Chapter 9
Cash
I hum under my breath as I go through the routine of morning chores.
Our ranch is small, but there’s never a shortage of things to do, no matter how few animals you have or how little land.
There’s always fence to be mended, horses to feed, critters to chase out.
The gate that’s been hanging crooked for weeks greets me this morning with a dreary creak, so I grab my tools and fix it while the horses hang their heads over the fence to watch me work.
“Y’all would be more useful if you could do this for me,” I tease. They just stare at me with their big eyes, obviously waiting for me to bring them their oats and hay for the morning.
It’s peaceful, even if it’s busy. There’s a rhythm to it. The work might be slightly different every morning, but it’s all variations on a theme. Stuff I can do with my eyes closed if I wanted to be a little crazy.
I get thoroughly sniffed by one of the newer horses, who noses at my pockets looking for sugar cubes or carrots, and I pat her on the nose with a snort.
“Nothing extra this morning, pretty girl. Maybe later.”
Horses can’t pout, but if they could, this one would definitely be doing it. I laugh and hang up the buckets, stepping out of the stable and starting my way back to the house to wash up.
As I get close, I hear something. The sound of a voice, sweet and clear, floating on the breeze.
Harper. It has to be.
The window to the kitchen is open, and when I get closer, I can hear Harper is singing Cora a lullaby.
Just the sound of it makes my chest go tight.
Her voice is fucking beautiful, for one thing.
Strong and light at the same time, but packed with power and emotion.
Authentic is the word that comes to mind.
Plenty of singers fake it for the fame, trying to sing songs about emotions they’ve never felt, but there’s only truth in Harper’s voice.
As someone who knows music, since I grew up singing and playing the guitar, I can recognize real talent when I hear it.
But it’s more than just skill going on here. Harper is pouring all her love and tenderness into every note for that little girl, and it’s breathtaking to hear it.
I stand there a bit longer, not wanting to disturb the moment, just listening to Harper sing like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
The song wraps up, and she says something to Cora in a low voice. I wait a beat before walking onto the porch and then into the house, letting the screen door bang a little to announce my presence so I don’t startle either of them or make Harper feel caught.
“Morning,” I say, smiling at both of them and pulling my hat off my sweat damp hair.
“Morning,” Harper replies. She drops two pieces of toast onto Cora’s plate and licks butter from her fingers. Her eyes flick over me and then away, and I look down at myself.
“I was out in the fields,” I tell her.
“You don’t have to explain yourself,” she says quickly. “It’s your house. I was just—” Her cheeks flood a little pink, and it’s lovely on her face. “Never mind.”
I just smile, not teasing her more. Instead I look to Cora, who is happily munching on toast and scrambled eggs.
“And how are you this morning, Miss Cora?”
The little girl makes her hand signal for ‘okay’, and I nod.
“Lainey’s gonna come by to hang out with you tonight. You looking forward to seeing her?”
Cora nods, shoving eggs into her mouth at the speed of light.
“Chew, baby,” Harper says, ruffling her hair. “The eggs won’t run away.”
“The chickens who laid them are a different story, but the eggs will stay right on your plate.”
Cora doesn’t laugh, but there’s a sparkle in her eyes that seems like amusement, and I’ll take that.
I cross to the sink to wash my hands and then go to make myself a second cup of coffee. “You know, it’s real cute, how close the two of you are,” I tell Harper. “It’s clear to see how much you love her and how good you are with her.”
Harper looks down at the counter for a second, and I wonder if I’ve stepped into something she doesn’t want to talk about.
There are plenty of things like that, with Harper having her guard up so high most of the time with us.
She’s private, and I try to respect that, even though I want to get to know her better.
She drags in a deep breath, and when she speaks, she doesn’t look at me. “I’m all she has left,” Harper says. “She’s my sister’s daughter, but I’ll be adopting her as soon as I can and raising her as my own.”
“That’s noble of you. Your sister is—”
“Gone,” Harper says. “Dead.”
I figured it was something like that. Little girl who doesn’t talk and her aunt who seems like she’s lost more than her fair share in life. There had to be a sad story behind all that.
“I’m sorry for your loss. My mama died a while back, and I know it’s hard to lose someone you love. Someone you should have had a lot more time with, if life wasn’t so cruel sometimes.”
“Yeah,” Harper murmurs. “It sucks. I’m sorry for your loss, too.”
I give her a smile, a more gentle version of the one I usually hit her with, and for a moment, it feels like we’re bonded in the understanding of how much it can hurt to just suddenly be without someone so important to you.
It’s probably the most she’s shared about herself since I met her, and I don’t want to push my luck or intrude on their morning moment for longer than necessary.
“I’m gonna go shower,” I tell her. “I’ll see you later to head to the bar?”
Harper nods, and I flash her one last smile before heading up the stairs to my room.
Later that evening, we head to the bar together.
Harper moves around the space with confidence now, settling into the routines and work with ease.
She’s comfortable getting set up on her own, arranging bottles of simple syrup and grenadine so they’re within reach, prepping the little bowls of garnishes.
People recognize her now and know her by name, and I wonder how she feels about that. The regulars come in and she greets them, serving up their usual orders without them even having to ask.
