“Excellent choice.” He wrote down some numbers on a form, and then picked up another folder and extended it out to them. “Now, let’s talk about what kind of flowers you’d like at the ceremony.”
By the time Nash and Vivian made their way out of there, he was drained. All the planning was mentally taxing and he would be glad when it was over and he could put it behind him. The only good thing about it all was that it didn’t leave a lot of room for mourning, creating a sort of numbing sensation that was most welcome.
“Are you hungry?” Vivian looked to him for an answer, but Nash wasn’t sure what to say. His stomach grumbled now and then, but he didn’t have an appetite. He should eat, but he wasn’t inclined to.
“We could go somewhere. Maybe that diner on Main Street?” she suggested.
“No.” Nash immediately nixed that idea. He didn’t want to be around people. They would fuss over him and tell him stories about their time with Ms. Gretta and force him into conversations he just didn’t have the mental fortitude to deal with at the moment. “Let’s go home. I’m sure we can scrounge something up there.”
Vivian didn’t argue. Slipping her hand into his, they drove the country roads back to his place, listening to a country station on the radio on low, so that only the instruments could be heard, the lyrics lost to the noise of the road traveling through the cab.
They ate turkey sandwiches that afternoon, at the oversized farm table in the kitchen beside the window overlooking the yard and the pasture where his horse, Maxine, grazed. Nash had been neglectful lately, so wrapped up in his own self that he hadn’t been giving her the attention she needed.
He should be out there right now, riding her through the fields, giving her carrots and apples—her favorite treats—and grooming her long, silky rich-brown mane.
If Carlene would be disapproving of anything, it would be his lack of attention to her horse. His horse now.
That animal deserved better than he was giving her.
“What are you thinking about?” Vivian asked, sipping at a glass of sweet tea that she’d thoughtfully made while he put together their meal.
“That I’m doin’ wrong by that horse out there. She’s been cooped up in her corral for too long.”
Vivian’s face brightened with an idea. “We should take her out later.”
“You wanna go for a ride?” Nash was a touch shocked. “Don’t you city girls hate the cold?”
It was a mite chilly this time of year, but the beauty of being in the South was that it didn’t get nearly as bitter as the North.
“Are you kidding? I’m not even sure this qualifies as winter. Where I’m from, we’d be piled high in snow and bundled up like that kid in A Christmas Story in layers, and we’d still be freezing our tails off.”
That didn’t sound like any kind of environment Nash would want to be a part of. “Well, hell, darlin’, it’s a wonder you didn’t venture down here sooner.”
“I know, right?” She grinned, as if pleased with herself.
That was when Nash realized he was smiling too. This woman had successfully managed to pull him out of his funk, if however brief. He stared at her in wonder. “You’re amazin’,” he blurted.
She accepted the compliment without response, other than the slight blushing of her cheeks, which only made her even more endearing to him.
“We’re going riding,” Nash decided, and enjoyed the way she perked up. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Ready when you are.”
Nash couldn’t keep the smile from his face. He pushed from the table and she followed suit, taking their dirty plates while he took the half empty glasses to the sink. They hurried to put on their coats and boots and gloves to stave off the crisp air, as it always got colder when atop a horse with the wind in your face.
Nash took the lead to the barn to gather up his riding gear, selecting the double saddle he’d invested in for his rides with Carlene. They’d never had a chance to make use of it, and Nash thought now that it seemed fitting that he break it in with Vivian. It was a memory and experience they could share that wasn’t tainted by a painful past.
Maxine knew what he was up to from the moment she spotted him coming, and she snuffed at him, her breath creating a stream of fog from her nostrils, and her hooves pawed the ground. As Nash saddled her up and climbed into the saddle, he couldn’t help thinking that this was something all three of them needed as he reached down and assisted Vivian into the seat behind him.
Once they were snug up against each other, he gave Maxine a little nudge and she trotted out to pasture, taking the route they’d established long ago when they were just learning to get used to each other.
