Perfectly Toxic

by Kristine Mason

  “Mel doesn’t like that I’m in the repo business,” Cash admitted. “It can be dangerous.”

  “She never struck me as the type to run from danger.”

  “Oh, she wasn’t.” He grinned. “Mel likes living on the edge. At least she used to, but I had a little accident and she kinda went ape-shit after that.”

  Harrison raised a brow. “By ape-shit, do you mean she left you?”

  He nodded. “Not right away. She waited until I was better, then left.”

  “Did this accident happen during a repo job?”

  “Yeah, I was repossessing a pickup truck just like the one I own. Should’ve been routine. Unfortunately for me, the truck’s owner had a buddy at the bank who gave him a heads-up that I’d be coming for the truck. The guy and a couple of his friends were waiting for me. Ambushed my ass and beat the hell out of me.”

  Harrison blew out a breath and reached for his beer. “You went there by yourself?”

  “Jude dropped me off and was waiting about a quarter mile away. He had no clue what was happening until those pricks threw me in the back of their pickup, drove toward where Jude was parked, and dumped me onto the road.”

  “Holy shit, man. How bad did they hurt you?”

  “Broke my back, both my legs, couple ribs and my jaw. My face and head were so swollen, I looked like the frickin’ Elephant Man. It took almost eight months and a whole lot of physical therapy before I was walking right.”

  Harrison drained his beer, then stared at him. “You couldn’t walk?”

  “I had swelling around my spine that caused temporary paralysis. No biggie. I got through it.”

  “Wait a sec. You’re telling me you were paralyzed—”

  “Temporarily.”

  “Are you kidding me? I don’t care if you were paralyzed for only fifteen minutes. I don’t blame Mel for leaving you.”

  Damn. And he was just starting to like Harrison. “Go fuck yourself.”

  Harrison half-smiled. “Dude, what’s funny is how badly you’ve fucked yourself. Your buddies at the garage? I can’t believe they don’t tell you how stupid you are every time you go out to do a repo job.”

  “Look, man,” Cash said, trying his damnedest to keep his temper in check. “You don’t know me, or my buddies. Doesn’t sound like you know Mel all that well, either. So you might want to keep your mouth shut.”

  “I know Mel well enough to get why she left you.” Harrison pushed the barstool back and stood. “Watching a person you care about continue on a self-destructive path sucks. I’ve seen it with my mother, my brother, my best friend. What’s funny is how you had no problem telling Bobby what a dumbass he is and how he’s screwing up his life, but you can’t see what you’ve done to your own.”

  Cash stood, knocking his barstool to the floor, and purposefully entered Harrison’s personal space. Screw this asshole. He didn’t know him or Mel the way he thought. “Let me tell you something about my life. I have my own business, I’m two mortgage payments away from owning my house. I have no debt, own my truck and have money in the bank. Don’t even try to compare me to Bobby.”

  Harrison gave him a mocking smile Cash wanted to punch off his face. “At least Bobby still has Mel. Can you say the same?” He threw a ten dollar bill on the bar. “Beer’s on me.”

  After Harrison left, Cash righted the barstool, then finished his beer. He wanted to hate Harrison. At the moment, he did. The prick was right. Mel used to talk to him like she’d done with Bobby this evening. She used to be sympathetic and understanding. She used to be easy. When she’d gone all hard ass on him about his job and lifestyle, things had changed between them. The love was there—at least on his end—but the fighting had become out of control.

  Then she’d left him.

  Cash, I want you to put yourself in Melanie’s position. How would it make you feel if she had been the one to sustain the same injuries you had?

  He hated Harrison and his therapist. Again, why couldn’t he have his fucking cake? Why did everything have to be talked out and analyzed? Was everyone around him deep, or was he just that shallow?

  Shallow enough not to care that his wife had left him simply because he’d refused to quit a job that—according to his tax returns—he honestly didn’t need. He owed Mel an apology. He might’ve already decided to retire from repoing to coerce her into coming back home, but he realized that might not be enough.

