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“I’M JUST SAYING, THE whole thing is kind of weird.”
Megan’s voice was mild—decidedly nonconfrontational—as it came through the speaker of Britt’s phone, which she’d set down on her dresser so she could pull on her cute blue pants.
“Nothing’s weird about it. He’s taking his grandma and her friends to that big botanical garden, and I’m going with them.” She turned around to check out her butt in the mirror. These pants always made it look like she actually had some curves there, so she wanted to verify they were doing their job.
“But why are you going with him?”
“I told you. Because he was mean to me, so he deserves a little punishment.”
“And you think it’s going to be punishment for him to have you tagging along?”
“Of course it will.” Britt frowned at her phone, even knowing Megan couldn’t see her. “You should have seen his face when I told him.” She giggled, remembering his stunned outrage when she’d announced her plan.
Megan gave a dry little laugh. “I can just imagine. But surely if this is to make up for his meanness to you, it should be something you want to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it’s not much of a gesture of reconciliation if it’s a punishment to you too.”
“Why would it be a punishment for me?”
“You really want to spend your Sunday morning going to a garden with three old ladies and Nash?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”
Megan didn’t answer. The silence stretched out a little too long.
Britt gave up on craning her neck enough to get a full view of her butt and walked over to the phone. “If you have something you want to say, then just say it.”
“Okay. It’s not bad. It’s just a question.”
“Then ask it.” For some reason—no good reason—Britt was nervous. She was holding her breath. Her heart was racing.
“Have you... Are you maybe a little bit... into Nash now?”
“Into him?”
“You know what I mean.”
Of course Britt knew what she meant, but she was startled and strangely defensive over the question.
“Nothing would be wrong with that, Britt,” Megan went on in a rush when Britt didn’t answer. “If you like him. He’s a good-looking guy, and he’s not nearly as mean and off-putting as he tries to be. He helped you out last weekend, and I know you appreciated it. We just—I mean me and Vivian—we just want you to tell us if that’s what’s going on.”
They’d been talking about her. Her friends. They thought she was falling hard for Nash, and they were worried about what it meant for her heart.
Because they knew—just like Britt knew herself—that Nash would never fall for her in return.
Her cheeks had flushed hot, and it took a minute for her to control her response enough to answer in a natural voice. “That’s not what’s going on. I’m not into Nash.”
“You’re really not?”
“No! I mean, I kind of like him, and he feels like a challenge. He... intrigues me. But that’s all it is.” She was speaking the absolute the truth. The truth as she understood it.
She’d felt attraction for Nash. Sure. But attraction wasn’t real interest. And she’d never once genuinely entertained the idea—even in her wildest fantasies—that she and Nash could be anything more than casual friends.
“Okay. It sounds like you mean it.”
“I do. I promise.”
“Okay.” Megan’s voice had relaxed, so the tension in Britt’s chest relaxed too. “I was just checking. We really didn’t know.”
“I know. I’m sure you were worried because nothing would have been sillier than me believing I had even a chance with him. I mean, no one’s getting through all those walls.”
“Well, I don’t know if it’s impossible—he really is a good guy—but it would take a lot. And it would be really hard. And there’s a good chance that the woman who tries it will end up with nothing but a broken heart. And we didn’t want that for you.”
“I know.” Her voice broke slightly.
Sometimes Britt hated the fact that she was such a crybaby. Her eyes were pooling even now. For no reason at all.
“So you promise your heart isn’t in this? It’s just a challenge you’ve given yourself? You’re having fun with it?”
“Exactly!” Britt sniffed, feeling better as Megan put into words exactly how she was approaching this. “I mean, what could be more entertaining than watching Nash try to deal with me plus three older ladies at the garden this morning?”
Megan laughed, exactly as Britt had intended. They hung up after another minute.
And Britt went back to her closet to decide what top would look cutest with these pants.
***
NASH HAD ABSOLUTELY no idea how he’d ended up in this predicament.
In any sort of sensible world, it never should have happened this way.
But he was here anyway. Driving his SUV on the interstate and trying not to keep glancing in the rearview mirror to catch another glimpse of Britt’s pretty, smiling face.
His grandmother’s friends were Miss Thelma and Miss Molly. That was what he’d called them for his entire life. Miss Thelma was a tiny, clever black woman—in her late sixties like his grandmother—and Miss Molly was white with dyed blond hair and a very strong Southern accent.
