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How did West know Nash better than he knew himself?
“The critics are ripping her apart,” West said. “They say she lacks a certain edge.” He snickered, making Nash’s stomach twist with resentment. “I blame her manager, of course. There are ways to make your client seem more… interesting—that’s probably why she’s performing at Lynch’s tonight.”
Nash’s heart lurched. It actually lurched. A part of him was surprised that he felt so intensely about her when he never had about anyone else before. He could barely admit that he’d missed her eyes, and now his heart was lurching at the thought of her in pain, and then—if he was being honest—at possibly seeing her. Nash hadhorriblyunderestimated the depth of his feelings.
Maybe he was just homesick; maybe he was mixing up his thoughts of her with how much he missed Harvest Ranch. Now that he’d been ripped away from his hometown, everything about it felt sacred; Emily was especially so. He never stood a chance with her, but her safety was an entirely different matter. She might be a new transplant to Harvest Ranch, and yet she represented everything about it—her innocence, freshness, even her down-to-earth values and gentle strength.
He tried to gather his wits to face his brother. He feigned a bored look, knowing West would use anything else to his advantage. Sad, but true. “What about her brother?” Nash asked.
“River won’t be there. He’s with Liv until the baby comes.”
Nash gulped. Those fireworks at the ranch with his brother would have to wait. A surge of adrenaline tightened every muscle in his body, and he cut off all further reservations of attending this party from reaching his brain. Nash was going. He needed to protect her. “Give me five minutes,” he said. West watched him dubiously. “What?” Nash growled defensively.
“Fifteen, at least. I’m not going with a raggedy scarecrow. You need to make an impression tonight.”
It was true, though Nash doubted West knew the real reason why.
