Patty’s brows had risen higher with each sentence. “I see.”
Abbi resisted shrinking into Cash when Patty’s gaze pinned her.
“I’m sorry, Abbi, we didn’t get to officially meet. Patty Walker.” She stuck her hand out.
Abbi had to release Cash’s hand to shake and when she did, he crossed his arms, his wary gaze still on his mom.
So awkward.
“What else do you two have planned today?” Patty’s tone gave Abbi flashbacks to getting grilled by her parents when she went on dates, or out with friends—who were usually covers for going on dates.
“Abbi’s never ridden a horse. I have to check on Frankie’s place and then we’ll go saddle up.”
“Take it easy.” A hidden warning was in Patty’s words.
Cash gave his mom a quick kiss. He grabbed Abbi’s hand again and pulled her toward the stairwell.
“Sorry about that,” he muttered as they trotted down the stairs.
“Why? That wasn’t weird at all.”
Cash chuckled and shook his head. “So it was my imagination. I can drop you off at the diner and run to check the cats, if you want to meet in an hour.”
“Not a chance.” She whispered, “I have a major pussy fetish.”
Cash sputtered a cough while she giggled. Juvenile cat jokes to diffuse any lingering unease—worked like a charm.
“What a coincidence,” he replied, “so do I.”
Chapter Eight
Frankie’s apartment was in an unadorned, white four-plex that had no detached garage, just a large flat of cement for a parking lot. Ceramic planters with withered greens bordered each side of the door. Cash let Abbi into the entryway, where they could find the door to Frankie’s unit.
A cloud of stale cigarette smoke hung in the wide hallway. Cash half expected to be hit with the odor of cat urine, but the closer they got to Frankie’s door, the more floral the air became.
It bothered him that he didn’t know what to expect. She was his grandma and yes, he’d only known for the last ten years and he’d been gone for eight of them, but…she was his grandma.
Was he her only grandchild? Holly was her only child and Frankie had been a single mom. Had Holly tossed more children to their daddies and gone on her way?
He’d ask his parents, but he doubted they knew. As open as Frankie was, she would’ve told him. Maybe his mom would be more open to his relationship with her now that she was getting divorced.
D-i-v-o-r-c-e. How did an adult kid handle his parents’ split? He was an adult. Did that mean it shouldn’t bother him? Or that it should upset him less? More? No, it had to be pretty traumatic for a kid. Listening to them argue and then watching Mom dissolve into tears was shittier when he was a kid. If they had split, he would’ve been shattered. And would’ve felt one hundred percent responsible. Now, he knew it was mostly on Dad.
It was still shitty as an adult, and it hadn’t even fully sunk in yet.
“Nice place.” Abbi jerked him out of his musings.
Frankie’s place was homey. Colorful needlepoint adorned the walls, flowers and uplifting sayings. Her furniture was dated but in good condition. Candles decorated shelves and end tables, giving the place a fresh atmosphere.
Meows greeted them. A sizeable orange tabby prowled toward them.
“Look at him,” Abbi cooed and dropped to a crouch. The cat bypassed her to twine around his legs. Abbi laughed. “You do attract the pussy. Where’s the other one?”
“This must be Dutchie, if Baron is the one that acts like he doesn’t give a crap.”
Abbi scratched a purring Dutchie under the chin. “Baron can’t hide from me.”
“Make sure she’s okay. I’ll find their food and load it up just in case Frankie doesn’t come home today.”
His chest grew heavy again. Hearing Frankie was sick had sent panic coursing through him. There was so much he hadn’t told her. Like how grateful he was that she’d come into his life. He had a great relationship with Gram, but she had five boys and ten grandchildren. He’d had Frankie for himself, and when they talked each week, he was free to be himself. Not the prefect son, not the perfect one-nighter, not the fun-loving cousin. Just Cash.
He rummaged through the kitchen cabinets until he found cat food.
