Page 95 of Holding The Reins

“Am I that obvious?”

He nods and comes to me.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Just going over all the final details for next Friday.”

For some reason, I don’t bring myself to tell him about the sale or Seattle. We’re not a couple. My problems aren’t really his. I compartmentalize this for later as Nash circles behind me, sweeping my hair to the side and kissing the back of my neck.

“We don’t have time for that this morning, Mr. Carter,” I quip.

“Then you better not call me Mr. Carter again,” he rasps in my ear.

“Aren’t you taking on the youth riders for Molly this morning?” I whisper as I start to lose my inhibitions while his tongue trails my neck.

“God dammit, yes, and I have to go,” he groans.

“I’m going to have brunch with my mama,” I say, leaning my head back on his chest sobering myself from his touch.

Nash smells so fucking good. There are moments when I go through my day that I just get his scent in my nose from my clothes or my skin and that alone sends heat to my core. He smells so masculine and fresh, it’s mouthwatering.

The dinging of my email stops Nash from kissing my neck further as Andrew’s name pops up again on my laptop screen.

“What’s Drew the dick want?” he asks casually as he makes his way to the counter to fill his reusable bottle of water.

I take all of five seconds to debate keeping this to myself but I don’t, because I’m nothing if not honest.

“He sold our condo.” The news is enough to make him stop drinking and turn to face me.

“He had it for sale?”

“I’m not sure how but he has a cash buyer.”

“Well, that’s great, CeCe. You can have a clean slate then. Can we have the rest of your things shipped?”

I chew my bottom lip. “I have to go there next week.”

“To Seattle?” he asks, surprise lines his perfect features.

“Yes. Andrew’s lawyer is old school, he doesn’t do digital signings, and I should go anyway. There’s probably a lot of stuff I don’t even want anymore and I can donate it and ship the rest myself. I’ll only be gone two or three—”

“I’m going with you.”

“What?

“I am going with you.”

“No,” I say quietly.

The silence is deafening.

“I’m going to do this myself. Andrew is going to stay at a hotel while I’m there and I’ll have the condo to myself. I don’t want anything. None of our décor or furniture, it won’t take me long. I need to do this on my own, Nash.”

“Not a fucking chance are you going there to sleep in his bed by yourself.”

I huff out a breath at him and start laughing. He’s behaving like a Neanderthal.

“The apartment has three bedrooms. He won’t be there and I certainly won’t be sleeping in his bed, I’ll take a guest room. And I don’t need you to tell me what to do, by the way.” I shouldn’t say that, but I’m frustrated with Andrew and I’ve had enough of men telling me what to do to last me a lifetime. I’m a grown woman; I can sign these papers and get my things on my own.

“Besides, bringing you would just escalate Andrew’s behavior. I’d like to do this peacefully and get it over with and to be straight forward, it’s not exactly your concern,” I add.

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