Nash Read online

  

  Fate & Felines 1

  Nash

  [Siren Publishing: The Lynn Hagen ManLove Collection: Contemporary, Alternative, Paranormal, Romantic Suspense, Shape-shifters, MM, HEA]

  Layne Buchanan has been in love with Nash O’Brien since he was a teenager. Too bad Nash was interested in females. Even so, when he left town, Layne’s heart was completely devastated. He never really got over Nash, pining for a man he couldn’t have. Ten years later when Nash returns to Kendall, Georgia for his aunt’s funeral, Layne is blown away at how much the guy has changed. Nash has more muscles than Layne’s eyes can feast on, and he’s no longer the carefree boy Layne once drooled over.

  Nash returns to Kendall not only for his aunt’s death, but in hopes of rediscovering himself. He’s carried a heavy burden for the past few years, demons that haunt his dreams. When he runs into Layne, something inside Nash changes, but trouble isn’t too far behind him when someone from his unit is out to end Nash’s life. But Nash is just as determined to live, especially with a baby on the way.

  Length: 38,000 words

  NASH

  Fate & Felines 1

  Lynn Hagen

  

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  Nash

  Copyright © 2020 by Lynn Hagen

  ISBN: 978-1-64637-116-7

  First Publication: March 2020

  Cover design by Emma Nicole

  All art and logo copyright © 2020 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  If you find a Siren-BookStrand e-book or print book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know at [email protected]

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lynn Hagen loves writing about the somewhat flawed, but lovable. She also loves a hero who can see past all the rough edges to find the shining diamond of a beautiful heart.

  You can find her on any given day curled up with her laptop and a cup of hot java, letting the next set of characters tell their story.

  For all titles by Lynn Hagen, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/lynn-hagen

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  NASH

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  NASH

  Fate & Felines 1

  LYNN HAGEN

  Copyright © 2020

  Chapter One

  Nash O’Brien.

  Watching him walk through the sliding automatic doors stirred something in Layne’s heart. How long had it been since he’d laid eyes on the magnificent stud? Ten years? All he remembered was that, one by one, the O’Brien men had left town to pursue their lives, while Layne had stayed stuck in Kendall, Georgia, working the same job he’d had since graduating high school.

  At his parents restaurant. Don’t get him wrong. The food was to die for and his mom’s pies won every year at the county fair, but he still felt as though there was more out there than waiting tables.

  Layne wanted action, adventure, and romance. Oh hell. Now he sounded like one of his mom’s trashy romance novels. If he wasn’t a realist, Layne would dream of some big, buff stallion sweeping him off his feet. The only sweeping in his life was with a broom and dustpan.

  But back to Mr. Stud. Layne’s gaze traveled over Nash’s body, noticing how the tall drink of a man had filled out, how his muscles had formed and turned him into a sex god. His faded jeans were ripped at the knees, his black T-shirt hugged his luscious frame, and his barely-there facial hair made him appear more rugged, manlier than Layne remembered him being.

  Now this was a man Layne could sink his teeth into.

  Back in high school, Nash had been kind of gangly but not anymore. Layne stood there with his fingers white-knuckling the handle of his squeaky-ass shopping cart, stuck on stupid as he watched Nash walk around register one and head down an aisle.

  Layne was pretty sure at this point he was drooling.

  “Was that Nash O’Brien?” Stevie dropped a package of gluten-free cookies into their cart as he nudged Layne’s shoulder. “I see he still has that same effect on you.”

  Layne wistfully sighed as he pushed the cart down the snack aisle, the front left wheel shaking so badly you’d think he was on a brick road instead of a smooth floor. What he wouldn’t give for a single night with that stud. But Nash had acted as though Layne hadn’t existed in high school, and Layne doubted the guy would acknowledge his presence now.

  “I think that might’ve been him.” Layne played it off, pretending disinterest. Nash had crushed his very soul back then when he’d dated the head cheerleader. Wouldn’t Sissy McBride be thrilled to learn Nash was back in town?

  Too bad the death of Nash’s aunt was the reason for his return. He would probably take off after the funeral, leaving Layne’s heart devastated once again.

  Nope. Layne wasn’t going to allow himself to chase after Nash. He wasn’t going to find an excuse to go to Nash’s house only to humiliate himself. That wasn’t going to happen.

  Not again.

  “Stripping naked while you shop might get his attention,” Stevie said.

  “And get me arrested. He’s not even gay. He dated girls in high school, remember?” Layne pushed along, ignoring his dysfunctional cart as he looked over the chip selection. But his mind kept wandering back to the aisle Mr. Stud had gone down. He was dying for one more glance of the man who had stared in many of his dreams over the years.

  “Give me the list.” Stevie snatched the paper out of Layne’s hand. “Clearly your mind is in Nash’s pants. I’ll get the rest of the things while you go stalk him.”

  Layne looked at Stevie and then toward the end of the aisle. “I’ll be right back.”

