Chapter 18
Nash’s eyes felt scratchy, and his foot burned from a stomping from a steer. He wanted a shower and bed. He’d known Maggie was at the bachelorette thing that Rory was having but hoped she’d been able to feed his animals. They’d been penned up all day. He also needed to check Monica’s bruise before he went to bed.
The lights of his pickup shone on a rental car. Luna’s rental car.
“What the hell is she doing here?” Getting out, he shut the door and headed for the pen where he saw that his lamp was on.
Opening the gate, he heard no noise so walked inside. She lay on her side, one hand in Monica’s mane, sleeping. The pony was slumbering beside her, as was the duck. If he’d been the type to take pictures, that would certainly make a good one, and likely make him a lot of money.
The woman was playing hell with his thoughts and seeing her cuddling his pony and duck would not be helping that. Dropping down beside her, he found a bottle of champagne leaning against the wall. Lifting it, he saw it was close to empty. Squinting, he took in the decoration. “Women,” he muttered. His book was closed beside her.
“Luna.” Nash ran a finger down her cheek. “Wake up now.” She mumbled something but kept her eyes closed.
“Luna, you need to wake up now.” He pushed that lovely hair behind her shoulders. “Come on.” Monica opened an eye and glared at him.
“I have to work, we’ve discussed this. And you got that stone bruise, not me,” he whispered.
Luna opened her eyes.
“Hey, you.”
Her eyes went to the duck and pony, then back to him.
“I-I fell asleep.”
“Must have.” He helped her to her feet. She staggered.
“You drink all that by yourself?”
She nodded, eyes unfocused.
“I don’t.” She shook her head to clear it.
“Drink?”
She nodded.
“But you decided to cut loose with Monica and her duck?”
“They’re safe.”
“Safe?”
“They don’t want anything from me,” she said in that slow, concise way people who thought they were sober but weren’t talked.
“Like money and a picture with you?”
“That. An-And other stuff.”
Alcohol had clearly made her chattier.
“Come on, I’ll take you back to the lodge.”
“No.” She grabbed his arm. “I want to stay here. Give me a blanket.”
“You are not sleeping here with Monica and her duck.”
“They’ll see me like this if I go to the lodge. Someone will take a picture.”