Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
I shrug. “While people are generally confused about us as a couple, they’ll be less inclined to wonder if he reminds them of a certain rockstar.”
“Country-rockstar,” he corrects me.
Grandma returns to the kitchen and her glass of juice without further comment. She is not happy.
“Do you think I should leave?” Nash leans against the living room wall with his arms crossed over his chest. It makes the muscles seem mighty indeed. Not to ogle him or anything. “It might be best. What do you say, June?”
“Do you want to leave?” I don’t have a mild panic attack at the thought. Aaron Porter and I are just friends.
“No.” He studies the floor. “I like this town. And I like being with you and your grandma. When she isn’t being mean and threatening me with a stick. I spent so much time alone the last few years. My world just seemed to get smaller and smaller. Which is wild, given I was traveling the globe and playing arenas and throwing parties that filled the house with people.”
I remain silent, waiting for him to continue.
“I don’t want to go.”
“Then stay.”
“Nash, you can help me in the garden today,” announces Grandma from the kitchen. “I have a yearning for a fountain and maybe a rock feature out front.”
He cracks his neck. “You got it, Audrey.”
“Don’t worry,” I say with a smile. “Everything is going to be fine.”
CHAPTER FIVE
It’s a warm evening and the fireflies are out. They’re magical, moving among tree limbs and the longer grass growing by the river. Getting to be outside on nights like this are a gift. Back home, it’d be too hot to leave the air conditioning for another hour or two at best.
Grandma has gone to Thursday night bingo. I take the opportunity to tend to the contents of her display cabinet. Carefully handwashing the crystal glasses and bowls she inherited from her mother. Polishing the silver tea set that originally belonged to her grandmother. She mentioned meaning to get around to doing the job. And it’s nice to think of the family history and the women who came before me.
Food arrives just as I finish up.
“You’re running out of light,” I say, carrying two bottles of beer and the pizza box.
“Yeah,” answers Nash, down on his knees. “That and the will to live.”
There’s a slight decline from the house’s back deck down to the water. An assortment of flowers are freshly planted along the edge of the deck. I recognize asters and yarrow, sage and poppies. “She changed her mind about a water feature?”
“For now. There’s a shiny new birdbath at the side of the house, and she had me plant these, along with some semi-mature trees and a bunch of bushes. And then there was the weeding.” He takes one of the beers, and downs about half of it. The way his throat works is fascinating. Then he checks the time on his chunky silver colored watch. “Are you willing to share that pizza by any chance?”
“I am.”
“Great. Let me go wash up.” He heads inside while I take a seat on the few steps leading from the wooden deck down to the grass. I just so happen to be removing a cheese string from my chin when he reappears and sits beside me with two fresh beers. “You’re my dream girl, you know that, right?”
“Because I got food on my face?”
“How could I resist?” He smiles. “Thank you for feeding and watering me. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. Should I put some music on?”
He ponders the question for a moment. “I was kind of enjoying the quiet.”
“Okay.”
We eat in silence for a while. Frogs and fireflies and other assorted bugs and birds provide ample ambience. Orange and pink paint the sky above the trees.
“This is one of those moments we were talking about,” I say. “The simple pleasure of good food on a warm night by the river.”
“You’re absolutely right. It’s a funny feeling, isn’t it? Being exactly where you want to be.” He takes another bite and chews. “Don’t get me wrong, the pizza you get in Italy is on a whole other level. The dough and cheese they make and the tomatoes they grow…amazing.”
“I’ve never been.”
“We should go sometime. Just for fun.”
I laugh. “Sure.”
“Sitting here, eating this and hanging out with you while nature does its thing, is sort of perfect.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I smell bad,” he says conversationally.
“You’ve been very brave today, helping to get her garden in order.”
“Like anything Audrey owned would ever dare to be out of order. I think you’re brave sitting within a country mile of me.” His laughter is low and lovely and hits me right between the thighs. Dammit. Maybe there’s no harm in a rebound crush, and that’s clearly all this is. Nope. There’s no harm at all, so long as I don’t do anything about it. Which will be easy, given he’s pure flirt with no follow-through.