Page 71 of Nixon’s Promise

“Idiot, we saw like three liquor stores driving through town,” Weston reminded him.

“You sure you want to have to deal with these morons on a daily basis, or at least until this contract is finished?” Nixon whispered to McKenna.

“I think I can handle them.”

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“As long as you’re there, I think I can handle anything.”

Nixon stood, staring down at McKenna, not believing what he’d just heard. He’d known he was falling for his pretty neighbor. He hadn’t stood a chance and he hadn’t fought it. From the second he saw her struggling with a bag of dog food, he’d known. And then fate had intervened, sending Sally and Goat wandering into his pasture. From the first touch, he’d felt their connection. Even though he’d known all of that, he was still amazed.

There in his kitchen, with a room full of onlookers, Nixon stopped falling.

He was there.

Maybe that should’ve given him pause, how quickly it happened, but it didn’t. This was McKenna. Therefore, it was simply meant to be.

He knew down to his soul.

27

Maybe we should’ve stayed in.

It would’ve been cramped in my dining room with five or six large men, myself, and two teenagers, but at least we could’ve eaten in peace.

Alec had turned down the dinner invitation and headed back to DC. Now we were sitting in the back of the most popular pizza joint in Kent County and no less than ten women had wandered back to say hi to Nixon and welcome him home.

Welcome him home?

It was laughable—he’d been home for months. Each had a different reason why they hadn’t seen him yet: they hadn’t seen him around town, they hadn’t had time to go out to the Swagger farm to say hello, they were waiting for him to settle in. There had been more but I’d stopped paying attention to their excuses for interrupting our dinner.

When it was obvious he was blowing them off the women had then looked around the table and swooned. Honest to God, swooning. They’d smiled, flirted, tossed their hair, batted their eyes. It was so ridiculous, and obvious.

Each time a new woman had approached, Mandy had kicked me under the table and rolled her eyes before she giggled. I guessed that was the only good part of the vomit-worthy displays of attention. Mandy was having fun with it. She was open and joking with the men. And she’d shared secret smiles with me. It was like old times, even if it was only for a short while, I had my little sister back.

Dinner conversation was light, mostly about the work Nixon and Zack had done around the farm and what Nix’s future plans were regarding the land. No one had brought up why Mandy and Zack were living with me, which I could only assume was because Nixon had filled his friends in. Which I appreciated.

Around bites of the best pizza known to man, Chasin, Jameson, Weston, and Holden all engaged Zack, asking about his dirt bike and sports. Every once in a while, they’d turn their attention to Mandy and ask her about school, what she did for fun in “cow town”, and what her plans were after she graduated. And she answered without any teenage attitude or snark.

Several times I’d felt Nixon’s hand squeeze my knee and he’d smile over at me. He knew what it meant to me to see Mandy happy. Not only that, but he was happy to see it, too. The knowledge hit me so hard I’d found it difficult to breathe. Last night, he’d confirmed he liked where we were and where we were headed. With the drama this afternoon and him going to town to pick up his “shit” and my “shit” we hadn’t had a moment alone. Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about what he wanted to speak to me about in person.

Normally any talk of relationship status would freak me out and I’d avoid the topic, but this was a conversation we needed to have. I was afraid I was in over my head. Just because he liked where we were didn’t mean we were in the same place. And when he’d said he liked where we were headed didn’t mean we had the same end game. Mine of course would be us together in my house, him building me a white picket fence around the property, with a handful of kids running around.

I didn’t even know if Nix wanted kids, or if he was planning on sticking around beyond the immediate. I’d known there was a possibility I was setting myself up for heartbreak, but I hadn’t expected to fall ass over teakettle so quickly. I’d thought it would take a good long while before I gave him my heart. Not so much. Not only did he have it, I didn’t want it back. And if he tried, I’d be crushed. More than crushed—devastated.

“I admit,” Chasin started. “I thought you were bullshitting when you said this place had the best pizza ever.”

“Told you,” Nix said, shoving the last bite of crust into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed then continued. “Procs is the first place you stop and eat after you’ve been gone awhile. Doesn’t matter if it was a week, months, or a few years. You walk in, see who’s behind the counter, smell the pizzas in the ovens, and you know you’re home. One of the things I missed most about KC while I was gone.”

I’d never been away from Kent County for as long as Nixon had been, but he was right, Procs was the first place I hit when I came home from visiting my dad and stepmom in California. There was something about the burnt red walls, ovens behind the counter, and hearing the owner greet you as you walked in that made you feel appreciated.

“Did you sign the lease?” Holden asked, not looking up from dumping gobs of red pepper flakes onto his slice of pizza.

I looked around the table waiting for someone to answer. I wasn’t sure who he was talking to or even what he was talking about.

“Yeah. I negotiated the price down, but locked into five years. The space had been vacant for a long time and the agent was happy to get someone in,” Nixon told him.

Five years?