Now, he dared to think they had developed a comradery, between horse and man, that bordered on friendship. Similar to Vivian and him, he and Maxine still had a ways to go before everything fit into place nice and tight, but they were on their way, and God willing, they would find that slice of peace that seemed to elude them thus far.
“This is wonderful,” Vivian commented as they took a trail through the trees and into a forest that bordered his and Gretta’s property. The trees were mostly bare, a thick blanket of dried leaves wetted down by rain that hadn’t gotten quite cold enough to be snow that gave the air a dank, earthy smell that Nash loved.
The dappled sunlight provided little warmth, but that was okay, because they shared their own with each other.
Maxine whinnied in response to bird calls high up in the sparse canopies and the occasional skittering of rodents on the ground but carried on, enjoying the outing as much as he was.
Let it never be said that there wasn’t a hurt bad enough that couldn’t be soothed or even cured by the healing sights and sounds of nature.
The terrain was, for the most part, smooth, making the ride a slow, steady, relaxing one. They rode with very little talking, just absorbing their surroundings. Recalling something Sylvia had mentioned on their first and only date, Nash had to agree that the winter was top on his list of favorites. But not for his initial reasoning that he could isolate himself from the general public, but because she was right: there was something different in the air this time of year. It was quiet, and there was a curious stillness to everything, as if, aside from the occasional critter flying here or scurrying there, the world had fallen asleep.
Brigadoon. That’s what it reminded him of. It was a favorite movie of his during his adolescence. Ms. Gretta and Pete had introduced him to it, and while he wasn’t much for musicals, that one was a rare exception. Something about the sleepy little town of Brigadoon, rousing from their slumber after centuries spent asleep, before fading into obscurity again had been enchanting. The colors and music and dancing, all of it had mesmerized him as a child. This ride gave him a similar feeling now, and he didn’t want it to end.
If he could just somehow freeze time…
But reality was always waiting. It was inescapable.
They spent nearly two hours circling both properties before finally hanging up the saddle and returning Maxine to her stable for the night and heading inside themselves to warm up.
The cold had sunk in more than he’d realized. Nash built a fresh fire while Vivian made use of the kitchen, finding the canister of hot cocoa he rarely used and boiling a pot of milk on the stove—just the way Ms. Gretta used to make.
“It all feels so surreal,” Vivian commented as they curled up on the couch together in front of the fire. Just to the left sat an old tube television that Nash hardly used. It was turned on, the news playing across the screen on mute. Neither of them was watching it, but it added a false depth in the otherwise empty space while they contemplated the events that had unfolded.
She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. “I can only imagine how you must feel. Gretta was so much more to you. I hardly had any time with her at all in comparison.”
“The time you had together was real. Don’t discount that.”
He didn’t want her feeling g
uilty for feeling. Everyone was entitled to love who they loved and not feel sorry for it. Time didn’t mean anything.
Case in point, Nash and Vivian hardly knew each other, but that first meeting on the side of the road had sealed the deal. They both knew it and resisted it, but it still ended up right there on that couch together, commiserating over a mutual loss while creating bindings to one another that hopefully ran deep.
For Nash, he felt it all the way down where it counted most. He’d already decided he wanted Vivian in his life, to love her with everything he had to give, even if what he had was a little worn and tattered and scarred. Then she showed her depth of character when she stepped up, setting aside her own emotions when Ms. Gretta died in order to make sure he was okay. And now that she was under his roof, he was thinking ahead to a moment when she wouldn’t be there anymore, and he couldn’t envision it.
Ms. Gretta always accused him of being stubborn and denying his feelings. Well, he was going to prove her wrong. He was turning over a new leaf and listening to that voice that struggled so damn hard to climb to the surface only to be tamped back down time and again. No more. He wanted her at his side, day and night, and he wasn’t going to deny it any longer or take no for an answer or waste any more time.
