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Since Nash didn’t have a package, there was only one reason for Olivia to send the man over. She was tired of waiting for Nash to figure out Doug’s sexual preference and was forcing the issue. Nash should’ve been annoyed, but instead, he was relieved to have a distraction from the damned clock.
“Hey, Doug,” he said. “How’s it going?”
“Good, sir.” Doug stepped into the room. After a full day of work, most people looked wrinkled and mussed. Doug looked like he had just stepped out of his bathroom after a full two hours of grooming. His uniform shirt and shorts were starched, his knee socks perfectly even, and his hair moussed. So Nash couldn’t help but wonder if Olivia wasn’t right and Doug was a good match for the fastidious Samuel.
“So I guess you’re ready to call it a night,” Nash said. “Probably looking forward to getting home to the family and kids.”
Doug wrote something on his clipboard. “Actually, I’m not married, and I don’t have any kids.” He glanced around. “So do you have the package ready, sir?”
“I already took it to the post office. So no wife or kids, huh? A girlfriend?”
Doug’s eyes swept back to him. “No, sir. And if you don’t need to mail anything, I’ll just let you get back to your work.”
Nash should’ve let him go but he knew that if he didn’t get the information, Olivia would keep sending the guy over for boxes that Nash didn’t have. So he decided to quit beating around the bush and get straight to the point.
“Do you like women, Doug?”
Doug’s mouth dropped open for a second before he pulled himself together. “Umm… yes, sir. Of course I like women. Some of my closest friends are women.”
“I’m not talking about friends,” Nash said, but before he could ask if he might be interested in going out with Samuel, Kelly showed up.
“I just got a call from a woman claiming to be a reporter forForbesmagazine—” She paused when he saw Doug. “Hey, Doug. You’re working late.”
Doug didn’t take his gaze off Nash. “It’s karaoke night at McGee’s. I’ll be there until eleven.” He winked before he walked out.
Well, that answered that question.
Kelly’s gaze followed Doug and then returned to Nash. “What was that all about? You know he’s gay, right?”
“Let me guess,” Nash said dryly. “You’ve known that all along.”
“Of course. And I think you should know that, living in San Francisco, you’ve got a fifty-fifty chance that a guy’s door swings the other way.”
“Thanks for the info. Now what’s this about a reporter fromForbes?”
“Not a reporter as much as another Lothario groupie. Before I gave her an answer, I called the magazine. They’ve never heard of a Tulip Bernstein. But at least this woman was more original than the flower delivery girl who thought that a dozen roses would get her into your office. Who would send a guy roses?”
Hopefully, not Doug, but after the wink, Nash wouldn’t be surprised. He might’ve questioned Kelly about the imposter reporter if the time on his computer hadn’t finally hit five o’clock. Like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight, he knew he had to leave. It was stupid and totally ridiculous, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself as he made his excuses to Kelly and hurried out of the office.
He ended up at The Lemon Drop a mere ten minutes later only to discover that Eden wasn’t working. Which put him in an extremely foul mood. After sitting at the bar and drinking enough sweet tea to send him to the bathroom three times, he almost got in a fight with a guy who wouldn’t leave one of the female patrons alone. Nash would’ve loved it if the guy had argued. Instead, he left, leaving Nash with a grateful blonde who wanted to buy him another iced tea. But he didn’t want another drink. Or the blonde. He wanted a woman with raven hair who talked with her hands and wouldn’t stay the hell out of his mind.
Thanking the blonde, he flipped some money on the bar for his drinks and left. He walked to his truck and then cussed a blue streak when he noticed the ticket under the windshield wiper. He jerked it off and read it, then glanced around for the loading zone sign. Sure enough, the sign was located right next to his front bumper. Something he hadn’t noticed in his hurry to get inside and see Eden. Stuffing the ticket in his jacket pocket, he started to climb into his truck when he noticed the bumper sticker on the car parked in front of him.
Nudists Undress Quicker.
Instead of making him laugh, the sticker made him think of Eden and what she was doing tonight if she wasn’t bartending. The thought of her getting naked with another man was not a laughing matter. Getting in his truck, he grabbed the burner phone from the cup holder. The same guy answered.
“How can I help you, Mr. Jones?”
“Eden.” He paused for only a second. “Tonight.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the guy said. “Eden doesn’t work here anymore. But I’m sure we can find you another woman that you’ll like just as well.”
“Not likely.” Nash hung up and tossed the phone so hard at the passenger’s seat that he cracked the screen. By the time he got home, his mood hadn’t improved. It didn’t help that when he pulled into the driveway, he suddenly remembered that he was supposed to cook dinner for Grayson. And with nothing in the house, he had no choice but to go to the grocery store.
“Shit.” He thumped the steering wheel with his fist before he popped the stick into reverse and started to back up. He slammed on the brakes when he glanced in his rearview mirror and noticed the passing car. The same old, silver Volvo that had been parked in front of his truck at The Lemon Drop. Obviously, the guy that he’d pissed off at the bar had followed him home and was looking to get even. Nash was more than happy to oblige him.
Turning off his truck, he jumped out and jogged across the street. The guy had put on a baseball cap—no doubt as some kind of disguise—and Nash knocked it off as he opened the door and pulled him out. But the light weight of the man had him freezing, as did the startled hazel eyes that stared up at him.
