You’re horny.
Damn it! You’re eager.
Glancing his combative reflection in the mirror, he muttered, “You’re a fucking idiot, that’s what you are.”
Bee greeted him at the door with a knowing smile and a glass of iced tea. “Back so soon? Nash Harris, you never cease to amaze me.”
“Hey, Miss Bee.” He grinned, accepting the cold glass. “I’m here to pick up Ember. She about ready?”
Surprise flashed across her plump petite features. “She’s not here.”
A good ol’ fashion round of rejection twisted in his gut, quickly erasing the smile from his face and adding yet another layer of confusion to his internal struggle.
When he didn’t respond, Bee’s eyes softened as she continued. “Let me get her on the radio. Pump went down on a well early this morning. They’ve been at it all day.”
The muscle near his jaw ticked. “Na, that’s all right. Just let her know I stopped—”
Holding up her index finger, she gave him a pleasant, persistent smile and pulled a radio from her waist belt. “Monty, you got Ember right there with you?”
Nash was smart enough to know when he was being stood up and he didn’t plan on sticking around to feel the sting of rejection. He took a swig of tea and walked across the porch, setting the glass on a small iron table between two rocking chairs.
“Yes ma’am, she’s right here,” Mr. Montgomery informed.
“Can you let her know that Nash is here to pick her up?”
“Alrighty. We’re just finishing up.” A muffled commotion filtered through the speaker. Ember’s panicked voice reverberated through the radio. “Shit! What time is it? Tell him not to leave! I’m on my way!”
“No problem, hon.”
A brittle coldness stabbed at his subconscious right before trampling ruthlessly through his pride. He could feel himself shutting down. “I should go. I’m sure she’ll be tired from the long day in the heat.”
Bee spared him the sympathetic pity glance, saving him from further embarrassment. She laid a small hand on his shoulder and gave it a couple of soft taps. The innocent gesture sparked a flood of memories from when he was a young boy.
“That girl has endured enough disappointment over the last few weeks to last a lifetime. I don’t think you want to add to that, do you?” Tone clipped with authority and protectiveness, Bee didn’t bother waiting for his reply. She’d made her point crystal clear. “Why don’t you drive on out and meet them at the barn? I’m sure that’s where they’re headed.”
Gathering his wits and tarnished ego, Nash tipped his head and sauntered toward his truck. He glanced over his shoulder, acknowledging, “I see you’ve taken quite a liking to her.”
“I don’t ‘spect that really surprises you, now does it?”
“Not one bit, Miss Bee. You always did like taking in strays.”
Fine lines surrounding her bright eyes deepened when she smiled. “Boy, you were never a stray.”
“I call it like I see it.”
“Nash.” Her left brow perked, and contentment flickered in her eyes. “It’s nice to see you coming around again.”
Sliding behind the wheel, he tossed her a wink and a wave. The engine started with a kick before easing into a low rumble as he cruised toward the barn. Nash pulled his truck beneath the shade of an ancient old ash tree, took a seat on the tailgate of his Chevy, and retrieved the vibrating phone from his pocket.
Randy – I’m not getting very far down here, Boss.
Nash – Throw a few Benjamins on the table. See if that puts a boot up their ass.
Randy – I’ll give it a whirl but don’t think I’ll get anywhere.
Nash – I don’t care if it takes ten grand. I want the results. Get it handled.
His eyes flicked upward spotting a trail of dust barreling down the dirt road in the distance.
Nash - Gotta go. We’ll talk tomorrow.
As the vehicle got closer, he saw two heads bobbing up and down every time a tire hit a rut in the road. Each tiny muscle of his face tensed, eyes narrowing behind the lenses of his sunglasses. Volatile heat zipped through his veins.
Nash pressed his palms to the hot steel beneath his hips, curling his fingers over the edge of the tailgate.
Catching a glint of Travis’s cocky mug through the windshield, a mere eighteen inches between him and Ember, set him on edge. As far as Nash was concerned, she could’ve been riding in the bed of the truck and it still would’ve been too close.