Miss Molly was in the front seat because she got carsick in the back, and his grandma and Miss Thelma were both in the backseat with Britt tucked in between them.
The women had been talking nonstop since they’d started out fifteen minutes ago. They were mostly giving Britt a lively interrogation about her interests, her family, and her life experiences. Someone else might have gotten annoyed by so many personal questions being fired at her by strangers, but not Britt. She looked perfectly happy back there, sharing herself and occasionally turning it around so she could get to know them.
As they continued, he heard a lot of stuff he’d already known about Britt. She was the youngest of four sisters. Her father was a dean at the university, and her mother was a computer science professor. She’d taken ballet and gymnastics until she’d graduated high school. She’d majored in elementary education. She’d taught second grade for four years. Then decided to go back for her PhD so she could be a school administrator, and instead of doing it while she taught like a lot of people, she was taking the coursework fulltime so she could get it done quickly.
But he also learned a lot of things he hadn’t known. She liked to make scrapbooks. She’d had a serious boyfriend all through college and thought she would probably marry him, but he’d dumped her right after graduation. One of her sisters had divorced her cheating husband last year. Elephants were her favorite animal. Daisies were her favorite flower. Pink was her favorite color.
She’d always wanted to go to Alaska, and she’d never been.
He didn’t say a word. Not in the entire hour it took to drive them to the garden entrance. No one appeared to expect him to speak. In fact, the ladies were so involved in the conversation that they appeared to forget about his existence.
Except for Britt. Every now and then, she’d meet his eyes in the mirror. Her face would soften into a smile that, every time, caused his breath to hitch.
The last time this happened, as he was waiting in line to pull up to the gate to pay, it felt like his face—his ears—were flushing, and he had no idea why that would be. He glanced away from the mirror quickly, looking over his shoulder toward his grandmother in the backseat behind Miss Molly.
He caught his grandma watching him with a look of such close scrutiny it left him completely exposed.
He hated feeling that way. More than anything. He pushed the discomfort out of his mind as he dug out his credit card from his pocket so he could pay their entrance fees.
This day would have been easier if Britt hadn’t decided to come.
***
TWO HOURS LATER, NASH had changed his mind.
Britt’s presence made the morning a lot better.
Usually, when he took his grandmother and her friends on outings, they spent most of the time teasing and lecturing him about all that was wrong with his life.
None of it was mean-spirited. They obviously cared about him, and no matter how intrusive they got, he was never anything but polite to them. But it was frustrating. Hearing nonstop their opinions on his antisocial ways and his grooming habits and his nonexistent love life.
Britt’s presence meant their focus was on her and not on him.
If they’d teased her the way they teased him, he would have run interference, no matter how out of character it would be for him. After all, her sweetness shouldn’t leave her vulnerable to that kind of thing from strangers. But they didn’t behave with her the way they did with him. Sure, they giggled and asked questions and gave her advice, but they appeared to approve and appreciate everything about her.
And why wouldn’t they?
There wasn’t a single thing about Britt to disapprove of.
They’d slowly rambled around the various gardens, taking a lot of breaks on benches, and Britt asked them all in turn about their lives and families. He wasn’t sure how she did it, but all three of the women told her story after story about their personal histories—some of it quite private. He learned things about his grandmother’s experiences with men that he’d never heard or even imagined before.
Britt somehow made opening up easy. People wanted to tell her things.
So the morning passed a lot more quickly than Nash had expected, and he hadn’t been interrogated or put on the spot or even embarrassed.
It was lunchtime before he knew it, and that was always an event. They loved the chicken salad from the garden’s upscale bistro, so their first stop was there so the ladies could all get their chicken salad on croissants with iced tea. Then they wanted to finish off the meal with big warm pretzels from the snack bar, so they all traipsed over to sit at one of the outside tables (after Nash had wiped it off with disinfectant wipes). They gave him their orders—complicated by the fact that they all wanted slightly different pretzel styles and dipping sauces—and he went to order, pay for the food, and bring it back to each of them in turn.
It wasn’t a fast process. And Nash suspected they might have been having a little fun with him when Miss Molly declared she wanted something entirely different as he brought her the pretzel she’d originally asked for.
He bit back a grumble and put the rejected pretzel down in his spot and went back to put in her new order and wait until it was ready.
Miss Molly was trying not to snicker when he returned a few minutes later and presented her with the pretzel. “Thank you, young man,” she told him with a gleam in her brown eyes. “You’re very kind to an old lady.”
