Chapter 13
Cash
Istood there, leaning against my truck amongst the rubble of my father’s house.
Sweat was beading on my brow despite the cool breeze and my cowboy hat.
For the first half hour I was there I’d been digging through rubble, unearthing the lockbox I’d found on my last visit.
Then I’d spent the better part of ten minutes trying to open the goddamn thing with no luck.
So now it was in the bed of my truck, and I was more frustrated and sweaty than ever.
And still the realtor hadn’t arrived with my potential buyer. Realtors… ugh. They couldn’t be on time for anything except their own paychecks.
For the moment I forced my thoughts away from frustration, my inherited mess, and the irritations of just being alive it seemed. Instead, I turned my musings back to the preacher I’d fucked senseless the night before.
Damn he had a nice ass. Nearly fucking perfect if I was being honest. I loved that lithe body of his and the way he fit so perfectly in my hands. And fuck me I loved the way he begged for my cock. That was the most intoxicating thing of all.
I kept replaying the whole scene in my mind.
It was funny how he tried to act all tough at the diner this morning, tried to pretend what happened between us meant nothing.
But I’d seen the way his pupils dilated when I sat across from him.
The way his breath hitched when I mentioned last night.
The way his fingers trembled slightly as he reached for his coffee.
Pastor Mike wanted more. That much was obvious. And fuck if I didn’t want to give it to him.
But that wasn’t the plan. The plan was to get my money and get out.
No attachments. No complications. Just sell this shitty property and leave Sagebrush in my rearview mirror for good.
I was getting annoyed that I had to keep reminding myself of that fact.
Sagebrush was the last place on earth I wanted to get attached to.
I checked my watch again and cursed under my breath. The realtor was now twenty minutes late. I pulled out my phone to call her when I heard tires on gravel. About damn time.
A sleek black SUV pulled up, kicking up dust as it came to a stop. The woman who stepped out wasn’t the realtor I’d been expecting. She was older, maybe mid-fifties, with short silver hair and the kind of tailored pantsuit that screamed money.
“Mr. Callahan?” she called, picking her way carefully through the debris in heels that had no business being anywhere near a construction site. “Vivian Palmer. I’m here about the property.”
I pushed off from my truck, adjusting my hat as I approached her. “Where’s Marjorie? The realtor?”
“Had an emergency with another client. Asked if I’d mind meeting you directly.” She extended a perfectly manicured hand. “Hope that’s not a problem.”
I shook her hand briefly. “Not as long as you’re serious about buying.”
“I don’t waste my time, Mr. Callahan, and I don’t expect others to waste mine.” She surveyed the destruction around us, her expression giving nothing away. “I understand this was quite the working ranch before the tornado.”
“So they tell me,” I shrugged. “I haven’t been back in years. I just inherited it.”
Vivian’s eyebrows rose slightly. “I see. Well, I’m not interested in the structures, anyway. It’s the land I’m after.”
That caught my attention. “The land?”
She nodded, pulling out a tablet from her designer bag. “My company is looking to develop a series of high-end vacation homes in the area. Your property has decent highway access, beautiful views, and the acreage we need. Not to mention, this town is relatively undeveloped.”
I felt a small spark of hope ignite in my chest. This woman wasn’t here for some sentimental bullshit about preserving my father’s legacy. She wanted the land for business. Clean, simple, transactional.
“So what’s your offer?” I asked, not bothering with small talk.
Vivian smiled, a practiced expression that didn’t reach her eyes. “Direct. I appreciate that. But I’ll need to survey the property first and get a better idea of what we’re looking at.”
“How long will that take?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. I didn’t want to spend any more time in this hellhole than absolutely necessary.
“I’m going to take a few pictures and some notes. And I’d like to take a soil sample today if that’s alright,” Vivian replied, tapping something into her tablet. “We’ll analyze it and get back to you for further surveys if everything looks good to go.”
“Sure,” I shrugged. “Take as many photos and all the dirt you like.”
