Page 147 of Small Town Firsts

“It’s been too long,” I tell him, as we break away.

“That it has. Catching up here and there wasn’t working.”

“I’m home and have no plans to leave.”

“Look at us, living out our dreams.”

I chuckle at his words, but damn if he isn’t right. For as long as I can remember, Nate’s wanted to be a cop. The desire to protect and serve flows through his veins the same way food flows through mine.

“How is it, being the local bacon?”

“Oink, oink, motherfucker. I’m living the dream.”

“Glad to hear it. I will be, too, once I get Bayside up and running how it should be.”

“Got big plans?” he asks, drumming his nails on the wooden bar top.

I flag down the bartender, order a Jack and Coke, and pass him a ten-dollar bill. He returns with my drink and change, which I leave for him—if there’s one thing the food industry has taught me, it’s not to skimp on the gratuity.

“Hell yeah. You remember Carlos?” I ask, knowing it’s a toss-up whether he will or not.

“I…I think so. He was a grade behind us, right? Always up at the café?”

“Yeah, that’s right. His mom worked there, and he went up there with her since she was a single mom. My grandparents kind of took him under their wing. Dude is as invested in Bayside as I am, and the minute he heard Don wanted to sell, he tracked me down on Facebook and that was it.”

I sip at my drink. “I was already stateside, visiting my parents in Florida until I figured shit out, and this was just too good. The timing was perfect—I mean, shit, I came into the trust fund my grandparents left right as the café goes up for sale. Fuckingkismet.”

Nate signals for another round of drinks. “Please God, tell me you’re fixing the menu.”

“Hell yes. The minute I signed that paperwork I started crafting it. Gonna start implementing it as soon as I get my kitchen sorted.”

“Glad to hear it. Natalie will be too.”

“Speaking of, she’s all grown up now, huh?”

Nate eyes me a little oddly. “Yeah, that’s what happens. Time passes, we grow old, we die.”

I bark out a laugh. “Jesus. Morbid much?”

He shrugs that classic Nate Reynolds shrug.

Our conversation turns from the here-and-now to reminiscing about the past, and I can’t help but smile. Especially when Nate brings up one of my favorite memories of life here—even if it is for all the wrong reasons.

“You been to the river yet?”

“Nah, not yet. Man, we used to tear it up out there.”

He lifts his drink to me, and we clink them together. “Hell yeah, we did.”

“And Nat was always begging to tag along like the little pest she was.”

“Nah, she wasn’t that bad.” Especially not when she was in her teeny little bikini, but I keep that thought to myself, seeing as she was fifteen, and I was headed to college.

“Bull. She’s cool as shit now, but you’ve always had a soft spot for her, huh?”

If only he knew how right he was. I’ve always been protective of my Small Fry, but as she grew and matured, so did my feelings, as wrong as they were. The heart—and body—want what they want, and from practically the day she grew tits, my body wanted hers. My mind joined the party a little later, but I never acted on it. I mean, hell, everyone knows your best friend’s baby sister is a no-fly zone…not to mention our age difference.

And good God, if she isn’t sexier now than she was then. Time has been good to the girl. And, apparently, so has childbirth. Her once-slim hips now have a delectable flare to them—the kind that’s just right for gripping when I plow into her from be?—

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