“We did jive. It was fun. But it was a one-night thing.”
Harper grins.
“What?” I ask, a little annoyed as Barcelona walks over to her.
“Nothing. It’s just… that grin. I don’t know. Seems like Cash Creed really got to you.”
I shake my head. “Yeah, okay, so it was a lot of fun. But you know my rules.”
“Which are super stupid, by the way. What’s so wrong about falling for someone? What’s so wrong about more than one night?”
“You know the answer to that,” I say, sighing as I lean back, looking at the ceiling. Harper’s been my friend for long enough now to know my reservations. I have a lot of them.
“There’s such a thing as a prenup.”
“Not for dating. And besides, it’s not about the money. You know that’s not it.”
“I know. But I think you sell yourself short. Is it so crazy to think a man would fall in love with you, Sage? You’re beautiful and smart, but you’re also fun and loving. You’ve got all these amazing characteristics. I think it’s sort of a cop-out that you just assume a man would only be with you for your money.”
I shake my head. “Well, if the past has taught me anything—"
“Okay, so there are some assholes out there. But trust me, they’re not all assholes.”
“Well, Cash Creed had enough swagger to tell me he’s probably one of them.”
“And how do you know this?” she asks.
“I don’t know. He just seemed too cocky.”
“Because he had sex with you? Um, double standards much?”
“Okay, fair enough. But I don’t know.”
“You’re right. You don’t know. You were with him one night. But he didn’t seem so bad from the little I saw of him. He actually seems like he could be a good match for you. And I’ve looked him up. He’s from a family of lawyers back in Texas. Seems pretty legit. And that brother of his runs Wild Hearts, so there’s some business sense in the family.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to see him again.”
“I hope you do. I think you should give him a chance.”
“Please. No thanks. That’s not how I operate. Business and work first. Love is a side dish, you know?”
“Sage Everling, I love you, but you’re a jerk when it comes to love. If I was a lesbian, I’d marry you just so you could see that long-term commitment isn’t the enemy. Don’t you ever want to just, I don’t know, share all of this amazing life with someone? Don’t you get lonely?”
“I don’t have time to get lonely,” I say, but even as I’m spewing out the words, I know their validity isn’t sold.
“You’re not fooling anyone, least of all yourself.”
I exhale. “I’ve got marketing reports to get back to. Are you going to work on designs here or your usual spot?” I ask, dodging the statement like I do so well. Work’s always been there for me, especially when I don’t feel like dealing with the emotions of something.
“I’m heading to my spot. Want to come with? It’s half-price latte day.”
“No, I think I’ll stay here and get my work done. Love you,” I say, meaning it. Even when Harper’s shoving some not-so-easy truths in my face, I know she means well.
“Love you back. Now get to work. Geez, am I the only one around here who cares about your business?” she teases as I shake my head and walk her to the door.
“Let me know when you’ve got the finishing touches completed,” I say.
“And let me know when you decide to give Cash Creed another try,” she mutters before waving and shutting the door.
I lean against the door as Monticello meows at my feet. I look down, smiling at him. “Of course, we’re not lonely, right buddy?”
Even the cat looks at me like I’m nothing but a lie.
Nine
Cash
It’s a few days after the Sage Everling sexcapade when I decide to head out in public—other than for work.
Okay, in truth, I’m not really feeling like I need to hide. So I was spotted with one of the hottest, most famous women in Ocean City… is that such a bad thing? If anything, I think it enhances my reputation. But then again, maybe it’s just a cover for the fact I’m still a little shocked.
The player isn’t supposed to get played. That’s just not how it’s supposed to work. More than that, the player isn’t supposed to still be thinking about the beautiful woman days later, wondering what she’s doing, wondering if I’ll see her again. Dammit, that woman is good.
