Page 49 of Charmed By the Next-Door Neighbor
"It's just the alternator. Not a big job." He wipes his hands on a rag. "Though you'll need to leave it with me for a few hours."
"We'll need a ride back to town," Nash says.
"I can do that. Let me just get the tow set up."
Casey hooks up my car to his tow truck while Nash and I stand there drinking coffee and trying not to look like we spent the night having the best sex of our lives in the back seat.
I'm pretty sure we're failing.
The three of us squeeze into the front of the tow truck—me in the middle, Nash on one side, Casey on the other—and we start the drive back to Blackwater Falls.
Casey makes small talk about the weather, his new girlfriend and his daughter, and how business has been picking up. Nothing invasive, nothing that makes me want to crawl under the seat. Just normal, friendly conversation.
I'm grateful for it.
We drive through the quiet early morning, and I watch Blackwater Falls wake up around us. Lights coming on in windows. A few early risers out walking dogs. The coffee shop on Main Street opening its doors.
This is my town now. My home.
And Nash is... what? My boyfriend? That word seems too small for what we are after last night.
"What are you thinking?" Nash murmurs.
"That I need to call my parents," I say. "Tell them I’m staying here no matter what."
"You sure?"
"So sure."
He takes my hand and squeezes.
Casey drops us off at Nash's house. My car will be ready by late afternoon and drives away with a wave. We stand in Nash's driveway in the early morning light, both of us rumpled and exhausted and probably smelling like sex.
"Come inside," Nash says. "You can shower, change. I'll make breakfast."
"You cook?"
"I make scrambled eggs and toast. That's about it."
"Sounds perfect."
We go inside and his house is exactly what I expected. Clean, sparse, everything in its place. No clutter, no decoration except a few photographs on the mantle—him in his firefighter gear, younger and less scarred. A group photo with his crew.
"Shower's upstairs," he says. "Second door on the right. I'll find you something to wear."
The shower is amazing. Hot water pounding down on my sore muscles, washing away the night. I stay under the spray until I start to prune, then reluctantly turn it off.
There's a T-shirt and sweatpants waiting for me on the bathroom counter. Both are huge on me but they're soft and they smell like his detergent. I pad downstairs to find him still in his rumpled clothes from last night, cracking eggs into a bowl.
I sit at the small kitchen table, watching him cook. He plates the eggs and toast and brings them to the table, sitting across from me.
We eat in silence for a few minutes.
"I should call my parents," I say eventually.
"Want me to leave?"
"No. Stay."