A cloud of dust lowered over him as the vehicle came to an abrupt stop.
Chapter 14
Ember
No one ever wins when the goal is to settle the score.
“Can’t this thing go any faster?” Ember asked, uncontrollable exhilaration grew in the pit of her stomach.
“You gotta hot date or something?” Travis piped, unaware Nash waited at the house.
There was no need for her to reply. Nash’s white and turquoise Chevy came into view as they crested the top of a small hill.
Travis tromped on the gas shooting a large rooster of dirt out from behind the tires. Her hand flew to the dash, searching for something to hang onto. Her entire upper body bounced wildly as the tires hit every rut in the road.
“Harris, huh?” Travis bit through gritted teeth.
Ember caught a glimpse of his harsh profile. Tension, strong and unrelenting, filled the small space between them. She didn’t owe Travis an explanation or an excuse. He was an employee. Whatever he was hoping for wasn’t going to happen.
Keeping her cool, she gave the only answer he warranted. “Yes.”
Irritation rolled off him in waves. He was drowning in it.
“Figures.”
Ember knew she should’ve let it go right there and then, but she didn’t stand a chance in hell of hiding her appalled reaction. “What is that supposed to mean?”
His lip tugged into a snide, arrogant snarl of sorts. Twisting his neck, Travis turned and glared at her, clipping, “Means nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
“It means—” He offered a small insignificant shrug. “There isn’t anything Nash Harris does that surprises me. He gets whatever he wants and he’s willing to do whatever or whoever it takes to get it.”
The sting of his arrogance and insinuation hit her full force. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, to fuck off, that he was jealous, but the surety in his words robbed her of any vigilance. Ember couldn’t squash the sick feeling starting to churn in her gut.
Shaking her head in disagreement, she whispered, “He wouldn’t.”
“I’m sure it was…special, but you have no idea what he’s capable of.” A haunted coldness arced in his voice. Travis hit the brakes, engulfing Nash in a cloud of dust and dirt before coming to a stop.
Nash didn’t budge.
Not an inch.
“That wasn’t cool, Travis,” she advised sternly, climbing out of the truck. “Don’t do it again.”
“Yes ma’am,” he countered, his tone equally as agitated.
The excitement she’d felt just moments before vanished, sucked dry by Travis’s words of warning. Suddenly, she felt exhausted as if a world of heaviness landed on her shoulders.
Until her eyes swung toward Nash.
A shaky, uneven breath bounced in her throat as her eyes inched up his body, analyzing his tall, muscular form. Agitation clung to him like the humid Texas air. His posture was guarded, legs crossed at the ankles and even though his eyes were hidden beneath a pair of dark lenses, she sensed the burn of his unyielding stare.
Flicking a wrist, he brushed the layer of dust from his blue button-down shirt.
He looked pissed.
Jealous.
Crossing the short distance between them, her heart fell into a rhythmic thunder. Hints of leather and bergamot floated across a soft breeze, filling her senses with carnal stimuli.
Every muscle running down the length of his arm flexed as he curled h
is fingers over the edge of the tailgate, pushing himself to a standing position. He drew a deep breath through his nose, expanding his broad chest even wider, signaling his size and status.
Confidence and power swallowed up the space around him, leaving zero room for any other male in a hundred-mile radius.
The man was all-consuming.
Clutching her by the hip, he captured her in a firm embrace. His grip, claiming in its force, startled her at first, but any concerns were quickly lost to the pleasant shockwave spindling through her limbs.
“Sorry, I’m late.” She released a quiet gasp feeling his fingers span the small of her back, drawing her even closer, until she slinked against his muscular frame. “Wait. I’m…I’m all dirty.”
“Don’t care,” he managed before dropping his lips to hers, capturing her in a deep kiss. His mouth began a subtle assault, pressing and probing, the intimate act ticking all the buttons he’d located the night before.