Screw propriety. He’d never been the proprietous type anyway.
“I want you to move in with me,” he told her.
NINETEEN
“I-I…don’t know what to say.” Vivian sat up and turned to face him. Her face was a mask of doubt and confusion and rightfully so. Nash had come out of left field with the statement. “I know I’m being kind of a big baby about not staying there right now, but you don’t have to offer a spare room to me because of it. I just need, like, a day or two to come to terms, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Nash breathed deep and sat forward to join her, setting aside his nearly full mug of hot cocoa. “I don’t want ya out of my hair.” His tone was firm, confident, and straightforward. He didn’t want any more miscommunication between them. The time for playing games was over. “I want you here, with me. In my bed,” he clarified, in case she wasn’t getting it.
Vivian’s pert little mouth opened and closed like a fish, trying to find words.
Nash pressed a finger to her lips. “Lemme make this easy for ya. Say yes.” He removed his finger and waited for her answer.
“We haven’t been together that long. We only just stopped fighting. Don’t you think it’s a little too soon to take it to the next level?”
“Do you? Because I don’ know about you, but I’m not gettin’ any younger, and all I keep comin’ back to is Ms. Gretta’s push to live while I’m alive and to go after what I want and ta stop livin’ in the past.” He took her hands in his and dropped to one knee, which made Vivian’s eyes shoot comically wide. “Vivian Parish,” he began, knowing he was giving her a heart attack and smiling inside because of it, “will you do me the honor of bein’ my girlfriend and livin’ with me so I won’t be a miserable cuss all alone in this big house anymore?”
The breath she held left her on a whoosh. “Ohmigod, I thought…” She glared briefly and a bubble of laughter escaped her. Shaking her head, she said, “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”
Nash felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized just how much he wanted her to stay. “You’ll stay?”
“Well, I don’t really want to go back to that house, so I might as well stay here,” she downplayed.
“The lesser of two evils?”
“Between you and Gretta’s ghost haunting me day and night, yep.”
Nash belted out a laugh that started in his belly and worked its way up. “Come here, darlin’.” Hooking her waist with one arm and grasping her face with the other hand, he pulled her to him and pressed his weight into her, laying them both out on the sofa. He had to get closer, needed that connection again, right now.
She was a live wire beneath him, responding to his every touch in a way that filled Nash with wonder and pride. He was addicted to pleasuring her.
Clasping her breast, he massaged the soft mound of flesh through the Christmas green cashmere sweater that was so soft against his palm it was like touching silk…or the rabbits he used to chase around as a boy.
“Nash,” she moaned against his mouth. “I—”
Whatever she was about to say was cut short by a gentle knock on the front door.
At first, Nash thought to ignore it. Whoever was out there could come back another time. But as he tried to kiss and fondle his girl, the knock came again, and they both craned their necks toward the sound. Thoroughly distracted, Nash abandoned his mission and sat back on his haunches.
“Should I answer it?”
Vivian looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “Probably a good idea.”
Neither of them were quick to move. Finally, whoever stood outside knocked once more and Nash huffed as he stood and shifted his hardened shaft. “Someone better be dead,” he grumbled before catching himself midstride.
Vivian was sitting up, readjusting her clothing, when her gaze shot to him. Understanding passed between them, and with his mood having abruptly gone into the toilet, Nash yanked open the door.
Sylvia’s bright blonde head lifted and she smiled forlornly back at him. “Hey,” she said softly, “heard the news. I’m so sorry for your loss.” She held out a bundle of white daisies packaged in that decorative plastic sleeve that screamed supermarket checkout.
“Thanks.” Nash took the flowers. He knew he should invite her in, but he’d just realized upon seeing her that he’d never updated Sylvia on the change in his situation. She probably still thought they were playing their cat and mouse game with Vivian and Harry—he still couldn’t comprehend what a lady so sweet and lovely saw in that guy.
