Nash Brothers Box Set - Carrie Aarons Page 0,115

gorgeous body in luminescent stripes. All that caramel skin, bare breasts, it’s distracting when I should have a stiff upper lip right now.

“No, what?” I growl, my cock hardening.

“I’m not leaving. Not until we talk. I’m not taking no for an answer this time. And it’ll cause a whole lot of gossip in this town if you toss me outside naked right now. So you have no choice.”

She’s manhandling me. And I don’t like to be told what to do. “Get out.”

“No.” Lily gets right up in my face, confronting the beast without a shred of fear in her eyes.

“Lily …” I warn.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she challenges.

She should be. About the secret I hold.

I advance on her, putting my arms on her waist to give her a nudge out the door. But all that does is fuck me over big time. Because she’s still naked, and damn it does she feel amazing.

“Let’s go downstairs. We’ll have breakfast. I’ll cook. And we’ll talk.” Her suggestion is quiet, a peace offering.

And because my hands are on her bare hips, and I’m a glutton for punishment, I agree.

“Fine. But we’re having sausage, not bacon.”

“Typical.” Lily shakes her head as she smiles.

20

Lily

Standing in a kitchen, barefoot in sweats after a night of sleeping in the same bed as Bowen Nash.

My sixteen-year-old self is living out her biggest fantasy right now.

I was totally that girl who doodled Mrs. Lily Nash in her notebooks and listened to sappy teen love songs while imagining a time when Bowen and I could live together without curfews or adult supervision.

It’s oddly familiar now that we’re actually doing it. As if we haven’t missed a beat of the last ten years.

“Put more cheese in those,” I tell Bowen.

“There are already six slices in here, and we’re only making six eggs to split. That’s way too cheesy.”

I scoff. “There is no such thing as too much cheese. Put more in.”

“Bossy,” Bowen says under his breath, scrambling the eggs and adding more cheese. “Do you still prefer tea over coffee?”

He moves to the pot he put on before but opens the cabinet to reveal a box looking suspiciously like my favorite kind of green tea.

“You drink that brand of Twinings?”

Bowen shrugs, but I don’t miss the flash of a blush, as if he’s caught, that steals over his face. “It’s not bad.”

I turn back to the stove where I push the sausage links around the pan with a spatula and hide my smile. “I’ll have tea, thanks.”

“Toast?” he asks, moving to the toaster after checking the eggs.

“Yes, I’m starved.” The thought just pops out.

“I wonder why that is.” I don’t miss the amusement in Bowen’s voice.

Is he flirting with me?

“I like your house. It’s very you.”

“So, you mean I’m simple and devoid of much personality.” He chuckles.

I turn, eyeing him. “No, I mean it’s clean, masculine but comfortable, you have a few photos of your family and an award from the firehouse. Plus, there are books on men’s hair styling on the bookcase, and a signed jersey from Roberto Clemente hanging like a shrine above your TV. It’s neat but contains all the subjects you hold most dear. Which aren’t many, that’s why they’re special. So yes, I like your house.”

My answer stuns him into silence, and he sulks around the kitchen until breakfast is done cooking.

After the table is set and Bowen sets down our steaming mugs, coffee for him and tea for me, we sit across from each other.

The clock on the kitchen wall ticks as I try not to stare at him, but there are words buzzing on my tongue, wanting to be set free.

“Just start, Lily. I know you want to ask me things.” Those clear blue eyes seem to sigh with resignation.

“Do you really blame yourself for the accident?” I start with a harsh one, but who cares anymore?

If I only get to do this once, might as well get all the ugly stuff out on the table.

“Yes. And no. Logically, I know I didn’t cause it. But I’ll never forgive myself for your seatbelt not being on.”

My cheeks burst into flames at his admission. “That was my fault, not yours, Bowen. I was misbehaving, trying to be bold. And I caught shit for it.”

He gives me a wry smile. “You’ve got curse words this morning, huh?”

“When I’m emotional, I can’t help it. But I mean it, none of it was your fault.”

There is a pause while we eat the breakfast we cooked together, and