  “See you in an hour,” Stevie called out in a singsong voice as Layne hustled away, hoping to catch another glimpse of Nash before he left the store.

  And there he was standing in front of the meat selection, staring down at the chicken as though he’d never seen any before. His blunt brows were pulled down into a frown, and he had one hand on his hip.

  After mustering up a stroke of confidence, Layne marched right over to the guy, pretending interest in a whole chicken. He was happy he had because they were on sale. Maybe that was what Layne and his roommates would have for dinner.

  His throat went dry, and his heart fluttered as he asked, “Do you need any help?”

  Nash turned his devastating gray eyes on Layne, and Layne nearly passed out from their sheer beauty. Nash smiled warmly down at him, the kind of smile that probably got the guy laid a lot. “How much chicken do you get for a gathering?”

  As welcoming and friendly as his expression was, there was no recognition in his eyes, yet Layne’s entire body felt like it had caught fire. He was suddenly sweating at the mere sound of Nash’s de
ep, sensual voice. “Depends on how many people will be there.”

  Nash gave a slow shrug. “I have no idea. My brother just told me to go get some food.”

  Which brother? Nash had three of them. Quinn, Keller, and Nomad—Layne never knew Nomad’s real name. That was what everyone had just called the second eldest O’Brien in high school. Layne was pretty sure that wasn’t the name on Nomad’s birth certificate, and he honestly didn’t care. He just wanted to get closer to Nash, to inhale his earthy, leathery scent, and to feel the man’s body heat next to his.

  Clearly Layne was into self-torture.

  “You need to know how many before you can plan an event.” Layne winced. That had come out so wrong. The death of Nash’s aunt wasn’t an event. It was a sad occasion because Aunt Beatrice had been loved by many.

  Even Layne hadn’t been immune to the news of her passing. He’d shed a tear or two when his dad had told him about it. He’d even poured one out when he and his roommates had gotten drunk that night. Stevie had cried like a baby. Horace had dabbed a handkerchief against his eyes. Stanton had sipped his Jack Daniel’s through a straw before going on and on about how Beatrice had treated him like a son.

  It hadn’t been until the next morning that Layne had regretted pouring one out for her when he saw the mess on the living room rug. It looked as though he’d dumped the entire bottle.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know how to plan a wake, would you?” Nash looked at Layne with hopeful eyes, and Layne fell right into them like a sucker who would do anything for this guy.

  “Well, my family does own a restaurant,” he admitted. “We’ve done a few catering gigs.”

  “Nash O’Brien.” He stuck his hand out, and Layne stared at it as though it would sprout scales and thick claws. Layne’s hand trembled as he slid it into Nash’s, and when Nash closed his hand around Layne’s, his body tightened and he let go of a small sigh.

  Pathetic, right? Layne was a sad gay guy lusting after a straight man. This would end disastrously. He just knew it.

  Nash’s brows pinched together as he stared at the red birthmark on Layne’s wrist. It was the panthera mark Layne had been born with—a so-called “birthright” that indicated he was destined to be a panther’s mate.

  Which, by the way, was total bullshit. Layne’s grandmother and mother had told him the stories growing up, though neither of them had the mark themselves. It was just a crazy legend in his family that Layne thought was more of a fairytale to explain his oddly-shaped birthmark.

  He was doubtful the stories were even true since his grandmother had been known to get into the hooch when she was alive and his mom’s nose was always stuck in a romance novel.

  The two had probably gotten drunk one night and had come up with the story, and it had stuck ever since. Daydreamers. That was what those two were. Their heads stuck in the clouds as they made up fanciful stories.

  Ever so slowly, Nash let Layne’s hand go, and Layne pulled down his sleeve to cover his wrist. Ever since he’d turned twenty-five a few days ago, guys had been practically throwing themselves at him. It was odd that they had never shown any interest in Layne before.

  But one thing Layne knew for certain, the men had done it after they’d noticed the mark on his wrist.

  “Do you think your family can cater my aunt’s wake?”

  “I…” Layne bit his lower lip as he continued to tug at his sleeve. “I’ll have to ask my parents, but I’m pretty sure they’ll do it.”

  Nash stared at him with an arched brow. “You never gave me your name.”

  And how sad was it that Nash didn’t already know it? He acted like they hadn’t grown up in the same town and gone to school together. It wasn’t as if Layne had snuck into every party that Nash had been invited to. It wasn’t like he hadn’t stalked Nash’s social media when they were teenagers.

  Nope. It hadn’t been like that at all.

  “Layne Buchannan.” He dug out his wallet and handed Nash a business card. “Just call that number, and my mom or dad will help you sort things out.”

  Nash held the card between two fingers. “I’ll do that. Thanks for helping me. I was completely lost.”

  Layne wanted to ask him what he’d been doing with his life since he’d left Kendall, wanted to see if he’d like to go get some coffee— or invite Nash back to his place for a bout of sex—but the words stayed trapped in Layne’s throat as Mr. Stud walked away.

