.

  She toys with the hem of her jean shorts, which only draws my eyes to those mile-long legs. “Full disclosure, because I’m trying to be a better person since moving here, Lily told me a little bit about your past.”

  My first reaction is to move away from her, which I do. I step back, almost in self-preservation. I don’t need to talk about this, especially to a woman I’m crushing on that also rejected me.

  Presley holds her hands up. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come off as … like I was prying. Lily simply wanted to know how we knew each other, and, again, in all honesty, I wanted to know more about you. You intrigue me, Keaton. And if I’m being completely up front … I’m attracted to you.”

  This has my head whipping straight forward, eyes pinned on her. “Could have fooled me.”

  My tone is both sarcastic and accusatory, so unlike my usual demeanor. But, Presley, she brings something out in me.

  She shrugs. “Yeah, I’ve been hot and cold. Blame it on my complete life upheaval and the fact that the draw you have scares the crap out of me.”

  I scare her? What alternate universe had I stepped into?

  “This has got to be some kind of joke.” I run my hands over my face, laughing. “Do you even know how intimidating you are? You’re this gorgeous, big city, worldly gypsy who is instantly lovable but cold and aloof at the same time. I’m a small-town vet with a mortgage. I’m not even a real doctor, which would make me a little more interesting.”

  “Hey, don’t talk about Keaton Nash that way.” She scowls at me, teasing. “The only thing you’re highlighting is how different we are, which I’ve never had a problem seeing. But, talking to Lily, it opened my eyes to the side of you I wasn’t aware of. All of that shine has some grit underneath. Obviously, I don’t wish bad upon you … but, this sounds so bad. I thought you were just this perfect, goody-two shoes. I misjudged you, and I realize that’s something I do often with a lot of people. I apologize. When you’re ready to tell me, I’d like to hear more about what makes you, well, you.”

  Her confession both relieves me and puts me on edge. Knowing that she judged me on our initial meeting is hard to swallow. But, I’m almost glad Lily outed my past, because I don’t know how forthcoming, or when, I would have been with Presley. I won’t lie, I put on the good boy front to protect myself. Knowing she wants to hear about Katie, about my father … that unnerves me.

  “I don’t open up about that much.” My voice has a warning tone.

  Presley’s eyes weigh my change in demeanor, and she moves toward me across the exam room.

  “I understand that. There are things I don’t talk about much.”

  Chance snorts where he lies on the table, and we both chuckle at how much we’re boring him. Presley’s on the same side of the room as I am now, and my fingertips spark with the need to reach out and touch her. We’re alone, the only two people in this whole building, and it’s too tempting.

  She may have shot me down more times than I’d like to count, but that mysterious pull is still there.

  “And there are things I do. Stupid things.” Presley inches closer.

  Her perfume, a sweet vanilla with a zing of citrus, tickles my nose. Her steps are silent as she tiptoes toward me, and all I can do is stand here uselessly. The nerdy high school boy takes over my body, and I just can’t believe that this beautiful creature is looking at me the way she’s looking at me.

  “Are you going to kiss me, Keaton?” She blinks up, her expression vulnerable.

  I have to lick my lips to get the words out, my throat is so dry. “I don’t know. Last time, you didn’t want me to.”

  Presley is so close now that the soft fabric of her T-shirt brushes against mine. The tiny bit of friction shoots straight to my loins.

  “But now, I’m ready.”

  Those two words are all I have to hear to step into her space, slide my hands into her hair, and gently tilt her head up and to the side so that I have the best angle on those full, peachy lips.

  Presley lets out a soft sigh right before I lower my mouth and kiss her.

  Slow and searching, I press my lips to hers, leading this dance of ours. Her eyes flutter shut a moment before mine do, and then my four other senses are left to their own devices. She presses up against me, the fabric between us suddenly suffocating. Our mouths move in tandem, a caress here, a nip there, a lick to explore.

  One hand strokes her silky locks and the other moves down to her jaw, tipping it up to give me better access. I push my tongue in, lapping at hers. The intimacy is seductive and I’m so turned on that I don’t even think before removing my hand from her hair and bringing it to her hip. I grind against her, holding her steady so she can feel how hard she’s making me. It’s painful, this arousal, and the need to touch more, see more of her, is sharp in the air.

  We kiss like time has stood still, deep and longing as if this is the air we’ve always been meant to breathe but haven’t swallowed it until right this moment. And I know now that I’ve never really a kissed a woman, not until Presley. All of those years, I thought I’d been happy.

  How could I have ever settled for that?

  There is that saying, “where have you been all my life?” Right now, it had never been truer.

  Our kiss comes to an abrupt halt when Chance rouses from his slumber and makes a truly horrific gagging noise.

  My forehead sinks into Presley’s shoulder as we both chuckle at our cockblock culprit.

  “Do you want to … go somewhere?” She’s all breathy and her lashes kiss her cheeks as her eyes stay closed.

  As much as I’d like to take her back to my place and remedy the dry spell my brothers keep making fun of me for … those things I can’t talk about are holding me back. I’ve never been the type to move fast, and with how my interactions with Presley have gone so far, I want to test the waters more.

  “Well, I’m officially off the cloc
k. So how about a drink?”

  Green jewels under hooded eyelids assess me. “The bar across the street?”

  Fuck. I’d forgotten for a second. That Fawn Hill had only one bar, and that said bar was owned by my ex-girlfriend’s father. Not only did I not want to see him, but no way did I want him to know I was seeing someone. Even if his daughter cared nothing about me anymore.

  Walking out of the exam room and to my office, I open the bottom drawer of my desk. Presley comes in a minute later, confusion written all over her face.

  I hold up a bottle of Maker’s Mark. “I have a better idea.”

  17

  Presley

  “Well, Dr. Nash, how adventurous of you.”

  I look up at the water tower in front of us, and the butterflies that have taken up residence in my gut flutter madly. When he said he had something else in mind, I didn’t imagine it would be so …

  Cool.

  This is exactly the kind of spontaneous that speaks to my soul, and the fact that the man who just kissed the pants off me has brought us here is exciting.

  I’m tempted to stay down here just to kiss him more. Climbing will delay us, and, my lord, I’ve delayed too much with this man for too long. If I’d known Keaton Nash could kiss that way, that it would be so toe-curlingly amazing … I would have done it sooner.

  My fingers itch to touch my lips or to dive back into his hair. Ever since we left his office, I’ve had to physically restrain myself from jumping him. The only thing that stopped me from asking him to come up to my bedroom when we dropped Chance off at home was my grandmother sleeping in the next room.

 

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