by Devney Perry
I’d start with the staff quarters and search for a house of my own.
It would be awkward, returning to the quarters. My time there had been fun, but that had been years ago. The age gap between me and the others was noticeably wider. The younger staff needed a chance to unwind, and having their boss next door was a major buzz kill, but they’d have to deal with it for a while.
There wasn’t much of a real estate market in Clear River, but I might find a fixer-upper with projects galore to keep me occupied at night. I’d find something and establish some distance from Cash.
This trip would be our last hurrah. Part of me was glad he’d turned alpha-male brute and insisted on tagging along.
We’d flipped Carol’s quarter five times and fate had brought us north and east, over the narrow and quiet Montana highways. There were hours of daylight remaining but as the sun began to lower on the horizon, I wound along a river.
I turned on the radio, scanning for a local channel, then dropped the volume low, letting the twangy jingle of classic country fill the car.
Cash thought I hated the radio on road trips, probably because that’s what I’d told him. Really, I hated the radio when he was in the car. He didn’t hum along or sing the lyrics. That I could handle, even if it was off-key. No, he had this whistle—this ear-splitting, toothy whistle—that was my equivalent of nails on a chalkboard.
That whistle was nearly as annoying as his tendency to let crumbs pile up around the legs beneath his dining room chair. For days, they’d accumulate until finally I couldn’t take it anymore and would vacuum them up.
The thing that had irritated me the most was when Cash had christened me Kat. God, how I’d despised that name in the beginning. Of course, I was the only one. He’d started calling me Kat the year after he’d moved home from college, and every member of the Greer family plus the ranch and resort employees had jumped on the Kat hay wagon. I’d stayed quiet, not wanting to alienate the family or my coworkers, despite how the name grated on me. I didn’t need constant reminders that I was the short and small one of the bunch. That I was the runt.
But then Easton had asked Cash why Kat instead of Kate or Katie. Cash had shrugged and told him it was because he admired my claws.
That moment had been another ring around the tree, another moment my love for Cash had grown. I adored the man, piercing whistle and table crumbs included.
The evening air was cool and when I leaned my elbow on the door, the glass of the window was cold against my skin. Covering a yawn with my hand, I kept watch for a sign nestled between the trees, anything to mark an upcoming town. Hopefully one large enough for a motel with two vacancies.
It was exhilarating, not knowing exactly where we were. My entire life, I’d always known my place. I couldn’t recall a time when I’d been lost. Trapped, yes, but never lost. Trapped with a mother who’d hated her daughter from the day she was born.
One would think Mom would have screamed hallelujah the day I’d left—or had attempted to leave. Instead, she’d slapped me across the face and dragged me to my room, confining me inside for the worst week of my life.
My hand drifted to my cheek. There were still days when I could feel the smack of her palm.
The conversation with Cash must have brought up the memory. I hadn’t thought about my mother in months. I shoved her aside, into the box where I kept the past locked away. Cash had rattled the chain around it with his questions earlier.
A sign approached on the road’s shoulder. The Idaho border was five miles ahead.
“Hey.” Cash shifted in his seat, sitting up. “Sorry, I fell asleep.”
“That’s okay.”
“Where are we?” His deep, husky voice sent a shiver down my spine as he blinked sleep from his eyes.
“We’re crossing into Idaho.”
He rubbed his jaw. “Want to stop or keep going? I can drive for a while.”
“Let’s stop.” There was no rush. “I want dinner. Maybe we can crash here tonight and start again in the morning.”
“Sounds good.”
We crossed a long bridge that stretched over the river I’d been driving beside. On the other side, a small town greeted us with welcome signs and the American flag. At the first stop sign, I scanned up and down the streets, searching for a motel.
“Want me to check?” Cash dug his phone from his jeans pocket.
“No. Let’s just explore.” Eventually we’d have to engage the GPS, but for this first day, I wanted to simply find my way. To embrace the adventure.
