Page 67 of Holding The Reins

I shut the door, sitting at my desk, running a hand through my hair. What do I want? I have no fucking idea. I lean back and close my eyes, images of CeCe running through my mind.

What I want is to hear her voice. I grab my keys and nod to Asher on my way out. I pull my phone out of my pocket when I get into my truck and without thinking, I call her. She picks up on the second ring with a sexy little “Mr. Carter.”

Her voice floods my ears and I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

My alarm wakes me after very little sleep, and I groan, realizing I have a very full day and a night out with the girls ahead of me. Nash calling last night surprised me, but I answered because my first instinct was maybe something was wrong, and I’ll admit I really wanted to hear his voice.

Turns out all he wanted was the contact for the municipality because only he would be working at ten thirty at night. We ended up working on the proposal over the phone until almost midnight and then talked until way too late about nothing in particular, and everything all at once—work, my dad, our favorite music, stories from the road in the NHL, places I visited in Seattle, TV shows, food, sports, you name it. It was the kind of call I haven’t had since high school, if ever, which was heightened by the fact I was sleeping in my old room at the big house, whispering like a teenager so I wouldn’t wake my mom. It was the kind of phone call that by the end of it, he was saying “are you tired?” and I was saying “no,” even though I was but didn’t want it to end.

Finally, after almost falling asleep somewhere between two and three, I vaguely remember him saying, “Go to sleep, CeCe, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And I hung up, then dreamt about his hands on me all night long, like a lovesick teenager.

Mabel’s voice echoes down the hallway before she comes busting into my room and bounces on my bed. “Nana Jo made us chocolate chip pancakes.”

I pretend I’m asleep then grab her and tickle her into fits of laughter before allowing her to escape back down stairs. I yawn and look out the window, feeling odd and almost giddy. I decide five more minutes is warranted.

I flop backwards on the bed, my arms in a makeshift U. One-night flings don’t talk on the phone until three in the morning debating whether Green Day or The White Stripes were more influential, do they? I close my eyes and picture him hovering over me with his strong, inked arms and navy eyes or better yet, looking up at me with his face buried between my legs, my fingers winding in his wavy hair. Heat floods my veins at the sight in my mind’s eye.

My eyes fly open. I need to get up or I’m going to resort to getting myself off in my childhood bedroom. I pull my cotton robe on over my standard tank and shorts, grab my phone and pad down to the kitchen and the smell of coffee and pancakes.

I skim through a barrage of texts from Ginger, Avery and Olivia about tonight and what they’re all going to wear and eat at Dolcettos for Avery’s birthday.

“Morning, CeCe.”

I lift my gaze to see devastating part-time cowboy Nash. Wranglers, white t-shirt, cowboy hat on his knee, dusty and dirty from his morning with Wade in the barns, sitting at my kitchen table with a coffee in one hand and my heart in the other.

Up and at the ranch at seven in the morning after three hours of sleep is gonna mean a little power nap between the Center and tonight’s rowdy, Friday night bar crowd.

I completely fucking chickened out and made the phone call about work last night but it did the trick. It kept that sweet, husky voice in my ear for four hours, talking in a whisper on her end so she wouldn’t wake anyone. You’d think she was telling me the most interesting story I’d ever heard the way I was grinning into that phone.

My cheeks literally hurt from smiling so much this morning. After a three-hour snooze, I was up and running through the trails on my property, all because I talked on the phone with a woman and didn’t want to hang up. I wanted the opposite, to do anything in my power to keep her talking.

I ran through all the scenarios in my mind about CeCe as I jogged through my woods. I pictured odd things I’ve never thought about in my life. Random things like grocery shopping together, dancing with her, taking her on a date. I’ve given up on myself completely at this point because the truth is, I’m not strong enough to fight whatever this is with her. So here I sit, in her kitchen for no reason other than to see CeCe’s beautiful face when she first wakes up and it doesn’t disappoint.

She comes down that big oak staircase in those fucking silk pajamas and I’m a total goner.

“Morning.” She smiles looking between me and her Mama.

“Morning, baby. Nash is here to meet Wade and have some of my famous pancakes, aren’t ya, baby?

“Wouldn’t miss em,” I say, keeping my eyes on CeCe and the way her hair falls around her shoulders.

She grabs a coffee while I check out how goddamn perfect her ass is in those shorts as Wade comes into the kitchen and nearly busts me.

“I hate when people waste my time. I have shit to do, and waiting around just pisses me off.”

“Two dollars,” Mabel says while she chows down watermelon at the table.

Wade grunts and stuffs some money in the boot.

“Morning, Sarge,” CeCe snickers as she sips her coffee.

“No luck with hiring a trainer yet?” I ask.

“Two under qualified interviews so far this week and now this next one is six minutes late. I only have one other interview set up for later today. Pickings are slim.”

CeCe and I look at each other across the table and a grin breaks out across her gorgeous face. It’s contagious so I smile back and then we’re laughing.

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