Chapter 12 #2
My face burned hot. “I was thinking more like... separate spaces. You know, keeping to our own rooms. Maybe establishing a schedule for shared areas.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” he drawled, leaning back in the booth. “But if that’s what you need to keep your hands off me, Pastor, I’m willing to try.”
I opened my mouth to protest but was interrupted by Dolly returning to take our orders.
“You boys decide what you’re havin’?” she asked, pen poised over her notepad.
“I’ll have the breakfast special,” Cash said. “Extra bacon.”
“Just toast for me,” I said, my appetite suddenly gone. “And maybe some fruit if you have it.”
Dolly jotted down our orders, giving me a concerned look. “You sure that’s all you want, sugar? You’re looking a bit peaky this morning.”
“I’m fine,” I assured her. “Just not very hungry.”
After she left, Cash studied me with those penetrating green eyes. “You always eat like a bird, or is that just your way of doing penance?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just wondering if you’re punishing yourself for enjoying last night,” he said casually, as if discussing the weather. “Seems like something a guilt-ridden pastor might do.”
“I’m not guilt-ridden,” I insisted, though the lie tasted bitter on my tongue. “And I’m not punishing myself. I just don’t have much of an appetite this morning.”
“Because you’re sore?” His lips curved into that infuriating smirk again.
“Because I have a lot on my mind,” I corrected, though he wasn’t entirely wrong. “The tornado cleanup, the rebuilding efforts, this karaoke fundraiser Dolly wants to do...”
“Karaoke?” Cash’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”
“It’s for a good cause,” I said defensively. “To raise money for the people who lost everything.”
Cash snorted. “This town and its fundraisers. Always trying to slap a band-aid on a gunshot wound.”
“At least they’re trying,” I countered. “What’s your solution?”
His expression darkened. “My solution is to get the hell out of here as soon as I can sell that worthless pile of rubble my father left me.”
“And what about all the people still suffering? The ones who lost their homes, their livelihoods?”
“Not my problem,” Cash said flatly. “I didn’t ask to come back here. I didn’t ask for any of this. And not a damn one of them came to my rescue when I lost my home.”
I stared at him, trying to understand the depth of pain behind those angry words. “No one asks for tragedy, Cash. But sometimes it finds us anyway. And how we respond to it says a lot about who we are.”
“Save the sermon for Sunday, Pastor,” he growled. “I’m not some sheep you can feed platitudes to.”
Before I could respond, Dolly returned with our food, setting the plates down between us. The tension must have been palpable because she glanced between us with concern.
“Everythin’ all right over here?”
“Fine,” Cash and I said in unison, neither of us sounding convincing.
Dolly looked unconvinced but left us to our meals, anyway. She probably wasn’t concerned about the new pastor in town starting a fist fight.
We ate in strained silence, Cash attacking his eggs and bacon with unnecessary force while I nibbled at my toast. The easy banter from moments before had evaporated, replaced by a heaviness that seemed to press down on both of us.
“So,” I finally ventured, desperate to break the silence. “Have you had any luck with the realtors? About selling the ranch?”
Cash shrugged, not looking up from his plate. “Goin’ out there today. Got a potential buyer lined up. Not that it’s any of your business.”
I watched Cash’s face as he mentioned the potential buyer, searching for any sign of emotion. There was none. Just that same hard mask he always wore.
“That’s good news, isn’t it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral despite the strange tightness in my chest. “If you sell quickly, you can leave sooner.”
“That’s the plan,” he said, shoving another forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Get my money and get the hell out. Start fresh somewhere nobody knows me.”
The thought of him leaving so soon shouldn’t have bothered me. After all, that had been his intention from the beginning. And after last night’s complication, it was probably for the best. Yet I couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach.
“Where will you go?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Cash’s eyes flicked up to meet mine, surprise evident in them. “Why do you care?”
I shrugged, trying to appear casual. “Just making conversation.”
“Haven’t decided yet,” he said after a moment. “Maybe Colorado. Or California. Somewhere with no memories.”
“Sounds nice,” I lied, pushing my half-eaten toast around my plate.
Cash studied me, his green eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s with the sad puppy look, Pastor? You gonna miss me?”
“No,” I said too quickly, then sighed. “I mean, I barely know you.”
“Didn’t stop you from lettin’ me fuck you senseless last night,” he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
Heat flooded my face. “That’s because I know you’ll make good on your word,” I shot back.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” I said, sliding out of the booth and slapping a twenty down on the table. “That you’re clearly gonna leave without every giving this place a chance.” I leaned down, looking him hard in the eye. “And I’m tired of feeling sorry for a grumpy asshole like you.”
Cash just stared at me, clearly dumbstruck. I had a feeling nobody had ever talked to him like that before. And in my experience, some people needed a little tough love to make them see how stupid they were being sometimes.
“Good luck with your buyer,” I grumbled and headed toward the exit.
There. Maybe that would get through to him.