Page 20 of Holding The Reins

“I’d need to get used to it if I had to work for this fucker too. At least we know he’ll never bang the women in his office.” Cole chuckles and then adds, “CeCe is… well, CeCe. And let’s be real, he could never handle Sonny.”

Wade chuckles. “Ain’t that the truth.”

Jo hands me the cutlery.

“Well, set the table, big boss man.”

I nod and head into the dining room, glad none of them can actually read my thoughts as I go.

Every time I turn around today, Nash is there. I’ve only been employed by him for four hours but I’m already questioning my sanity. I want to believe everything he said, that he’s not who he used to be, that this can work... because I need this job. All I can think about is starting over and keeping myself busy.

Andrew is calling and texting me nonstop, trying to put thoughts into my head that don’t belong.

It seems like such an uphill climb to start fresh and this job is number one on my list of things I need to help me. It’s the first wrung in the ladder. The pay and circumstance is great; Sonny says Nash pays everyone well above fair wage just to keep his staff happy. It also seems like a challenge on account of how much disarray their accounting system is in. The accounting is the last and only part of the business I see that needs help. The rest—the areas Nash excels in—seems to be working fantastic.

I was both impressed and surprised when Sonny took me on the tour of Olympia. The reimagined space is perfection. State of the art rink effects, new Zambonis, updated locker and change rooms, the entire floor in the back half is covered in rubber mats so skaters can get easily to restroom facilities and changing rooms without taking their skates off. The spectator area is actually comfortable and warm—something I’ve never seen at a hockey rink before.

Nash had a new concession area added that allows for different food trucks to pull up outside to a pass-through window into the building so Olympia can host feature nights with local businesses.

Sonny says he is big on supporting the community now. She told me all about the charity nights they offer, where the money made from the Lightning games is all donated to local charities in need, a gesture that helps make me believe maybe Nash has grown up to be someone other just than an older, still self-centered man version of the teenage and college boy I knew. I had an idea of him, an illusion and he is shattering it every time I see him and he does something kind or thoughtful.

I chew on my bottom lip as I help Mama get dinner ready.

I think I want him to still be the Nash I used to know. The cocky, womanizing superstar. Without that, I have no choice but to notice how goddamn gorgeous he is in any setting. Just the scent of him draws me in—like fresh sandalwood and spice. It was so manly and warm when he hugged me today. It’s like walking inside from the cold to a warm blanket and a mug of tea. Comforting. Homey. And I hate it. The last thing I need is to be drooling over him, especially when he’s like a part of my family. Being away over these last years forced me to forget just how ingrained he is in our family lore and history.

“You’re quiet, baby… just taking it all in?” Mama asks me while we mash potatoes and she pulls her meatloaf out of the oven.

“Just adjusting.”

“I think it’s great, you working for Nash. He really needs the help.”

“I know, I had a quick look today. It’s just a lot, having all these people around all the time. I’m not used to it.”

I look out to the dining room where Nash stands. I nod in his direction.

“He always here since he’s been home?”

Mama Jo thinks carefully as she slices the meatloaf and puts it on the serving plate.

“He’s here as much as I need him to be, and he’s here even when I don’t know I need him. He misses your daddy something fierce. Whenever he was on a break from playing hockey, he was here. Losing your daddy was hard on him, as hard as it was on the rest of us. He could’ve gone a different way in life after all that trauma, but he chose the right path. He’s good for this town. The people really love him,” she says, like he’s a politician running for office.

“Yeah, he’s a real crowd pleaser,” I snicker, remembering him chatting with patrons in his bar last night, all boyish grins and deep bronze haired charisma.

I glance into the dining room to see Nash standing at the table in his perfectly fitted jeans, and a black t-shirt that showcases his toned, inked arms which are folded across his muscular chest while he talks to Wade. His wavy dark hair is peeking out ever so slightly and he’s wearing his signature Dallas Stars, Stanley Cup-winning baseball hat backwards.

My depraved pussy doesn’t stand a chance. She’s a whore for a backward baseball hat—especially on this devastating looking hockey star turned part-time cowboy. He locks eyes with mine across the room, it anchors me where I stand. Nash doesn’t look away, he owns it and grins then takes a sip of his bourbon, never breaking the stare.

“Let’s eat!” Mama calls, breaking my trance as Mabel and Cole venture in from the den.

“Smells good as always, Mama,” Cole says, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

We sit down at the table like it’s where we all just belong, leaving my dad’s chair at the head forever empty.

“To Pa.” Wade raises his glass of bourbon and the rest of us follow suit.

“To Pa,” we say in unison, before we tap the bottom of our glasses on the table and drink.

“I’ll tell you one thing, that cheeky bugger is disgusted you’re wearing that Yankees shirt at his table.” Papa Dean nods to Cole.

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