“All right.” Cash plucked our quarter from the cupholder, positioning it on a knuckle and flicking the edge with his thumbnail. Up it went, end over end, until it smacked in his palm. “Heads.”
“Left.” I cranked the wheel.
That quarter was lucky. Three blocks down, a neon-orange sign caught my eye with the word Vacancy illuminated. Across the street from the Imperial Inn was a restaurant, Harry’s Supper Club. The letter board beneath an arrow dotted with light bulbs advertised Daily Prime Rib Special.
“Here?” I asked.
“Sold,” Cash said. “I’m starving.”
“Dinner first.” I pulled into the parking lot of Harry’s and twisted to grab my purse from the back. The restaurant was dim compared to the bright evening light outside. The décor, rustic and primarily wood, would have fit well at the ranch. But the smell—my God, the smell—made my stomach growl.
Juicy steak and homemade rolls and fluffy potatoes. I was practically drooling by the time the hostess escorted us to a navy booth in the corner. The light hanging over our table gave off a golden glow, enough to reflect glare off the plastic-covered menus. We ordered our drinks and as the waitress described the prime rib special, Cash and I shared the same hungry look.
“Two, please,” he told her. “Medium rare. Ranch on the salads. Extra croutons on mine. No tomatoes on hers.”
Someday, when—if—I decided to start dating, I hoped the man I chose to sit across from me would take as much notice as Cash so he’d be able to order exactly what I wanted too. It wasn’t like I couldn’t order myself, but it made me feel special, cherished, that someone knew me well enough to place my order for me.
“We should have made a note of how many miles were on the Cadillac before we started today,” Cash said after the waitress delivered our waters. “Would be interesting to know exactly how far we go.”
“Oh, I wrote it down in the car.”
Cash chuckled. “Always one step ahead of me.”
I smiled. “I try.”
“So tell me more about the junkyard.” He leaned back in the booth, draping one long arm across the back.
He’d worn a long-sleeved Henley today, a shirt I’d bought him two years ago for Christmas because I’d thought the grayish green would bring out the matching flecks in his eyes. The sleeves were pushed up toward his elbows and the muscles on his forearms were tight ropes, strong and defined from years of physical work. The cotton clung to his biceps and stretched across his broad chest. The buttons at the collar were open, revealing a sliver of tan skin and barely a hint of dark hair.
Damn, I’d done good with that shirt. I dropped my eyes to my water, taking a long gulp, hoping the cold liquid would squelch the fire spreading through my veins.
It would be a lot easier to fall out of love with Cash if he weren’t so attractive. But how was I supposed to ignore that gorgeous face? How was I supposed to act ambivalent toward that Herculean body and how Cash wielded it with surprising grace? And the way that man looked on a horse, the way his hips glided in a saddle and his bulky thighs clenched—a dull throb bloomed in my core. Even the mental image of him on horseback was intoxicating. Ignore Cash? Impossible. I might as well attempt to drive the Cadillac to the moon.
“Kat.”
I blinked, forcing my eyes away from my glass. “Huh?”
“The junkyard. Tell me about it. Or about growing up in California.”
I scrunched up my no
se. If there was a topic to take my mind off this insane attraction to my best friend, California was the winner. The state itself wasn’t to blame. Many loved its temperate weather and abundance of activities and Hollywood flair. But when I thought of California, I thought of my mother.
Cash was tugging on my memory box’s chain again.
“Did you decide on a name for that new foal yet?” I asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from my past. It might have worked had any other person sat opposite me.
“Daisy. And I see what you’re doing here.” Cash’s chuckle drifted across the table, the low vibration melting into my bones. “I don’t want to talk about home or work. Tell me something I don’t know. Pretend it’s a date and we’re getting to know each other.”
A date.
I gulped. This wasn’t a date. Yes, we were at a nice restaurant in a secluded booth. The lack of a bustling crowd meant the room was hushed, weaving the illusion of intimacy. But this wasn’t a romance.
This wasn’t a date.
Except it felt like one. Not that I’d been on many lately. It was hard to go out with one man when you were in love with another.
