Chapter 4 – CASH #4
“Just stop. Talk to me. Please.” I reach out and accidentally put my hand on the shoulder of her hurt arm. She freezes. I snatch it back. “Sorry.”
She stops, glaring at me like I’m garbage. “What do you want?”
“To talk. Please.”
She blinks and actually taps her foot. For once, she’s not wearing boots. She’s got on black and white Chuck Taylors. They’ve been around the block. There are faded blue ink doodles on the rubber toes.
“Well?” she says.
“Well, what?”
“What do you want to talk to me about?”
And ‘cause I don’t know, I say, “Your dad came up to my cabin today to kick my ass.”
Her hand flies to her mouth, and she sucks in a breath, “Oh, no. He didn’t.” Her eyes grow teary. “Did he actually hit you? Did you hit him back?” She gets aggressive on the last part.
“No, no, nothing like that. I calmed him down. He was pretty worked up.”
She starts walking in the opposite direction of where she was headed. “I’m gonna kill him,” she mutters to herself.
I walk beside her. “We talked it out. He’s been—” Shit. Ken said not to tell her, and she’s gonna flip, but I’m not gonna let her walk down alleys alone not knowing that people are making threats.
But I don’t want to tell her either. I don’t want her scared.
Better scared than unprepared, though.
I hate this. Why can’t I scoop her up, throw her in the back of my truck, and be done with it?
But I gotta use words. “He’s freaked out about some voicemails he’s been getting. About the Del Willis thing.”
She stops in her tracks again. “What phone calls?”
“Folks angry about the article. Sayin’ they’re going to do stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is—”
“What stuff?” she interrupts. Her eyes are huge, and her pupils are pinpricks. She’s scared. I don’t like it. It makes me feel—queasy. “Threats to do what?”
“Just— Bad stuff.”
She kind of growls and storms off again.
“Where are you going?” I trot to catch up.
“To my dad’s.”
I grab her arm, the good one, and I say, “Please, Glenna. He was upset earlier. He chilled out. Don’t get him worked up again. Talk to me.”
She narrows her eyes, but she stays put. “Why do you even care about this?”
And inspiration strikes. It’s not a complete lie. It’s—truthy.
“‘Cause maybe we can help each other out.”
“What?”
“Just listen—” She blinks, and I lose my train of thought. She’s so close. Her hoodie smells like coffee and fresh baked bread.
My stomach growls.
She tilts her head, impatient.
“Okay, see, you’re not the only one getting shit about this shooting thing.
My phone’s been ringing all day. My folks are pissed.
My business runs on word of mouth, and this could tank me.
I know people don’t really think I shot you, but that’s the story, and outside of Stonecut, that’s gonna kill me. ”
“I’m so sorry for you.” Her mouth goes pinched like when she’s mad.
I replay what I said. What part pissed her off?
I can’t tell, so I plow ahead. “So I’ve got a problem, and you’ve got a problem with the town hating you and harassing your dad about that article.
So I’ve got an idea. Solve both our problems. Make people think the shooting was an accident and get people to lay off you and your dad. ”
Yeah, this is brilliant.
Her eyes narrow to mean, suspicious slits. “What?”
“Go out with me.”
“Where?”
“Like a date. We date. That’s the idea.”
“I saw the movie Carrie .”
I have no idea what she’s talking about.
Glenna bugs and then rolls her eyes. “Seriously? You never saw Carrie ? The horror movie? A girl gets voted prom queen, and it’s a prank, and she gets doused in pig’s blood, and she burns the place down?”
I have no idea what that has to do with this, but I love horror movies. “Nope, but I’m interested.”
“I’m not fake dating you.”
“Why not? Folks leave your dad alone, people drop that shit about me shooting you, my dad doesn’t call me up drunk, wondering where he went wrong.” This is such an obviously good idea, but I can tell, she’s not even considering it.
“No one would believe it,” she says.
“People believe anything.”
“Everyone knows we hate each other.”
“That’s, like, how fifty percent of relationships start.”
“On TV.”
“In real life, too. I don’t think my parents liked each other much. My dad was a farm hand, and my mom was a college girl. They just got bored one summer. The only reason they got married was ‘cause she got knocked up with my brother John.”
“My parents were best friends.” Her chin lifts, and there’s something new in her eyes. A shine. Vulnerability. Is this the first time she’s ever let her guard down with me?
My cock twitches. Not now. I need to not fuck this up.
“See?” I say, but gently. “Fifty-fifty.”
“This is a dumb idea.”
“I guarantee people will leave your dad alone. He was real upset about those voicemails, Glenna.” It’s a low blow, but I need this. Those animatronic devil voices from the messages have been plaguing me all day, and there is no way I’m sleeping tonight if I don’t do something.
Her lip wobbles. I clench my fists to stop myself from smoothing it. Hold up. Fists are not a good look. I relax my hands at my sides.
“Fake dating?” She says it like it’s nuts.
