Kenzi reached for Nash’s hand and gave him a grateful smile. He threaded their fingers together but didn’t smile in return.
Raquel said an unladylike curse that would have gotten her mouth washed out with soap had their mother been alive to hear it, threw her arms in the air, and stormed out. Lunette hooked her purse strap over her shoulder and followed, muttering something about a mini bar in the limo.
Neither of them said goodbye.
As soon as the elevator dinged shut, Harrison pointed at their clasped hands. “You can cut that out.”
Kenzi stared at their hands, Nash’s thick fingers dwarfing her delicate ones. “Why are you so testy, Harrison? We got the vote we needed and I’ve got time to save Grandpa’s company.”
Harrison jutted out his chin. “I hope that’s the real goal here. Don’t get too comfy together.”
“We aren’t.” Kenzi disentangled their hands. “This is all part of the plan to make people think our marriage is more than it is.”
“I’ll bet it is.” He balled his hands into fists and leaned across the desk. “And you agreed to get up close and personal?”
“It was my idea.” Kenzi felt the need to place herself between Nash and Harrison. Harrison’s breath came out heavy and loud, like a bull ready to charge. They’d had several bulls at the dairy. All of them were placed in separate pens far from one another and far from the herd. Grandpa wouldn’t let her near them, but one time she’d snuck over to the largest bull’s corral. Thunder and Lightning was his name, and he had a huge ring in his nose, snot dripping to the sawdust at his feet. His eyes were rimmed in red and when they connected with hers, her voice fled in fear. She was fine that day, the iron bars doing their job, but she wondered if Nash would fare as well with Harrison.
Nash’s eyes hardened, and he too took on a dangerous edge. Only he wasn’t like a bull, angry at the world and ready to charge for the slightest infraction. No, he was more like a panther—calculating and merciless.
Kenzi stepped in front of Nash, her back to Harrison. Like the bull, he would stay on his side of the fence—er, desk. “Thank you for voting for me.” Her words cracked through the tension.
“You’re welcome.” Nash shifted and got to his feet. “How about dinner out tonight to celebrate?”
“That sounds great.” Kenzi retrieved her purse from beside the chair.
Harrison stacked papers and folders. “You’ve got one month until the vote.”
“I know. I’ll make the best of it.” Kenzi moved around the desk to hug him goodbye. “Thank you for everything, Harrison. If you hadn’t helped, I would have buried my fatherandhis legacy today.”
Harrison melted, and his hug was warm and comforting. “Good luck. Call me if you need anything.” He looked across the room at Nash, who waited by the door. “Annulments are my specialty.”
Kenzi playfully smacked him on the arm, earning her a boyish smile from her favorite cousin.
She passed Nash at the door, expecting his hand to meet her lower back and guide her through like it had dozens of times that day, but the warmth never came. He tucked his hands in his pockets at the elevator and then left two feet of space between them in the car.
Kenzi should have been relieved that she didn’t have to tell him to back off, but she missed his touch. Throughout the day, the warmth of his hand or the steadiness of his arm as she clung to him got her through. “Thanks again for the vote.”
Nash stared out the window. “Just doing my job.”
She turned her face away, not wanting him to see the play of emotions as they ran through her. Of course it was just a job for him. He was a professional husband—not even a friend. His attention was all for show, a way to pad his résumé.
Her appetite fled. “I’m not really hungry. I’d like to go home. You’re welcome to take the car and get something to eat if you’d like.”
“I think I will.” Nash nodded and relayed the change of plans to the driver.
He didn’t touch her for the rest of the ride home, and the driver opened her door, negating the need for Nash to help her out of the car. As the tires turned, taking Nash back to the city, Kenzi hugged herself tight, feeling empty and cold. She should have been celebrating the fact that she’d accomplished the first step in her journey to become CEO. Instead, the victory rang hollow.
“Monday will be better,” she told herself. Monday was a great day for putting things behind and moving forward. By Monday, Raquel’s anger would have boiled out and there would be new challenges to face.
Monday would be Nash’s first day on the job.
She’d never looked forward to a Monday so much in all her life.