Killer’s barking at the end of his leash startles me back to real life. Sitting on the bench with Killer glued to my side, I glance around at the other dogs and their owners having a blast in the leash-free park. Killer’s the only one on a leash—but he’s also the only dog who doesn’t appear to be very dog-friendly. Looks like bringing him here was yet another dumb choice on my part. I thought maybe the socialization and fresh air would be good for him, for both of us. Guess this wasn’t the case.
I sit on the bench, trying to rein Killer back in, scolding him for his snarling at a fluffy golden retriever that strolls by us. Walking him is a sort of hippie-like girl, black braids down her back. She’s wearing quite an interesting outfit, neon yellow and hot pink mixing in a way that isn’t unattractive—it’s just very loud.
“Sorry,” I mutter as she stops to stare at Killer, smiling.
“No worries. I’ve had a few who thought they were bigger than they actually were. Dogs I mean,” she says, chuckling.
“I see,” I reply, shaking my head as she stoops down to see Killer. “He’s a bit nippy,” I warn, but she’s already patting him on the head. He quiets, seeming to take in the sight of the girl. Maybe she’s a dog whisperer because Killer actually seems to like her. That makes two women in the past few days. Weird.
“I’ve got the magic touch. Dogs love me,” she says, matter-of-factly as her golden retriever dashes off to play with a great Dane. “So what’s his name?”
“Killer,” I reply.
“An apt choice,” she says, smirking, studying me. “Did you pick it or your girlfriend?”
I grin at her attempt at being sly. “I did. No girlfriend in the picture, not that you were asking, right?”
“No, of course not. Just… wondering is all.”
She sits beside me on the bench, a little closer than I would’ve expected. I don’t get the sense she’s flirting though. It’s like she’s got some sort of a mission, but I don’t know what. I don’t know anyone in this town, and I don’t know this woman, that’s for sure.
“So have you lived here long?” she asks.
“So do you interrogate everyone at the dog park?” I ask, sort of in a joking tone but also in a way that says I’m serious.
“Maybe. I’m sorry. I’m a little inquisitive sometimes. I just… I like to figure people out, you know?”
“I see that. But no, I haven’t lived here long. Just moved here, actually. I’m just here for the summer.”
“Oh, here to party, or here to work?”
“Work mostly. Party, too. I like to have fun.”
“Interesting,” she says, grinning. “I know someone else like that.”
“Oh?” I ask, now scanning the dog park to see if there’s some shy, embarrassed woman around. I’m wondering if this woman was sent over to scope me out.
“Yeah. She’s this odd concoction of workaholic meets party girl. It works for her, but not so much in the love life department. It’s hard for her to find someone who understands, who is able to look past her nonchalant attitude toward love. I think deep down she’s waiting for someone to understand, for someone to push her out of that weird state of limbo. If only she could find the right someone, the right guy to keep up with her but also to challenge her a bit, you know?”
“Sounds like an amazing woman.”
“She is. If someone just would take the time to get past her ‘I’m only having fun’ exterior. But that’s all something for
another day. Cute dog, Cash. Thanks for letting me see him.” She hands me Killer as she starts to walk away.
I stare at her ambling over to reclaim her dog, wondering why our conversation felt so… staged. So weird. And then it hits me.
She knew my name, but I never mentioned it. I never mentioned my name. How the hell did she know me? And is every woman in this town operating under a hidden agenda? I stand, carrying Killer as I head back home, my mind trying to wrap itself around the dating situation here. I thought Ocean City was going to be prime real estate for having unregulated fun, crazy one-night stands, and a rocking good time. Now, I’m starting to realize that maybe all Ocean City’s going to give me is a bunch of enigmatic situations with women I can’t even begin to unravel. For the first time in weeks, I’m homesick for the uncomplicated, unrivaled fun back home.
Ten
Cash
“Cash? Hello? It’s me, Jodie. Listen, you need to get to Midsummer Nights right now. Like, right now. She’s here.”
I groan, my head trying to process the female voice, trying to push through the grogginess to piece together the meaning of the statement.
