Page 81 of Riding the High

“You’re very tanned,” CeCe says from beside me.

“I’ve been out in the garden with Mabel a lot,” I remind her. “My skin is always sort of a little golden, even in the dead of winter.”

“Ugh. I’ve always been jealous of that. Seriously though, you look relaxed and happy,” CeCe says, gripping her chin as though she’s a detective and looking to the sky. “I wonder if that has anything to do with my brother. You know, the one you’ve always had a crush on and are nowlivingwith.”

I nudge her shoulder with mine.

“This meat’s ready for Sarge.” Nash tells us as he picks up the platter of steaks he was just seasoning.

We all stand. It’s an unwritten Ashby rule. The griller never grills alone.

Nash’s declaration couldn’t have come at a better time, saving me from discussing mine and Cole’s situation with CeCe. Good thing too because, at this point, I have no idea what totell her. That I’m having incredible sex with the man that I’ve secretly been friends with for years? The only man on earth that truly has my back? That I’m terrified that what we’re doing will somehow change everything? But that I’m in too deep to stop? And, oh yeah, that we’re married?Thank the universe for meat needing a grill.

We make our way into the yard. The Ashbys’ patio is wide and seats at least twenty. It’s always been a hive of activity, and Wyatt and Jo used to regularly host dinners here when we were younger.

It still somehow doesn’t feel complete without Wyatt nattering at Jo, or going back and forth with the boys. Even the fact that Waylon Jennings or Willie Nelson isn’t playing on a night like this serves as a giant reminder that he’s gone. When I look over at Cole, I see him glancing around the yard and sense that he feels the loss of his dad in this moment too. I make my way over to sit down beside him and squeeze his knee under the table. He looks at me, and the connection of his eyes with mine drowns out the chatter around us.

“So, y’all are going to help with the festival this year,” CeCe tells us, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I assume we don’t get a choice?” Cole replies with a grin.

“Where I come from, that was always called beingvolun-told.” Dean says as he sips his drink in the evening sun. I grin at him. He’s such a cool old man in his golf shirt, sunglasses and a fedora-style hat. I wish my own dad was as laidback as he is.

Nash chuckles. “Welcome to my life, old fella.”

CeCe backhands him.

“Ow … You didn’t wait for me to add how much I love it,” Nash backpedals, kissing CeCe down her bare arm.

“You’re planning a festivalanda wedding at the same time?” Ivy asks. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Nash reaches behind his back and into his bag and fetchesa binder that he drops onto the table. It’s about two inches thick and chockful of all sorts of papers.

“This is for the festival,” he deadpans. “The wedding version is more than double this size.”

“Jesus, CeCe Rae,” Cole scoffs.

CeCe shrugs. “I’m nothing if not organized. The wedding will be over in less than a month. And then I’ll have lots of time to focus on the festival.”

“Well, I’ll be either very pregnant or a new mom, so you’ll need to have some grace with me,” Ivy says. “If it’s option A, I’m open to help any way that keeps me off my swollen feet.”

CeCe nods. “You can work the ticket counter if you’re still pregnant.” She flashes Ivy a grin. “And if you’re a new mama by then and feel up to it, you can just show up and parade my new niece or nephew around.”

CeCe rests her chin in her palm before turning to me. “We’ve got a few big events lined up already, but we want to book one more thing that will bring people in. Whatever it ends up being, I’ll have you and Liv help with it. And you can both make sure the hockey players know where their dressing rooms are this year when they play the townies. We have some new faces this time around. Chris got permission to play.”

She talks at a hundred miles per hour as she takes notes for her binder. This woman is a machine.

Nash lets out a laugh. “Last year, Ginger just used that to pick her next victim. Pretty sure I heard you went out afterwards with Rod Bordeaux.”

Rod did, in fact, take me out. He also took me home and asked me to call him “The Moose” during sex because that was his hockey nickname. It was weird. I did not get off that night.

“Yep … you don’t need to remind me,” I say, feeling Cole’s eyes burn into me. I lean back in my chair and sneak a glance at him. He’s doing that thing he does when he’s jealous—jawset and flexing like he’s trying real hard not to say something he might regret.

“Back in my day, if we wanted to make money, we hosted a car wash or a wet t-shirt contest.” Jo winks at me and CeCe from across the table. “But I guess that’s not allowed in this day and age.”

I smile at her. “Sex sells,” I say, sipping my bourbon. I look beyond Jo to check Mabel is still out in the yard playing with Harley. After spending every day with her for the last few weeks, it almost feels like second nature to check on her now.

“This isn’t the eighties anymore. But you have a good idea there, Mama …” CeCe says, tapping her pen in front of her.

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