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Three
His sexy-as-sin secretary was deliberately avoiding him.
Nick would bet a million, if he had it, that that was exactly what she had been doing—all week long. He bit back a laugh at what he knew it meant.
Robin was going out of her way to never be alone with him.
When Nick would look at her directly, a faint red would hit her cheeks. It took him two days to figure out that she felt safer with Chandler. And most certainly not safe with Nick.
Nick had spent four days—and nights—trying to decide what he wanted to do about that.
He’d dreamed about doing something about that, actually.
In hot detail.
Last night hadn’t helped. And the only thing he’d done was eat dinner at his brother Phil’s.
Phil had had people everywhere. The chaos had driven Nick nuts, but in a good way. Everyone had looked like they were happy and right where they belonged. Together.
But when he had seen how Glenna had looked at his brother in the rare moment they’d almost been alone…
A shot of envy so strong he’d never felt anything like it before had torn right through Nick in that moment.
He wanted a woman like Glenna to look at him in the same way.
Then, Glenna had turned to Nick and asked him how her best friend Robin was working out.
Oh, what he’d wanted to say in that moment would have shocked the sweet little blonde his brother had a real thing for. Right down to her then-bare little toes.
They were getting married in a matter of weeks. Phil hadn’t wasted any time, that was for sure. Phil had eight kids—three still under the age of eighteen—and Glenna had three, all under the age of seven. His brother was going to get a chance to do the dad thing all over again with three more daughters.
Phil’s house had been full of people, of family, of laughter. Of love.
Nick hadn’t missed that. Nor had he missed the contrast between that and his own current existence.
Nick was still bunking on the office fold-out in the back until he made a plan to get his nephews together and fix the house he’d bought from his uncle ten years back. For when he eventually retired from the army.
The house was in reasonable shape. It needed new floors, new plumbing, and updated wiring. Then cosmetics. He had the money for all of it. He just figured he’d get to it in his own good time. He was in no hurry.
Paint chips and countertop choices weren’t exactly his forte.
Nick would get his house finished eventually. All three thousand square feet of it. When he’d bought the place—once his own paternal uncle’s—he’d thought he’d find a woman and settle down there in Masterson someday. He’d have three or four kids and a loving wife of his own that he’d adore as much as Phil had adored his Becky. His and Phil’s and the rest of his brothers’ kids would all grow up together. Until he and his brothers were doddering old idiots, flirting with their still way-too-hot wives—while great-grandkids ran around like wild demons. That had been what Nick had wanted. Imagined.
Life apparently hadn’t had that in mind for Nick. Or for three of his older brothers, who they’d already lost. Lost long before those brothers had even the first grandchild among them. That would always sting.
It had been time he came home, to enjoy the time left with his family.
Even if he’d done so alone.
At forty-seven, he was good with that. Mostly.
It still got lonely sometimes. Phil’s house of chaos just illustrated that even more.
Nick had spent four nights on that office couch imagining he could smell the lotion Robin used on her hands. Blueberry. Blueberry and vanilla; he’d wondered far too often if she used that lotion everywhere.
Nick wanted to find out, up close and personal.
He’d even devised a plan involving sending her three kids—who he had yet to meet—to Phil’s, and just absconding with their mother for the weekend.