I roll over in bed, the phone still to my ear. “Who? Who is where?” I ask.
“Cash, get it together. That woman you were with, Sage. She’s here for breakfast at Midsummer Nights. Lysander and Reed told me to call you. This could be your chance.”
I take a deep breath, sitting up and running my free hand through my hair. “Chance for what?”
“A chance to talk to her again, to see her. Come on, Cash. We all know you were crazy about her. You can feed that player crap to Levi, but we all see it. You’re into her. So get your ass over here and talk to her again.”
I stagger out of bed, last night’s drinks still weighing heavily on my body. I glance in the mirror. I’m a wreck. If I’m going anywhere, I need to get myself together.
“Okay,” I say, mostly to placate the woman on the other end of the phone, but also because I really don’t know what to say.
Do I want to see Sage Everling again? And what will I say?
This isn’t like me. One and done, even if it sounds prickish—which it unarguably is—that’s it. I don’t pursue women. I don’t chase them down for another night of fun, and if I do, it’s only because I know they’re only in it for one thing. I don’t ever risk them thinking I’m in it for a relationship. But as I slap on some cologne and toss on some jeans, I think about how this feels different. Uncomfortably different.
Because as I head to Midsummer Nights, I’m thinking about all the right things to say and wondering what she’ll be wearing. I’m wondering if I could snag another date with the current queen of fashion design, and if I do, where we’ll go. I’m thinking not like Cash Creed, the ultimate lone heart. I’m thinking like Cash Creed, a man falling for a woman he barely knows.
“Shit,” I mutter to myself. This is going to be an epic disaster, and I’m going to head back to Texas with my tail between my legs, wishing I’d just stayed home. Love never brings anything good, I’ve learned, and lonely hearts are better off. But this damn woman has me forgetting rational and forgetting sexual. She’s got me thinking like a man in love—and I hate every second of it.
Still, despite my brain screaming at me to turn around and let it go, I find myself sauntering through Midsummer Night’s doorway within fifteen minutes of Jodie’s call, the bells ringing to announce the presence of a soon-to-be broken man.
“Oh my goodness, look who it is,” Lysander announces loudly from the register as the woman he’s talking to turns.
And when she turns, shooting a look at me from those icy blue eyes, I mutter, “Shit” again.
Because when I see her in front of me in the middle of the day, I know without a doubt the fluttering in my chest isn’t a heart attack—heart attacks can be treated, but this disastrous thing can’t.
“Hey,” I mumble, the usually suave words that aimlessly fly out of my mouth choking up in my throat. I shove my hands in my pockets, trying to play it cool, trying not to show her how much those tight black pants and hot pink blouse are getting to me.
“Hi,” she says, offering a weak smile.
“Oh, look, seems like your card is working after all, Ms. Everling. Sorry for the hold up,” Lysander says, handing Sage her Visa over the register as he shoots me a wink. She mechanically takes the card, putting it away in her wallet.
“So, how’ve you been?” I ask, still not sure what to say. Lysander shakes his head, making a hand motion that says I need to say more before walking away.
“Fine, thanks. How about you?” she asks, looking up at me as she switches her bag from her right to left hand.
We stand near the cash register, staring at each other. “Fine. Other than being a front-page celebrity for a day,” I murmur. “I had no idea.”
“Who I was, or that you’d end up on the front page?” she asks, smiling a little now.
“Both.”
“I’m sorry. I guess with the line picking up and the press more interested, nothing’s private anymore. I’m truly sorry. I would’ve warned you if I’d known, but I just, I don’t like flaunting that part of who I am, you know? I like to keep it separate.”
I nod, understanding and even respecting that. I can imagine she’s had issues with men who know who she is only wanting one thing. I’m sort of glad I didn’t know who she was because then she knows I wasn’t after that one thing. Then again, I’m pretty sure few men look at Sage Everling with her amazing blonde hair and perfect figure and think about money. Not any man with a working cock, that is.