Was it love? Could it be love when it was so exceptionally unrequited? I’d never been in love before. Maybe this was infatuation. Or a deep, respectful friendship.
Because true love was shared.
My feelings were most definitely not.
“Are you okay?” Cash asked, dropping his forearms to the table as he leaned closer.
No. I wasn’t okay. “Just tired,” I lied. “It was a long day of driving.”
“Tomorrow, it’s my turn.”
“Okay.” I wouldn’t argue. Though the Cadillac was a powerful, sleek machine, after nine hours behind the wheel, it had lost some of its shine.
“So tell me more about the junkyard,” Cash pressed again.
“You know most of it.” Wasn’t talking about it in the car enough for one day? Normally, I would have skimped on some of the details that I’d told him earlier, but it seemed important he understand a little more than the basics before we met Aria, if only so he didn’t feel left out.
“What about school?” he asked.
“Why do you care?”
“Because this is the one part of your life that I don’t know everything about. Indulge me.”
No.
It was right there. One easy little word. I didn’t have trouble telling Easton no. Or their mom, Liddy. Or JR. Or Jake. The only person I struggled to deny was Carol.
And Cash.
He’d inherited her tenacity and persistence. Coupled with that sexy smile, he was my ultimate weakness.
I caved.
“You already know about school,” I said. “I dropped out and earned my GED the year after I moved to the ranch.”
“That’s right. Mom helped you study.”
“Every day at lunch.” Liddy would come to the lodge and I’d take a break from cleaning or laundry. We’d sit in the kitchen, eating sandwiches, and she’d help explain any concepts I was struggling with. Not that there were many. Getting my GED had been a piece of cake.
“She told me once that you didn’t need her help,” Cash said.
“I didn’t. But I really liked eating lunch with her every day.”
Liddy had been the mother who’d shown me how horrendous my own had been. Maybe when I moved out of Cash’s place, she’d help me decorate. She could teach me how to cultivate a garden. Liddy would understand my need for some space, right?
“She liked eating lunch with you too. Mom always said she fell in love with you over that GED book.”
“Same here,” I whispered. “I owe her a lot. Carol too. All of you.”
“You don’t owe us anything, Kat. You’re family.”
Family. The sister. It had been harder and harder not to feel bitter lately. Being part of the Greer family, even unofficially, was a dream. For a woman who had no family, belonging to one was all I’d ever wanted. So why couldn’t I get over my own selfish crush, put this attraction aside and just be family?
I looked up and my heart—my sadistic heart—skipped. That’s why.
Cash’s face was shadowed by the dim light. His hair was a mess from being in a hat all day. He’d taken it off when we’d sat down because he wouldn’t wear it at the dinner table. It intensified his sparkling gaze. It defined that bearded jaw and accentuated the soft pout of his lower lip. He was mysterious and sexy and utterly mouthwatering.
Screw you, heart.
I don’t love Cash.
From now until the end of this trip, I’d tell myself constantly.
I don’t love Cash.
“Where did you work? When you lived at the junkyard?” he asked.
I really didn’t feel like delving into the past once more, but the alternative wasn’t an option. I couldn’t sit here across from Cash with his unassuming smolder and pretend the sight of him wasn’t making me wet.
Talking was the lesser of two evils. “I worked at a car wash. Karson worked there too. The owner was kind of a jerk but he paid in cash and didn’t ask questions.”
When I’d filled out the application, I’d put the junkyard’s address as my own. Gemma had been listed as my guardian, Londyn a personal reference. Both had been listed with bogus phone numbers. If the owner had known, he hadn’t cared. He’d hired me on the spot.
“Is that how you met Karson? At the car wash?”
“Um, sort of.” This was why I didn’t want to open that box. One question led to another, then another, and I wouldn’t lie to Cash.
“Sort of?”
I sighed. “Yes, I met Karson at the car wash, but not as a coworker. I was on the sidewalk, begging for money.” It felt as pathetic to admit years later as it had at the time.
