Page 70 of Holding The Reins

“See ya, Mama Jo,” I say, giving her a squeeze. “Thanks for breakfast.” I give Mabel a high five. “Abel Mabel, be good.”

I turn to CeCe and resist the urge to physically crush myself to her. It takes a lot to resist. It’s been two days but the thought of her lips on mine have me over a fucking barrel.

“See ya later.”

“Bye bye, Nash,” she says in that fucking sexy singsong voice.

I hate that I won’t see her today, she’s off because she worked Monday. Suddenly, waiting until she saunters her perfect little ass into my bar tonight with her crew seems like way too long of a wait.

“Let’s go, girls,” Ginger chants in her best Shania impression as Asher shows up at our table with the first round of butter ripple shots. I’m already tipsy from our dinner for Avery’s birthday at Dolcettos. Risotto and the best Italian Pinot Grigio in town are making me feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy as I take a shot off the tray.

Asher locks eyes with Olivia for a split second as she takes the shot from him. I can’t say if it’s my buzzed brain or if I’m just seeing things, but his dark eyes seem to feast on her, like she’s his next meal.

He backs away as she croaks out, “Thank you.”

He nods and disappears into the crowd.

“Goddamn, that man could’ve incinerated you with those deep gray eyes.” Ginger giggles.

Olivia looks over at him fleetingly.

“He scares me a little.”

I turn to see what she sees, and a little scary? Yeah, I can see that.

“It’s like his eyes stare right through me,” Olivia says, using her hair to curtain between his watchful eye, as if he could hear her from the other side of the bar.

“He’s the fire chief, right?” I ask. “Maybe we’re judging a book by its cover. He has to have a good soul to save people from fire, right?”

Olivia’s eyes flit back to him. “I suppose,” she mutters, but she doesn’t seem entirely convinced.

“Moving on from sexy, scary fire chief, to Avery,” Ginger says.

We all follow suit and clink shots like it’s the biggest deal on earth that Avery is turning twenty-four.

My nerves have me frazzled. I actually did it. I wore the dress. The red Max Mara I reserve for only when I want to look hot. I want Nash to want me when he looks at me. The late-night phone call, the glances, the coffee on my rail again this morning, all while knowing how fucking hot we are together. It’s too much to fight. I want another shot with him even if it’s only once more.

After I’ve been seated for about fifteen minutes and the hard realization hits me that when whatever this is with Nash Carter ends, it’s gonna hurt like hell, I see him, and he steals my breath. No man has ever looked that good in a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved flannel over a t-shirt and that goddamn backwards baseball hat. His eyes meet mine from across the room and he grins at me. I physically melt where I sit.

“Oh yeah, totally just a one-night hook up,” Ginger whispers then snorts from beside me. I nudge her elbow with mine and Avery turns to see what we’re both whispering about.

“Wait, are you the reason he’s been singing Shania around the Center the last two days? And Sonny said he was whistling the other day.” Avery looks at me with the most incredulous face and then deadpans. “Whistling.”

Olivia keels over laughing as I shake my head.

“We’re old friends,” I say.

“Friends with benefits friends? Or just friends?”

“Nash has enough friends with benefits,” I say to shut Avery down.

I trust my girls, and she’s sweet but I don’t know Avery well enough to trust her fully just yet.

Avery shrugs. “If it helps, I’ve never seen him with anyone in the five months I’ve worked with him. So if it is you giving him the happy vibes, I say go for it. The man is hot.” She looks him over as she says it and it bothers me, even though I know she doesn’t mean anything sinister by it.

“To hot men!” Olivia says as she raises another shot and we all follow suit. The sugary sweet liquid burns down my throat. It tastes like caramel.

I focus on Nash at the bar from the corner of my eye. He’s talking to a blonde and a brunette. I eye their outfits. The blonde is wearing jeans that hug her every curve and a frilly peasant blouse that hangs off her tanned shoulders. I can only see her profile but she seems familiar. Whatever they’re talking about, they’re deep in conversation. I raise my hand to Asher who comes over to us quickly.

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