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I whispered my greatest worry. “What if I hurt Nash’s feelings by leaving his house?”
Jenna stepped out of my space and waved her hand. “I got this covered. Don’t worry.”
“But—”
Nash popped his head in through the open bathroom door. He smiled when he saw me, then stepped into the room, appreciation burning in his eyes. “You look gorgeous.”
I swallowed. As much as I wanted Nash, I’d also realized I needed a bit of distance from my breakup with Alistair—to make sure I was making the decision with both my head and heart.
When was the last time I’d let my heart decide anything?
With Nash.
My gaze flashed over to Jenna, and my heart felt like a sparrow, flapping its wings to escape my chest.
“Mama Grace called,” Jenna said as she headed back into the bedroom. I trailed behind her, helping as she began putting clothes back in the bags. “She expects you two for dinner tonight.” She paused, then raised her face, keeping it neutral as she met Nash’s darkening gaze. “And for Aya to stay with her while you’re ‘courting.’”
Nash grimaced before he turned toward me, a look of absolute longing on his face. “Guess we better put these bags back in your car to take to the ranch,” he said before heaving a heartfelt sigh. “Else Mama’s going to box my ears.”
“And not give you any pie,” Jenna added.
“Yeah, that’s worse,” Nash said, his tone morose.
7
Nash
“Are you worried?” Aya asked, those big, long-lashed eyes trained on my face. She tugged at the ends of her hair, a sure sign she was concerned.
I had to smile because I’d missed the gesture. I’d missed her. Having her next to me settled something vital.
“Only that I have to share you with Mama Grace,” I told her.
“You’re not sharing me, Nash. And that wasn’t what I meant.”
I jutted my jaw. “I know. Look, if you’re ready for whatever the meanies throw at you, how could I not be?”
“That doesn’t really answer my question,” she said, exasperation making her scowl. “And how come the meanies are only mean to me? And who calls them meanies? Nash, are you going soft on me?”
I narrowed my eyes and scoffed. “It’s bad juju to whale on the paps—you know that.” Maybe she didn’t. But I stood by this theory. “And Nash Porter doesn’t have a soft bone, or appendage, in his body. It’s bad juju to suggest otherwise.”
Aya wrinkled her nose. “TMI, Superstar.” She placed her hand on my arm, pulling my triceps to her chest.
I gritted my teeth at the feel of her soft flesh. My mind spiraled back to being in high school. I wanted her as much—no, more—than I had then, which made thinking clearly a challenge. I used my aching, now-wrapped hand to tug her palm down to snuggle against my good one.
“I am worried,” I admitted, trying to turn my focus away from how good her gorgeous tits felt against me. “I don’t want the paps to scare you away. Hence my reason for not spreading bad juju.” Tension lashed up my back, settling with painful tightness in my shoulders. Would Aya run again? Part of me was waiting for it. She might not see it that way, but she’d run from me before, and now she’d run from Lord Dipshit back to me.
I liked this direction better, but it didn’t break her pattern of running.
My head of security drove my car while Hugh sat next to him. Steve had stayed at the house, not interested in animals or the media circus Aya and I together would unleash.
“What should I expect?” Aya asked.
“Cameras,” I said with a sigh. “And questions. About you, us.”
“Well, I did live here before, so I’m aware of how often you were photographed then.”
“It’s worse now,” I mumbled. Not that I wanted to tell her, but I also couldn’t lie.
