Page 43 of Nolan

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Nolan

The morning sun filters through the blinds, casting stripes of gold across Annabelle's bare shoulder. I trace them with my fingertip, still marveling that I'm allowed to touch her like this, that she's here in my bed, in my life, in ways I've only dreamed about.

Her breathing changes, and she stirs, turning to face me with sleep-soft eyes. "Morning," she murmurs, voice husky.

"Morning, beautiful." I press a kiss to her forehead, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. "Sleep well?"

The smile that curves her lips is answer enough, but she stretches languidly against me anyway. "Better than I have in years."

It's been three days since our cookout, and I'm enjoying discovering her body, learning what makes her gasp and what makes her laugh. It still doesn't feel quite real.

"What time is it?" she asks, glancing toward the window.

"Early. Ashlynn won't be up for another hour at least." I pull her closer, my hand sliding down the curve of her spine. "Any ideas how we might pass the time?"

Her laugh vibrates against my chest. "You're insatiable."

"Only for you," I murmur against her neck, and she melts into me with a sigh that sends heat coursing through my veins.

After breakfast, I kiss Annabelle and Ashlynn goodbye. "I need to run to the hardware store. That bolt on Ashlynn's swing set is still loose. Might need Colt to come out and fix it. I know concrete, but this shit is pissing me off."

"Be careful," Annabelle says, wiping syrup from Ashlynn's chin. "The way she swings, I'm worried it might come apart."

"Exactly why I'm going," I reply, dropping another kiss on the top of her head. "I'll be back in an hour, tops."

The hardware store is quiet for a Saturday morning. I head straight for the nuts and bolts aisle, searching for the right size to secure the swing set's top beam. I've been working on this project for weeks now, determined to give Ashlynn the backyard playground she's been begging for.

"Nolan? That you?"

I turn to see Colt one aisle over, a shopping basket filled with painting supplies as he stocks them.

"Hey man," I greet him, extending my hand. "How's it going?"

Colt shakes his head, his expression tired. "Court date's coming up. Still trying to get my shit together to show the judge I deserve more time with Jake."

"How's the housing situation?" I ask, remembering our conversation last month about his cramped apartment.

"Still looking," he sighs, leaning against the shelf. "Every decent place in my price range gets snatched up before I can even put in an application. Judge isn't gonna be impressed with my current setup."

I consider for a moment, then make a decision. "You know Mackenzie Reynolds? She's a real estate agent, friend of mine from college."

Colt shakes his head. "Don't think I've met her."

"She's good. Really good. And she specializes in helping people in tough situations." I pull out my phone, scrolling through my contacts. "She mentioned a property to me last week that might be perfect for you and Jake. Three bedrooms, fenced yard, same school district."

Hope flickers across Colt's face. "Sounds way out of my price range."

"Worth checking out at least," I counter, finding Mackenzie's number and showing it to him. "Tell her I sent you. She owes me a favor after I helped her brother with a home improvement project last year."

Colt takes out his phone, typing in the number. "Thanks, man. I really appreciate this."

"No problem. All us single dads gotta stick together, right?" I clap him on the shoulder. "Let me know how it goes."

"Will do." He pauses, then gives me a curious look. "Hey, I heard something about you and Annabelle.. That true?"

I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. "News travels fast in this town."

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