Red Hot

by Cat Johnson

  “Yeah? That’s so great. I hope you took more pictures than those few you put on Instagram.”

  The knife in my heart felt real as I remembered Lainey’s comment about Bethany and Cash checking out my Instagram at the bar.

  How could he do that? Sleep with me. Then go on a date with my best friend, and while on that date look at my Instagram?

  “You all right?” Bethany asked. “You look kind of out of it.”

  “I’m just tired. Long flight. Long drive. Jet lag.” All of the above applied, but I would have navigated it like a champ if my heart wasn’t broken in two. “I’ll be fine once I get some sleep.”

  If I could sleep in my misery.

  Bethany nodded. “You probably should go home and go to bed. It’s like the middle of the night over there, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty late.” I’d been calculating the time difference the whole time I’d been away so I could imagine where Cash might be, what he might be doing. But I never imagined what he was doing could be my best friend.

  “Well, before you go, I have to tell you one thing.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Cash was crazed when he saw those pictures of you and Frank on your Instagram.”

  The topic of Cash captured my full attention, but what she said didn’t make much sense. “What?”

  “Yup.” She nodded, smiling. “I think he likes you.”

  Maybe I was more tired than I realized because none of this made sense. Why was Bethany saying that if she was with Cash?

  Because maybe she wasn’t with him. For the first time, that actually seemed like an option. But then what were they doing having dinner together? They weren’t friends that I knew of.

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “I’m working on a—um—project with him so we’ve been spending some time together and every time I’m with him, he’s asking me what’s up with you and Frank.”

  This wasn’t helping my confusion.

  I needed more information to wipe all suspicion out of my mind—and I really wanted to do that because I didn’t want to lose Bethany or Cash.

  Even if we were just friends with benefits, life without him in it in some capacity would stink.

  “What kind of project are you two working on together?”

  She cringed. “You know you’re my best friend, right?”

  “Yes?” My suspicion came back full force.

  “Well, I still can’t tell you.”

  “What?” My eyes widened.

  “It’s just—he’s trying to keep it on the down low right now and it’s not even a certainty that it’s all going to work out.”

  I was ready to crawl out of my skin. I hated secrets.

  Oh, I liked them when I was in on them and I’d take a secret to my grave when someone confided in me, but being on the outside of one? That I couldn’t stand.

  Especially when it involved two people close to me.

  Bethany must have seen how upset I was. “Go over to the farm. Talk to Cash. He’ll probably tell you. No, you know what? I’m sure he’ll tell you. It just can’t come from me. Okay?” She cringed again, obviously not any happier about this secret than I was.

  I blew out a breath, but once I allowed myself to reason things out and stop reacting emotionally, I realized something. Maybe this had to do with the calf. Maybe Bethany was helping Cash with that. How, I couldn’t fathom, but if she thought I didn’t know, she would keep his secret. It could get him in a lot of trouble if she didn’t.

  And even if I was totally off base, it was a good excuse to go to the farm and try to find Cash.

  I had another reason. I had been away for a week. Of course I’d want to check on the calf after all that time.

  For better or worse, I was going to the farm and getting to the bottom of this.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Cash

  “Always stand on the left side of a horse when you’re leading him or if you’re getting up into the saddle,” I told Bart.

  “Why?”

  The kid liked to ask questions. All. The. Time.

  That was fine. At least it showed he was interested in what I was saying. The problem arose when I didn’t have an answer to his many questions.

  “Because that’s how we train them,” I said, knowing if he came back and asked why again, I wouldn’t be able to come up with a very good answer. Because that’s how it’s done didn’t feel like a good enough reason but it was the only one I had.

  There was nothing like an inquisitive child to make a man feel dumb. One of the many things no one ever told me about kids. Or maybe they did and I just wasn’t listening at the time.

  This could be karma paying me back for all the times I’d given my parents grief.

  Well played, karma. Well played.

  I paused, waiting for a follow-up from Bart. When none came, I let out a breath in relief and moved on. “So, remember what I told you about holding the lead rope?”

  “Never wrap it around my hand.”

  “Good. And why is that?” I asked.

  “Because I don’t want to get dragged to death if he takes off running.”

  I hadn’t put it quite in those words . . . “Um. Right. You don’t want to get your hand tangled up and not be able to get free.”

  So far, the kid had shown a natural affinity for working with animals.

  He’d taken to the horses right off. He was up early every morning this week to help me with the cows. And of course, he and Romeo were inseparable. Like they were tied together. If the kid stopped short, the pup ran into the back of him.

  Boone and Stone were both great with him. Mom and Dad seemed good with the arrangement so far. But there was the definite feeling of a cloud hanging over us as we all waited to see what would happen.

  Bart was here as a stop gap measure, to get him out of the sheriff’s holding cell until a more permanent solution could be found.

  Whether that would be a juvenile detention center or foster care was up to the judge, I supposed. Since we’d applied to take him in, as his new foster family, this time was as much a trial period for us as for him.

