He leaned against the counter behind her, watching her. A delightful pastime lately.
"Don't you have work to do?" she said without turning around.
"No, I wanted to ask you something."
She glanced over her shoulder. "What?"
"Will you go to the auction with me day after tomorrow?"
"Me?" She turned, water dripping off her sponge. She immediately tossed it into the sink and wiped up the mess. "Why?" Oh, this shouldn't make her so nervous.
"Because I want you to see it, understand what I do."
"I know what you do." She turned back to the sink. "You talked of nothing but this ranch while you were in Georgia working for that stock brokerage." She shook her head, bending to put the last dish in the dishwasher. "Why you worked there in the first place was beyond me."
"I was supposed to be sowing my wild oats." His tone was dry. "Dad thought I should get off the ranch before spending a lifetime here." Nash had been twenty-eight at the time and his father hadn't realized how much sowing he'd already done. Until he met Hayley. He knew then he was finished. A little pang of regret slid through him. He pushed it aside. That was then and this is now, he thought. "You never said anything."
She glanced at him. "I wanted you around, yet I remember the look in your eyes when you talked about the plantation. Seeing it, I understood."
Nash smiled, moving toward her, loving how her eyes got a little darker and her stance a little softer. "So, Dr. Albright. Can you handle a day or two with me?"
"Won't you be busy?"
He shook his head. "That's why all the buyers come here beforehand. They know what the top-dollar mark is and a horse doesn't go for less that he's worth. Unless there's more than one buyer, then the real fun starts. I might sell them all. I might not. That's the gamble."
She gazed up at him and ignored the voices screaming, No, don't do it, for she really wanted to go. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been out anywhere with anyone. And she wanted to see the auction. Yeah, she thought. Keep telling yourself it's horses you want to hang out with and maybe you'll convince yourself.
"What do you say?"
"What do I wear?"
"Boots and jeans. It's not exactly the Kentucky Derby."
She nodded.
He was so pleased he wanted to kiss the daylights out of her, but the word trust blew through his mind just then.
"It lasts for a couple of days. There's a rodeo, trick riders, a cattle auction, too."
"Anything else I should now about this event?"
He was thoughtful for a moment. "The people from the auction houses will be here tomorrow."
Her eyes widened. "When?"
"After breakfast, I 'spect."
She inhaled and shoved him back. "Good Lord, Nash! You didn't think to tell me this?" She closed the dishwasher and flipped it on.
"What's the big deal?"
"A houseful of people before noon!" She had to prepare something and clean up more. In the center of the kitchen, she shifted impatiently on her feet, not knowing exactly what to do first.
"Chill out, honey. They're coming to look at horses, not inspect the house."
She sent him an irritated look. "Oh, just like a man," she groused, then headed toward her room. "Didn't your mama teach you about Southern hospitality?"
"Apparently not enough," he said to the empty kitchen.
Representatives of the auction house arrived just after breakfast. They were here to inspect horseflesh for starting bids for the auction this coming weekend. Hayley left a light brunch laid out in the dining room, and without the girls around to keep her busy, she acted as a hostess for Nash. She felt his gaze follow her as she refilled one man's cup, and he stared so hard and long she felt her skin heat.
She glanced to the side, the silver carafe in her hand. She was suddenly conscious of her simple teal tank dress that had seen one too many washings. In a slow saunter, Nash moved toward her, his every step sending a spark of anticipation through her.
"Thank you," he whispered. "You didn't have to do this."
She shrugged. "You want the best price, don't you?"
He smiled, his gaze wandering over her upturned face. This morning when he'd found his dining room draped in old family linens and set as elegantly as his mother would have done, Nash was knocked to his knees by the gesture. In the year and half that Michelle was his wife, she hadn't bothered to do anything like that, though the auction was a twice-yearly event. Hayley had a talent for making the officials feel comfortable enough to tell her things about themselves and their families even Nash didn't know. And he'd been working with these people for years. Good bedside manner for the future, he thought, and disliked the reminder that she'd be leaving soon.