She never lingers for too long with any of the customers, making polite small talk, but then finding something to take her to the other side of the bar before anyone can ask her too much or get too close. But the short time she does spend there is polite and genuine, so it never affects her tips.
Most people in this town just come here to drink and shoot the shit with their neighbors anyway, so no one takes offense if she doesn’t stand there talking to them all evening.
Watching her work, I pat myself on the back again for hiring her. It was just to be nice, to try to help her out since she was in a tight spot, but it turned out to be a great thing for the bar.
“Can you recommend me something?” Dan Carpenter asks, leaning on the bar. “Something for heartache?”
“You got your heart broken?” Harper replies, raising an eyebrow. “Sorry to hear it.”
Dan shakes his head. “Not yet, but it’s coming. I can feel it. We went from going to the movies every weekend to her wanting ‘girls trips’ and spending all her time with her coworkers. She’s either cheating or done with me.”
“Or she’s tired of going to the movies every weekend and wants to do something else,” Harper suggests. She grabs a bottle of tequila down from the shelf and measures it out into a glass, then adds cola and a squeeze of lime. “Here you go.”
“Fancy with the lime,” Dan says, sniffing at the glass.
He takes a sip and then nods his approval.
“Yeah, this’ll do it. And I’ll think about what you said.
” He taps the bar and then goes to sit with the other guys who work down at the mill, so he can pour his sorrows out to them and probably get terrible advice.
Harper catches my gaze and rolls her eyes, a little smile ticking at her lips. “Didn’t know this meant being a therapist too,” she says when I come closer.
“That’s part of the job,” I tell her. “Booze brings out people’s honesty. Before, during, and after the drinking.”
She just snorts and moves to serve someone else.
The night picks up, and we do a steady stream of business. There’s a baseball game on the TV, and the crowd gets a little rowdy, rooting for their team and booing the players who don’t perform the way they want.
A group of women come in, and I recognize most of them from around town. Some of them work at the registrar’s office, and a couple must be their friends from the next town over or something.
They come in laughing and head for the bar, and Harper serves them all quickly, getting their orders and making them with skill and ease.
“Thank you so much,” one of them says, and Harper smiles back before heading down the bar to restock glasses.
Most of the group go to find a table, but one of them, Cathy Evans, comes up to me. She works at the school, and she’s someone I’ve known for years in that way that everyone who grew up here knows each other.
“Evening, Cash,” she says, leaning against the bar. She’s dressed fancier than most people would bother with around here, in tight jeans and a low cut blouse.
“Cathy,” I reply, tipping my head to her. “Are y’all celebrating something?”
She shakes her head. “Nah, just had some friends want to get drinks, and no one wanted to drive into the city. Figured we’d come support you and the men instead.”
“Well, we appreciate it.”
“I told them this is the best bar in town.”
I give her a look of amusement. “Cathy, this is the only bar in town. Unless you count the deli because they serve beer. And I don’t.”
She laughs at that. “All right, that’s fair. Still, this is the nicest place to hang out after work. The drinks are good and the eye candy is always top tier.” Cathy moves in closer to me as she says it, her blue eyes sparkling. “You know what I mean?”
I glance at Harper and then back to Cathy, who is leaning over so her cleavage is practically spilling out of her shirt. “Sure,” I say.
Her smile grows. “What time do you close up tonight?”
“Around midnight. Same as every night.”
“Not too late then. I could hang around and we could have a drink together? Maybe grab something to eat?”
The clinking of glasses draws my attention back to Harper.
She’s working steadily, replenishing the glasses she’s used and taking up the dirty ones and putting them in the bussing bin so they can get washed.
Strands of hair fall out of the messy bun she’s twisted it up into, framing her face and sliding across the back of her neck.
The door opens, and she looks up, attentive and ready to stop what she’s doing to make someone a drink if she needs to. Splitting your focus like that, being able to multitask, is a skill, and she has it in spades.
“Cash?”
Cathy says my name, and something in her tone tells me it’s not the first time. I glance down at her, keeping my eyes on her face.
“Sorry, what?”
“Drinks? Later?”
I shake my head. “When you work at a bar, drinking after your shift doesn’t have much appeal, sorry. All I wanna do is head home and get some rest.”
She pouts a little, trailing one finger across the wood of the bar. “Not even just one drink with an old friend?”
“Not even one, I’m sorry.”
Her lips purse, but she doesn’t try another angle. Instead she sighs and pastes on a smile. “Well, I tried. It was good to see you, Cash.” She heads off to sit with her friends, and Harper comes back over.
“She wanted you bad,” she says.
“Did she?”
Harper snorts. “If she had leaned in any more, her tits would have been spilling out onto your arm, Cash. She was very into you. Why did you turn her down? I could have handled closing up and getting back if you wanted to spend time with her.”
I shrug a shoulder. “I’ve known Cathy since high school. She’s never been my type.”
“What, blonde and perky doesn’t do it for you?” Harper asks genuinely. “She’s really pretty.”
“Maybe. But some women just don’t hold my attention.” I look directly at her when I say it, and our eyes catch and hold.
Harper’s cheeks flush pink, and she nearly drops the bottle of gin in her hand. Another customer comes up to the bar then, and she hurries away to talk to them, leaving me grinning to myself at the end of the bar on my own.