Page 78 of Holding The Reins

I laugh and set the bag down, reclaiming my coffee.

“Are you hungry? I made bacon and waffles.”

“Starving.” I nod and smile at him.

Of all the hats I’ve seen him wear, making me breakfast in bed Nash is too adorable for words and might be my favorite. He sets the plate in front of me and heads out to grab his own.

Getting into bed beside me and pulling the blankets up under his plate, he starts to eat and I follow suit. We eat in comfortable silence, as I struggle with this feeling. Like having breakfast with him in bed is the most natural thing on earth.

Nash finishes before me and watches me as I swallow the last of my really delicious cinnamon waffles, then takes my plate when I’m done.

“You can cook?” I ask, already knowing the answer from this feast.

“I try.”

“Thank you,” I say

“For what?”

“For taking care of me and not rubbing last night in my face this morning. I’m embarrassed I acted like that. It’s not my business who you give your number to. I’m sorry.”

“Rae—” he says, but I keep talking.

“She’s pretty, she obviously likes you. You should take her out.”

“Rae,” he says a little louder this time, more annoyed. “I’m not taking Chantel out, but it’s pretty cute that you’re jealous.”

Chantel, ugh even her name is pretty. I hate it.

“I’m not jealous.”

He smirks, ignoring my lie.

“Her husband passed away suddenly three months ago. They have a son, Luke, he’s six, all he loved to do with his dad was play hockey in their driveway. Anyway, after he died, she had to take on another job, at the Sage and Salt to make ends meet. She was talking to me about getting Luke into my skating programs. The number I gave her was Sonny’s. I told her Olympia would cover the cost for him. That’s all.”

“Oh God,” I say, pulling the blankets up over my head.

He chuckles, pulling at the blankets.

“I’m never coming out.”

He starts really laughing and smacks me on the backside through the blankets. “Yes, you are. Go have a shower. You’re spending the day with me.”

I pull the blankets off my face and look at him. “I am?”

“Yes, you are.” He grins.

“Why?” I ask, trying to understand why he wants to spend the day with me after I acted like a stage-five clinger.

Nash moves closer to me, sliding me down the bed until his face is right over mine and he hovers here.

“Because instead of pretending nothing is going on here, I think we should try something different. Let’s just hang out,” he says, and I’m speechless.

“Hang out?” I repeat.

“Yes. On Saturday mornings I go fishing, then I go to the bar to get everything ready for the busiest night of the week. You can come with me and work off your asshole-ish behavior, you still have to pay for that.” He stands and nods as I ignore the tone of warning in his voice. “Now go get ready, we’re fishing in thirty minutes.”

“But I don’t know how to fish—”

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