Page 16 of Holding The Reins

“I’m gonna need an office supply budget, and an updated version of Quicken.”

“Done,” I say instantly.

“And I’m gonna need Mondays off.”

I smirk. “Shocker.”

Her arms fold under her perky tits and form a little shelf for them.

“Now, who’s judgy? I want to help Mama prepare Monday dinners and pick Mabes up from school.”

“Fair enough. Domestic Mondays,” I say. I don’t press her. I’ve almost got her.

“Alright, a trial basis. But don’t you make me regret it, Nash. I mean it.”

I smile even wider. “Hell yes, girl,” I hoot out.

I move across the room, scooping her body up into a hug without thinking. What I’m not prepared for is my body’s reaction to hers. CeCe melts into me like I have the perfect place carved out just for her. That sweet strawberry scent fills my nostrils and I breathe it in as her tiny palms against my chest cause the hairs on the back of my neck to rise.

“Do you hug all your employees?” she asks as I notice how soft and pliable she is in my arms.

“Sorry,” I mutter, releasing her. “I’m just so happy to have the help we need here is all.” I clear my throat. Smooth.

“Alright, well… rule number one, when we’re here, I expect you to be professional.” CeCe wags a finger at me and all I see is the hot accountant scolding me.

God dammit, Nash.

“I’ll start Wednesday. I want to take tomorrow to get fully settled and I need some new clothes.”

“What you are wearing now is just… fine,” I manage to eke out like a fifteen year old with a school boy crush. Again, real fucking smooth.

She looks down to her outfit.

“I left a lot of my stuff in Seattle. This is really all I have.” The look in her eyes makes me want to gut punch this Andrew once again but instead of saying something stupid I nod.

“We’re gonna make this work, CeCe. You’ll see.”

She nods as she walks by me, tossing her purse over her shoulder and she winks at me.

“See you Wednesday then, if the creek don’t rise.”

Hearing her utter Wyatt’s signature saying sucker punches me in the chest so hard that I forget to tell her she’ll be seeing me a lot sooner than that.

“You sleeping any better, son?”

“Somedays,” I answer Wyatt as he lays a five-numbered run on the table. Tile Rummy is our thing, we’ve been doing it every time I come home since he got sick, and for years before that.

“Still no good at bullshitting, I see.”

I blow out a raspberry. “Guess not.”

“You taking the voodoo shit Jo gave you?” he asks, mentioning the melatonin and chamomile in my kitchen cupboard.

“Yeah. It hasn’t helped much, but don’t tell her that. I’ll take it anyway.” I smirk.

“Smart boy. Your secret is safe with me. I value the time I have left—I’d never tell Jo she was wrong about anything.”

I chuckle but I hate hearing about the little time he has left. He’s so young. Only sixty. This is so unfair.

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