Did Frankie think he was ashamed of her and who his birth mom was? He’d never contacted her outside of the diner. They’d written letters back and forth when he was gone, simple letters that updated each other’s on goings-on. He’d never taken her out to eat or invited her over for supper. Had Frankie ever ridden a horse? Would she?
She was less than twenty years older than his dad. She’d had Holly when she was a teenager as far as Cash knew, and she’d talked about cutting down her hours but couldn’t officially retire. Dad had just turned fifty. He’d been a young twenty-two when Cash had been born. Too young for a wild man like him to settle down with a wife and kid. A kid who wasn’t his wife’s.
“What’s wrong?” Abbi came into the kitchen, holding a disgruntled calico. She lowered Baron to the floor and the kitty scurried away.
Cash topped off the cat dishes with food and water. Abbi’s gaze burned a hole in his back as he did so.
“Just thinking,” he finally answered.
“You’ve had some curveballs thrown at you in the last twenty-four hours.”
He sank back against the counter. Pressure drained from him. Abbi wasn’t prying into his thoughts, but she understood.
Abbi sauntered in front of him and cupped his face. “It sucks now, but it’ll be okay. It’s obvious they all love you. It’s them who have to learn to get along, not you who has to moderate or decide who gets your time.”
She’d nailed it. He’d felt like such a traitor for years for associating with his own damn grandma. He’d felt like he was the one who’d betrayed his mom for being born, and not his dad.
Cash laid his hat on the counter and twined his arms around Abbi’s waist. Heat infused her eyes and she pressed against him.
Her body against his was as good as before. Did she remember?
“Has any of that night come back to you?” he murmured.
Her lips parted and her gaze swept over his lips. “Some of it. The specifics are…fuzzy.”
“Do you remember this?” He dropped his head and caught her lips. A slow press at first. She tasted better than he recalled. No beer concealed her natural flavor this time. He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue until she opened for him.
She rose to her tiptoes and snaked her arms around his neck. Their kiss deepened, and they both groaned. Blood rushed south until he considered spinning them around and stripping her down. His hands skimmed to her sides and under her sweater. Soft skin shivered with pleasure as he traced his fingers along the waist of her jeans and danced higher until they hit her bra.
Yes, this was what he needed. A bare Abbi in his hands. She moaned when he splayed his hands on her back and massaged in small circles. If she writhed against him anymore, he’d have to rip his pants off and take her on the floor.
A cat mewled. Cash ripped himself away, simultaneously pushing Abbi from his body and his growing erection.
He panted like he had to catch his breath. Dutchie meowed again and glided around their legs.
“That certainly jogged my memory.” Abbi’s shy smile almost undid his restraint. He’d practically thrown her off him, but she wasn’t indignant, just as sweet as she tasted.
Telling her they couldn’t do it again never made it out of his mouth. He couldn’t recall why kissing her was a bad idea.
Because he wouldn’t stop, that’s why. If they had sex again, it’d be a thing between them. Then things got complicated and someone got hurt.
He snatched his hat up and launched away from the counter. “It’s almost lunch. We should get our riding done before it gets too late.”
What was he thinking? He wasn’t as young and immature as Dad had been when he’d settled down. But if Cash st
arted contemplating dating a girl, she couldn’t be Daniels’s sister. How could he ever look her parents in the eye? They’d lost a son they thought was a hero. And he had been. He’d signed his life away on the dotted line. But Daniels hadn’t had to go so soon, and Cash couldn’t imagine the guilt Daniels’s parents would endure if they knew what had been going through their son’s mind before he’d stepped into that room.
Cash strode to the front door and waited for Abbi, who said nothing about his abrupt change in attitude. He’d gone from wanting to have her for lunch to barely looking at her so he’d keep his hands off her.
They got into his truck without another word. Her phone vibrated and irritation flitted through her expression when she checked the message. She’d reacted the same way when her phone had buzzed at the hospital.
She caught him watching her and tucked her phone away. “Are you coming back to town tonight to check on Frankie?”
“Yeah, I’d better.”
