Nash Brothers Box Set - Carrie Aarons Page 0,238

with Friday night family movie and the Halloween parade we’d started on our street, the caramel corn tent was one of our solid traditions.

“How you feeling, beautiful?” I snag P in a quiet moment, as our family converges on Lily to ask questions about the baby’s nursery.

“Perfect.” She smiles, her permanent glow giving off its usual sparkle and charm. “And you?”

“Well, I burned my hand and having children for helpers makes double the work in the tent … but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I give her a sly smirk, because I was the one who asked for this in the first place.

She grins. “I suppose I could tend to your wounds when we get home.”

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I sway us a little, haughty in my flirting. “Is that right?”

My wife begins to lower her mouth to mine, and my lips tingle with anticipation. The heat between us mixes with the warm summer air, and just as her tongue slips into my mouth …

“Ew! Get a room!”

Matthew cackles wildly, finding our PDA both embarrassing and hilarious.

I release Penelope until I’m just holding her hand and talk back to my stepson. “We have one. It’s right next to yours!”

“Gross.” He pretends to fake gag, and all the adults crack up.

And it is, right next to his. In the house that we’ve all made a home. With the incredible woman who, most days, argues with me until I’m inside her.

But, like I said to my wife, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Falter

Book Four

1

Ryan

Dust settles as the propellers of the small plane die down, forcing me to cover my mouth with my free hand.

The “airport” is anything but the traditional sense of the word. I’m used to international hubs of travel, teeming with people speaking different languages and jostling for a prime spot in the security line. When I think of runways, I think of intricate loops of lighted flight paths, the whole design like a mini-city in itself.

But, just like everything else in this small town, the airport is a teaspoon of what I consider normal.

The last time I stepped foot in Fawn Hill, Pennsylvania was two years ago when I’d been helping Forrest Nash solve a case. It feels strange to be back now, having just exited a puddle jumper on the dirt runway outside the solitary building I assume houses the sparsely manned air traffic control and baggage claim teams.

I’m a little older, not really any wiser, and am sporting a broken heart for the ages. When Presley suggested I come out for a visit after my last relationship flamed out in spectacular fashion, I was wary.

Something about this little town ingrains itself in you. Makes you want to be kinder, more intimate with the humans that surround you day-to-day, to not take life so seriously, or live it as fast as the people whose circles I run in do.

That scares the bejesus out of me. I’ve never had a proper family or let anyone in as thoroughly as the residents of this town do. You could know someone here for mere minutes, and they were inviting you in for a meal. It took me almost a year to trust Presley back when I first met her, and we were living together for some of that time.

For someone like me, with what I’ve been through, trust and loyalty never came easy.

It was mindboggling, then, how I kept ending up in the crappiest of relationships. I’m sure some therapist out there would cite some study that said I had daddy, and mommy, issues. That I craved a partner who could take care of me, that even in the wrong situation, I’d stayed a prolonged period of time before throwing in the towel.

This hypothetical therapist might be right, but it didn’t mean I’d stopped getting myself into these dead-on-arrival romances. Well, until now.

No boyfriends, no lovers, no men of any kind barking up my tree for a year. That was the deal I made with myself, and I was sticking to it.

“Oh my God, you’re here!”

Presley runs at me at full speed, throwing her arms around me and almost lifting me off the ground even though I have four inches on her.

“Jeez, Pres, you’re going to make me even more nauseous than that plane ride did.” I laugh, but hug her back, resting my chin on the top of her head while my feet dangle just above the ground.

I met Presley almost a decade ago when