A lush heaviness gathered force at her groin.
Ember didn’t want to stop, but Travis stood a mere few feet away and even though she didn’t know anything about their history, the two men definitely had one.
And it wasn’t pleasant.
Attempting to keep an ounce of professionalism, she twisted her head breaking their connection, her eyes awkwardly darting to the side. Tension faded from his strained limbs, but disapproval still lingered in the notch between his brows.
“Still up for dinner?”
“Definitely.”
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he whispered in her ear.
Let’s? Yes, let’s.
Lips pressed together in a firm line, she nodded.
Nash scarcely acknowledged Travis’s presence, offering a curt, “White” as he ushered Ember to the passenger side of his truck.
“Harris,” the loathing tone reciprocated equally.
Ember tipped her head toward Travis. “Thanks for the lift.”
“My pleasure.”
Those two little words hit their intended mark like a bomb dropping from the belly of an aircraft.
Nash appeared to ignore the dig, but anger cut through his unyielding stance with a razor-sharp edge. Recovering quickly, he patted her on the bottom while assisting her into the truck, the possessive act far more than a flirtatious gesture.
“Was that really necessary?” she asked after he slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door.
“What?” he questioned innocently.
“Don’t give me that. I’m not sure if that kiss was meant for me or him. The two of you obviously share some sort of animosity. Seriously, what’s the riff between you and Travis?”
Though he tried to play it cool, Nash had a long fuse and it was still burning. He kept his attention on the road, hands strangling the steering wheel, unsuccessfully hiding his annoyance.
“The kiss was for you. And let’s just say—” After a long hesitation, he disclosed, “—me and Travis have shared more than a little animosity.”
“Oh. Ohhh,” she said, eyes blinking.
“Our grudge goes way back.”
“How far back?”
“It’s not important. Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
His words of assurance fell on deaf ears. Ember scowled, staring out the windshield processing the situation, internally debating if their issues were truly any of her concern.
“I feel like I’ve been picked up and dropped into the middle of a bitter feud between the Hatfields and McCoys.”
“I’m not putting you in the middle of anything.”
“True but seeing that he’s my employee and you’re my—whatever it is you and I are right now—I think I deserve to know and I’d prefer to ask you rather than him.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. Nash drove in silence for a full minute before clearing the agitation from his throat. “Growing up, we competed for the top spot in every sport. Plus, he dated my little sister our senior year. Right before sleeping with my girlfriend.”
Understanding began to sink in. Her head bobbed up and down in a slow, mechanical affirmation. However, bewilderment still littered her brain. “But, that had to be more than ten years ago. You’re grown men. I mean, at what point do you just let it go?”
Pulling up to the ranch, he removed his sunglasses and placed them in a small compartment built into the dash of his truck. His shimmering blues skated all over her face, tension caged behind layers of heat.
“I’m thirty-two so it was almost fifteen years, and we may be grown men, but we’re still Texans, sweetheart.”
“My mom always says that holding a grudge is like letting someone live rent-free inside your head.”
“I don’t hold grudges. I just remember the facts.” Nash rested an arm along the top of the bench seat, gently hooking a finger around her ponytail and letting the hair fall over her shoulder. Cutting any further inquiry, he asked, “You hungry?”
Any judgements revolving around the men’s history was lost to her present state of mind and the sexy grin lurking at his lips. “I’m twenty-six in case you’re wondering and yes, I’m starving.”
“Good. Let’s get you in the shower so we can get out of here.”
There’s that word again. Let’s.
Ember swung her eyes to meet his. “You plan on getting in with me?”
“I’m fairly certain we’ll both starve if I join you in the shower.”
The burn of his sensual warning extended all the way across the truck hitting her like a bolt of lightning.
She toyed, “You’re right. What was I thinking?”
His grin broadened to a full-blown haughty smile. “You were thinking of how good I’d be in the shower.”
