“Perfect. You can come help with roundup too.” He grins and reaches for the door again.
I karate-chop at his hand, and he yelps.
“No wakey!” I press my back against the door and raise my eyebrows at Max, daring him to try again.
A rush of air meets my back as the door flies open, and I stumble backward. Nash catches me under my arms as I fall back against his chest.
“Oh, look, heisnaked,” Max drawls.
“What—” I sputter as I turn my head to the side and realize that my cheek is now pressed against a bare chest. I swallow slowly and turn back to look at Max with wide eyes.
“What is going on here?” Nash asks in a rough, sleepy voice. I canhearhis heart beating.
I move to step away from him, so I’m not plastered against his chest like a creep, but he slips an arm aroundme and presses a large hand flat against my stomach, pulling me back. My breath catches as he simply holds me against him, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
My gaze snaps back to Max. I thought we weren’t going to pretend out here. But maybe he plans on pretending for the ranch manager. I should have thought to ask.
I think playing pretend might be the death of me. Because I like it when Nash holds me.
“Max, why are you menacing Magnolia?”
Max grins at both of us. “I was just trying to wake you up. She wouldn’t let me come in. Said you needed your beauty sleep.”
“I did not say that!” I exclaim. “You were going to wake him up after a late night!”
“And I succeeded too,” Max says with a chuckle.
Nash laughs with him, and I tilt my head back to look at his face. “I’m sorry. I was trying to let you sleep.”
Nash shakes his head. “I heard Max come thundering up the stairs. Good grief. Sounded like a herd of elephants coming for my room.”
I press my lips together at that observation. That means I was one of those elephants he heard thundering up.
“What was so important that you had to show up this early and scare Magnolia?” Nash demands.
Max doesn’t seem put off by the gruff voice as he just crosses his arms over his chest and smiles at both of us. He completely ignores Nash’s question and instead says, “She makes better coffee than you do.”
Nash taps his index finger that’s resting against my stomach. “Is that so?”
I grasp the finger to stop the tapping. I’m ridiculously ticklish, and his mindless tapping might make me scream.I stare down at his hand and the difference in our finger sizes. His are literally three times the size of mine. I didn’t know that was possible. Granted, I have small hands.
Charlie and I are forever lamenting our hand sizes. She claims she has “working man hands” and that mine are half her size.
“I have horses saddled up and ready for roundup today,” Max explains.
“Alexander called you, didn’t he?”
“Sure did. I have three horses ready.”
Nash finally releases me and steps past me into the hall. He’s barefoot, wearing a pair of athletic shorts. He squints at the brighter light. “Why so early?”
“I slept in.”
Nash mutters something under his breath, then turns to me. “Sorry you had to deal with this horrible person, who believes mornings are a great time to get things done.”
“You would love my roommate. She’s always getting up early,” I grumble, referring to Charlie.
Personally, I’m one hundred percent with Nash on this one. Nobody should have to speak to another human before eight a.m. It should be a law.