The easy look on Cash’s face disappeared as a crease formed between his eyebrows. “What?”
I lifted a shoulder. “I was broke.”
“Kat—”
“Don’t worry. It was just an experiment. That was the first and last time,” I said, cutting him off before he could ask questions. Maybe if I steered this conversation in the right direction, we could just avoid anything that would lead to a conversation about the pre-junkyard days.
Not even Carol or Liddy knew that whole story.
“Did you text your dad? Will he check on the house and water my plants while we’re gone?” I asked.
“Nice try, sweetheart.” Cash shook his head.
Sweetheart. As if Kat weren’t enough of a nickname. Why had he given me a pet name too? It was so endearing and affectionate and . . . sexless. Like I was an eight-year-old girl.
“There’s nothing more to explain. I didn’t have a penny to my name and I really wanted some money to buy a new pair of shoes.”
“Why’d you need the shoes?”
“Does it matter?”
“Kat.”
“Cash.”
His gaze drilled into mine, and that stare, combined with the stubborn set of his jaw, brooked no argument. His expression mimicked Easton’s more scrutinizing gaze. “Why did you need the shoes?”
“Because the only pair that fit were flip-flops,” I blurted. “And I was days away from turning sixteen so I could apply for a real job. I’d already talked to the manager at a fast-food place, but she told me I needed closed-toe shoes for work.”
It had always struck me as ironic that I couldn’t get a job to earn the money to buy the shoes without the shoes themselves. Asking my mother for money had been out of the question since I’d been lucky to have the flip-flops in the first place.
“I sat on a street corner with a cardboard sign and a chipped, green plastic cup that I’d taken from my house. And I earned seven dollars and ten cents.”
Cash sat perfectly still. Even his chest was frozen, like he’d forgotten how to breathe. But his eyes said everything he wasn’t going to voice.
“Please, don’t look at me like that.” I’d worked so hard to prove myself. To be
the strong, capable woman in charge of an award-winning Montana resort.
Cash cleared his throat. “Sorry.”
“You can’t pity that girl, because she’s me. And without her, I wouldn’t be sitting across from you right now.”
“I don’t pity you, Kat.” His expression gentled and he blew out a deep breath. “I don’t like to think of you living like that. Begging for money. It hurts.”
And that was why loving Cash Greer was so damn easy. My pain was his pain. Part of the reason I didn’t want him to know my story was because then it would hurt us both.
“I didn’t have to beg for long,” I said. “I had been sitting there for about three hours, hot and embarrassed and miserable, when Karson came over and introduced himself. He gave me twenty dollars and offered me a place to stay.”
The kid living in the junkyard had given me more than money. He’d given me hope.
“Wait.” Cash’s face hardened. “Did he proposition you? Because you talk like Karson is this good guy but—”
“No.” I laughed, realizing how it must have sounded. “Nothing like that. If it was any other person than Karson, I would have run away screaming. But he is a good guy. He sat down beside me. Told me that he’d run away from home and where he was living. And he told me about Gemma and Londyn.”
“He could have been lying,” Cash said.
“But he wasn’t. I went with him to the junkyard that day to scope it out.” I’d walked with Karson across town to the junkyard, curious and desperate. I’d returned home determined. The plan I’d concocted that day hadn’t exactly turned out as I’d expected, but eventually, I’d found my way back. To Karson. To Gemma. To Londyn. To the start of a new life.
“Here you go.” The waitress arrived at the edge of our table, carrying two overloaded platters. She slid them in front of us, refilled our waters, then left us alone with our food.
Dinner halted our conversation as we tore into the meal. I, for one, was grateful for the reprieve. We ate mostly in silence, devouring the meal, and paid the check—Cash insisted because I’d driven all day. He never let me pay for a meal out, always finding an excuse to treat me—cleaning the house, washing his towels. He wouldn’t let me pay at a restaurant but didn’t argue about splitting the grocery bill. Men made no sense.