“Public places so people see us together. It’d give your dad some peace of mind. Take some pressure off.”
Bam. My point lands. She’s thinking about it now, worrying that sweet, plump bottom lip with her teeth.
I’m wracking my brain for another argument when the back door of the coffee house opens.
“Glenna? Are you okay?” Toby steps into the alley, and surprise, surprise—he brings along the pink-haired chick he was chatting up. They’re holding hands. The chick looks none too happy.
The plot thickens.
Glenna sees them. For a split second, her eyes widen and her mouth makes an “o.” Then her forehead scrunches.
I’ve seen that look before when we were kids, and she’d step on a bee barefoot or get a splinter in her palm.
I reach for her on instinct. That look—I’m supposed to do something.
But before I can, she pushes me against a brick wall with the hand of her good arm.
She tilts her face, grabs my collar, and pulls me down. I might not be a bright man, but I ain’t slow. I cup both her cheeks and kiss her.
She breathes a short, startled moan into my mouth. I’m instantly rock hard.
I taste her. Upper lip. Pouty bottom lip. Pure adrenaline shoots through my veins.
She tastes exactly like I knew she would, but also like peppermint and Chapstick. I lick her, nibble, coax her to let me in. She does on a gasp. I slide my tongue inside, not too fast, not demanding.
I got to be so careful.
I can’t bump her hurt arm. I can’t freak her out. My body’s raging, telling me to trade places, lift her up, push her against the wall and grind so she can feel what she does to me, what she always has. Drive her as wild as she makes me.
But I can’t. I can’t.
So I skim my hands down her back, and so help me Lord, I can’t stop.
I squeeze her beautiful, luscious ass. I’ve thought about it every time I’ve whacked off since I figured out how in middle school, and it’s even better than I imagined, more than a handful and the perfect medium between firm and soft.
Oh, my God, I’m gonna bust a nut here and now from nothing but a French kiss and an ass grab. I gotta calm down.
She sucks my tongue and whimpers.
It’s like a starter pistol.
I flip her, cup her neck, step her back against the brick, plunge deeper, demanding, going wild. We’re panting. Our teeth click. She grips my forearm as if to keep herself steady, her fingernails digging into my muscle.
I want them down my back.
I’m starving. I’ve been starving all my life, and here is a meal, and I can’t get enough, but I have to hold back, and I can’t remember why.
And then, vaguely, I register a door slam.
“Cash,” she says into my mouth.
Oh, hell, yeah. “Say my name again.”
“Cash,” she says, louder. And she twists her face away and stiff arms me.
For a second, I’m rushing ahead and dragging myself to a halt at the same time, and I kind of lose my balance, stagger a step, and that’s good, ‘cause Glenna slips away.
Her chest is rising and falling as fast as mine. Her eyes are glowing. She looks like she’s gonna burst into tears.
Did I cross the line? I must have. I always do. Shit.
No, she kissed me . She was into it.
But now her chin’s dimpling, and she keeps brushing hair out of her face that isn’t really out of place.
If she cries, I’m gonna hurl.
“It’s okay,” I say, trying to stave off whatever’s going on.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” she says.
Which is not what a man wants to hear, but at least she’s not crying. She’s collecting herself, tugging the hem of her hoodie down, shoving a hand in her pocket.
“No, that was good. Quick thinking. We don’t have to make an announcement or anything. I’m sure Toby’s already told the whole coffee shop.”
My phone buzzes. I take it out. Yup. My buddy Holden Foster was at a table with his girl.
I hold up the text so Glenna can see.
You and Dobbs???
“Oh,” she says. She sounds hella dismayed. It’s good that my ego is rock solid.
“This is good. You’ll see.”
“I’m fake dating Cash Wall,” she mutters to herself.
“You’re gonna fake love it.” I give her my most disarming grin.
She grimaces.
“So, were you, uh, just running away from me, or, uh, heading home, or—?”
“I don’t care about what Toby thinks,” she says suddenly. Her cheeks are pink. Her gaze is shifty.
Yeah. I guess that’s why she kissed me. Prove to the ex with the new girlfriend that she’s moving on, too.
Can’t lie. That stings, now that I think about it.
“Neither do I,” I say ‘cause I have to say something.
“I’m sorry I just kissed you like that,” she says. She’s staring at the ground. The pink in her cheeks have turned flaming red.
“I’m not.” I grab her arm, pull her hand out of her pocket, and take it in a firm grasp. It’s so small and delicate, I feel like I’ve got a bear paw. “Where to? Home, Dad’s, back inside?”
She sighs, very loud and long. “Back inside. I have to close.”
“I’ll help.”
I do. I hang out three more hours at the coffee shop, bored off my ass. The only upside is watching my hot new girlfriend bend over to wipe down tables and get flustered every time our eyes meet.
Can’t say I’ve ever been happier.
This is gonna work out great.
A week from now, Glenna Dobbs is gonna be my woman for real.