12. Pretty Little Poison #2
My eyes narrowed, a scowl coming to my lips as I tried to mimic the motion. “Like this?”
He shook his head, clutching my wrist in his grip as he guided my hand. “No, you can’t let your wrist flop around. You gotta try and keep it smooth. See, up and down, up and down. Not so fast, not so fast. There. Up and…”
I looked up at him, noting the mischief shining in his hazel eyes and hidden in his smirk, and then it dawned me. “Oh my God, you’re such a dumbass.” I laughed, trying to pull my hand from his, but he held firm, laughing as well. “And I suppose you have something I can use for that?” I smirked.
He grinned, his smile promising nothing but trouble, and I think my heart skipped a beat. Cash Mooney smiling was really one of the most beautiful sights I’d ever seen. He lit up brighter than a damn Christmas tree.
“Well,” he winked, “I mean, if you’re askin’, sugar, I’ll volunteer as tribute.”
I ran my tongue over my teeth, unable to fight back my grin. “You’re fucking terrible, you know that?”
“Terribly entertainin’.” He tipped my chin with a finger, that luminous smile still on his face.
Ugh, how was he so incredibly hot and confident and slick?
How did he know exactly what to do and say?
I’d met confident men. Cocky men. Arrogant pricks who thought they were hot shit.
But I’d never met anyone like Cash. Yes, he was cocky, but so far in every situation he’d had the skills to back it up. Which was infuriatingly hot.
I rolled my eyes and began walking again, knowing he’d follow. “How do you think the fire started?” I needed to change the subject. Needed to not be joking about jacking him off before both of us ended up in the tackroom without clothes on.
He sobered a bit as he replied, “Not how. Who?”
“You think it was on purpose?” I glanced over at him from where he walked beside me.
He dipped his head, a note of annoyance in his voice as he finally blew out a breath and said, “This fire was no accident. I think it was Chey’s ex.”
My brow furrowed, my mind going back to the conversation I’d had with her yesterday morning. “The one who burnt down her trailer?”
He huffed. “She told you?”
I nodded. “Yeah. You think he did it?”
He sounded like a crazy asshole from what she’d mentioned, but, damn…
“Only Country Road’s stall was padlocked,” he replied, the words more like a growl than anything. “And he tried to burn down her home once already. This was no accident. Mav makes sure that barn was completely safe everyday. Not a wire out of place or nothin’.”
“But why? Why do it again and risk getting caught?”
We reached the barn and went inside. Cash made himself comfortable petting a horse as I grabbed a stall rake to begin my chores.
“Chey was pregnant with his baby…” His voice carried through the barn “...when she told him about it, he told her to get rid of it. But she didn’t.
When he ran into her and Mav at this cowboy bar back in January and saw her pregnant, he threatened her…
Fuckin’ dickhead almost hit her. Mav snapped, beat the ever livin’ piss outta him. ”
I paused before the stall he was at, meeting his gaze. “Oh shit. So, you think this is, like, revenge then?”
Damn. I’d dated some crazy assholes, but none brave—or stupid enough—to try and hit me or burn down my home. This guy sounded like a first class asshole.
“If it is,” he ground out, “that bastard’s opened up a whole new world of shit for himself.”
“How so?” I asked, opening up the stall and shoveling up a pile of shavings to toss into the wheelbarrow out in the breeze-way.
“Remember the guy here helpin’ me get Chey’s horse out of the barn?” he asked. “Not Ryder, the other one.”
“Vaguely.”
“That’s my brother. He’s part of one of the biggest motorcycle gangs in the southwest. And even if him and I don’t see eye to eye on anythin’ really, one thing you don’t fuck with is family.
” Cash’s gaze darkened, the lines of his face hardening, making him look as if he’d been cut from stone.
It was hot, but I didn’t like how harsh it made him.
He wasn’t meant for frowns and scowls. He was meant for easy grins and panty-dropping smirks.
“Well damn, Mooney. Your life is much more of a shitshow than I would have guessed.”
Which made him all the more intriguing. Because let’s face it, your girl was a dramatic bitch.