  His stomach clenched with the nausea that came on whenever he thought about losing her for good. He left the bar and looked across the street. Harrison stood in front of the diner, gave him a nod, then jerked his head to the left. Cash shifted his gaze in that direction and saw Mel walking along the sidewalk with Bobby. Her arm was hooked through his and she was smiling. She didn’t smile like that at him anymore. The kind of smile that made him warm inside, that let him know she cared.

  With panic tightening his chest, he quickly crossed the street. He had no idea if she’d stay with him tonight, but he’d somehow find a way to talk with her alone. At their house. Once she was there, he’d right everything between them. He’d tell her that he planned to quit the repo end of their business, and ask what it would take to get her to come back home. He didn’t want her to be done with him, or losing sleep because of the possible consequences of his job. He wanted her to know that he had been trying to become a better man. He just hoped she’d give him the chance to talk before she took off for Everglades City. Now that she’d found Bobby, she could leave first thing in the morning.

  He didn’t want that. He wanted his wife home. For good.

  Chapter 6

  Cash and Mel’s House, Tallahassee, Florida

  Friday, 8:58 p.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time

  MEL WANTED TO have sex with her husband. Sex and nothing more. She wanted to pretend to be the kind of woman who could turn off her emotions, not think, just enjoy the pleasure she knew Cash could give her. Tired of nagging, of giving him ultimatums, of the occasional weekend together, she wanted a divorce.

  She parked in their driveway, then checked her reflection in the visor mirror. Divorce was the last thing she truly wanted, but living separate lives wasn’t working for her. While she couldn’t imagine dating or being with anyone but Cash, and she refused to consider another woman touching Cash’s body, she wasn’t being fair to either of them. Mostly herself. She knew Cash. He liked things easy and uncomplicated. For him, their marriage was easy. He could do what he wanted, when he wanted, without answering to her.

  She closed the visor. He could risk his life, start fights and continue to go about his business as if she only existed on the occasional weekend. She was done being a part-time wife and a second thought.

  After she slid from the Camaro, she reached into the back for her overnight bag. As she made her way toward the front door, she pressed a hand to her nervous stomach. Cash would expect sex, which she also wanted. Should she bring up their dysfunctional marriage prior to sex, or wait until they were both satisfied? Since she figured she’d end up sleeping in the guest room once she’d had her say and they’d argued about it, they should have sex first. Considering the way he’d reacted when she’d first arrived, and how his gaze had kept shifting to her breasts, she doubted Cash would object to that plan.

  She rapped on the door. Dang it, she objected to that plan. She didn’t want tonight to be the last night she’d spend with him, and she certainly didn’t want to spend it arguing or sleeping in separate rooms. But what else was there for her to do? How much longer could they live like this?

  The door opened, and Cash greeted her with a scowl. Well, there went her plans for sex first, argument later.

  “Since you’re so happy to see me, maybe I should head back to the hotel,” she said, making no move to enter.

  “Who says I’m not happy?”

  “The nasty look on your face. But you’re not repeating your unicorn phrase, so you must not be that mad.”

  “I prefer the sweet Mel to the bitchy
one,” he said, opening the door wider, revealing his worn jeans and bare feet.

  She stepped inside and set her bag on the tiled, foyer floor. “And I prefer a real man over a boy who likes to get into fights and still thinks he’s invincible,” she said, then walked into the living room in search of their dog. “Where’s Dolly?”

  “Kitchen, sleeping in her bed.” He grabbed her arm, forcing her to face him. “Well, I prefer to be with a woman who isn’t ashamed to be married to me,” he said, his voice low, unforgiving.

  She met his gaze, saw the anger and hurt, and realized her choice to not tell anyone but her daddy about Cash had been a mistake. “I’m not ashamed of you.”

  “Then explain why Harrison didn’t know we were married.”

  “The subject never came up.”

