Nash Brothers Box Set - Carrie Aarons Page 0,73

famished throughout the night.” I giggle as his hands roam to my hips, squeezing the ticklish spot.

“Hmm, I could whip us up something.” He makes no move to get out of bed.

“Can you make Shirley Temple eggs? I’ve been craving them and no one makes them like you.”

As I say it, my mouth waters. Thank God I found a man who can cook, ’cause lord knows I can burn the water in a spaghetti pot without even trying.

“That I can do … if you weren’t so distracting.” Keaton flips me over, laying on top of me as his hands frame my face.

He’s about to kiss me … when my stomach makes the most horrific gurgle I’ve ever heard. We both crack up, and he sits up on his knees, maneuvering out of bed.

“All right, all right … I get it. Breakfast first, then sex. Guess your stomach is dictating what happens this morning.” He laughs as he pads into the bathroom.

My feet hit the floor and I walk across the bedroom that I’ve missed so much. Going to his dresser, I pick out one of the worn, soft T-shirts that I love to wear as a nightgown.

And I know that when we do make it down to the kitchen, I’ll sit on the middle stool at his counter as I watch him cook, sipping a cup of coffee.

It’s our routine. Our boring, same day-in and day-out schedule that we’ve created since we got together. And I love it.

Look at me, learning to settle down and commit. And what’s more, absolutely loving the life that had always meant to find me.

40

Keaton

The grill flames lick into the sky, the scent of spices and meat and the last of the summer vegetables mingling in the air.

“Are we sure we trust him to cook us dinner?” Forrest points at me using his beer bottle.

“I’m the best cook out of any of you, just ask Mom,” I shoot back.

Mom holds her hands up from where she sits next to Presley on the patio couch. “I will not vote in this matter. I love you all equally.”

Forrest snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“Presley?” I ask my girlfriend.

She tilts her head. “Well, I do love you. But … I haven’t tasted your brothers’ cooking.”

“Traitor.” I give her a stink-eye.

I’m about to ask her who gave her an orgasm this morning and did she want more of those … and then I remember that my mother is sitting beside her and clamp my lips shut.

We’re all gathered in my backyard on the first day of October. It’s kind of a celebration of the end of summer months, with the cool breeze blowing through our hair and the fire pit spitting flames nearby. It’s also an excuse to all get together, not that we don’t see each other almost every day. But now that Presley is part of our circle, Mom will use any fake holiday to get all of her children together.

Well, almost all of her children.

It’s been about three weeks since Fletcher went to the rehabilitation center, and he’s doing well. We all try to call once a week, if he’s allowed phone calls at the times we call, to talk about his progress and just to take his mind off of how hard the road ahead is going to be. When I do talk to him, he sounds clearer than I’ve heard him in a very long time. I pray to whoever is up there that he’ll be just as successful when he gets out of there.

“Hey, do you think the Pirates are going to win the wild card?” Bowen asks as he walks out of the sliding doors into the backyard, carrying a bunch of condiments and sides on a tray.

I shrug. “I hope they do.”

“Would be a hell of a fun ride to the World Series.” He nods, setting the table.

“Forrest, help your brother set the table,” Mom instructs our youngest brother.

“I’ll help do the dishes,” he lies through his teeth.

Presley snorts. “That’s what you always say.”

We all start cracking up as Forrest scowls at my girlfriend. “How do you know what I’ve always done? You’ve only been around full time for a short time, don’t start getting cocky on me, Pres.”

Usually, I would smack my brother upside the head for talking to my woman like that, but Presley can handle herself. I chuckle at the verbal beat down that is inevitably coming as I use the spatula to put the meat I’m cooking on a serving