by Sloan Archer
When Morris finished outlining her new job, Vanessa asked, “How soon are you looking to get me back on staff?”
“Well, as soon as you can start.”
Vanessa gulped hard, dreading the confession she had no other choice but to make. “I’m definitely interested, but there may be a slight snag. I’m not currently in New York. I’m—”
“In Montana. Yes, I know.”
Vanessa wanted to ask how he knew, but then she remembered that Margo was acquainted with a few of her old coworkers at J&M. She hadn’t asked Margo to keep her location a secret, so news must have traveled up through the grapevine to Morris.
Morris said, “If you’re onboard with coming back, I have your housing in New York sorted. Well, it’s sorted for the first three months of your return, so you’ll have a place to live while you search for permanent accommodation.”
Vanessa couldn’t believe her ears. In one fell swoop, Evan Morris had called her up and solved all her problems like a fairy godfather. “You do?” He must really want me back, she realized, wondering if she should have held out for more money. No, it was best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, particularly since she was hardly in any position to bargain.
“It’s actually my wife’s pied-à-terre. But, she’s more than happy to let you use it. We hardly ever go there ourselves, but it’s a nice little place that’s fully furnished and ready for your arrival.”
It’s all sorted, then, Vanessa thought. I’m heading to New York. There was nothing much else for them to discuss. They finalized a few details and then said goodbye.
Her heart, it seemed, still had plenty more to say. If it could speak, it would whisper a single name. Cash.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
There had been countless times when Cash had gotten it in his mind to head across the field to see Vanessa, but his pride always got in the way.
Why should he be the one always pursuing her? As far as he could tell, humans inherently craved a challenge. It would do him no good to chase her down like a lost little puppy dog, as much as he missed her. He had to show her that he was not the sort of man who could be put on the back burner—that she was in danger of losing him for good if she didn’t start seeing her life beyond her obsessive New York ambitions.
Cash thought about their last exchange as he toiled away on the ranch, the dry morning heat producing hazy waves in the air above the cattle’s black and white hides. He wondered what magic words he could say in order to get her to change her mind about leaving. Because whatever he was saying now was clearly not working.
Vanessa was stubborn, a trait she’d carried over from childhood—this he knew. It was difficult to change her mind once it had been made up even when she was a young girl. If Vanessa wanted to build a fort, a fort would be built, no matter if it was a hundred degrees or if an unforeseen summer storm was moving through town. Cash suspected this determination stemmed from her need to conduct herself in an entirely opposite manner than her mother, whose unpredictability was an embarrassment.
Cash remembered the talk he’d heard about Marissa Paul around his home as a child. (In actuality, he’d been eavesdropping.) Vanessa’s mother was what his own mother liked to call “a real piece of work.” Marissa was a flake and a mooch, always riding the coattails of whatever man she’d recently shacked up with, so it had been said.
As far as Cash could tell, Marissa had changed very little now that Vanessa was an adult. This, Cash suspected, was one of the main reasons she fought so hard against their promising romance. It only took one look at Vanessa’s face as she spoke of her mother to understand that she was terrified of ending up like her.
Which was crazy, of course. She was about as opposite from Marissa Paul as anyone could get. Vanessa was her own woman, beholden to nothing but her own impossibly high standards. She was ambitious, thoughtful, and, unlike her mother, a bit of a teetotaler. Still, Cash understood the burden that came along with righting the mistakes of a parent—he was reminded of it each time he wrote a check to the bank.
Cash also wondered when, exactly, he’d fallen so hard for Vanessa. What he’d felt for her as a boy had undoubtedly been love—a young, loose kind of love, but love just the same. What he felt for her now was naturally a lot more mature—an intense, all-or-nothing kind of love. He wanted Vanessa to be happy and he enjoyed having her in his life, but deep in his heart he knew he’d have difficulty being only a friend to her now that they’d become intimate. And seeing her with another man would probably kill him.
Cash was many things, but he was not delusional. If Vanessa had expressed to him that she was not interested in him romantically, he would have taken it on the chin and called it a day. But she hadn’t. Every one of their exchanges had been heartfelt and honest, and when they’d made love, it had been more than a simple act of two human beings providing each other pleasure. There had been real emotion there, which even Vanessa hadn’t tried to deny.
Vanessa was no slacker, and she could clearly accomplish anything she put her mind to. If she was determined to get back to New York, she would eventually make it happen. It was the unknown when that unnerved Cash. If he didn’t make some kind of grand gesture soon—lay his cards out on the table once and for all—then he might lose her altogether.
But hadn’t he already laid his cards on the table at breakfast? Now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe he shouldn’t have given up so easily, pretended that he was fine with whatever. He should have fought harder to change her mind, told her exactly how deeply he’d fallen for her.
Well, it wasn’t too late to get back in the game, was it? He’d just need to tread lightly. She was gun-shy as it was, so of he applied too much pressure, she might feel it easier to cut contact with him altogether. And that would be just about the most terrible thing that could happen.
