Chapter 7
Cash
Was I surprised to find the new pastor spying on me in the shower? Yes. Did I leave the door cracked on purpose? Also yes.
Pastor Mike and his squeaky clean reputation had annoyed me from the start.
But one thing I noticed immediately was the fact that his eyes, despite his best efforts, liked to wander.
That coupled with the fact that he decided to lie around the house shirtless seemed like a less than subtle attempt to catch my attention.
Then again, the way he avoided looking at me after my shower made me think that I’d misread him.
Or maybe he just wasn’t expecting to see me jerking off in the shower.
Either way, I loved seeing his face flush red with embarrassment.
It made me feel vindicated and turned me on more than a little bit.
As soon as I was in my room, I pulled my towel off, tossing it to the floor.
Then I fell back on the bed, stretching out languidly as the sunlight warmed my bare skin.
My bedroom door was open a crack as well, just in case this little twink of a pastor wanted to get his guts rearranged.
Honestly, I could use the distraction after the long day of dealing with idiot realtors.
Wait… could pastors have sex? They could, right?
I wasn’t religious, but I’d heard stories about pastor’s wives before.
The real question was, were they allowed to be gay?
That I hadn’t heard of before. Mike didn’t seem to have an issue with other people being gay.
Hell, he’d already attended a gay wedding in his first week in Sagebrush.
But accepting others and accepting yourself were two completely different things.
Just like how my father could accept Brooks, but not me.
I let out a loud sigh, throwing a hand over my eyes to block the sun.
Fucking family. I wished I could just forget they ever existed.
I wished I could wipe everything that had happened to me so far from my mind and jump ahead to the moment where I had a million dollars in my pocket and a new life on the way.
All the past did was hold me back. And yet, it seemed that every chance my brain got, it pulled me back to it, forcing me to relive the worst parts of my life over and over again.
I fucking hated it.
Maybe what I needed was a good fuck. The kind that would leave me sore and empty-headed, unable to think about anything except how good it felt.
I hadn’t gotten laid since before I’d found out about my father’s death.
Between traveling here and dealing with all this tornado bullshit, I hadn’t had time to find someone willing to take the edge off.
My cock twitched at the thought, still semi-hard from my shower session.
I wrapped my hand around it, giving myself a few slow strokes as I considered my options.
The pastor was definitely attractive with that toned body and those innocent blue eyes.
And the way he’d stared at me in the shower.
.. that wasn’t just accidental. No one lingers that long by mistake.
I listened for movement in the house, wondering if he’d take the bait. The thought of corrupting a man of God sent another surge of blood to my cock. It would serve him right for spying on me. And it would give me something to think about besides this godforsaken town and all its memories.
Minutes passed. I kept stroking myself lazily, imagining what it would be like to have those perfect pastor lips wrapped around my dick, those blue eyes looking up at me all desperate and wanting. But the hallway remained quiet. No footsteps. No hesitant knock at my door.
“Fucking coward,” I muttered, rolling onto my side and giving up on the idea.
I reached for my phone on the nightstand, thinking maybe I could find a hook-up app that worked in this backwater town.
But as I scrolled through my options, I realized I didn’t want to deal with the effort.
Meeting someone new, making small talk, finding a place to fuck that wasn’t the pastor’s spare bedroom. It all seemed like too much work.
My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt, deciding food was a better use of my time than chasing after some holy roller who was too scared to admit what he wanted.
When I emerged from my room, the house was quiet.
I padded down the hallway, half expecting to find Mike still on the couch with his Bible, but the living room was empty.
His bedroom door was closed, and I couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of him hiding away, probably dealing with his own hard-on and a guilty conscience.
I grabbed my keys from the counter and headed out. Might as well go down to Dolly’s and get some dinner. There I could get lost in the crowd for a little while and let the noise overpower my intrusive thoughts.
I didn’t bother driving. The diner was only a couple of blocks away from the church.
As I approached, I saw that the flashing neon sign had been destroyed by the tornado, but the rest of the building looked untouched.
The parking lot was packed, which wasn’t surprising.
