About That Night

About That Night ERIN MCCARTHY Copyright © 2023 by Erin McCarthy All rights reserved. Cover by Kiwi Designs. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 About the Author Also by Erin McCarthy Chapter One Hank Williams Young (the Williams is silent) Two things are immediately obvious when I walk into the room at the nursing home. Pops’ young, very female nurse has a body like a back road. Nothing but curves. This ass is amazing. Damn. So amazing I’ve forgotten why I’m here for a split second. Which is the second thing—my grandfather, Pops. Who does look good, which is a little surprising given he’s just had hip replacement surgery. He’s alert, has color, and is sitting up in bed. Reassured that he’s on the mend, I come to a full stop two feet into the room, arrested by the view. The nurse is bent over, leaning across the bed fiddling with something behind Pops’ head. Her pants are pulled taut from the movement and she has a body that gives me the urge to just reach out and run my hands over it. Blonde waves tumble down over her shoulders and spill forward onto her arms as she contorts herself all in the name of helping another human. I could yank that hair while I shift in behind that sweet ass and… I stop myself there. My grandfather would slap me upside the head if he knew the thoughts running through my head, but it isn’t exactly my fault. I had walked in expecting to see a grumpy old man and I was visually assaulted with a nurse fantasy. Helpful, healing, and hot? I mean, come on. That’s the full package. “Hey, Pops, what’s up?” I ask, setting down the bag of food I brought for him on a chair. The nurse stands up quickly, the gesture so aggressive that she collides with the bedside tray on wheels, sending it spiraling out, the plate of food on it rattling. “You okay?” Pops asks her, sitting up straighter. “Sorry,” she says, her voice low. “I’m fine.” Then she turns and I no longer feel guilty for being instantly attracted to her. It’s clearly muscle memory, because I know this woman. I’ve been inside this woman once upon a time when I was young and prone to impulse. I know these curves intimately. I’ve gripped that ass and ground my cock inside her while she moaned in pleasure. “Chastity DuBois,” I say, my voice equally low as hers. “Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes. It’s great to see you again.” I mean that sincerely. The past week has been rough with building permits and loan issues on my restaurant and she is a pleasant distraction. I’ve always had a soft spot—and hard cock—for this woman. “Hank,” she breathes, before clearing her throat. She tucks her hair behind her ear and plays with her ID badge clipped to her uniform. “Hi, how are you?” “You two know each other?” Pops asks, sounding pleased. “That’s what I love about living in a small town. There are no strangers in Porte French.” Definitely not strangers, me and Chastity. Two Years Earlier Chastity “Don’t be mad at me, Chastity, promise me,” Rachel said, giving me a hopeful little smile as we found the only two stools left at the crowded bar in New Orleans. The way she said it filled me with concern. “Oh, sweet, Jesus. I’m not making any promises when you start a sentence like that. What did you do?” I eyed her skeptically. I didn’t even want to be on the one night jaunt to New Orleans so that Rachel could party. I hadn’t been a partier since high school. My attempts to be wild and free of my parents’ rules back then had resulted in a drunken disastrous spring break— and teen pregnancy. I’d only been focused on my son and nursing school ever since, but Rachel had begged and pleaded with me to help her celebrate her twenty-first birthday. Unfortunately, every other friend she had on the planet had been unable to come for various reasons and because I was her last resort, I had agreed. I knew this was an important birthday for her and I wanted to help her celebrate. It was a sign of total desperation on her part for a travel buddy because she knew full well that inviting me was like bringing certified Grade A buzzkill. I go to bed before ten o’clock and my idea of a wild night is reading monster romance novels. I haven’t had a girls’ night out in forever and I’m so rusty when it comes to letting loose that my joints might actually screech on the dance floor. “I made plans to meet up with a guy I've been talking to,” Rachel said. “Seriously, he’s so hot, I’m just dying to see him in person.” She bounced on her stool in excitement and waved to the bartender that she wanted to order. My jaw dropped. “No, you did not.” She obviously had, but that meant my options were to be the ultimate third wheel— at least until they decided to retreat to his hotel, or worse, to our shared hotel room— or go home to Baton Rouge. Except I had no car because Rachel had driven us to New Orleans. I was stuck and traipsing around Bourbon Street by myself fell under the category of Oh Hell No. “I know I should have told you, but then you wouldn’t have come with me.”