“We all know you’re not old, ma’am.” She wasn’t. She wasn’t even seventy yet, and she was in pretty good shape. Her mind, of course, had always been as sharp as a sword.
“You’re too sweet!” She simpered like he’d been flirting with her, but he knew she was putting it on to embarrass him.
He rolled his eyes and sat down. Finally everyone had their food now. Hopefully Britt would keep the conversation going so he could sit quietly and eat his pretzel. Molly’s first choice had been a plain salted, which was his favorite anyway.
Britt had gotten chicken salad like the others, but she hadn’t wanted anything else. But as he was rearranging his chair in front of the table, he saw her reaching over and breaking off a piece of his pretzel.
He slanted her an indignant look, mostly to prove that he’d noticed, but he didn’t say anything. He tore off a piece for himself.
He tried not to look too much at Britt as he chewed, but she was ridiculously pretty right now with her hair glinting gold in the sunshine and a little smile on the corners of her lips. Her body looked curvier than it normally did in that outfit. He’d noticed that repeatedly throughout the morning.
“Timothy?”
His grandmother’s mild voice broke into his increasingly inappropriate thoughts. He turned toward her with a jerk. “Yes, ma’am?”
“I’d thanked you for all your help this morning, but you didn’t seem to hear me.”
Shit. He hadn’t even realized she’d spoken at all. “I’m sorry. I’d kind of zoned out.”
“I saw that.” She was looking at him with that same scrutiny he’d noticed in the car. The kind that made him very nervous.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said automatically.
He glanced over at Britt for some reason—not because he wanted to once again see how pretty she looked right now—and he discovered that she was hiding a giggle. It was clear in her sparkling eyes, her quivering mouth, the way her shoulders shook slightly.
“What?” he demanded. If she was laughing at him, he wanted to know why.
“Nothing. Just I think it’s cute you say ‘ma’am.’ I wouldn’t have expected that from you.”
“Why wouldn’t you expect it?” Miss Thelma asked, before Nash had to figure out some kind of response. “He’s always had very good manners. His grandma raised him right.”
Britt’s eyes widened, like she was worried she’d offended. “Oh, I know! I never doubted that for a minute. There’s no way he’d be so good to you all now if he hadn’t been raised right. I’d just never heard him say it before.” She darted Nash a sparkling little look. “He never calls me ma’am.”
“Well, of course not!” Miss Molly was grinning as she took another bite of her pretzel. “He wouldn’t say that to a pretty girl. But you don’t have to worry a bit about him. He’ll always treat you with respect and make sure you feel special.”
Nash blinked. He’d been a little uncomfortable about Britt’s teasing, but he hadn’t really minded it. But something had shifted in the tenor of the conversation. Something felt off.
“I’ve never doubted that either,” Britt murmured. Her eyes were still dancing as she looked between Miss Molly and Nash.
“Yes, indeed,” Miss Thelma put in. “Don’t you spend even a minute concerned about that. He might not say a lot, and he certainly needs to get rid of that disgraceful beard and put a little more effort into being social, but none of that is important in the long run. He’ll always take really good care of you, and that’s the most important thing.”
Nash stiffened, momentarily hit with the realization like a blow. They were acting like he and Britt were together. “Wait a min—” he began but was cut off before he could finish the word.
“We had no idea he’d finally found himself a girl. How long has he been courting you, dear?” Miss Molly was asking the question to Britt.
His grandmother, who definitely knew better, was trying to stop herself from snickering.
Britt didn’t look shocked or mortified or disgusted by their erroneous assumption. In fact, she appeared to be laughing inside more than ever—like the silent hilarity was spilling out of her.
She was enjoying this.
Not the ladies’ misunderstanding, but his reaction to it.
Nash was quite sure he was beet red as he cleared his throat. “No, ma’am. I’m not... I mean, we’re not...”
Britt finally laughed out loud, breaking any possible awkwardness with the relaxed kindness of her voice. “We aren’t really together like that. We’re just friends.”
“Friends?” Miss Molly said the word like it was a bad one. “Young man, what are you waiting for? This girl is far too sweet and lovely for you to let slip away.”
“Very true.” Miss Thelma nodded her head with an expression of exaggerated wisdom. “You better get your rear in gear and make your move before she gets away.”
Britt still wasn’t embarrassed. He had no idea how she could do it. She was amused but also looked almost fond as her eyes moved between Miss Molly and Miss Thelma. “You both are very sweet to say that about me, but I actually like having friends, and I’m really not anything special.”
