But when his gaze caught on our hands, his mouth curved. He was polite enough not to say anything, though. Nash was not. “Holy shit.” Nash let out a hoot from the couch. “It’s a Christmas miracle in the middle of spring.” “Nash…” Holt warned. “What?” Nash asked with mock innocence. “I can’t be happy for my brother?” “You are welcome to your happiness, but you are not welcome to give Wren a hard time.” Nash’s gaze went from Holt to me, a devilish grin playing on his lips. “Little Williams, you don’t look too rested. Could someone have kept you up all—?” Lawson threw a pen at Nash. “Ow! That was
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Already on pins and needles for Nash's book I love him
