Three months ago, her eyes would’ve been bright and full of life, her lips plump and smiling.
Now, her eyes were dull and gray and her mouth didn’t have the power to curl up at all. She’d spent the previous two months crying most days, stopping only whenever she managed to get to sleep—not often, these days.
She used to be beautiful. Nobody would believe that if they saw me now.
Not that she cared. She wasn’t crying anymore, but she didn’t feel anything, either. Not happiness, or pride, or anger. She just felt empty. And there was nothing she could do to change it.
So I’ll do what every respectable woman does when life gets her down. I’ll persevere. Stick it out. That’s all I can do.
Thank God she had a reason to get out of bed.
Her old routine on Sundays used to be babysitting the Jacksons’ children from eight until four and then an hour later do her five-hour shift at the bar. But with all the recent land sales in Necessity, she didn’t have to work those hours any longer.
That’s one good part of this whole disaster, she admitted—at least to herself. She’d managed to put together the campaign to stop Jerry Goodman from building his factory.
And on Friday, she’d filed the paperwork to keep Chad Parker from turning his once-working ranch into a tourist attraction. Now she’d heard he was going to put it up for sale.
At first, the reprieve from the extra work had seemed like a great chance to use her Sundays to fight the good fight. But all she wanted to do today was get back to bed.
They’re counting on me, though. If she didn’t show up to spread the word today, then the town would be really disappointed in her. They might change their minds and decide she wasn’t capable enough to lead their petition drive and organize the protests.
Everybody would be so disappointed in her.
No, I can’t risk it.
So Sierra wiped the tears from her eyes and slapped some makeup on her face. It failed to cover up the misery behind her eyes. But at least I look a little more cheery.
She left the house, armed with a notebook, pen, and the petition itself—and prepared to tackle the world. If anyone turned her down, she would simply shake it off and try even harder with the next person.
Davis’s grocery store. That’ll be a good place to go.
At the end of the day, she hadn’t managed to convince anybody else to join the protests, and only a handful more had signed the petition to completely rezone the ranch land outside of town.
There’s more than one way to stop new money from flooding Necessity.
She’d make one more circuit around downtown before she called it a day.
A gangly form approached, and her heart fluttered with joy as she prepared her speech. But her happiness faded when she realized it was only Billy, the Argents’ youngest child.
Billy instantly flushed at the disappointment on her face. “Sorry, Ms. MacAllan.”
“That’s fine,” sighed Sierra. “I’m just having a hard time today finding people who will listen.”
“You can say that again. People won’t believe anything until they see it with their own eyes,” said Billy. “Which reminds me... I’m pretty sure we’ve got another one moving in.”
Sierra tilted her head. “Another what?”
“One of them big-money types.”
Billy nodded solemnly. “Said he needed to buy a ranch.”
“You saw him?”
“With my own two eyes,” he beamed. “Headed out to Shooters, and then looking for a place to stay overnight.”
A devious gleam shined from Sierra’s eyes. “Did you get his name?”
Billy’s smile faded. “No. Sorry.”
“That’s not a problem,” said Sierra, already planning. “Thanks for letting me know. If I head down there and figure out what he’s planning to do with the land, I can bring it to the next meeting.”
“Good plan, Ms. MacAllan,” nodded Billy.
In her excitement, Sierra planted a kiss on Billy’s cheek, and his face burned as red and hot as the sun.
Sierra practically skipped back to her car. Suddenly, her troubles had faded. She had forgotten all of the misery she had felt in the past few months. She had a purpose.
This was her opportunity to redeem herself in the town’s eyes, to be Necessity’s hero.
Not the town’s sell-out. Not the woman who’d cheated on one of their own with an outsider.
And that’s what they say when everyone’s being nice.
But when she walked into the bar ten minutes later, all her hope faded. There were only a few people dotted around the place and it was obvious that none of them were billionaires—just the usual Sunday regulars, mostly oil-field roughnecks stopping in for a drink or two after their weekend shift. She even recognized a few who worked for her cousin Mac and his wife Clara.
Sierra wanted to slam her head against the door. She should have known that no billionaire would want to hang out in a place like Shooters.
Sierra approached the bar and dragged herself up onto a stool, then dropped her elbows down on the bar and buried her head in her hands, cursing herself for being so hopeful.
What kind of billionaire was going to stick around here on a Sunday afternoon? Other than the guys from the oilfield, the only people in Shooters were alcoholics and lowlifes. Right now, I fit into the latter category—and if I’m not careful, I might end up in the former, too.
“Hey, Sierra,” the bartender Sammy said. “Didn’t expect to see you in here today—not unless maybe you want your job back?” His voice turned hopeful. “Is that it? You ready to come back on Sundays?”
“Sorry, sugar. Not quite there yet.”
“You still on the anti-billionaire brigade?” he asked. Sammy always could make her smile, at least a little.
She nodded, and Sammy sighed. “Fine, then. What will you be having?”
“Vodka cranberry.”
Sierra fished around her pockets for the cash when she realized she’d left her purse at home. Her face turned a bright pink.