  But it was going good so far. No one could say otherwise. Of course, since an inspection could come at any time, I was on my best behavior since Bart had moved in. No trips to the bar for me. Not even a beer with dinner. No staying out late. And, most importantly, no one in town could find out about my having Red’s controversial calf.

  Between tending to the calf, the puppy and the kid, and worrying about toeing the line in the eyes of child services, I was pretty much having no fun of any kind. But with Red in Paris with that guy, I wasn’t really in a fun mood anyhow so it didn’t much matter.

  And hey, who said playing video games every night with the kid couldn’t be fun?

  “Your girlfriend is here,” Bart said, the comb in his hand as he paused in his work on the horse’s tangled mane.

  I frowned. “What? I don’t have a girlfriend—”

  I stopped mid-sentence and spun to face the driveway when I realized there was one person who Bart might assume was my girlfriend.

  “That’s not what I heard. Oh, Red.” Bart did his poor imitation of me again, but I couldn’t care he was making fun—couldn’t be appalled he might actually have heard us in bed—because Red’s truck was in the driveway.

  She must be back from that damned eternal trip to France. Thank God for that. When I wasn’t concerned with the kid, I’d done nothing but think about Red. About us. Together.

  Of course, that was all a waste of time if she was with Mr. Paris. I guess I was about to find that out since she had parked the truck and was about to get out.

  The sun was starting to set. It was a good excuse to ditch the kid, just for now. This discussion required privacy. “Hey, kid. Why don’t you go inside and get cleaned up and see if my Mom needs you to set the table for dinner or something.”

  He smirked. “You two wanna be alone.” He made the last word long and suggestive.
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  "You'll be alone when I toss you in the hay loft and take away the ladder if you don't stop being a smart ass.”

  He grinned as he handed me the comb and walked toward the house, Romeo at his heels. I unhooked the cross ties and led the horse into the stall, locking the door as Red made her way over to me.

  “Hey,” I said when she was close enough to hear.

  “Hey.” She glanced at the kid on his way toward the house. Her barely-there strawberry blonde brows drew low. “Is that—”

  “The kid I tackled in your driveway? Yeah.” I glanced from the kid back to Red. “Some stuff’s happened while you’ve been gone.”

  My only hope was that all the major events that had taken place had been in Mudville and Red didn’t have any life altering news from Paris for me.

  “Apparently.” Her eyes, the lightest shade of blue, focused on mine. “Wanna tell me about it?”

  “Yeah. I do.” I wanted nothing more than to talk to Red. And not a casual conversation either.

  We were long overdue for a real heart-to-heart.

  Time to let her in on the discussions I’d been holding with myself. How I felt about her. And the scary part—how she felt about me. And that damn guy in Paris.

  I drew in a breath. “It turns out Bart—that’s the kid—is a runaway. Long story short, his mom died, he lived with his grandma until she died, then he got put in a not so great foster home. He ran away. And the damn kid’s been surviving on his own, while caring for a puppy, for a month. That’s why he broke into your store. To get the sleeping bag to try and keep warm.”

  “Wow.” She shook her head.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “He’s a tough little kid. He’s got a smart mouth on him sometimes, no doubt, but he’s quick to learn and a hard worker. And he loves animals. He’s real good with them.”

  “Sounds a little like you.” She smiled.

  I laughed. “Yeah. I’ve thought that a time or two myself.”

  “So you, what? Hired him to work here?” she asked, sounding amazed.

  I was grateful she wasn’t angry. Afterall, he had stolen from her store. But I should have realized she’d understand why I had to take him in and forgive why he’d done what he’d done.

  She had written a letter to the judge and didn’t press charges, according to Carson. That had helped the kid as much as us taking him in.

  “Yes and no.” I wobbled my head in answer to her question about his working for Morgan Farm. “He’s getting an allowance for the work he’s doing, but it’s more than that. We’re trying to get him placed here. As his permanent foster home. Navigating the system has been a nightmare. Red tape. Inspections. Waiting for an answer. But Bethany’s been helping Mom and Dad as much as she can with the paperwork.”

  “Bethany.” Red’s eyes widened as she let out a big breath. “That’s why you’ve been spending so much time with her.”

  “Well, it hasn’t been all that much time . . .” I realized it hadn’t been a question. More of a eureka moment for Red as she put two and two together. “Wait. Were you jealous? Of me and Bethany?”

  I couldn’t control the smile spreading across my face.

  “No.” Her pout was adorable. “Maybe. A little.”

  “There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

  “I know that now. I just didn’t know what to think. You were in the bakery the day I left. Then I heard you were with her at the bar . . .” She lifted one shoulder.

  The Mudville gossip mill was still hard at work. No surprise there. At least this time it was working in my favor. If it took making Red a little bit jealous to get her to admit she had feelings for me, I’d take it.

  And since she’d been honest with me, I figured I’d better do the same. “So, while we’re on the subject of jealousy—”

  “I’m not jealous . . .” She rolled her eyes at me, then added, “At least, not anymore.”

  I continued in spite of her interruption, “What’s up with you and Mr. Paris?”

  “Are you jealous?” she asked.

  “So fucking jealous I could spit,” I admitted, taking a step closer.

