Page 23 of Falling for the Guy Next Door

Emily backed up in fear. “That’s a big dog. And he’s soaking wet.”

“It’s all right. He’s friendly.” I held out my arms. Rocky bounded up to me and hopped up on his back legs. He braced his front paws against me like he’d done with the tree. “You big, wet sweetie.” I rubbed his head.

Emily had been so taken aback by the dog; she hadn’t noticed that Nash was heading toward us until he called Rocky.

“Rocky, get over here.” Nash reached us. He looked down at the wet, sandy paw prints on my shirt. “I’m sorry about that, Layla. He’s such a clown around you.”

I rubbed the sand off my shirt. “You know I love that about him.”

Emily nudged my arm. The dog was no longer a concern, and her entire focus was on the man standing in front of us. I could swear she’d stopped breathing as she stared longingly at him.

“Nash, this is my best friend, Emily.” I added in the “best friend” qualifier to make sure he knew this wasn’t just any acquaintance but the woman I’d been telling him about.

Nash’s smile flashed white in his tanned face. “Nice to meet you, Emily. I hope Rocky didn’t scare you too much. He tends to get a little wild when he sees Layla.”

Emily finally released that breath, and it came out as a laugh that was edged with hysteria. I sensed that she was barely holding it together. “No, no, he didn’t scare me at all. I love big dogs.” She reached toward Rocky and then rethought it and retracted her hand. Emily had been bitten by a dog when she was four, and so it naturally followed that she was never a dog person. She stood with the oddest smile plastered on her face, and I knew there were a hundred questions she wanted to ask him, but she’d been stunned into silence by his nearness.

“So, you’re out for a sunset stroll, eh?” I asked, since it seemed my normally loquacious friend had forgotten how to speak.

Nash glanced toward the ocean and the horizon line that was now being muted with splashes of pink and orange. “Since I grew up landlocked and a good four-hour drive from any ocean, I love to come down here just before sunset. Everything, the sand, the water, the sky and even the birds, morph into this incredible watercolor canvas at this hour.”

“I agree. When we were young, my sisters and I would hike down here with our paper pads and paint sets and paint the sunset. None of us were Van Gogh, that was for darn sure, but we still had a blast.”

I hadn’t meant for it to turn into a conversation between just the two of us, but Emily was still standing like a starstruck, lovestruck fan. I knew just how to bring her into the conversation.

I took her hand. The gesture startled her out of her trance. “Now, Emi is an amazing artist. I used to be so envious of her in art class. The teachers always used her work as an example, and her art won ribbons at the county fair.”

Nash smiled at her. “That’s so cool. I’m like Layla. I envy people who can draw and paint.”

Emily practically melted into a puddle. “But you’re so talented on the guitar, and I love your original song ‘Without You.’ I tear up every time I hear it.”

“That’s kind of you to say.”

Emily had regained her composure. “Is it about someone in particular, or do I want to know? Because if there’s a girl behind it, I’ll be positively heartbroken, both for you and for me, because I like to pretend it’s about me.” (She’d really regained it.)

Nash laughed. “It’s not about anyone. Just came up with the melody, and to be honest, Ronnie helped me write the lyrics. She’s the true poet of the group.” His gaze flicked my direction for a second, and it felt like something caught between us, something that was significant, intimate almost. It sent a shockwave through me, and I felt it keenly after he pulled away his gaze. Was I falling for Nash? Ugh, that was the last thing I needed, especially with the way Emily felt about him. I pushed away the thought. It was pointless to even consider.

“I’ll be at your show on Wednesday night,” Emily told him. “I’ve got some CDs that I would love for you to sign. Maybe I could meet up with you backstage.” (And my occasionally pushy and always determined friend was entirely back.)

“Uh, yeah, I’m sure we can manage that.” Nash raked his fingers casually through his short, dark hair, and Emily stared at him with such adoration it was hard not to laugh. “I’m going to head back up. I’ve got a frozen pizza in the oven,” he said.

Emily’s eyes sparkled. “I love frozen pizza.”

“Yes, well, we’ve got one up in the freezer,” I told her with an admonishing look. “It was good seeing you again, and I’m going to take Rocky out tomorrow, if that’s all right?”

“Of course. He’d love that.” Nash looked at me once more, and there it was again, that moment that felt far more intense than it should have given the context and casual conversation.

Emily and I stayed on the sand for a few more minutes, mostly so that Emily could catch her breath before climbing back up to the cottage.

“I think he was inviting us to pizza,” she said.

“I think you were hearing what you wanted to hear.” I took her hand, and we started back to the path.

“He’s even dreamier than I imagined, and trust me, I imagined a lot of dreaminess. Do you think he liked me?” she asked.

“Oh my gosh, Emily, how could I possibly know that after a short conversation on the beach?” I stopped and looked at her. “Just remember, Nash has a ton of fans who are all just as crazy about him as you are.”

She smiled slyly. “Yes, but they don’t have direct access to him like I do.”

---