Page 77 of Holding The Reins

“Ugh,” I groan. “Not a word.”

He stands and closes the drapes tightly so the sun disappears, and I could cry from relief. My poor head.

“I’ll be back, you sleep.”

I glance at the clock to see it’s not even eight o’clock yet and I have nowhere to be.

It’s Saturday. Thank the fucking Lord.

The smell of bacon and coffee wakes me over an hour later and my stomach growls. I starfish in Nash’s massive bed, stretching to each corner and realize my head no longer feels like it’s in a vice and my stomach is no longer nauseous. I actually feel semi-human, until the memory of accusing Nash of flirting with that waitress comes back to me, and then I want to crawl out his window, sink into the creek and die.

Why did I drink like that? What the hell is the matter with me?

Flashes register from last night. The cowboy on the dance floor, the fury in Nash’s eyes when I approached him at the bar, the way he pulled me out of there like a child.

Oh my God, the bathroom floor when I almost got sick. I groan and reach for my hair, which I find is braided and tied with dental floss? I didn’t dream that?

I get out of bed and head for his bathroom. I’m wearing his t-shirt and remember him pulling my dress off. I remember his words, it’s all coming back to me.

I use the toothbrush that is still on the counter from last night, then I find a fresh face cloth and wash myself up. Sliding his vanity drawers open, I find a hair brush, undo my French braided hair and pull it through my waves. His drawers are impeccable. Organized. Spotlessly clean. In fact, this whole house is beautiful.

I move to the bathroom window, look out into the backyard to take in my surroundings and gasp. The wide creek fills my view along with a dock, covered by a gazebo, with a little boat, birds, and other wildlife. Massive red oaks line the space offering shade from the hot August sun. There’s a deck off Nash’s bedroom with a pergola over it and cozy wicker and cushioned patio furniture adorns it, with a fire pit just beyond that. It’s truly beautiful and peaceful, and suddenly I understand why he lives here. After witnessing his nightmare last night, my guess is he takes any peace he can get and my heart goes out to him as I finish up in the bathroom.

Realizing I have no pants or even underwear, I wander back into his bedroom and get back into his bed.

“I thought I heard you.” Nash appears in his doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of perfectly fitted gray Nike sweatpants that hang low on his hips, his hair is damp like he had a shower recently and he’s holding a tray with steaming coffee and food.

I stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded because he’s so gorgeous it makes me ache.

“You’re staring.” He grins as he sits down beside me on the bed.

I blink and then blush knowing I’m totally busted.

“You look damn good in the morning too, Rae, especially in my shirt,” he says, handing me a coffee.

“I have no other clothes here,” I blurt out.

“Yes, you do. I went and got you some before I made breakfast, can’t have you leaving here in the dress you wore last night.”

“What?”

“I have a key to Stardust, I got you clothes,” he enunciates and cocks his head to the side. “And panties… since you have none of those.” He passes me a coffee and sets the tray down beside me.

“I… thank you,” I say, because I don’t even protest that he was in my house alone. In fact, I kind of like it.

“What did you bring me?” I ask, amused and extremely curious. God this coffee is good.

Nash disappears for all of five seconds before reappearing with a bag.

I take it from him and set my coffee down to skim the contents.

Jean shorts, white cropped, off-the-shoulder vintage Shania tour t-shirt, the laciest black panties I own, flip flops, hair ties, lip gloss, deodorant, sunglasses.

I hold the black panties up with one finger.

“Nice,” I say, one eyebrow raised.

He holds his hands up in defense. “They were the first pair in your drawer, I’m not in the habit of going through a woman’s things. Was just being practical.”

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