Sammy slid her drink to her and waited, apparently not able to put the pieces together. “Come on, darlin’. I don’t have all day.”
Before she could explain, somebody else butted in. “I’ll get that.”
She turned her head to the source of the voice. There beside her sat a guy she didn’t recognize. His eyes were a magnificent green that sparkled as he smiled at her. Light stubble toughened up an otherwise sweet, tanned face. His hair was tousled but not messy, as if each curl were naturally perfectly placed.
Everything about him took her breath away.
Wow.
He’s hotter than a summer day in Dallas.
Chapter 2
Her mouth was dry and she realized that she had been staring at him, wordlessly. “Excuse me?” she finally managed, sounding a lot ruder than she intended.
“You forgot your wallet, right?” he said. His voice had a bit of a growl to it, under the drawl, and it sent shivers up her spine. “I’ve been there. I’ll pay for your drink.”
She nodded, though it took a moment for her to process his act of kindness. Only after he’d given the cash to the bartender did she manage to muster a thank you.
“No problem,” he said. “You look like you need a drink.”
She blinked and swiped a hand across her cheek. Makeup streaked her fingertips. She’d been crying on and off all day and hadn’t even noticed the mascara running down her cheeks. Desperate not to start sobbing again, she picked up her drink and took a huge drink.
The man downed a swig of his whiskey without taking his eyes off of Sierra.
“What are you staring at?” Sierra said, finally. She was beginning to wonder if he was mocking her internally for going into a bar just to cry and make some stranger pay for her drink. If there was anything she hated more than billionaires ruining the town’s economy, it was somebody judging her.
“Nothing,” he said, neither breaking his g
aze nor looking embarrassed in the slightest. “My name is Cash.”
“Cash,” she said slowly. “Seriously? A man named Cash just bailed me out by paying for my drink?”
He tilted his head and held his fingers to his forehead. If he’d been wearing the cowboy hat on the bar next to him, he would’ve tipped it. “At your service, ma’am.”
Oh. That sounded nice.
“I’m Sierra. I haven’t seen you around before. I don’t suppose you’d happen to be a billionaire, would you?” she added wistfully.
Cash near choked on his drink. “A billionaire? Would that be so bad?”
“Trust me, billionaires are sucking the life out of this town,” she smiled at him.
Cash shrugged. “They can’t be that bad.”
“Oh, don’t get me started,” she said through gritted teeth. “Buying up all our property. And it’s my job to stop them. Who do they think they are, anyway??”
“Are billionaires the reason you’re crying?” he asked.
She snorted. “No. Trust me, they stress me out but there are bigger things in the world.”
He looked at her as if he was expecting to continue and she couldn’t decide whether or not she wanted to.
“I’m not telling you why I’m crying,” she finally said.
“Why not? I bought you a drink. What more could I possibly do?”
She rolled her eyes at his joke. “I just met you. You could be a serial killer, for all I know.”
He pulled a face. “Here I was thinking I was great at first impressions. You’ve just crushed my ego.”
Despite his sarcasm—or maybe because of it—Sierra was enjoying his company. It was the first time in a long while she’d felt like she’d had a real conversation with somebody. It was a nice feeling, and she didn’t want to push him away, not really.
The only way she was ever going to let anybody in again was by actually opening up rather than building walls around her.
Besides, that smile of his melted her insides.
And there’s no reason not to tell a stranger. It’s not like he’ll judge me—not like the rest of the town does.
“If you must know, I went through a breakup,” she said, keeping her voice as matter-of-fact as she could.
“Ah.” His expression suggested he regretted asking. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. He was an asshole.” She waved airily, as if it didn’t matter.
“Yeah?”
She glanced down, embarrassed. Biting her lip, she winced. “No. No, he wasn’t.” After a sip, she continued: “I was.”
He laughed at her. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Why? You don’t know me, Cash.”
He propped one boot on the railing at the bottom of the bar and swivelled his barstool around to face her more directly. “I may not know you inside out but I know an asshole when I see one. And I know for a fact that you don’t look like an asshole.”
A smile crept up on her lips. “No?”
“No,” he assured her. A few seconds went by before he added: “A heartbreaker, maybe, but not an asshole.”
She blinked at him as if confused but a laugh escaped her throat. She punched him in the arm and he nearly fell off his stool pretending to dodge her. The stumble sent them into hysterical laughter. They only stopped when Sammy brought their second round.
“Hey, who said you could buy me another drink?” Sierra complained.
“Well, you downed that one, so I assumed you wanted another.”
“Yeah, of course, but I didn’t say...”
“Oh, hush up and drink your cranberry.”
Sierra’s jaw dropped. “What did you just say to me?”
“I said hush up.” He swirled his finger in his whiskey and when he pulled it out, he pointed at Sierra with it. Some of the drink splashed her.
Sierra’s jaw felt like it was going to fall off, though her smile peeked through. It was difficult to keep up the charade of outrage, but she managed. “How dare you?”
“I’m not afraid of your heartbreaker ways.”
“I’m not afraid to hit you again.”
