Page 94 of Holding The Reins

She’s the most beautiful sight anytime. She’s fucking perfect. She’s everything.

“So… that was the last time then?” she asks breathlessly, and I grin at the sass I love as I lean into her golden hair, deciding I’ll worry about all these feelings overwhelming the fuck out of me later.

I’ve had more sex in the last three weeks than the entire eight years I spent with Andrew. There isn’t a moment any day where I don’t want Nash, and we’ve fallen into a pattern of work, the ranch and being alone, mostly at his house because it’s just easier.

He cooks for me, makes sure he has my tea in his pantry, and even bought a monthly subscription to my favorite streaming service so I can get my dose of ‘girly movies’ as he calls them. It’s bliss. It’s what I always wanted with Andrew but never had, and it’s bittersweet because I know somewhere deep down, it’s temporary.

We don’t talk about the future because I know the man he is. I know the trauma he’s suffered, what he can give me and what he can’t. I’ve decided a few months of happiness is better than nothing at all, and when the time is right, we’ll both know and things will hopefully just go back to the way they were before.

I know with the way he’s infused with my family that I’ll have no choice but to get over him, and I’m dreading that day. But today is not that day as he makes his way down between my legs before breakfast in my bed and makes me come before my coffee maker even has a chance to finish brewing.

“I love hearing you scream my name before breakfast,” he says as he peppers kisses up my arms to my shoulders and my breathing returns to normal.

“You go back to sleep; I’m going to work with Wade.”

“I’m always willing to do the things you love, you know,” I say back as he leaves the room chuckling.

“I bet.”

An hour later I’m willing myself to get out of bed so I can drink said coffee and start to finalize the details of the Sundown Festival. It’s less than a week away. I flip my phone over.

Mama

I see you stayed home last night, come on down to the house for brunch this morning.

I’m pretty sure my mother knows something is going on because I’m never home. She never asks who I’m with, only tells me that she hopes I’m happy because she is truly the best mother on the planet and just doesn’t meddle. Wade and Cole notice nothing; Wade is in the field by the earliest of hours and Cole only comes to the ranch in the evenings. Only Ginger and Olivia are privy to all the torrid details of this predicament I’ve gotten myself into—the one where I admit that I am pretty sure I’m falling madly, desperately in love with Nash Carter.

It's not the kind of love I had with Andrew, if that was even love at all. No, this kind of love feels all encompassing. It’s a need I have from the depths of my soul to be near him. It’s practice scribbling my name with his last name kind of love, or fantasizing about growing old with him, chasing grandkids around the yard kind of love.

As I blow dry my hair, I picture what it would be like to live with Nash in another life, to have him come home to me every night. The pang of ‘never gonna happen, CeCe, he doesn’t do relationships’ hits me in the gut. But this feels damn near like a relationship. I push the worries I have aside and focus on the here and now.

We have for tonight—Nash is taking the night off, something he’s done three times in the last three weeks, much to Asher’s surprise. And he’s informed me it’s Naked Friday. No clothes until tomorrow, which I’m happy to agree to if it means he’s going to ravish me with everything his incredible body has to offer. I’ve even bought a sexy little dress I plan to wear with no panties, just the way he likes it.

I finish my coffee and read through my work emails, making notes. Everything for the festival seems to be going off without a hitch. The Pros vs Townies game is a hit, we have almost sold out, all 4500 tickets. The NHL even commissioned that two of their current players, Cory Kane and Chris Bell will play in our charity game with all the retirees. We’re on track to well surpass our goal of $25,000, but we won’t share that with Harry until after we know for sure.

I hear the door click. Nash comes through it as I’m on the phone with the party games company about the bouncy castle and carnival games arrival for the Center’s parking lot. He motions to me asking if I want another coffee as I take in the sight of Cowboy Nash and consider hanging up and scaling him like a tree. The choice is taken from me because I’m still on the phone with Parties To Go when he finishes his coffee and protein bar ten minutes later.

I scroll through my email as I wait on hold for her to confirm a time and see one pop up in my personal folder from Andrew.

I haven’t heard from him in a month, which is unusual, so I check it.

Cecilia,

I have an all cash buyer that came out of nowhere for our condo. 1.3 million and we’d split the profits fifty-fifty. You should walk away with approximately $425,000 after the mortgage and lawyer are paid out. Looks like buying in a dip and selling high worked in our favor. I have taken the liberty since you’ve been gone for six weeks now and packed all your belongings up into boxes. They are available for pick up, for you to go through them, donate things, whatever you chose to do. You’ll need to come back here for closing. You need to get your things anyway. Let me know what day works well for you and I’ll make an appointment with Gary. I can scan the contract Gary has drawn up and send it over so you can read it. You can stay at the condo when you come. I’ll vacate it for the two or three days you’re here and I’ll take a hotel.

Sincerely,

Andrew Waterfield

Just like that, as if we didn’t spend almost eight years together, he signs the email like it’s being sent to any colleague or business contact.

Andrew also never even informed me that he was planning to put the condo on the market. He’s also being way too nice. Something is up. My palms start sweating as I read it and think about going to Seattle.

I know he’s right. Gary Beckman is our lawyer. He’s been Andrew’s family lawyer for thirty-five years and Andrew won’t use anyone else. He’s also sixty-five and refuses to do anything digitally. I tell myself to pick my battles. One or two days in Seattle, go through my things, sign some papers and I’m almost half a million richer and I can close this chapter of my life for good.

My mama and this ranch could use some of that money and maybe I could buy myself a little house of my own.

“You’re quiet this morning. You alright?” Nash pulls me from my anxiety, he watches me nervously biting my bottom lip from my kitchen island.

---