They both burst into loud objections to the final statement, and even his grandmother was shaking her head at him and tsking her tongue.
And Nash couldn’t think of anything—not a single thing—that he might say to get himself out of this painful situation.
The worst part was that he knew that the ladies were right.
They were entirely right.
He’d never met anyone like Britt before, and he never would again.
“Okay,” she said now, licking salt off her fingers. She’d reached over to take another piece of his pretzel when he wasn’t paying attention. “I think y’all have tortured poor Nash enough for one day. I might go check out the gift shop. I like to buy cards from different places to mail to my own grandma.”
“Oh, I’m sure she would love that,” Miss Molly said.
“Go with her, Timothy,” his grandma told him in the tone that brooked no argument. “It’s all the way on the other side, and she shouldn’t have to walk all that way on her own.”
“It’s o—” Britt broke off her surprised objection when Nash heaved himself to his feet.
At her questioning look, he muttered, “I need to stretch my legs anyway.”
He had an uncomfortable suspicion that all three ladies were smiling maternally at the two of them as they started walking away.
“What the fucking hell?” he mumbled, shooting Britt a look.
She giggled uninhibitedly. “They were cute.”
“They were out of their minds. I told Grandma that you were just a friend. She should have told them. Why they all assumed we were—”
“They’re from a different generation,” Britt said quietly. “And they probably thought you invited me here, which gave them the wrong impression. They didn’t know I’d wormed my way into the trip to torture you a little.”
He gave a grunt in response, since no words were coming to him.
“I like them,” she said, smiling at the air in front of her.
“Do you?” He couldn’t help but turn his head so he could see her expression.
“Yes. They’re great. All of them. And I can tell your grandmother is super-smart. She doesn’t say as much as her friends do, but she sure seems to have a lot of thoughts.”
“She does.”
“She really loves you,” she said in almost a whisper.
Nash cleared his throat. Couldn’t say anything. For some reason, he stopped walking.
Britt stopped too and turned toward him. Her eyes were big and wide and deep and gazing up at him. Her hair was blowing in her face a little.
He couldn’t stop himself. He gently pushed it back behind her ear.
“I’m really glad you have her in your life.” Britt’s voice was still soft. Just a little husky, like her throat was full of emotion. “I didn’t know anything about your family before or your ex-wife, and I’m sorry you’ve felt alone so much of the time. But I’m really glad your grandma has always loved you.”
Nash froze. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but feel.
Feel so much. It was swelling in his chest. Aching. Closing up his throat.
It felt like an assault. Of emotion. He wasn’t used to naked earnestness like this. He’d always guarded against it with distance and bitterness and humor and irony.
But there was no guardrail right now. No walls that could keep her out.
Britt’s sweetness was spilling into him. Filling him. Melting him.
He reached out toward her face again, this time cupping her cheek. He had to touch her. Hold her. Keep her somehow.
“Nash?” She was still gazing up at him with wide eyes, but they’d transformed from soft sympathy to something warmer, needier. She leaned her face into his hand like she wanted to feel him even more.
His entire body came alive. Blood pumping hard. Nerve endings buzzing. Heart hammering so intensely he could feel it in his fingers, his ears, his groin.
He tilted his head down. She was right there. She was everything he’d ever wanted.
Everything he’d always known he couldn’t have.
Her breath hitched audibly. She stretched toward him. Like maybe—maybe—she wanted him too.
Then a boy belonging to a passing family accidentally bumped into the back of Nash’s legs.
“Oops!” the boy said cheerfully. “Sorry!”
The interruption poked a sudden hole in the emotional intensity, deflating Nash like a popped balloon.
What the hell had he been doing? He couldn’t kiss Britt. He couldn’t.
She might want to in this particular moment, but she’d never want him. Not for real.
He’d take it seriously. It would threaten to upend his whole world. And she’d just be having a little fun with him.
He took two clumsy steps back from her, dropping his hands and sucking in a harsh breath. Tried to clear his mind. Tried to get his body and heart under control again.
Britt blinked like she’d been jarred out of sleep. “Nash?”
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Sorry. Won’t happen again.”
“It won’t?” She sounded utterly baffled.
He grunted. Then realized this was one of those times when he needed to put it into words. “Sorry,” he said again.
Too much of him still wanted to grab her, lean down into a kiss, bury himself in all her soft, bright sweetness.
But he knew better than that.
He turned away from her with a weird jerk. Forced himself to say, “It’d be a big mistake.”