“Good, then I’ll ride with you out to your place and come back with you. My car should be okay at the diner.”
Abbi was his for the whole afternoon. She’d be stuck with him. At his mercy. After the kiss in the apartment, he doubted his ability to keep his distance. But it was better than being separated from her for now. She was a salve for his raw emotions.
***
If Cash cared for his women the way he cared for his horses, he’d win boyfriend of the year.
Abbi swayed with Mandrell’s movements. She was a fine-looking creature, even if Abbi didn’t know a thing about horses. Cash had chattered softly to the horses while he’d saddled them. It must soothe the creatures, but she suspected it soothed the man just as much. He’d interrupt himself to explain to Abbi what he was doing. Before he’d helped her onto Mandrell’s back, Cash had shown her how to hold the reins and how to talk and move the horse.
She’d whooped—quietly—when she’d landed astride Mandrell’s back without assistance.
After he had opened the gate to let them into the pasture—all while on horseback—they’d ridden out.
The land was gorgeous, even cloaked in the fading green and brown hues of autumn. Dried grasses crunched under hooves, and flocks of geese honked far above them as they began their trek south for the winter. Her stress drained away with the peaceful setting around her. She rocked with Mandrell’s steps. The exhilaration of being on a horse faded to contentedness, and she understood why Cash was so dedicated to his creatures.
A herd of cattle roamed in the distance. Soft moos echoed as they munched away on what was left of green grass.
Cash pointed at them and made an arc to their left where another herd meandered. “We’ll drive them to a closer pasture for the winter. It’s easier to feed them and I don’t have to worry about them being stranded without food and water during a blizzard.”
“Does that happen often?”
“It can. Depends on the weather. You can lose several head if a freak storm hits early. The cattle freeze to death if they get separated from the rest.”
“Heartbreaking.”
“It is.” He rested his hands on the saddle horn. Patsy Cline didn’t need much guidance from him. She seemed to know his routine and what to do. His back was straight, but he rode relaxed, his boots half out of the stirrups like he’d taught her to do. “It also makes calving easier when the cattle are closer.”
“Calving can be bad?”
He shot her a wry smile. “Depends on the weather. Gram used to say the true test of a marriage was how many calving seasons they survived. I’ve got to watch the cows for problems during birthing, and if that means checking her out every hour all night long, then that’s what I do. If there’s complications, I can usually deal with it without calling Bunny. Then there’s the care of the calf. Is it accepted by the mom? Does the mom know what to do? Some heifers—first-time moms—get startled by their own young.”
“That sucks.” What a lame comment. She silently berated herself for her answer. Would he read more into it, like he was talking about his own mom?
If he read more into it, he didn’t act like it. “It does. Sometimes, another cow’ll take over. Sometimes, she just needs a moment. If she doesn’t come around, we bottle feed. If the weather’s frigid, or if it’s windy and snowy, then we bring them into the barn. I’ve caught a lucky streak the last few years and the cows haven’t birthed during a major storm. Some years, it feels like they all drop when the weather goes to hell.”
“Sounds more fun than working inside all day.” Even on a chilly, cloudy day when she was regretting not packing a light hat and gloves, it was invigorating being outside.
“I wouldn’t trade it. If I curse getting up in the middle of the night to go out into a blizzard, all I have to do is remember having to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to work out with a bunch of smelly men. Or spending months in the desert where the days are hot and the nights get so freaking cold. Then cow shit doesn’t seem so bad because it’s my cattle and my place.”
“Tell me how you really feel.”
Cash grinned, one of his megawatt grins that tumbled through her insides. This one seemed real, not glossing over another emotion.
“Was my brother miserable?” Her abrupt subject change probably ruined the mood, but she’d come here for Perry. She couldn’t forget her goal, couldn’t go back home to the same old routine, minus one uptight Ellis.
Cash fell silent. The horses walked side by side.
“He was as miserable as any of us.”
Abbi glared at him. “That sounds like a carefully crafted answer.” She just didn’t know why. If Perry had been unhappy, why not admit it?