  A smile lit her face, but all I cared about was that she took a step toward me, putting her in touching distance. “Is it bad I’m a little bit happy about that?” she asked.

  “The only thing I want is for you to be happy.” I reached out to pull her closer. “Well, maybe that’s not the only thing I want.”

  I held her close and leaned low toward her mouth.

  “I can think of a few other things that will make us both happy,” I said.

  “So, are we going to continue the way we were? Sneaking around in my apartment?”

  “Is that what you want?” I asked.

  Yeah, the time I’d spent in her place had been some of the best hours of my life, but I wanted more than that.

  “What do you want?” she asked, answering my question with a question.

  I wanted her to belong to me and no one else. I wanted the right to punch Carson and Mr. Paris in the face if they even looked at her. I wanted to fall asleep with her in my arms and wake up to her smiling face in the morning.

  And I really wanted to make love to her all night, every night. Possibly for the rest of my life.

  That all seemed a bit much to ask of her at this stage in our relationship, so I started small. “I want you to be my girl.”

  She bit her lip. “Publicly?”

  I frowned. “Of course, publicly. What do you think? I’m going to hide you in the shed with the calf?” I asked.

  She shook her head and smiled. “That’s what I want too. To be your girl.”

  “Good.” I tried to hide how choked up I was feeling by pulling her tight against me and pressing her cheek against my chest. I kissed the top of her head, then rested my head on top of hers. “So now that we’re official, you can come inside with me and explain to Mom and Dad why there’s a stolen calf in our shed. I haven’t gotten around to telling them yet.”

  She pulled back and glared at me. “She’s not stolen.”

  “Tell that to that bastard at the auction house. Nope, that little girly is most definitely red hot goods.” I grinned. “Just like her mamma.”

  When she opened her mouth to fight me some more, I decided to end the debate the most pleasant way I knew how. I leaned down and captured her lips with mine.

  She melted against me and stopped fighting, which was exactly as I’d hoped.

  The kiss got heated fast. I’d been a week without the woman I was falling in love with.

  She wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed close and I started to wish we were anywhere but here.

  Leaning back, I said, “Wanna go visit your calf quick?”

  She got a sly smile on her face as she pressed her lower half tighter against the very obvious hard-on in my jeans. “You asking me to sneak away with you to the shed?”

  I grinned. There was no hiding what I was thinking from her. “I am.”

  “All right,” she agreed, and I knew, that calf wasn’t going to be the only red hot thing in that shed.

  EPILOGUE

  Red

  It was hot, which was odd since it wasn’t even May first yet and this was Mudville, New York, capitol of cold rainy spring weather and, of course, the accompanying mud.

  Though Cash was probably happy about the warm weather. It could help the corn grow. I was still new at the ins and outs of farming. Bart though had taken to farming like he’d been born into it.

  I saw him out there in the field now, bouncing along in the seat of the tractor as Boone rode along with him. Proof that all it took was a good family to bring out the best in the kid.

  Without Cash, things could have turned out so differently for Bart. I hated to even think about what might have become of him.

  Turning away from the field, I walked around my truck and toward the farm stand. I knew Cash said they were getting it ready to open for the season.

  Besides annual routine maint
enance, they’d be building some more display shelves inside. I’d talked them into carrying some goods from local artisans. With their built-in traffic, it only made sense to sell complementary items that their customer base would be interested in.

  In addition to their usual fresh fruit and vegetables, meat and dairy, they’d expand to carrying other stuff. Jams and jellies. Local honey. Bees wax products like candles, hand salve and lip balm. Homemade soap. Fresh flowers. Painted signs. Wood and metal crafts. Even canvas shopping bags with the Morgan Farm Market logo on the front—the logo which now featured a picture of my truck because when Cash asked, I couldn’t say no.

  I pretty much couldn’t say no to Cash about anything. The man was persuasive in so many ways, there was nothing I’d deny him. So far, that had been working out pretty well, for both of us.

  There was a car parked right up in front of the door of the stand, which was odd since they weren’t open for business for the season yet.

  Apparently, someone had been driving by and saw the Morgan truck parked there and thought they were open.

  When I got up to the doorway, I stopped dead, because the person I saw was the last one I wanted to see.

  A memory hit me of the last time I’d seen Betty Frank.

  It had been that day in my store—that most horrible and wonderful day.

  The day half of the town of Mudville had turned against me because I’d dare to take in the runaway calf. Betty had come into the shop to accuse me of letting the calf loose and setting up the reward to get publicity for my shop.

  I’d been close to losing it. That’s when Cash had pulled me outside to the carriage house—where I had lost it. And where he’d comforted me. Oh, how he’d comforted me.

  It was a day I’d never forget. And here she was, bringing back all those memories. Both the good and the bad.

  “I’m sorry. No.” Inside, Cash shook his head.

  I could see him clearly through the doorway. His stance broadcast his feelings more than his words. His feet were set wide, his arms crossed over his chest, and the steady shake of his head left no question. Whatever Betty had asked for, he wasn’t giving it to her.