“So, are you following me? Did the press pay you off to get another picture?” she asks pointedly.
“Uh, no. My brother is friends with the owners here. His girlfriend works here.”
“So they tipped you off, then?”
Shit, this isn’t how I wanted this to go. “No, I just mean I come here a good bit.”
“In the what, two weeks, you’ve lived here, you mean?”
“Well, yes, but they have great pancakes, so I was coming for them.”
She nods, wide-eyed, “Oh, I see,” she says, clearly mocking me.
“Well, I could ask the same question,” I reply. “What are you doing here?”
“Business meeting.”
“Oh.” Yeah, that didn’t really go anywhere.
“But, well, I better get going. I have a meeting with my lead designer and then some phone calls to make. Nice seeing you again, Cash.”
“Well, wait a second,” I hear myself saying. I just can’t imagine letting her walk out that door, can’t imagine not seeing her again. I flash back to the other night, the feel of her skin on mine, the expert way she moved, her hair taking on a life of its own as she claimed ownership of my body in a way no woman has before. I think about the connection, about the warm feeling when she was with me. It was more than just sex. It was… I don’t know what it was. And I’m sort of scared to know—yet I can’t imagine not figuring it out.
“Yeah?” she asks, flipping a strand of blonde hair out of her face.
“What are you doing tonight? I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get dinner.”
She smiles. “That’s sweet, but that’s just not really my thing.”
“Eating?” I ask.
“Dating.”
I blink. Wow. The player thing’s for real. “Why not?”
“I don’t have to answer that,” she says, shaking her head and preparing to walk away.
“Wait a second,” I say, hating how desperate I sound. What the hell’s happened to me? Still, as she stands near the door, waiting for my profound statement, I realize it’s too late to back down now. “I get it. I do. I’m not one for dating either. With work and with my lifestyle, I’m fine being alone. I’m fine with just sex. In fact, it’s sort of my mantra, at the risk of sounding like an asshole.”
“I don’t think it sounds like you’re an asshole. I get it.”
�
��Well, then what’s the harm of dinner? Of going out again? The other night was amazing. Why not go for another round?”
She pauses as if she’s considering it, her eyes lasering into mine. For a moment, I think I’ve won her over.
“I had fun, too. Which is exactly why this has to stop there. One night, Cash. That’s it. I’m sorry if that makes me seem like a bad person, but it is what it is. I’m focused on my career and work. I like to have fun, but that’s it. I’m okay with one-night stands being just that: one night. And as great as you seem and as fun as it was, I just… I can’t risk anything more, you know? So thanks, but no thanks. It was good talking to you.” And with that, she spins on a heel and opens the door, walking out into the morning air as she leaves me behind in her wake.
“Wow, she’s giving you a run for your money. She’s going to be a tough one to break,” Lysander says, putting a hand on my shoulder.
“Who says I want to break her? Who says I’m going to go after her? I’m fine.”
I turn to face Lysander, who is raising an eyebrow. “Sure, you are. That sad puppy face right now is just my imagination. Cash, there’s nothing wrong with pursuing something you want, even if it’s a little tough. Or Sage Everling tough. I mean, who better to beat her at her own game? You’ve owned the game for how long now, right?”
He’s referring to my player reputation, which we discussed the other night at a bonfire at Wild Hearts. Levi sort of ratted me out to his friends. Not that they’re judging. Except for Avery and Jesse, the others have sort of been there before in some version. Just not to my extent.
“Yeah, but I don’t know why it matters. I’m not looking for love either.”
“Cash, no one goes looking for love. That doesn’t mean it can’t come to claim you.”
“I hardly know her. I mean, I know her body, but not her. She’s probably terrible.”
“You and I both know you don’t believe that. Now get to the booth, and I’ll send Georgia out with some pancakes while you think about how you’re going to win over Ocean City’s truest fashionista.”
Lone Hearts (Lines in the Sand Book 6) Page 5