  “Bull.” He let go of her arm to hold her left hand. “Where’s your wedding ring?” He released her and held up his to show off the simple black tungsten carbide wedding band she’d bought him. “Mine doesn’t come off, but I see yours does. You usually have it on when you come to town, now I’m wondering if that was only for my benefit.”

  She jerked her hand away. “Considering the only time we act like a married couple is when I’m here, that seems appropriate to me.”

  He took a step back and turned. “Wow.” He shook his head, then faced her again. “So you really never told anyone from home you married me?”

  The ache and disbelief in his dark eyes had regret twisting her stomach in knots. “Daddy knows.” Tears filled her eyes. “Daddy might be a little off, but he’s not stupid. He knew I was hurting. I stayed with him for about three weeks after I came home.”

  “You didn’t tell me that, even after we started talking again.”

  “You didn’t ask. By the time I came out of hiding and left Daddy’s swamp, I didn’t see any point in telling anyone about us.”

  “Didn’t see any point?” he echoed. “Here I thought you loved me.”

  “I do,” she shouted. “But you can’t change the stripes. You’re selfish and pigheaded. You want what you want and that’s all that matters to you. And what you want is to risk your life for a job.” Memories of when Cash had been found broken and beaten filled her mind. When she’d first walked into the ICU, he’d been unrecognizable, and in those early days, no one was sure if he’d fully recover from his head injuries or walk without assistance. She swiped her cheeks where tears began to fall. “Don’t try to make me feel guilty for not telling my friends that my husband chose his work over me.”

  He looked away, and rubbed a hand down his face. “I didn’t choose my business over you. Sorry if I wanted to make sure I provided for us. You grew up about as poor as I did. I doubt neither of us wants to go there again.”

  “You keep tellin’ yourself that.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  She took a few steps and stabbed his chest with her finger. “You own a garage. That’s how you make the majority of your money. You don’t need to repo to maintain the business or this house. You’re like a drug addict. You need to repo to get your adrenaline fix. Because I’m not enough.”

  He gripped her by the upper arms and pulled her close. “That’s not true and you damn well know it.”

  “You let me leave.”

  “You were upset about the miscarriage. I thought you needed some time.”

  She hadn’t been upset, she’d been devastated. After nearly losing Cash, the pregnancy had represented hope and second chances, both of which were torn to shreds when she’d lost the baby and Cash had selfishly gone back into the repo business.

  “Time?” She fisted the front of his shirt as anger sliced her wide open. “I needed you. I needed to know that if we got pregnant again, you’d be around to raise our child, not bound to a wheelchair or dead.” She shoved at his chest and tried to step away. When he forced her to remain still, her temper erupted. “I’m done. I want out. For good.”

  “I told you. No divorce.”

  “Doesn’t matter what you want. In Florida, only one of us has to want a divorce for the request to be granted.”

  “I won’t sign.”

  “Why?” She shoved him again. “Why are you hanging on to something that’s making us both miserable?”

  “What’s miserable is this entire conversation.”

  “You’re right. We were never great conversationalists. Let’s do what we always do when we get together, and just have sex,” she said, wanting to hurt him the way he was hurting her. “That’s what we’re best at—that and fighting.”

  “Agreed. We’ll have sex. You can leave me—again—tomorrow, and file for divorce. I’ll sign your papers so you don’t have to deal with me again.”

  “Good, because that’s exactly what I want.”

  He let go of her and crossed his arms. “So what are you waiting for? Take off your clothes.”

  The fury in his eyes challenged her confidence. She also questioned his motivation. Cash was predictably unpredictable. He’d been too adamant about his ‘no divorce rule’ to roll over so easily. Sure that he didn’t want a divorce any more than she did, but unsure of where this would actually go, she shook her head. “Since you’re treating me like a whore, maybe you should pay me first.”

  His hand shot out, and he gripped her by the back of the head. The intensity in his eyes, his closeness, the roughness had desire curling through her belly.

  She gasped and held her ground. Fought to keep her gaze on his, not his mouth.

