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Hudson’s eyebrows shot up. “You did it?”
Nash grinned. “I did.”
“You crazy-ass bastard.” Hudson grinned. “So what are you doing here?”
Nash nodded toward the boathouse. “That, my friend, is a long story. You got any more Bud?”
“Absolutely.”
The two men made their way back down to the dock, and once Hudson pulled a couple more beers from the fridge, they sank down on the low-slung Adirondack chairs.
“Shit, our names are still carved into these.”
Hudson looked down at his chair. Saw the HB etched into the arm. His smile slowly faded when he spied RD right there underneath his, a small heart drawn between them.
“I stopped by your place in DC.”
“Yeah?” Hudson took a sip from his can.
Nash leaned back in his chair. “Ran into Candace. She filled me in.”
“Huh.” That kind of surprised Hudson. “She’s still at the house?”
“She answered the door.” Nash gave him a side look. “You good with it? The divorce?”
Hudson nodded. “She deserved a hell of a lot more than I could ever give her.”.
The two men were silent for a few moments, and then Hudson spoke. “Becca’s here. Back in Crystal Lake.”
Nash didn’t answer right away. He fiddled with his beer, and, always the observer, Hudson sensed something was up. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I’m not. Becca and I keep in touch.” He shrugged. “It’s been a few weeks, but we talk every now and then.” Nash watched him closely. “You seem surprised.”
Hudson was more than surprised. Heat flushed through him. “You never said anything about Rebecca before.”
“It never seemed like a good idea to bring up the past when we talked.” Nash took a sip of beer and then leaned forward. “Truthfully, I didn’t think I had to keep you in the loop where Rebecca is concerned. She was your girlfriend, but she was one of my best friends. That’s nothing new.” His eyes narrowed. “It’s been years, Hudsy. You left her, remember?”
Hudson’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, his gaze on the water once more. “You’re right. I guess I’m just surprised.” He was feeling a hell of a lot more than surprise, but right now, Hudson wasn’t exactly sure what that other stuff was. He decided to ignore it and change the subject.
“So what’s the story? Why are you back?”
The tension dissipated as Nash’s face broke open in a wide grin. “You’re not going to believe it.”
“Try me.” Nothing Nash Booker did surprised him. This was the guy who at seventeen entered a race at a track in Detroit, agreeing to drive his cousin’s car even though he’d never driven stick before. He won the race, the trophy, two hundred and fifty bucks, and his cousin’s girl. After his football fiasco, he’d been all over the world, working at whatever job he could find to fund adventure after adventure. It wasn’t exactly a stable life, but then Nash had never been the kind of guy to lay down roots.
“You know Sal is sick, right?”
Hudson nodded. “I heard.” Regan Thorne had filled him in the day before.
“He wants to sell his place, and I’m thinking of buying it.”
“The Coach House.” Hudson snorted, but his laughter died when he saw the look on Nash’s face. “Seriously?”
Nash nodded. “Crazy, right?”
Truthfully, the notion of Nash working in a bar wasn’t crazy. Hudson was pretty sure the man had done a ton of bartending in his day. But business owner? That was something else entirely. That was a commitment, and Nash Booker had never committed to anything more than a good time, and that only lasted as long as it felt good. He had a Gypsy soul. Hell, his own family knew it.
“So you’re telling me that you coming back here is permanent.”