Stomach growling, Cash went inside to make himself some lunch. It didn’t take too long to prepare, which he was grateful for—he was starving. He’d made a gigantic pot of chili the night prior, so all he needed to do was warm a quick bowl in the microwave. He added a healthy glob of shredded cheddar cheese on top, a crusty side of bread, and dug in.
He’d just swallowed his last bite when his phone started buzzing on the table. Sighing, he quickly wiped his mouth. For whatever reason, telemarketers had been targeting him for the last few months. The same company sometimes called him two, three times a day, despite his requests to be taken off the list. They were sneaky buggers, always calling from a different number.
Cash didn’t recognize the number now. He answered the phone rather rudely. “Yah?”
“Hello. Am I speaking with Cash Axton?”
“Who wants to know?” he growled.
The voice on the other line didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest. “My name is Christian Seel. I’m a restaurant owner here in New York—”
“Yah, yah, and a reality TV chef,” Cash interrupted with a snort. These telemarketers had screwed with him enough. It was time to give them a dose of their own medicine. “Let me guess, if I give you my bank account information immediately, you’ll send me a complimentary set of cookware—”
“Uh, no . . .”
“A free trip on a cruise ship, then?”
“No—”
“Oh, I know, the Sultan of Brunei is going to Western Union me a million dollars if I invest in his pyramid scheme?”
“Are you done?” the voice asked, amused but hinting that he was just about done playing games.
Maybe it wasn’t a telemarketer after all. But the Christian Seel? Come on. “Okay, why don’t you just tell me what it is that you want.”
“Fair enough,” agreed the man. “As I said already, I’m Christian Seel—yes, I’m the same chef from TV. The reason I’m calling is because I’d like to talk to you about beef distribution.”
Cash sat up straight in his chair. He reached for his glass of water and quickly swallowed down a gulp. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“As a heart at
tack,” he said. “My cousin, Margo, gave me the steaks that your friend Vanessa sent on your behalf. And I must say, I’m impressed.”
Vanessa sent you steaks? he nearly asked, but something told him to just go along with it. “Well . . . that’s great.”
“Honestly, I haven’t ever had beef this good—and I’m a professional chef! It’s so rich and earthy, but there’s also a tang of sweet.” He laughed. “Listen to me going on! I’m just so excited about your steaks.”
“Thank you.” Cash still had no idea what the chef was on about, so he kept it vague. He still couldn’t believe it—a world-famous chef was calling him about his beef!
“Do you rear it yourself? You have a ranch out in Montana, so I’m told.”
“That’s right,” Cash answered. “And I oversee every step, as far as my cattle are concerned, from birth to slaughter. I know what they eat and where they graze. The ranch has been in my family for generations, so we’ve got raising cattle down to a science.”
“That’s good to hear, because that’s exactly what I’m calling you about,” Christian said. “As you might know, I own a few restaurants across America—two in New York, one in Vegas, and one in Los Angeles. I’m also expanding into Miami, but that’s still under negotiation. Anyway, I’m currently in the market for a new beef supplier, which is why the timing of your friend Vanessa’s shipment couldn’t have been more perfect.”
“Okay.”
“Here’s the thing: if I were a less cautious man, I’d ask if you’d consider a deal now. However, I want to try your steaks again. If the second batch is as fantastic as the first, I’d like to talk business. Is this something you’d be interested in?”
Cash had to restrain himself from shouting his answer down the phone. “Yes, absolutely, I’d be interested. How about this: I’ll send you a crate of steaks—various cuts. If you like this next shipment, we’ll talk.” They finished up their conversation, the chef promising to get back to him in the next couple of weeks.
Cash’s hands were shaking as he washed up his bowl from lunch. A deal with Christian Seel—supplying the beef for all four of his restaurants, as well as a possible fifth later—would put his ranch back in black. And he’d turn a hefty profit as well. Cold shoulder or not, he needed to thank Vanessa. What she’d done could change his life permanently, for the better. Cash wiped his hands on a dish towel and headed for the door.
As he crossed the field, he made up his mind to put an end to the dance they were doing around the subject of their relationship. He was going to lay his cards out on the table once and for all and make his intentions clear. This time, he’d leave no room for interpretation on her part. He loved Vanessa and he wanted her to stay in Montana. And if she gave him her heart, he’d spend each and every day of his life making her happy.
It took Vanessa a few minutes to answer the door. She seemed surprised to see him, if not a little nervous. She invited him inside, breathlessly explaining that she’d been upstairs when she heard him knocking.
Cash could contain his excitement no more. “You’ll never guess who called me,” he grinned. He did not wait for her to answer. “Christian Seel!”
She nodded happily, as if she’d been expecting to hear the news. “And?”
Cash quickly recapped the conversation he’d had with the chef. “If all goes well—if he likes this second batch of steaks—he’s prepared to enter into a three-year distribution contract. And that’s just to start. I could end up being his supplier indefinitely, if things go smoothly. Do you know what this means? The ranch would be back on track financially. I could finally pay off my father’s debts. No, forget the debts—I’d finally get a good night’s sleep!”
Vanessa threw her arms around Cash’s neck and embraced him. “That’s so wonderful! I’m glad it’s working out!” Her lips tickled his neck as she said, “I didn’t want to mention it to you because I wasn’t sure it would pan out.”
