“They’re just doing business,” the belligerent beauty told him. She snatched up an envelope from the desk, and holding it firmly, she marched for the door to the back room like she was merely taking care of business. Before he could get out another warning, she wrenched it open.
She gasped.
Why didn’t she listen to him?
Lynch’s arms were around the lady in red, and yelling out, Lynch scrambled back into the shadows moments before Nash spied the lady’s matching red lipstick all over that idiot’s face. “Close the door,” Lynch snarled.
Nash couldn’t help his snort of laughter this time. Lynch’s real employee—if that’s who she was—should’ve spared her eyes. Now, neither shenorNash would be able to get the image of her boss kissing his “assistant” out of their minds. “Told you,” Nash said to her with a wink. “You never should’ve opened that door.” He pushed it shut with his elbow.
Swinging around, the woman in gold put her hand to her mouth. She looked like she was going to be sick.
Nash straightened in alarm. Sure, seeing Lynch kissing some wild haired flirt was bad, but it wasn’t anything worse than what he’d seen on the dance floor at Mo’s. “You okay?”
She shook her head, rushing to a potted plant. Falling to her knees, she puked into the leaves. Nash’s stomach lurched in surprise. He rushed over, his hand going to her back. “Hey, are you okay?” he repeated. She clearly wasn’t. She dropped the envelope to clutch at her stomach. “Let me help you,” he said.
“Don’t touch me,” she cried out helplessly.
He didn’t know what to do. His momma taught him to be a gentleman, but she clearly didn’t want his help. Tears ran down her eyes as she tried to hold her own hair back, her other hand clutched to the pot. She gagged again.
She didn’t object when Nash swept back her dark curls while she unloaded her dinner, maybe her lunch too. He ineffectually rubbed at her back, at a loss on how to make her feel better.
She breathed out heavily, wiping at her mouth. “I-I’m pregnant,” she whispered.
He barely caught that, but that would explain it. Liv had been a walking food dispenser too. She probably still was.
“Cadence?”
Lynch had silently crept out of the back room while Nash wasn’t paying attention. Turning, Nash noticed Lynch’s “assistant” rush the other way in her high heels.
“You’re pregnant?” Lynch asked. So he’d overheard that, huh? Lynch leaned down, clasping her shoulder. He arched a brow at Nash. “Excuse us a moment.”
Nash dropped Cadence’s soft hair. Was this Lynch’s kid then? And he was kissing some other chick? Unbelievable!
Cadence bit her lip, her eyes going to Nash in crushed embarrassment. Her hands went back to the envelope as if she was trying to pretend that nothing had happened—that simple move probably wrenched at his heart more than anything, and yet, he could tell that she hated that there were witnesses to her pain. It was probably time to make himself scarce. Getting involved in other people’s domestic disputes was never a good idea, especially when the woman obviously wanted him gone.
“I think you have something you need to tell me,” she told Lynch, rubbing a hand against her eyes.
And that was his signal to back off. Nash stood, needing something to rid himself of his suddenly dark mood. Fireworks wouldn’t actually do it, only Emily’s smile.
He stalked out into the hall. Forget the money; he was getting out of Nashville as soon as he could. The only thing keeping him here anymore was Emily.
If he left everything in the dust, he still had to make sure that she’d be okay.