Focusing back on the task at hand, I cursed at myself for not putting at least one condom in my wallet.
“Live and learn, Barrett. Live and learn,” I whispered with a soft chuckle.
I PULLED THE lasagna out of the oven and set it on the stove. It smelled heavenly. I cut up the fresh loaf of bread and took the salad I had made out and set it on the bar.
Nash whistled while he worked on putting the TV mount together. I couldn’t help but smile. This felt so . . . right. So good. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew I wanted more evenings like this. Like last night. I wanted more days with Nash.
I wanted Nash.
“Want me to put some Christmas music on?” I finally asked when I snapped out of my daze.
“Sure!”
“I like Amy Grant. Is that okay?” I said, connecting my phone to the Bose speaker.
“Yeah, sounds good.”
The sounds of Christmas music filled the air, and I wasn’t surprised when Nash started singing along to the songs.
“Do you need any help?” he asked, walking up to the island.
“If you want to put some salad in the bowls, I’ll get the lasagna on the plates.”
He washed his hands and got to work putting the salad in the bowls. “Dressing?”
“I’ve got ranch, Italian, and vinaigrette. I’ll take the vinaigrette.”
Searching in the refrigerator, Nash
replied, “That sounds good to me.”
We were soon seated on the sofa, dinner trays in front of us, talking like we hadn’t seen each other in days. I loved that about Nash. We could talk for hours, and then not talk at all.
“Do you want another beer?” I asked, standing up to get one.
“Sure, I’ll take one more. I drove here, so I’ll keep it to just two.”
“Well, I do have a guest room and a super-comfy futon to crash on if you wanted more.”
Nash didn’t respond to my invite and shifted a bit, so I let it go. As much as I wanted this man, I was not jumping into bed with him on our second date. He didn’t seem as if he wanted that either.
“Damn, Kaelynn, that was some good food. Italian in the family?”
I smiled. “Yep. On my mother’s side. Her mother, my grandmother, was full-on Italian. My grandfather met her in Italy and fell in love. They got married, and she moved back to the US with him.”
“Have all of your family’s generations lived in Utah?” Nash asked, taking a drink. He watched me intently, as if waiting to see if I would talk about my family. If I was going to come clean, this was the time to do it.
“No. My mother’s family is from New York, well, on my grandfather’s side. Obviously, grandma’s family was from Italy. My grandfather on my dad’s side lived in Boston. His father’s father, my great-great-grandfather,” I said, trying to count. “He was big in the railroad.”
Nash nodded his head, seeming interested in the story I was about to tell.
“He did very well for himself in it, and when things were progressing West, he progressed with it. My great-great-grandmother wasn’t interested in leaving Boston, though. She stayed behind and raised their two sons and three daughters.”
“Did your great-great-grandfather ever return to Boston?”
“No,” I answered. “He stayed in Colorado where his mistress was.”
Nash raised his brows.