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She’d woken up with Nash already inside her, and they’d barely managed to get dressed before Brooke walked out of Honey’s bedroom. The young girl had made a lot of noise, and Honey was pretty sure she knew what was up in the living room. Nash couldn’t seem to wipe off a satisfied grin what would make a Cheshire cat proud, and Honey’s cheeks were perma red from all the sex and blushing when she thought about all the sex.
“You sure? What are you going to do all day? It’s Christmas.” Dragged from her thoughts, Honey cleared her throat and nodded as she looked across the room at Nash. He’d pulled on his winter coat and stood near her door, his dark eyes intense. Brooke stood beside him—he’d offered her a lift home—and Honey’s heart twisted a little at the sight.
He was a protector. A man who would do anything for those he loved. That much was evident. He hadn’t met Brooke until the night before, and in the space of twelve hours, he’d managed to win the girl over. Wasn’t fair, really. It had taken Honey two months.
“I’m good, Nash.”
He pulled on his gloves and reached for the door. “How about I bring over some leftovers?” He kept the tone light, but that didn’t take away from the heaviness of the meaning and what he was asking. They were moving into new territory, and the ball was in her court.
“I would like that,” she replied softly.
A heartbeat passed.
“Okay. See you later.”
He opened the door and waited for Brooke to walk past him before shooting Honey a look that would have singed her panties—if she were wearing them. As it was, her lady parts roared to life, and sh
e was pretty sure Nash was getting one hell of a nipple salute.
“Get lots of rest,” he murmured. And then he was gone.
Honey looked around her empty apartment, not used to the weird feeling that bloomed in her chest. She liked to be alone. She loved the silence and simple tranquility one could get from an open afternoon with nothing to do but read a book, or nap, or…
Get naked again.
“Jesus,” she muttered heading for the kitchen. Earl needed some water, and she needed to get her shit together.
Hopefully, she could get both accomplished before Nash returned.
16
Six months ago, if someone had told Nash he’d be hanging out with Honey Harrison after hours, between hours, and before hours, he’d have told them they were damn crazy. Crazy with a capital freaking C. Yet here he was, New Year’s Day, getting ready to head out and pick her up to take her out to Hudson’s place, where all the Blackwells were gathered for good eats and, more importantly, good football.
Now, he wasn’t the guy who’d invited Honey—that had been Wyatt Blackwell’s wife, Regan—though the thought had crossed his mind on account of all the after-hours and hanging out. Thing was, thinking and doing were two entirely different things. Nash was man enough to admit he’d been hesitant to invite Honey because, so far, she’d turned him down for anything that didn’t involve the after-hours business. He’d been as surprised as anyone when she’d handed Regan her cocktail and said she’d love to.
She’d love to.
Wyatt elbowed Nash in the ribs. “Wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Then the middle Blackwell went on to tell Honey how Nash had never brought a woman to the Blackwells for New Year’s Day. Ever.
“I’ve never brought one because you guys act like jerks,” Nash said with disgust.
“Not me,” Hudson replied. At Nash’s dark look, he cracked a smile. “Well, not since I was twenty-five or so.”
And that comment right there had opened up an entirely new can of worms. The Blackwell wives had no qualms about digging into him. About pointing out his age (since when was thirty-five over the hill?) and the lack of bachelor pals in his life. According to them, every single male in Crystal Lake was married or engaged except for Nash Booker. He took the ribbing and didn’t think about it again until later. After he’d made Honey come more times than he could count, he lay on his side and watched her sleep.
He didn’t want to overthink the things that had been said, because that was what got a guy in trouble. Didn’t want to wonder about the whys and the why nots. Nash decided he was better off living in the moment, and right now, his moments were a hell of a lot more fun with Honey in the picture.
He’d had a great New Year’s Eve, celebrating with friends and the regulars at the Coach House. Even his parents had swung by for an hour or so before they headed to the local Legion and the dance they always attended. And now, once brunch with his parents was over, he planned on grabbing Honey and heading to Hudson’s. Speaking of which, his mother had caught wind of his plans and wasn’t pleased.
“I don’t understand why Honey would go with you to Hudson’s but not come here for brunch.” His mother nailed him with a look that told Nash she wasn’t letting up anytime soon. He looked to his brother for help, but the bastard just grinned and winked. His father was studying the china, for God’s sake, and his sister was too preoccupied with the baby to notice anything. Nash was on his own.
He sighed and tossed his napkin. “Mom, it’s not like that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lisa Booker’s mouth was pursed, and there was color in her cheeks. This wasn’t good. Nash glanced at the clock on the wall behind her. If he didn’t end this interrogation before it got out of hand, he’d be here all day.
“This is a family thing, and Honey didn’t want to intrude.” Truth was, he’d been more than a little disappointed when she declined his offer of brunch before heading to the Blackwells. He’d asked himself the same questions his mother was firing his way.
“Aren’t all the Blackwells going to be at Hudson’s? Don’t they all watch football together?”