He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath, forcing some of the tension out of him. “Yeah, but enough about my life. Tell me something about yours, sugar?”
I scoffed, rolling my eyes as I shoveled another pile of shavings.
“Afraid there isn’t really much to tell,” I said, focusing a bit—okay, a lot too intently on my work so that I didn’t have to look at him.
“Same old boring orphan origin story. My mom was a teenage drug addict, I never even knew who my dad was, nor do I give a shit for that matter. My mom overdosed when I was, like, almost three, and then my grandpa became my guardian til he died when I was five. After that, I spent my time bouncing around from foster home to foster home. School to school. You know, typical orphan shit, til I turned eighteen.”
“Well damn. That’s shit.” And the way he said it…
I don’t know, something about it made me actually feel like he cared.
Most people apologized for it, which made, like, zero sense to me.
It wasn’t their fault. It’s not like they’d put me through that.
It was what it was. I got a shitty hand at life, but, oh well.
I didn’t need people to be sorry for me or offer hollow condolences.
But, it’s like he saw it for what it was and didn’t feel the need to sugar coat it. I liked that honesty.
I shrugged, my lips twitching up into what I hoped was a nonchalant smile and not a grimace.
“It could be worse. I mean, I don’t have any family to worry about anymore.
No one to tell me how to live my life or anything like that.
No one to keep me tied down to one place.
Right now, I’m free to come and go as I please.
Be who I wanna be. It’s…freeing in a way. ”
Cash moved into the stall, stepping into my space.
His broad shoulders blocked my path, forcing me to look up at him.
God, he was so close I could feel the heat of him…
and he smelled so. Fucking. Good. Earthy and fresh, like sage and sandalwood and leather.
A quizzical frown toyed on his lips. “Don’t you ever get lonely, though? Don’t you ever wanna settle down?”
I got the feeling that the Cash everyone else saw might be more of a facade than the real one. This version wasn’t aloof and arrogant and smug. This version was almost brutally honest. I shivered at his closeness. The intense look in his penetrating gaze.
His words forced me to think. Did I ever get lonely?
Fuck yeah, but I’d rather be lonely than be screwed over.
Better to guard my heart than give it to someone to break.
And despite how honest he was being right now, I couldn’t risk opening up like that.
“I mean…not really. I hate people, I’m shit with kids, and I don’t play well with others.
I like the whole lone wolf vibe. It’s better this way. ”
Cash tilted his head to the side, reminding me of a little golden retriever puppy trying to make sense of something.
But his gaze was intense, scalding, and impossible to break.
The way he looked at me right now was like he was looking into my soul.
I fidgeted from the weight of it. “I think you’re lyin’,” he said whisper-soft as he reached up to brush a piece of hair off my face.
So, there was definitely more to the arrogant cowboy than what met the eye, but I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. I rolled my eyes, offering up my best attempt at a grin, and scoffed. “And I think you are much too close to me.”
It’s like a switch went off in him. The open, if not a bit earnest Cash disappeared, the playboy I’d come to know replacing him. Which made me really damn grateful. I wasn’t ready for vulnerable Cash Mooney. “Why? I don’t gotta girlfriend anymore.”
“Oh yeah?”
He nodded, running his teeth over his bottom lip. “So how ‘bout that number, sugar?”
I leaned in. Closer. Closer. Close enough that I could feel his breath fan against my skin.
Close enough that if I wanted, I could kiss him.
Something about flirting with this man made me feel like I was flying.
Which was foolish and dangerous. I knew the story of Icarus.
The one who flew too close to the sun. But I’d never been one to shy away from danger.
And if I got burned, well, at least I’d burn bright.
Trailing one of my red lacquered fingernails up his chest, I crooned, “Not today, Big Daddy.”
He chuckled, and the sound sent shivers down my spine. “Playin’ hard to get?”
I bit my lip. “Always.”
Something flashed in his gaze—the greens and browns and blues of his hazel eyes igniting like mini fireworks. He gripped my chin between his thumb and forefinger, and for a minute I thought he’d kiss me. “Good to know, sugar.”