Page 3 of The Princess

Tonight, Damon had headed straight for the back yard. Which also wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was the way Nash was certain Damon was almost avoiding Taylor. He’d noticed it months back. The way Damon was friendly with the youngest Bennett brother, but only to a point.

It wasn’t that he was unkind to him, because Nash would have to kick his ass up around his ears for that shit. To test his theory, he went and sat next to Taylor, noting he looked especially good that night.

Nash grabbed an empty marshmallow skewer and held his hand out to Taylor, who had been making S’mores like they were going out of style.

“Care to share?”

“Don’t eat too many or Colby will make you do box jumps until your ass falls off,” Taylor remarked as he passed the bag to Nash.

“He’s tried that before, but so far I’ve been able to hold on to my ass just fine.”

Nash jammed a marshmallow on the skewer and stuck it in the fire.

“You can’t shove it into the fire like that!” Taylor protested. “You’ll burn the outside.”

“I like them burned.” Nash slowly turned his skewer, rotating it to make sure his marshmallow was equally blackened all the way around. When he pulled it out of the fire, Taylor had the graham crackers and the chocolate ready and he assisted Nash in getting the marshmallow off the stick without anyone getting burned.

Rather than take the treat for himself, he stuck another marshmallow back on the stick. “That one’s for you.”

“I’ve already eaten like…ten?”

“You had six. If you have room for one more, I’d like you to try my burned S’more. It’s superior. Tell me it’s not.”

Taylor frowned at the treat, which was the opposite effect that he’d been going for.

“But it’s burned.”

“It adds flavor.”

Taylor laughed. “That’s not how things work.”

“Not at the diner, sure. No one wants burned eggs or burned toast. But a burned marshmallow is epic. Just try it.” Nash nudged Taylor’s foot with his own, and Taylor scowled.

“Fine, but if it’s gross, it’s going in the fire.”

“That’s fair.” Nash turned his attention to his marshmallow and watched Taylor from the corner of his eye. Taylor took a careful bite, hid a smile behind the S’more, then took another.

“I suppose it’s not bad,” Taylor admitted as he helped Nash assemble his S’more. There was almost a sparkle of happiness in Taylor’s expression for the first time that night.

“Not going to make one for me?” Damon sat down next to Nash and made a grab for his S’more, but Nash was faster. Yanking his S’more away from Damon, he burned his finger on the hot marshmallow.

“Ouch, shithead. Make your own.” Nash eyed Damon with suspicion. He passed him the skewer and got to his feet. “Thanks for your help, Taylor.”

“Thanks for the S’more.”

“Is your dad going to bring out the guitar soon?”

“Probably. You should ask him,” Taylor suggested. He cut his gaze over to Damon. “Do you need help with that?”

Damon had the end of the skewer squeezed between his knees while he fumbled with crackers and chocolate.

“I’ve got it.” Damon scowled at the treat like it had offended him. Or maybe it was Taylor that had.

“Right. I’ll see if it’s guitar time.” Taylor got to his feet and went around to the other side of the fire. He squished in next to Milo, who threw an arm around him and pulled him into his side.

Nash took the seat Taylor had just vacated and did his best impression of a person who wasn’t confused, and pissed off about it, while he addressed Damon.

“D, buddy, care to fill me in on exactly what your problem is? Because you stormed over here, slammed yourself down, and then immediately made Taylor feel unwelcome. In his own yard.” Nash whispered so low he wasn’t sure Damon heard him at first.

---