Cash rolled a shoulder. “We all had our issues. Dealing with them far away from home, where we felt useless to the ones we love, took its toll on everyone. We all dealt with it in our own way.”
“What would he feel useless about? I was in college, and Mom and Dad are Mom and Dad.”
“I don’t know, Abbi. Maybe he just did.”
“No, I think he talked and you’re not telling me.” She’d grown accustomed to Cash freely chatting with her about subjects she suspected he didn’t share with many other people. But when it came to her brother, his body language was tight, monitored. It was like a wall had gone up between them.
His jaw formed a hard line and he glared into the distance. The horses took step after step, lulling Abbi into almost dropping the subject.
“Would it make you feel better?” Cash finally spoke. “To know that he was worried about you? Or would you use it to wallow in self-pity?”
“I’m not like that.”
“Aren’t you? Have you had anyone close to you die and wonder what you could’ve done to change it? You came here because you felt like you didn’t do enough for Daniels—Perry—so if I tell you what bothered him in the months before he died, I can’t imagine you’d say, ‘oh, okay,’ and move on.”
“It’s my choice.” Abbi gripped her reins firmly without tugging on Mandrell. Her curiosity and concern over Perry’s last moments threatened to overwhelm her until she couldn’t breathe.
“Maybe if your brother wanted you to know what he fretted over, he’d have told you.”
Abbi stared at the man riding next to her. His cheeks were tinted pink from the chilly air, but he wore just a light jacket over his long-sleeved shirt. He rode as if the horse weren’t even there, he and Patsy Cline so in sync. She wanted to be angry and stomp away, but she wasn’t exactly in a position to do so. Why wouldn’t he just talk to her? She’d used her vacation time to drive all the way up here. She’d even toasted a long-term relationship to come, but Cash didn’t know that.
Perry had been plagued by personal problems when he’d died. At least she had that confirmation. Would he have talked to her, eventually? She mulled it over.
“It was me, wasn’t it? Perry was worried about me.” Her throat grew thick. Of course. Perry was her older brother and he was halfway around the world while she
partied all night and scraped passing grades together during the day. Her parents always hounded her about repeating failed classes because they’d raided their pension to pay for college. Had they shared their troubles with Perry?
Cash’s expression turned bleak. She’d nailed it. Oh my god. Had Perry’s concern over her been a source of distraction for him in the field? Oh god. She might’ve been the reason he’d made a deadly mistake.
The contents of her stomach welled up until she feared she’d hurl in front of Cash again. Would the horse panic and bolt? She had zero knowledge of what to do right now.
“Hey.” Cash’s voice was low as he rode closer. “You have to understand, Abbi. Brothers just worry about their sisters. We might be shit at showing our love by pointing out all the crazy plans going on in your head, but we take our role as protectors seriously. Only, when you’re so far away and communication is hard, and every minute of your life is dictated by the military, it only amplifies what’s banging around our heads.”
Abbi cleared her throat and wiped her eyes, his words seeping in. “Yeah, I guess I can see that.”
“You have to understand, too, that whatever was going on with him, it was him, not you. Don’t take the way he thought and acted on yourself.”
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” What had Perry said? She was a selfish, irresponsible sister and should go easier on her parents?
He scowled at the space between his horse’s ears. “No. He was just a brother who was a soldier. If you’re looking for anything more, it’ll just lead to insanity.”
She sighed, starting to think he was right. Grief had made her look too much into this. She’d had a hard enough time with Perry’s death; if she took on unnecessary blame, it’d destroy her, and that’d destroy Mom and Dad. She’d made progress and that was enough for now. “Your sister drives you crazy, huh?”
“God, yes.” Cash’s frustrated expression remained in place. “She’s so much younger than me, I feel like I was gone during her formative years. By the time I got home, she was off to college and…”
“Partying and barely passing her classes.” Wryness tinted her words.
Long Hard Fall (The Walker Five Book 3) Page 7
