Page 38 of All Twisted Up
Barbie was next. She walked over and took both of my hands, staring up at me. “Take care of my brother. He’s not as tough as he wants you to believe.”
I smiled at her. “I will.”
She hugged me then, making it brief, but I could sense the trust she was putting in me. After all, the family was putting the fate of theirownprotector in my hands. It was trust that I wasn’t accustomed to and for the first time that morning, that fact really sunk in. I was responsible for the happiness of the entire family, not only Joshua, the one who’d made himself into the glue holding all of them together. The burden of the job should’ve felt crushing but as I stared at Joshua who’d watched the goodbyes play out, it didn’t feel that way. It felt like an adventure was just about to start.
And hopefully, there wouldn’t be any bullets involved…none at all.
Chapter Ten
JOSHUA
When we got to Nash’s apartment, I had to admit, I was surprised. It was located on the ground floor of a three-story building, centered around a lush courtyard on three sides, open to the street at the front but that’s not what surprised me. I’d just never seen such a nice apartment building in West Hollywood.
It was a throwback to the 1950s when it was probably first constructed. Several people waved and smiled at him as they watered plants and pruned rose bushes in the courtyard. Two people pulled weeds where tomatoes and green beans grew in cages and on trellises. It was so calm and peaceful. Most courtyards in buildings like these either had a pool or plain cement but this one was a green oasis in the concrete jungle of LA. The air smelled of flowers that grew in abundance. I was immediately impressed.
“Let me open the door so you can set down that heavy pack,” he said, fumbling with a ring of keys.
I smiled at his back even though I was feeling anxious, not only about staying here but also because I was being separated from my family. Leaving the kids in the hands of Captain Sorensen hadn’t been easy. Just knowing I wouldn’t be seeing them for a while, left me feeling hollow. I stood straight, though, and followed Nash through the door, holding my stuffed duffel bag. I had no idea what the FBI team had packed for me, but the thing was bulging and heavy. I set it on the ground just inside the door, feeling suddenly awkward as Nash locked it behind me.
“Come on in.”
He bustled by me, turning on lights in the already bright apartment as I looked around. The front room wasn’t large, and the kitchen was the standard apartment size with a sink, refrigerator, and dishwasher. There was a microwave on one of the counters next to a coffee maker and I noticed the small space was spotless with white cabinets and countertops. When I walked into the living room, I was surprised. Captain Sorensen had been right about Nash’s couch. It was plush and oversized, facing a flat screen TV. A kidney shaped coffee table in the mid-century modern style sat in front of the couch. On it were three remote controls lined up like little soldiers. This room was spotless too, not at all what I would’ve expected from a single guy.
The most striking thing of all was the abundance of potted plants and trees in the room. Bamboo grew in pots on the floor, but he had several shelves made of golden wicker holding pots of every conceivable flower and plant. In the corners of the living room, more plants spilled greenery into the room and hung from the ceiling. The gorgeous spider plants and brilliant fuchsia were placed close enough to a sliding glass door to get just enough morning sunlight to keep them lush. It struck me then. This was Nash’s sanctuary…it really was a garden oasis in the middle of West Hollywood.
And it shocked the hell out of me.
I turned to him with my jaw hanging open as he watched me with a questioning look. “What?” he asked, shifting his weight. He looked almost nervous.
“I just didn’t imagine your apartment would be so beautiful.” I walked over and caressed a long, green leaf growing from one of the bamboo trees before looking back at him. “I mean look at this. All the plants are so healthy.” I walked over to one of the plant stands which held multiple pots in glossy, painted terra-cotta. All of them held different plants, some flowering, some not. “They’re gorgeous.” I felt him come up behind me.
“That one is a Calathea. I have several of those,” he said, pointing to a plant with veiny, dark leaves. “That’s an anthurium.” He reached out and stroked the top of a glossy red flower with a yellow spike. “This one has red flowers but the one closer to the window flowers in pink.” He turned his head to look at me, shrugging. “The flowers make me—” He cleared his throat. “Happy,”
Before I could reply, he turned around and pointed to all the other pots, rattling off the plant names as I watched him, speechless. I couldn’t believe that this big, tough, RECON Marine had a passion for plants, but Captain Sorensen had been raving on and on about Nash’s houseplants. When he finished, he turned and smiled almost shyly. It took me almost off guard because he was nothing like I thought he would be. Nash continually surprised me. “What do you think?”
I snorted. “I think it’s fucking amazing. Your home looks like a garden.” I felt a smile creep across my face. “And I think you’ve purposely created this lovely space to come home to after everything you see on the job every day.”
His eyes danced as he swept out a hand. “You’re right. If I come home after a case that’s gone wrong and I want to unload, I do it on the plants rather than a boyfriend. After all, they’re good listeners who never talk back.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Boyfriend,huh?”
Nash suddenly blushed before turning away. He began walking across the living room. “You…ah…probably want to see the bedroom since that’s where you’ll be sleeping.” Before I could wrap my head around what he’d just let slip, he turned the corner and disappeared down a hallway.
I walked over and picked up the stuffed duffel, running after him. There were two doors, both open. I walked past the bathroom, only slowing long enough to notice that it was small but sparkling clean. I continued to the last door and peered in. Nash was at the window across the room, opening the white shutters to allow sunlight to pour into the room.
“Sorry for the mess,” he said, picking up a L.A. Dodgers jersey which lay on the edge of the bed.
Mess?The room looked like the rest of the house, clean and fresh with an antique double bed covered by a white duvet embroidered with tiny blue and white polka dots. The pillows—and there were a lot—were propped up against the headboard, making it look just like something you’d find in a high-end bed-and-breakfast. It was as far removed as it could possibly be from the man’s superhero persona. I realized I’d utterly stereotyped the FBI agent and almost kicked myself. The Dodgers jersey was the only thing in the room that made sense to me.
I don’t know what I’d been expecting of Nash’s house…maybe a place where a guy could drink a beer, burp, and scratch his balls on his stained couch, not this pretty garden apartment with tasteful furnishings. I took in the rest of the decor. Matching nightstands flanked the bed, made in the same antique style as the dark cherrywood bed with brown metal pulls on the drawers. On the opposite side to the window sat a matching dresser with six drawers. He walked around the bed and opened one of them.
“I’ll just make some space for your things in this drawer.”
I looked inside it. Lined up like soldiers were rows of boxers, socks, and ties, all neatly color coded. As he began taking them out, I reached out and grabbed his forearm. He turned to look at me. “What?”
“I don’t want you to do that. I don’t need a drawer, Nash. I’m not gonna be here long and look at this.” I pointed to the drawer. “Everything is neatly arranged. Messing with that perfection is unnecessary.” When he just stared at me, I dropped his arm and shook my head. “It’s really kind of you to offer, but the last thing I want to do is make you feel like you can’t live the way you normally do in your own house.”
“It’s really not a problem. I want you to be comfortable.” He returned to the task of removing things, setting everything on top of the dresser. “Besides, you might end up staying here longer than you think.”
