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“And appearances are everything, after all.” He lifted her into his arms.
“Yesh,” she whispered loudly.
“Must be hard work to always be on your game.
“En some,” she muttered, which he took for “and then some.” She then pushed her nose into his neck.
“What are you doing?” he asked, walking into his cabin.
“Smell good.”
“I smell of body odor and animal.”
She sniffed him again. “It’s good. Not aftershaveish.”
“Aftershaveish?”
She gulped suddenly. “Ah, Nash.”
“Luna.”
“I-I don’t feel so good.”
He had absolutely no reason to laugh, and yet he did. His day had been long and brutal, and all he wanted was a shower and bed. But instead, he had a woman in his space that needed help. Not just any woman, but Luna of the fine ass McKinley.
“Is your head spinning, and do you feel sick?”
She nodded.
He took her into his bathroom and lowered her to her feet. She rushed to lift the lid on the toilet, then threw up in it.
Nash pulled her hair back from her head, then when she was done, he helped her to her feet. Flushed the toilet, then washed her face.
“S-Sorry.”
“Everyone has to let go at some stage. My luck that it had to be with my pony and her duck.”
Tears started to track silently down her cheeks.
“Hey, I was only kidding.”
She looked up at him, eyes solemn and just a bit bloodshot. Something in his chest moved.
“I’m uptight, Nash. Th-Those women fink it.”
Aw hell, she was one of those drunks. Ford was like this. A few drinks, and he wanted to bare his soul.
“What women?”
“Hen p-party women.”
“Nah. They like you or you wouldn’t have been there.”
“Really?” She looked up at him, her blue eyes hopeful.
“Yes. You have sick on your dress.”
She tried to look down but staggered back.
