Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
CHAPTER EIGHT
“You two are quiet tonight,” says Grandma, with her phone in hand. She’s been busy with sudoku.
Darkness settled in an hour ago and stars hang high above. Nash is seated on the outdoor couch opposite us, with his guitar in his lap. He’s been playing for a while, but not singing. I have yet to hear his voice in person—aside from his karaoke appearance. But it’s nice to know my knowledge of country music isn’t completely trash, since I recognize some of the songs.
“We’re probably quiet because we’re thinking deep thoughts.” My original intention was to read a romance. However, watching Nash play guitar has taken precedence. “Is that by Brandi Carlile?”
He nods and gives me a smile. One that feels like it’s just for me. “‘The Story’,” he says.
“It’s beautiful.”
There’s been no discussion between us about what happened at the grocery store. He kissed me and then we went about our business. Which was weird. I tried to work and got nowhere. He went out somewhere in his car. I think the kiss meant something, but I’m not sure what. It no doubt dissuaded Amy from making a move. And it bolsters our story of togetherness. His theory regarding me being jealous was proven to be spot the fuck on.
Ugh.
I know I’m overthinking it. Like to the moon and back. He might have just been in a kissing mood and there I was. Though it’s probably that it means we both want more.
So now is the time to start worrying about next steps. Just really fixating on this shit. Such as who should make a move, etcetera. It’s strange to be pondering such things after the breakup messing with my head so recently. My ex is as gone as can be and I’m good with his absence. Someone else taking over my thoughts so soon is still a lot though. And doing anything in Grandma’s house against her wishes feels wrong. The whole point of me being here was to build stronger ties with her.
That kiss though…it was an eleven. I can’t recall another time when I was so in the moment. When my focus on what was happening was as all-consuming. His mouth on mine and the feel of his shirt fisted in my hands. How he held my face and the heat and hardness of his big body against mine. Then there’s the taste of him and how it went straight to my head.
“I’m not thinking deep thoughts, in case anyone is interested,” says the object of both my affections and smuttiest thoughts. His fingers gently plucking at the strings of the gorgeous, battered old guitar. The instrument just looks like it has a story or two to tell.
Grandma gives him a dour look over the top of her glasses. “Of course not. You’re too busy wooing June, and don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“Wait,” I say. “I’m being wooed?”
He gives me a wink and pauses playing for a second to check his watch.
“How is this wooing happening?” I ask.
“It’s a secret,” he says.
And Grandma scoffs. “Don’t you dare fall for it. He has a five-second attention span.”
“I’ve actually been working on that,” he says. “Think I’ve got it up to eight.”
“This is no joke. Toy with June at your own peril.”
He frowns. “Audrey, I have no intention of hurting anyone.”
“You never do. But it happens with alarming regularity.”
And while I have no idea exactly what’s going on here between him and me, the last thing I want to do is spend the night listening to them argue. “What are you going to play next?”
Nash’s gaze jumps to me and something in him eases. Perhaps the hard line of his jaw and the set of his wide shoulders. “I haven’t decided. Any requests?”
“It would be nice to hear some Linda Ronstadt,” says Grandma with a sniff.
“I can do that. How about ‘Blue Bayou’?” He starts playing the new song. “I’m waiting, by the way. That’s what I’m doing.”
“Waiting for what?” asks Grandma, with much suspicion.
“Shouldn’t be long now. You’ll see.” The man’s dedication to pissing off my grandmother tonight is supreme. I mean, he says he fears the stick, but I really don’t think it’s true. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be living on the edge like this. Just throwing caution to the wind.
What we need is a distraction. Something casting him in a better light would be useful.
“I forgot to tell you about the anonymous donations,” I say with a winning smile. “Someone’s been spending serious money helping various causes around town.”
Grandma’s ire retreats a smidgeon. “He’s always been generous.”
“It’s going to make a big difference to a lot of lives,” I say. “Must be nice getting to give so much to people.”
He just smiles.
“There was a proposed program for unhoused people in the area that fell through due to lack of funding last year,” says Grandma. “I could ask around for the details if you like?”