Her eyes darted past him, and it was obvious she was waiting for him to invite her in. Nash stepped up, filling the doorway with his tall, wide frame. He braced his free hand on the jamb and smiled tightly. “Thanks for stopping by, Syl.”
“Oh, of course.” Her voice was high and cheerful, as if nothing could please her more. “How are you doin’? I was just devastated by the news. I mean, I didn’t know Ms. Gretta as well as you did, but she was a hoot. I’m gonna miss her.” She reached out and clasped his arm, giving it an affectionate squeeze.
“Yeah, it was a blow,” he agreed.
“Is there anythin’ I can do? Are you eatin’ well? I could make dinner,” she offered brightly.
Nash put the brakes on immediately. “I’m eatin’ just fine, Syl. But listen,” he continued, eager to get rid of her, “now’s not a good time.”
Again, her gaze darted past him. Did she have that woman sense thing going on where she could feel he had another woman in his home? “Oh, you got company?” He smiled in answer. “No worries! I can stop by later.”
“Actually, I’m not really up for company right now. You understand.”
Sylvia appeared crestfallen. Her voice dropped to a private whisper. “I wanted to get ya alone so we could discuss our relationship problems.” Her eyes were wide and insistent, as if attempting to force understanding on him.
She didn’t need to try so hard. “I’ve been meanin’ to talk to you about that too.”
Glancing back over his shoulder, Nash caught Vivian’s eyes. She’d been watching intently, and when she looked at him, she mouthed, “Who is that?”
Nash merely said, “I’m gonna step outside for a minute.” Then he did just that.
Closing the door behind him, he held out a hand, indicating that Sylvia join him in one of the white rockers so they could chat.
Appearing nervous, Sylvia was suddenly tight as a clam as she stared back at him.
“You go first,” Nash urged.
“I feel terrible about this…but I can’t be your wing girl anymore.” Nash arched an eyebrow. “I ran into Harry last week and we got ta talkin’. One thing led to another, and…we’re b
ack together!”
The heaviness in Nash’s chest directly tied to the responsibility he’d felt to her for their agreement lifted. “That’s great, Syl.” He bit his tongue on his opinion on her choice of man. “I’m happy for ya.”
“Yeah? Thanks.” Her mood had lifted considerably. She reached out and touched his knee. “I am sorry to pull the rug out from under ya though. I know you were hoping I could help ya with your lady problems. But maybe I can put in a word?”
Nash shook his head. “It won’t be necessary.” Again, her gaze cut past his shoulder to the house, as if she was trying to see through the walls. He confirmed what he suspected she had already guessed. “Vivian and I decided to try again.”
Her entire expression shifted to one of elation and she covered one side of her mouth. “She’s inside?” she hissed conspiratorially.
“She is.”
“Oh. My. Word,” she mouthed. “I’m so happy for ya, Nash. I sure do hope things work out for you.”
“For both of us,” he agreed. While he didn’t like the guy, Nash recognized the need for everyone to have someone to lean on and feel cared for. If that person to Sylvia was Harold, then he would just have to accept it and offer his support as a friend.
“Ms. Gretta sure knows how to play her cards right,” Sylvia commented.
“Mm-hmm.” She’d tried to play them all against each other in an effort to bring them together, and she’d succeeded.
“It’s a shame she’s gone.” Sylvia appeared sad as she reflected. “That woman could have opened a dating website. She’d have been rich.”
“You might be right about that.”
“Ya know, I think she’s single-handedly responsible for half the unions in this town.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised a bit,” Nash conceded. Ms. Gretta’s knack for meddling knew no bounds.
“Well, I’ll get outta your hair and let ya get back to whatever y’all were up to before I interrupted.” She winked as she stood. Nash rose up from the chair and opened his arms for a brief hug. “So, I guess I’ll see ya at the funeral?” Sylvia grimaced, not liking the sound of that any more than Nash did.
Staying Home (Roped by the Cowboy Duet Book 2) Page 13