  What a man. Layne sighed as he stared at Nash’s backside encased in those faded jeans that hugged his lower body so nicely.

  Stevie rushed over with the dysfunctional cart, seeming breathless. “Well? I saw you two talking. Did you invite him over for a night of acrobatic sex?”

  With a laugh, Layne slapped Stevie’s arm. “No, I did not.”

  And too bad he hadn’t. But seriously, Layne didn’t have a shot in hell with Nash, but a guy could dream.

  “He might call the restaurant to cater his aunt’s wake,” Layne said as he stopped tugging at his dang sleeve.

  “That means you’ll get another shot at talking with him, and maybe this time you’ll actually hit on him.”

  “You’re hopeless.” He grabbed the cart from Stevie and strode toward the front of the grocery store but not before snagging two whole chickens for dinner.

  * * * *

  After the grocery store, Layne went to the farmers market to buy some fresh herbs. He went inside and got everything on his mom’s list. That was the one thing Layne loved about his parents’ cooking. Everything had to be fresh.

  Mr. Perry, the owner, helped Layne pick the freshest ingredients. After the incident at the grocery store, he’d wound a bandana around his wrist to hide his birthmark. A handful of people had seen the mark, but Layne mostly kept it covered because of the odd reactions to it.

  Stevie had gone with him and was currently popping small cherry tomatoes into his mouth, munching on them when Mr. Perry wasn’t looking.

  “All I’m saying is that if your parents cater the wake, that’ll give you another shot at Nash.” Stevie snatched a handful of grapes from the wooden bin where they were stored. “You never know. Maybe Nash might not leave town when it’s over. You gotta take your shot at him. Would you rather see him hooking up with Sissy again?”

  The thought made Layne nauseous. He was also angry enough that he wanted to kick over the barrel of apples on his right. “Sissy’s the town slut,” he reminded Stevie. “Nash has better taste than that.”

  Like Layne would know. Nash had been gone for ten years, and while most guys didn’t marry that sort of woman, they didn’t mind banging them. Layne really was going to be sick just thinking about the two together.

  Stevie patted Layne’s back. “Oh, honey, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just trying to keep it real for you.” He tossed the grapes into his mouth and chewed, talking around his mouthful. “Even if he isn’t gay, it’s worth a shot hitting on him. What’s the most that can happen?”

  “He could knock my teeth out.” A decade ago Nash had been charming and always had a smile on his face. Layne wasn’t sure if Nash was the type to slug a guy for coming on to him, but one never knew. Layne was very proud of his teeth and didn’t want them shattered.

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t be encouraging you to flirt with him.” Stevie finished off his grapes. He whipped his head around, and Layne had no idea what his friend was looking for. When he spoke again, his voice was a whisper. “I’m just trying to live through you because my sex life is so flat that those cucumbers are looking pretty sexy right now. I just might make one my next boyfriend.”

  “Oh my god!” Layne laughed and shoved at Stevie’s shoulder. “TMI!”

  “Prude.” Stevie sniffed and walked ahead of Layne as they left the market and got into his car. “You need to be a little more adventurous.”

  “Not with a cucumber.”

  “A zucchini?”

  Layne gaped at him. “Those things are huge!”

  Layne wasn�
��t sure why, but the zucchini made him think of Nash. He felt himself blushing and then growled to himself as Stevie drove him back to the restaurant.

  * * * *

  Nash slipped into his pickup and simply sat there, thinking about the mark on Layne’s wrist. There was no fucking way Nash had never noticed it before now. They’d gone to school together, so why hadn’t he seen it sooner?

  Because you were too busy with Sissy to notice. Nash shook his head. They’d been a hot and heavy item until she’d cheated on Nash with some jock. Carson had been a wannabe sports jock and hadn’t been a very good one at that.

  But Nash did remember Layne. He just hadn’t recalled the guy’s name. Now he wasn’t going to forget it. A human with a panthera birthmark, right here in Kendall? What were the fucking odds?

  Nash’s mind raced. The mark meant a panther could impregnate the human. It also meant that Layne was someone’s potential mate. Nash also wondered if Layne even knew what the mark meant.

  He started his truck and pulled away. At least he knew where Layne worked. Nash had to clear the catering thing with his brothers, but he doubted any of them would argue with him.

  None of them wanted the responsibility of getting food and cooking it. Keller had whipped out his credit card just to avoid having to go to the grocery store, although Nash had refused to take it.

  He pulled into the driveway of his aunt’s house. His chest ached at her passing. So many memories assailed him as he got out and headed up the porch steps.

  Quinn was seated in one of the wicker chairs, and it looked as if it would collapse at any second from his weight. If Beatrice had been alive, she would’ve made him sit on the steps.

  “Where’s the food?” Quinn asked.

  “I had a better idea.” Nash walked into the cool interior of the house. The summer heat was murderous outside, and the AC in his truck was busted. Then again, July had always been brutal in Kendall, Georgia.