Page 24 of Nash

It’s sudden jealousy and pain punching my heart.

I didn’t know that.I don’t want to imagine it, either. I don’t want to hear how Nash has been secretly dating someone. How some woman has his heart because mine suddenly breaks at the thought.

All this time, Alena suspected her dad went somewhere with someone. You can’t look like Nash does and not have a clowder of pussies trailing behind you. But Nash never brought women around Alena.

Or me. I’m shocked by how I feel,thatI feel this for him, and it’s overwhelming. Suddenly, I realize everything I believed about him was a lie, so I stagger back, hurt.

He reads my reaction, “I mean…” He reaches like he wants to grab me, but his hands are full. “I don’t date. I don’t commit. I’m loyal to something else.”

My heart is relieved, but now, I’m confused. “Like what? A secret society of men covered in arrogance and ink?”

A grin tugs at his lush lips. “Something like that.”

“So, you’re in a gang of hot gay men?”

Please say yes. Then again … please don’t. I need a fighting chance.

“I’m not gay, either.” He brushes past me. “And let’s land the plane on this convo because I need coffee and to be on time.”

If you thinkMondays are notoriously bad, try suffering one with a pseudo-kidnapper who wets your panties, and a twin, trying to sober up from a one-night bender on dick and love.

Nash takes his usual place next to me at the front desk of Delta’s. It’s a huge, maple wood, antique Partner’s desk made for two, but I may as well be solo.

He ignores me, his eyes glued to the desktop screen while his mouse scrolls through transactions.

This room used to be the front parlor, and this house used to be a mansion for French settlers.

Now, it’s an exclusive adult store, and I’m its manager, over-qualified in all knowledge about sex and seriously sucking in all things math. That’s why Nash has been here for two weeks. That’s why he blends in now.

Somehow, I messed up the accounting software, and my boss, Stacey, said I could keep my job as long as I fixed it. So, I called the only accountant I knew—Nash Allen.

Little did I know that he also has deft skills in car chases, murder, kidnapping, and being a grumpy, sexy shithead in the morning.

But my twin outshines him today. Blair mopes in her fleece pajamas, slouched in an ivory wingback chair across the parlor.

Jace, our bouncer, sits on his stool by the front doors, feet away, trying to cheer her up, but she’s committed to her misery over Beau Bronson.

I’ve indulged her pity party for months, but not today. “Blair, can you go restock the male masturbators? We got a new shipment in.”

“We’re fine.” She rolls her eyes. “No one’s masturbating on a Monday morning.”

“Ahem.” Nash shifts, clearing his throat before Jace laughs, declaring, “Clearly, you don’t know men. It’s the only way to start a week. Especially with the new Autoblow machines with AI. Damn, who needs a woman?”

Is that what Nash was doing in the shower? Jerking off?Good god, that image is hot.But if so, why is he still cranky this morning?

I don’t know, but that makes two of us. “Exactly,” I answer. “We keep selling out of them, so Blair, restock.”

“Damn,” she drags to her feet, “who died and made you the boss?”

“The owner,” I snap, “who’s alive and well and will be here soon, so I want those shelves restocked.”

Blair glares, slowly clocking my new outfit. My bare, pale legs. Bright white skirt. Red, fuzzy sweater. She jeers, “You look like a tampon.”

Nash snorts, Jace roars laughing, and I fire a rubber band at her tit.

“Ouch!” she shouts, rubbing her nipple.

“Just because you broke your heart and pussy on a big, blue alien dick with a one-night stand doesn’t mean you get to make the rest of us miserable for life.”

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