Page 43 of Wrangling Nash

I smiled and leaned back into his chest as he spun me around, effortlessly lifting me up and placing me on the counter. His strong muscles wrapped protectively around my waist, pulling me close as he took possession of my mouth.

“Seriously though, Nash.” I mumbled against his lips.

He shrugged, “Wylie’s a big boy. He knows what he’s getting into.”

But do you? I couldn’t help but wonder.

I looked back into the green eyes of the man I knew I loved, with thankfulness in my heart on this Thanksgiving Day and I knew I had to tell him again how I felt. But I had no idea how he was going to react, and my insides were flipping out as I thought about the last time that I’d told him I had fallen for him.

Would I be able to survive being rejected twice by him?

“Hey,” Nash spoke, pressing two fingers under my chin and tilting my eyes upwards to meet his. “This was a good Thanksgiving, hell the best one we’ve had since my mom passed away. I’ve never felt so much joy and just… peace. I feel at home when I’m with you. You make everything around you feel like home,” Nash said as his words washed over me. “What’s on your mind?”

I squirmed on the countertop, unsure of what to say. “I’m not sure how to say this…” My eyes cast down, and Nash caught my chin, tilting my face back up.

“Jovie, I don’t want to scare you, but I think I’m falling in love with you,” he spoke, his eyes tender as he stared at me. His words took my breath away, and the intensity of his gaze made me feel safe knowing he genuinely felt the same.

“I feel the same, Nash.”

His mouth spread into a wide smile as he wrapped me back up in his arms and carried me back to our room.

That night, when Nash and I had sex, it wasn’t anything like what we’d done previously. This time, we made love. Nash watched my every move as we laid naked side by side. He hiked my leg over his hip to access me, pushing in and out with controlled movements that made my body soar and mind race.

There was neither quickness, passion nor desperation to it. It was methodical, steady, slow burning and intense, just like Nash and our love had been.

Chapter 37: Jovie

The next morning…

“Gotta admit, you’ve surprised me, Jovie.”

“How's that?” I asked Rig, who had just picked me up for our day of work in the city.

Rig had graciously agreed to take me to San Angelo to show me how sales for the ranch worked. San Angelo was known for its stock shows and rodeos and was a hot spot for ranchers to make large purchases.

Rig tossed a bag he’d retrieved from my grandfather’s garage into the back of his pickup truck as he walked around to open my door. I hopped up into the oversized truck, and he closed the door, sliding in across from me on the driver’s side and firing it up.

“I wasn’t expecting you to last this long."

“I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended,” I said, smiling.

“It’s a compliment. You’ve actually put forth an effort into learning the responsibilities of working on a ranch. The boys have said you stay up late studying your grandfather’s crazy notes he always kept in his office. I told him he needed to put those damn things in a computer program, but he’d always wave me off. Guess he’s lucky he had a granddaughter who was smart, too.”

I smiled. I’d known from the start that Rig had doubted me, but it felt good receiving some recognition and credit for the effort I’d put in over the last three months on the ranch, even from him.

As we continued our drive, I realized quickly that Rig was a man of few words; most of our two-hour drive consisted of the sounds of old-school country music coming through the stereo. I alternated between looking out the window at the rural landscape of Texas and flipping through my grandfather’s old binder I’d packed. With 30 minutes left to go, Rig pulled over to a worn-down rest stop to grab a drink.

“The damn vendors at the stock show will charge you $5.00 for a bottle of water. If you want me to grab you one here, we'll only pay 99 cents, instead.”

I agreed and thanked him. When he came back, he had a bottle for me and two for himself as we continued our drive.

“You don’t drink?” I asked, surprised he hadn’t stopped to get a beer like his sons would have.

“Quit after Louisa died.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, but it’s alright. It’ll be 10 years this year. We had a beautiful 23 years together before she passed.”

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