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Nash’s shoulders relaxed, and he really wanted to pull her into his arms and give her a big kiss. Instead, he walked over and flopped down in the chair across from the bed. “Samuel. Of course Samuel. So start from the beginning, Olivia. What’s going on with Samuel? He has a crush on someone?”
She sat on the bed and leaned back against the pillows, stroking her stomach in a gentle back-and-forth motion as she spoke. “That’s the only explanation I can come up with for his weird behavior. Samuel is always organized and efficient. But since Doug started working at French Kiss, Samuel has become unorganized and distracted. Which might explain why the new bra line isn’t doing well.”
Nash couldn’t help being a little surprised. Everyone at French Kiss was convinced that Samuel was gay, but Nash had always had his doubts. Obviously, he’d been wrong. “So who is this Doug?” he asked.
“The UPS guy.”
Nash dealt with so many people in any given day that it was hard to keep track of them. But he vaguely remembered a guy in shorts hustling through the halls delivering packages. “So I’m assuming that this Doug is gay?”
“I was hoping that you could answer that question.”
He stared at her. “I’m not gay, Olivia.”
She laughed. “I realize that, Nash. But he doesn’t. So I was thinking that you could do a little flirting—”
Nash held up his hands. “Oh no, I’m not flirting with some guy to see if he’s gay.”
“But you wouldn’t have to flirt much.” She sat up. “Just enough to gauge his reaction. One of your smiles should be enough to have him falling all over you. People can’t resist your charm.”
Nash didn’t know why an image of Eden popped into his head. Maybe because she wasn’t so taken with his charm. Not that he had been all that charming in the hotel suite. But he gave her a smile at the bar, and she’d completely ignored him. Something that still annoyed him.
“And what happens if this Doug turns out to be gay?” he asked.
Smiling, Olivia leaned closer. “Then you do a little matchmaking.”
“Me?”
She glanced at the closed door. “Deacon would kill me if I interfered in Samuel’s life. Which is exactly why I had to set up this private meeting with you.”
Nash shook his head. “I’m sorry, Olivia, but I’m going to have to pass. I agree with Deacon. Samuel’s sex life isn’t any of my business.”
The look she sent him was all wide-eyed and pleading. “Please, Nash. In a way, it’s part of your job description. If Samuel is distracted, he won’t make good product. And if we don’t produce a good product, how can our customers be satisfied?”
Nash wanted to argue with the insane logic, but her big puppy-dog eyes stopped him. That, and the fact that it was hard to say no to a pregnant woman. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a mean negotiator, Livy?”
“What did you expect? I’m Michael Beaumont’s stepdaughter.” She smiled hopefully. “So will you do it?”
Knowing when he was beat, he gave in. “Fine, I’ll see what I can find out.” He pointed a finger at her. “But I’m not playing matchmaker. Once I figure out if he’s Samuel’s type, I’m out. You can take over from there.”
She jumped up and threw her arms around his neck before giving him a big kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Nash. I knew I could count on you. Now, let’s go down and see what we can find for dinner. I’m starving.”
The refrigerator in the kitchen was well stocked, and since Olivia didn’t cook, Nash was the one who pulled together some chicken fajitas for their dinner. He didn’t mind. He liked cooking. After his mother died, he had taken over the job. Grandpa had been too old. Grayson too young. Deacon had been too busy providing for the family. And their father had been too busy finding solace in the arms of every woman in town.
Don Juan, or Donny John as everyone called him, had folded like an old lawn chair when his wife died, leaving Deacon to shoulder the responsibility of raising his two younger brothers. Grayson had been easy. Give the kid some paints, and he’d kept himself busy for hours. But despite his cooking, Nash had been a bit of a troublemaker. He was the kid who refused to do his homework, ignored curfew, and eventually got tossed in jail. If working his ass off to pay the bills wasn’t enough for Deacon, he had to spend what savings he had on a lawyer for his pain-in-the-ass little brother. Which probably explained why Nash felt so guilty when Deacon walked into the kitchen and found him eating dinner with Olivia.
Dropping his briefcase and suit jacket on the counter, Deacon tugged loose his tie and looked from Nash to Olivia. “I thought you were going to your mother’s.”
She hurried over and kissed him. “I was tired so I came home instead. So what happened to you spending a relaxing night at the game?”
“Kelly got the survey up, and I was so interested in the answers that I forgot about the time until Jason called and asked where the hell I was.” He looked at Nash. “So what are you doing here?”
Nash shrugged. “I stopped by hoping for some leftovers.” He tried to change the subject. “So we already got a response on the survey?”
“Hundreds.” Deacon took a chair at the table and massaged his temples. “It seems that nowadays it only takes seconds to get a response from the world.”
“So what did they say?” Nash asked.
“That they loved our bras. In fact, there wasn’t one negative response.” He ran a hand through his hair and released a sigh. “Which doesn’t make any sense. If they love them, why aren’t they buying them?”