“Try it. I dare you.” He grinned as he repeated her own words back to her.
She took another swing at him, a little harder than she’d intended. When her fist connected with his shoulder, it shocked both of them. Cash gasped, and Sierra’s eyes widened. She watched him for a moment, waiting for his response.
He crossed his arms and stared at her through narrowed eyes. “See? You’ve already started—trying to break my heart already.”
Neither could contain themselves any longer and they dissolved in laughter again—with little idea what they were actually laughing at. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was something in the air.
Or maybe it’s a chance to be happy again, if only for a few minutes.
“No, but really,” said Cash. “I am sorry about your breakup. How long were you guys together?”
She sighed, frustrated. He had to bring it up again when they were having such a good time.
Way to kill the mood. “About six months. I know, it’s not that long but it still hurts, you know.”
“What happened?” he asked. There it was. The dreaded question.
“We... just weren’t right together,” she lied. They were perfect together. And if she hadn’t messed everything up, they still would be. “Some things just fall apart.”
“Some things have to fall apart to make way for better things,” smiled Cash.
God, how could a guy have a smile that beautiful? He was completely entrancing.
Instinctively, she licked her lips, and then prayed he hadn’t noticed. Butterflies swarmed inside her stomach when he did the same. Maybe it was the vodka cranberries talking, but dear lord, he was beautiful. And she knew one thing for certain—she wanted him. So badly.
He raised his glass and she wondered for a moment what he was doing.
Oh. A toast. Right.
She raised her glass also and they clinked together. Cash downed his drink in one.
“Tell me this,” she said, grinning. “If you actually were a billionaire, what would you buy me?”
He paused for several seconds. “I’d buy you the most beautiful necklace you’ve ever damn seen,” he finally answered.
Her smile widened. Most guys would have said a house or a yacht or something. But his response was better than that. It was... precious. Personal. And she adored that.
“Perfect,” she beamed. “I’ll hold you to it.”
Chapter 3
She’ll hold me to it? Cash felt his cheeks redden. He wasn’t sure whether that had been a genuine question about his billionaire status or if Sierra was on to him. God, he prayed for the former.
And all that business about billionaires destroying the town? He’d expected her to be joking but her face was dead serious.
Every time she brought up the topic of billionaires, Cash didn’t know what to say. He thought it best to simply smile and nod. He was enjoying her presence and didn’t want to end this conversation with vodka cranberry all over him.
Besides, it’s not like I’m lying. I’m just not telling the truth.
Somehow, he didn’t think she’d appreciate the distinction.
Several drinks later, Sierra had taken her high heels off and placed them on the bar to get a rise out of Sammy, but he just rolled his eyes and kept working. Cash shook his head as if embarrassed as she continued to pester the bartender.
In reality, he was absolutely captivated by her. Despite the smudged makeup and runny nose, she was the image of beauty. Her gray eyes—almost silver, really—were huge and full of life; her lips plump and emotive. Her brown hair had clearly started the day braided perfectly, but now tendrils escaped in tiny ringlets around her face. He couldn’t bring himself to look away.
“You call this a drink... shoes on the bar... couldn’t keep this place clean if you tried!” she goaded Sammy—who, it turned out, had been a c
o-worker of hers at some point? He’d missed some part of that explanation. It was all tied up in her tirade against billionaires, and he hadn’t been able to listen carefully.
“I think it’s time to get you home,” Cash eventually caved.
He stood up and helped Sierra to her feet. She picked up her shoes from the bar and her body swayed in an irregular pattern. Her arms wrapped around Cash and she snuggled him close.
“You’re a lovely man,” she noted, looking him up and down. “Big and strong. Like a teddy bear.”
Cash laughed it off as he guided her out.
Nothing wrong with making a woman feel safe. And comforted.
It was the best compliment he’d had in a while.
As they walked into the parking lot, the night sky spread out above them, sparkling like gems this far away from the light pollution of any city.
“It’s beautiful,” Sierra said, stopping to stare up. Then she grinned. “Is the necklace that billionaire-you is planning to get me as pretty as the stars?”
“Prettier.” But Cash wasn’t looking at the stars. The sparkle in her eyes as she glanced from the sky to him was more beautiful than all the stars in the heavens. Her smile was no longer composed and reserved but open and childish in its delight.
I could kiss her now.
No. It was the whiskey brain talking. He didn’t want to destroy a perfect night.
She stopped when they reached her house and fished around in her pockets for her key, muttering to herself.
“Hold my bag?” she asked apologetically, and then dug around in the bottom of the purse. She found her key tangled up in a ball of cotton and old receipts.
“Thanks, Cash.” She reached out to take her bag back, but locked onto his eyes with her own silver gaze. God, he could drown in her stare.
“Oh, to hell with it,” she declared. And with that, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. Her lips pressed against his, soft and warm.
And then she was kissing him passionately, deeply. Her hands ruffled through his hair and he slipped his hands behind her waist, hauling her up against his chest with a hot growl of desire.
Loving Necessity: The Complete Necessity, Texas Collection Page 24