  “Don’t talk like that,” he said. “I’ve never treated you that way. No matter what, I never will.”

  He was right. Cash had always treated her like the lady she’d spent her life working hard to be. Despite her love of clothes, jewelry, and anything frilly and girly, she could kill and skin a squirrel, chop a car, or throw a knife. Her skills weren’t something she’d advertised—most men were turned off by a woman who liked playing with knives. Not Cash. He’d always treated her as his equal, yet he also liked to take care of her. She couldn’t count the times he’d buy her flowers from the gas station, just because.

  Cash might be rough, but she liked rough.

  He loosened his grip, then ran the tip of his finger along her cheekbone. “Let’s play a game,” he said, inching his mouth closer to hers. “Kind of like truth or dare, minus the dare.”

  “Do I have a say in the rules?”

  “Maybe. Here’s how we’ll play. I ask you a question. If you get it right, then I remove one article of clothing. But whatever answer either of us gives has to be the truth.”

  “And if I answer wrong?”

  He skimmed his finger along her collarbone. “Then you’ll be the one to remove the clothes, not me.”

  “After all these years, is this your way of finding out how well I truly know you?” she asked, loving and hating that he was derailing their argument. She didn’t want to fight, but she did want their marital problems to come to an end.

  “Nope.” He nudged her chin. “This is my way of showing you why we’re supposed to tough it out and make our marriage work.”

  Although she’d place bets that the removal of clothes portion of this ‘game’ was Cash’s idea, the rest had to be his therapist’s. This wasn’t Cash’s M.O. He didn’t play games. He said what was on his mind, expected the same in return and if he didn’t like the outcome, he walked or shut down.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll play along. Who goes first?”

  He took a step back, taking his heat and pure male scent from her. “I will. Ready?”

  “Wait, am I asking you the question?”

  “No, I’m asking you a question about me. Better answer it right or you lose something. Got it?” When she nodded, he asked, “When’s my birthday?”

  Cash was a bullheaded Aries. “That’s simple. April seventeenth.”

  He pulled his shirt over his head. “My turn.”

  “Hold on a sec. That was way too easy. You had to know I’d get that one
right.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe I wanted you to see how I’ve been working hard for you, babe,” he said, tightening his ab and chest muscles.

  Good Lord, the man was sexy and cheesy in the best way. She stared at his tanned, toned chest and stomach. Envisioned kissing a path from his pecs to the waistband of his low-riding jeans. “My turn?” she asked, snapping out of the brief fantasy before it went too far. They were supposed to be proving something, not having sex. Yet.

  “Yep.”

  Since she wasn’t quite ready to shed her clothes, she asked, “What do I want in a marriage?”

  He pressed the heel of his hand to his temple. “Do you even know the answer to that?”

  “That’s not an answer, but yes, I do.” Sort of. She’d never truly been exposed to how loving, married couples acted around each other. Her mom had died when she was young. Barney was divorced. The Monahan boys only recently met their women, so they didn’t count.

  “Okay,” he began, “Fidelity.” He grinned. “Yes, I know what the word means.”

  She smiled back. “I don’t doubt that.”

  “Honesty.” His stance was self-assured, while his eyes were filled with understanding. “You want to know that your husband will come home to you every night. You don’t want a drunk, but someone you can have fun with. You want to treat marriage like the way you treated the garage—as a business. How am I doing?”

  “Good.”

  “I can keep going.”

  “Please do.”

  “You want a husband who isn’t afraid of hard work. A man who doesn’t procrastinate. You want to wake up and go to bed knowing that everything is awesome. You want the impossible.”

  “Nice,” she said, disappointed. He’d been saying everything right, and describing the qualities she loved about him. Then he went and screwed it up in the end. “That’ll cost you your jeans.”

  “The hell it will.” He glanced to her chest. “Lose the shirt. I’m right.”

  “Thanks, Jiminy Cricket, but I already have a conscience and can think for myself. Since you were only half wrong, we’ll call it even and neither of us loses anything.”