After a disaster, people tended to gather in places that felt normal.
I supposed that made me just like them, as much as I didn’t want to admit it.
I pushed through the door, the bell jingling overhead. The diner was warm and smelled like grease and coffee, comfort food for a town in crisis. Nearly every booth and table was full, locals talking animatedly over plates of food. I spotted an empty stool at the counter and made my way toward it.
“Hey there, sugar,” Dolly said, pouring me a cup of coffee before I could even sit down. “Can I get you a menu?”
“Yeah,” I grumbled, picking up the warm cup.
She handed it over, giving me a puzzled look. She’d seen me the day I came into town, before the tornado. But I wasn’t just some stranger passing through now. I thought she’d recognize me eventually, but for now, it seemed, she was content to let me be.
“I’ll let you look over it for a few minutes.”
I was halfway through looking at the menu when I felt a presence beside me. Looking up, I saw Brooks sliding onto the stool next to mine, his expression unreadable. Great. Just what I needed.
“Cash,” he nodded, signaling to Dolly for coffee.
“Brooks,” I replied flatly, returning my attention to the menu though I’d already decided on a burger.
The silence stretched between us, uncomfortable and heavy. I could feel his eyes on me, studying my face like he was trying to find something familiar there.
“Look,” he finally said, his voice low. “I wanted to apologize about the living situation. Rowan and I would’ve made room for you if we could.”
I kept my eyes on the menu. “Don’t need your apology.”
“Still,” Brooks insisted. “You’re family. I don’t want you to think you don’t matter to me.”
That word again. Family. It made my blood boil every time I heard it. And since when did Brooks give a shit about me? I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him in almost ten years. Where had he been all that time?
“Where you stayin’ now?” he asked when I didn’t respond.
“Pastor’s place,” I muttered. “He’s got a spare room.”
Brooks’s eyebrows shot up. “Pastor Mike? The new guy?”
“That’s the one,” I said, finally setting the menu down. “Young, blond, looks like he should be in a boy band instead of behind a pulpit.”
A small smile tugged at Brooks’s lips. “I’ve heard he’s a good man. Helped a lot of folks after the tornado.”
“Yeah, well, he’s letting me crash there till I can sell the ranch and get the hell out of here.”
Brooks sighed, wrapping his calloused hands around his coffee mug. “Cash, about what you said earlier... about your life after you left...”
“Don’t,” I warned, my voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “I don’t need your guilt or your concern. It’s too fuckin’ late for that.”
“I didn’t know,” he said anyway, ignoring my warning. “Your dad told everyone you went to live with your mother’s family in Oklahoma. Said it was your choice.”
I laughed bitterly. “And you believed him?”
“I had no reason not to believe him, Cash. What was I supposed to do?”
I turned to face him fully, anger bubbling up inside me. “You were supposed to fuckin’ ask questions! You were supposed to wonder why I never called, never visited! You were supposed to care!”
Several heads turned our way, conversations pausing at nearby tables. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to lower my voice.
“It doesn’t matter now,” I said, reaching for my wallet to throw some bills on the counter for the coffee. “I’m not stayin’.”
Brooks grabbed my arm, his grip firm but not painful. “Cash, please. Let me make it right.”
I yanked my arm away. “You can’t.”
“At least let me try,” he insisted. “Once the cabin is fixed, you can stay there. Rowan and I can bunk at the clinic for a while longer. The cabin’s yours as long as you need it.”
I stared at him, trying to understand his angle. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I failed you once,” he said, his eyes earnest. “I don’t want to do it again.”
Something in my chest twisted painfully. For a brief moment, I considered it. Considered letting someone in, letting someone help. But then I remembered all those nights on the street, all those years of struggling alone.
“Thanks, but I’m good where I am,” I said, standing up. “Pastor Mike’s place is fine.”
Brooks nodded slowly, disappointment clear on his face. “Offer stands if you change your mind.”
“I won’t,” I assured him, dropping a five on the counter and heading for the door without ordering.
