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“Any brothers?” Londyn asked.
“No. Just sisters.” He chuckled. “My father and I were outnumbered.” Nash continued working the tangles from her hair until it lay smooth and straight, falling halfway down her back. He didn’t want to stop, but he’d finished and had no excuse to keep stroking the brush through her hair. “All done.”
Londyn ran her hand over her hair. “I can’t remember the last time anyone brushed the tangles out of my hair. That was nice. Your sisters must have loved you.”
“They do. And I love them.” He pushed to his feet and walked into the kitchen. “Mom worked full-time as a physical therapist. By the time she got home, she was tired. We had to help with dinner and dishes and then get ourselves through showers and homework. We all pitched in.” He pulled deli meat out of the refrigerator, along with mustard and mayonnaise, and set them on the counter. “Is a sandwich all right with you?”
“I’d love it.” She rose and joined him in the small kitchen barely big enough for one person, much less two.
Every time he turned, he bumped into her or brushed against her breasts. His groin tightened.
“We have lunch meat… Is there any bread?” she asked as she opened one cabinet door after another.
“I thought I saw a loaf in here.” Nash opened the cabinet beside the refrigerator, where he found the bread. He laid it on the counter with the meats and condiments.
Londyn produced two plates, a knife and two glasses.
“Mustard or mayo?” he asked.
“Both.”
He nodded. “Right answer.” He slathered a generous layer of mayo on one piece of bread and mustard on the other and laid them on the plate.
Londyn layered deli meat over the mustard side, a slice of cheese over the meat and topped it with the bread with the mayo.
Once they had both sandwiches complete, they each took a plate.
“Table or in front of the stove?” Nash asked.
Londyn was already halfway to the stove.
He grinned. “Stove, it is.”
She settled on the blanket in front of the stove and sat cross-legged with the plate in her lap.
Nash sat beside her, lifted his sandwich and took a bite.
“So, how did you end up being in charge of brushing your sisters’ hair?” Londyn asked and took a bite of her sandwich.
Nash chewed and swallowed before answering. “Since I was the oldest, I was responsible for helping my little sisters. None of them liked Mom brushing out their hair. She loved us all dearly but was busy getting everything ready for the next day and didn’t take the time to ease the tangles out of their hair.” He took another bite of his sandwich.
“But you did,” Londyn said. “What a nice thing for a brother to do. Most guys wouldn’t have done it.”
He shrugged and swallowed. “There was a big age gap between us. I was the product of a high school pregnancy and her first marriage that didn’t even last until I was born. My sisters were half-sisters from Mom’s second marriage to my stepfather.”
“You were close to them?” Londyn swept her tongue across the mustard on her bottom lip.
Nash almost forgot what they were talking about. He had to replay her words in his head to get his mind off the mustard on her lip. “Being older, I kind of felt like I was responsible for them. Like a second dad.”
Londyn turned to face Nash. “What about their father? Was he not helpful?”
Nash smiled. “My stepfather was the dad he didn’t have to be for me. I was seven when he married my mother. He knew he was getting a package deal and accepted me as his own from day one.”
“You’re lucky,” Londyn said softly. “Most men aren’t as willing to raise another man’s child.” She took another bite of her sandwich.
“He was all in. He taught me how to throw a football, bait a hook and filet a fish. He taught me how to treat a woman by the example he set with my mother,” Nash stared down at the sandwich in his hand, the memories of his childhood washing over him, making him smile. “He was a warrant officer in the Army. Though we didn’t have much money, he made sure my mother got the college education she’d always dreamed of. And he didn’t stop loving me when his daughters were born.” He nodded. “I was lucky. I had a great childhood because of him.”
Londyn stared at the potbellied stove, chewing on the bite of sandwich in her mouth. After she swallowed, she said, “I had a great childhood once I moved in with my grandfather. I wasn’t cut out for life in Hollywood. I didn’t look like the glamorous people who floated through. My mother married a few times. Her husbands didn’t want anything to do with me, and my mother was always on location somewhere in the world, leaving me with a nanny.”