“Pan out it did!” Cash lifted Vanessa off the ground and spun her around. If you’re going to tell her that you love her, now is the time. He set her back down and took a step back. “Listen, Vanessa, there’s something I want to . . .” His voice caught in his throat as he saw a large black object over her shoulder. “What’s that?”
She smiled uneasily. “It’s a suitcase.”
“I know that. Why is it out?”
“I’m packing.”
Cash shook his head, as if coming to. “Packing for what?”
She folded her arms across her chest, two circles of red blossoming high up on her cheeks. “Why don’t we sit down. I’ll make us some coffee?”
“I don’t want any coffee,” Cash snapped. “I want know why there’s a suitcase full of your clothes sitting open on the sofa.”
“Cash,” Vanessa looked down at her feet. “What do you want me to say? You knew that I wasn’t planning on staying around here forever.”
“So, you are leaving, then?”
“My old boss called. He offered me my old job back.”
“The same guy who accused you of embezzling?”
“It’s hard to explain . . . It’s the same guy, but there was a misunderstanding. A couple of the other partners were skimming money from the accounts, and they made it look as if I was involved—”
“And these are the sort of people you want to work for?”
“It was a misunderstanding,” Vanessa said with yet another uncomfortable smile. “And I haven’t just been offered my job back. I’ve been given a massive promotion. I’d be insane not to take it.”
Cash saw that she had already made up her mind about going. Nothing he could possibly say or do would get her to change her mind. Not a thousand I love yous. Not even a million. “So, that’s it, then? You’re just going to skip town?” He felt sick, angry.
“Don’t say it like that! I’m not skipping town. I’ll be back, of course, to finish up things around the house.”
“When?”
She shrugged. “As soon as I can get away. I imagine I’ll be busy for the first couple months.”
Here he’d been on his way over to lay his heart out on the table, and she . . . “Were you even going to bother saying goodbye to me?”
“Yes.”
Cash wasn’t sure he entirely believed her. Especially not after she answered his next question. “When is your flight?”
“I’m flying out first thing tomorrow morning—I’ll be out of here before the sun comes up. I’m going to need lots of coffee for the trip!”
“Now, wait a minute . . .” If she was catching a flight at the crack of dawn, when, exactly, had she been planning on telling him that she was leaving? He could’ve been gone all night, for all she knew, since she hadn’t bothered to check in with him about his schedule.
No, she hadn’t planned to say goodbye to him at all. What kind of chump did that make him? How delusional was he? Here he’d thought that they’d had some great love affair happening, yet he meant so little to her that she didn’t think he warranted a goodbye. He’d clearly been seeing things that weren’t there.
Cash loved Vanessa to the bottom of his heart, but there were only so many blows a man’s ego could take.
“Well, it looks like your busy,” he said with a cheeriness he didn’t feel. “I just wanted to tell you thanks for the deal you arranged with Christian Seel. So . . . thanks.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“I’ll shove off, then, so you can get back to your packing.” He made a move to leave.
“Cash?”
At the door, Cash turned his head so that he could peer at her over his shoulder. “Yah?”
“It’s just . . . I’ve always hated saying goodbye, okay?”
“Sure,” he said, stepping out on the porch. “Safe travels, Vanessa.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Vanessa powered down her office computer and then added her signature to a document on her desk that was awaiting approval. She glanced at the clock, not too stunned to s
ee that it was almost eight, which was considered early by her standards. She let out a long sigh. Yet another work day had bled into a work night. Wake, work, sleep. Rinse, repeat. This was her life, an infinite cycle.
For the month she’d been back in New York, it had gone the same way: she’d awaken in bed each morning with a promise to seize the day, yet her resolution was all but forgotten by the time midday rolled around. Hours later, she’d find herself staring out her office windows at the night sky, her mind numb and her heart empty.
She tried not to think about the mistakes she’d made with Cash back in Montana. She tried not to think too much about anything other than numbers. Rinse, repeat.
On her way to the elevators, she said goodnight to the cleaning crew and a few interns who were staring tiredly at their computers. They were the only employees still at J&M. The rest of the staff had left hours ago and were probably at home having dinner with their loved ones. Vanessa would be having take-out for one.
The air outside was bitterly cold and reeked of smog. The wind clawed at her skin through her coat, trying to scratch its way down to her bones. What she understood now was that she’d been viewing her prior existence in New York through a rose-colored telescope. From afar, it had all been so ideal: her illustrious job, the great mysteries the city had to offer, the exciting hustle and bustle. Perfect, everything perfect.
To Vanessa, being back in the big city felt a lot like watching a favorite childhood movie again as an adult: It wasn’t quite as magical as she’d remembered it. Now that she’d ditched her telescope, her view had changed. The demands of her new high-powered position were as suffocating as a humid room without windows. The strangers who had once captivated her had morphed into a large, indiscernible mass, mere cogs to a larger machine. The cacophony of sounds—honking cars, shouting construction workers, the hum of the city itself—unnerved her. Had New York changed in her absence or was it her? Deep down, she knew the answer.
