“Have a lot to do?” Bryce asked him as he pulled on his shoes and grabbed the keys to his truck off the kitchen table.

“Not too much. Mom’s had a hard time the past few years, though. Since my Dad passed away and my sisters are all settled down, she’s put all her energy into me. If I don’t have a fully furnished house, it’ll be one more thing for her to try and do for me.”

Yeah, Bryce could understand that one. “I get it. We’ll get’cha set up.” They stepped out and Bryce locked the door behind them. “So, no family for you? Wife or anything?” He assumed not because of what Nick said, and the fact that he hadn’t seen anyone other than him, but figured he’d keep conversation going by asking.

“No.” Nick didn’t finish speaking until they got into the truck, and when he did, Bryce could tell it wasn’t a conversation he wanted to continue. “I’ve been separated for a while, but just finalized the divorce.”

Nick pointed in which direction Bryce needed to go. “I’m sure that’s not helping things with the family. I’m the youngest out of my brothers, and my mom’s feeling restless. She wants grandkids, and neither of my brothers will be giving them to her, so she’s harassing me about it. Apparently thirty-two is too old not to be married, but not too old to have your mother try to dictate your life.”

He knew it only came out of love (and her crazy need to hold babies), but it still drove Bryce crazy. It was worse because of their scare with his health, and then the Christi thing, but Bryce didn’t usually offer that information to most people. Especially the aneurysm.

“My dad just lets her run the show,” Bryce finished, and Nick laughed.

It didn’t take long for them to get to the furniture store. Nick purchased his couch, chair and end tables, and the two of them loaded everything into his truck and headed back.

“I appreciate the help. Do you want a beer or something? I have a few hours before I get into a time machine and become a sixteen-year-old again.”

Bryce laughed at Nick’s attempted joke, and then shrugged. “Sure.” What the hell? He liked the guy, and he had nothing else planned this afternoon anyway. Might as well hang out with his new neighbor for a little while.

CHAPTER THREE

They’d been talking and drinking beer for a good hour before Nick headed into the kitchen. He needed to get some vegetables chopped for dinner tonight. Bryce leaned against the counter, beer in hand, watching him. “Christ, you’re going to chop a fucking finger off or something. How in the hell do you do that so fast?” Bryce interrupted their previous conversation.

“I guess I’m just good.” Nick winked at him and then felt like a fucking idiot. He sounded like he was flirting with the man or something. It was strange; usually it took him a while to warm up to people, but he felt comfortable with Bryce from the start. The guy had that kind of personality, he guessed. Bryce was the kind of man to draw people in. “Or it could be the fact that I spent a few years in culinary school. That’s probably a more logical explanation.”

Bryce barked out a husky laugh. He liked to laugh, Nick thought. His laugh was contagious. It made Nick want to do it too.

“Okay, let’s get back to what you were saying before. I didn’t mean to interrupt. So you were really with your ex-wife ever since you were seventeen?”

Shit. Nick was hoping the conversation would stay changed. Even though it shouldn’t be, it was almost embarrassing to him. He guessed if Bryce knew the whole story, the embarrassment would make more sense. He’d given everything to Jill since he was a kid, and it had all been for nothing. Bryce didn’t know that, though. “Yep, seventeen. So nothing serious for you?” he asked.

“No, not really. I guess there was a possibility. I have a good friend, Christi. We gave it a try for a while, but it wasn’t meant to be.” Nick could tell there was more to the story than that, and briefly he wondered if Christi was the woman he’d seen here. He didn’t ask and Bryce continued, “Now let’s get back to you, because you’re tripping me the fuck out.”

This time it was Nick’s turn to laugh. Really, it wasn’t funny. Six months ago he would have been miserable, but for some reason, hearing Bryce talk about his life made him smile. He was a walking fucking cliché—the nice guy who got screwed over.

“She was your first girlfriend, too?”

“Yep. And my first fuck.”

“Whoa.” Bryce set his bottle down. “You married the first woman you had sex with?”