The cool evening air hit my face as I stepped outside, bringing with it a momentary clarity. I took a deep breath, trying to push down the emotions Brooks had stirred up. I didn’t come back to make peace or rebuild bridges. I came back to collect my inheritance and leave. Nothing more.
As I walked back toward the parsonage, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to find a text from an unknown number.
???: This is Mike. Maggy gave me your number from your sign-in sheet. Just checking if you’re coming back for dinner? Made extra.
I stared at the message, unsure how to respond.
The thought of going back to that house, of facing those blue eyes and that genuine smile, made something uncomfortable stir in my gut.
But I was hungry, and the alternative was going back to Dolly’s where Brooks might still be sitting.
And he couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut.
I texted back before I could overthink it.
Me: On my way
When I reached the parsonage, the smell of something delicious wafted from inside.
My stomach growled in response. I hesitated at the door, suddenly aware that I was walking back into a situation I’d tried to manipulate earlier.
Would Mike mention what happened? Would he pretend nothing had occurred?
Only one way to find out.
I pushed open the door and stepped inside, following the smell to the kitchen where Mike stood at the stove, stirring something in a large skillet. He’d put a shirt on, I noticed with a mix of disappointment and relief.
“Hope you like taco salad,” he said without turning around. “It’s about the only thing I can make well. Goes over well at potlucks too.”
“Smells good,” I admitted, hovering awkwardly in the doorway.
Mike glanced over his shoulder, those blue eyes meeting mine briefly before returning to the pot. “Grab a bowl. It’s ready when you are.”
I did as instructed, taking a bowl from the cabinet. Mike tipped the browned beef into a big bowl he’d already filled with lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and what looked like crushed up Doritos. He took my bowl and filled it generously, the rich, spicy aroma making my mouth water as he passed it back.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, taking the bowl to the small kitchen table.
Mike joined me a moment later with his own bowl, setting a bottle of ranch between us. I began to eat immediately, but he stopped, clasping his hands together.
“Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive, from thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord. Amen,” he said softly.
“Do you really think God cares about that?” I asked, glancing up at him. “You made the food. What did he have to do with it?”
Mike smiled despite my rude tone. He was always smiling.
“I’m not sure. It’s more of a force of habit now.
My parents always said a prayer before meals so I just keep doing it.
” He gave a small shrug before picking up his fork.
“But then again, I feel like you can’t be too careful, you know?
I’ll take all the heaven points I can get. ”
“Heaven points?” I scoffed. “Are you serious?”
He just grinned. “It was a joke.”
“A pastor that jokes,” I said, rolling my eyes. “What will they come up with next?”
Mike laughed, a warm sound that somehow made me want to smile despite my determination to stay annoyed with him. “We’re not all fire and brimstone, you know. Some of us can actually take a joke.”
I shoved another forkful of taco salad into my mouth to avoid responding. It was good. Really good, actually. The spices were perfect, and the crunch of the Doritos added texture that made the whole dish work.
“This is decent,” I admitted grudgingly.
“High praise,” Mike said, his eyes twinkling. “I’ll take it.”
We ate in silence for a few minutes. I kept my eyes on my food, but I could feel him watching me, studying me like I was some kind of puzzle he was trying to solve.
“What?” I finally asked, looking up at him. “What are you starin’ at?”
“Just a man in need of guidance,” he said nonchalantly. “I’m trying to figure out how to help you.”
“Don’t need your help,” I grumbled back at him. “Don’t need help from nobody.”
“I think you believe that. But I don’t think it’s true. Everyone needs a little help sometimes.”
I took the last bite of my food and got up from the table, dropping my bowl in the sink. I turned around, glaring at this pastor that clearly wasn’t going to give up.
“You’re right,” I said at last, crossing my arms over my chest. “I could use some help.”
“Please,” he nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”
I crossed the room, leaning down close so that our faces were only an inch or two apart. He froze, his eyes fixed on mine.
“Next time you want to spy on me in the shower,” I growled. “Do me a favor and get on your knees for me instead. That would really help me out.”
Then, without a backward glance, I left him there in the kitchen, his spoon still halfway to his mouth.