When Nash asked Ember if she’d like to stay with him in Fort Worth, she gladly tossed a few necessities into her tote. Both insisted the decision was based purely on convenience, so he wouldn’t have to make the long drive back to the ranch.
It has absolutely nothing to do with waking up next to his gorgeous face.
The restaurant Grace was touted as Fort Worth’s chic spot for sophisticated dishes, a breathtaking wine list, and outstanding service. It was also less than a block from Nash’s high-rise apartment. After leaving his truck at Harris Tower parking garage, they strolled the tree-lined streets bursting with restaurants, bars, and silly good shopping.
Ember tucked her hands into the pockets of her mod halter jumpsuit as Nash escorted her inside and past the crowded bar. His palm rested on the small of her bare back, fingertips dipping just beyond the silky material, curling around the small of her waist.
The weight of his hand felt maddeningly delicious.
Crisp white linens and two empty glasses topped the last vacant table at the back of the restaurant beside a large picture window. As he pulled a chair from the table, she glanced around the room. “Are you sure we can sit here? Maybe it’s for—”
“I’m sure,” he insisted as an attractive dark-haired man approached them.
“Ah, good evening Mr. Harris. It’s good to see you again.” The two men exchanged a cordial handshake before Nash lowered into his seat. Bottle of wine in hand, the man turned his attention to Ember. “My name is Jax. I’m the director of Grace and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Would you care for a glass of Mr. Harris’s favorite, Keenan Cabernet, or would you prefer to look at the drink menu?”
Though Ember enjoyed a nice glass of wine occasionally, she certainly wouldn’t consider herself a connoisseur. Feeling a bit out of her element, she glanced at Nash for recommendation.
“Their Dirty Margarita is supposed to be a must try, but the wine is exceptional.”
“I’ll have the Cabernet.”
Jax poured the wine and set the bottle on the table before disappearing into the crowd. The hip atmosphere of the restaurant embodied the city’s lively energy, yet the soft glow of the ambient candle centered on the table set a sultry mood.
“I take it you come here often.”
“It’s close to home.”
Her attention drifted to the bar, casually noting the majority of the seats occupied by attractive women.
She lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip of the dark ruby liquid. Their eyes connected over the rim. Sizzling awareness coursed through her veins.
“Perfect establishment for a serial dater.”
The amused gleam twinkling in his eyes was breathtaking.
“The chef is remarkable and as you can see it has an unparalleled level of hospitality.”
“Umm hmm.”
Digressing from the subject, he asked, “So, what made you want to be a yoga instructor?”
“Oh, gosh. Yoga’s something that’s been engrained in my life since I was a little girl. My mom owns a studio and I pretty much grew up there, so the transition to teaching came naturally.” She mused for a moment, fiddling with the white napkin under her drink, reminiscing childhood memories. “I used to dream of owning my own coastal retreat like the advertisements in the back of the magazines laying around my mom’s studio. A secluded sanctuary where you could come to unplug, reconnect with the body, and fill the spirit.”
“Unplugging is unfamiliar to me.”
“Then you probably need it the most.”
“Touché.” He captured her hand, giving a little jiggle to her fingers.
“Growing up, my mother encouraged me to try everything. She would say, ‘Life is full of good and bad experiences, you simply need to pick the good things in life to linger on.’ I think you’d enjoy it more than you think.”
“I think that wine is getting to you,” he teased, burying a wide smile behind the rim of his wine glass. “So, your mom’s a yoga instructor as well?”
“Yes.” Ember wavered. Not everyone in western society was comfortable with or understood her mother’s profession. “She works with couples.”
“Couples? Like a yoga therapist?”
“I’m sure some consider it therapy, but she specializes in tantric yoga.”
His brow perked with interest. “Sex?”
Ember’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling at the typical misinterpretation. Taking another sip of wine, she confirmed, “No, not sex. Tantric yoga is extremely sensual, but it’s much more than that.”
Catching Ember (Buckle Up Series Book 1) Page 16