Vivian smiled tightly, clearly trying to maintain her professional demeanor despite the rubble and my obvious disinterest. “Excellent. I’ll need about thirty minutes to walk the property line. Would you mind showing me around?”
“I’m not exactly the tour guide type,” I said, gesturing at the destruction around us. “Besides, there’s not much to see that isn’t obvious. House is gone. Barn’s gone. Everything’s gone except dirt and bad memories.”
“I understand,” she said, though her expression suggested she didn’t. However, she clearly didn’t feel like arguing with me. “I can manage on my own then. The property maps I have should suffice.”
She turned away from me, tablet in hand, and began picking her way through the debris toward what used to be the eastern fence line. I watched her go, wondering if she was legitimate or just another time-waster. God knows I’d had my share of those already.
I leaned back against my truck and pulled out my phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media while keeping one eye on Vivian as she took photos and made notes.
The sun beat down on my shoulders, and I found myself wondering what Mike was doing right now.
Was he thinking about me? About last night?
About how I’d made him moan my name like a prayer?
Fuck. I needed to stop that train of thought immediately. The last thing I needed was to pop a boner while this potential buyer was walking around.
I switched to my messages, surprised to see a text from Brooks.
Brooks: How’s it going with the realtor? Rowan says hi.
I stared at the message, torn between ignoring it and responding. Why did he suddenly care so much? Where was all this concern ten years ago when I actually needed someone?
Before I could decide, I heard the crunch of tires on gravel and looked up to see another vehicle approaching. This time it was a white van that I recognized immediately. Pastor Mike’s church van, looking like it had seen better days even before the tornado hit town.
My heart rate kicked up a notch as he parked and stepped out, looking annoyingly good in a simple blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up and jeans that hugged his ass in all the right ways. He spotted me and hesitated for a moment before squaring his shoulders and walking over.
“Cash,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “I thought I’d find you here.”
“Stalking me now, Pastor?” I drawled, though there wasn’t much heat behind it. I was too busy trying not to stare at his mouth and remember how it felt wrapped around my cock.
“Hardly.” He held up a paper bag. “You said you had a busy day and I thought you might want some lunch.”
I stared at him, genuinely surprised by the gesture. “You brought me food?”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he said, thrusting the bag at me. “Consider it a peace offering since I was so rude to you this morning.”
I took the bag, our fingers brushing briefly. That simple touch shouldn’t have sent electricity up my arm, but it did. “Oh. So it’s an apology.”
Mike nodded quickly, then glanced past me to where Vivian was taking soil samples near what used to be the barn. He didn’t wait for me to come up with another snarky remark. “Potential buyer?”
“Yeah,” I said, opening the bag to find a bacon sandwich and what looked like homemade cookies. My stomach growled in response. Who made this food? Mike said he didn’t know how to cook. “Some developer. Wants to build vacation homes or some shit.”
Something flashed across Mike’s face. Possibly disappointment or disbelief. But it was gone before I could be sure.
“That’s... good,” he said, not sounding like he meant it. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is,” I said firmly, more to convince myself than him. “The sooner I get rid of this place, the better.”
Mike was quiet for a moment, looking around at the devastation. “You know, there’s history here. Your family’s history.”
“History I’m trying to forget,” I snapped, my appetite suddenly gone. “Look, I appreciate the food, but if you came here to lecture me—”
“I didn’t,” he cut in, raising his hands in surrender. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“Then why are you here, Pastor?” I challenged, stepping closer to him. Close enough to smell that clean, soapy scent that clung to his skin. “Because it can’t just be to deliver lunch.”
He swallowed hard, his eyes darting to my lips before meeting my gaze again. “I told you… I wanted to apologize. For what I said at the diner. It wasn’t my place.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I agreed, though something in me softened at his admission. “But you weren’t entirely wrong either.”
His eyes widened slightly. “I wasn’t?”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Look, I am an asshole. And I am planning to leave. Neither of those things is changing. But...” I trailed off, not sure what I was trying to say.
“But?” he prompted, those blue eyes searching mine.
Before I could answer, Vivian’s voice cut through the moment. “Mr. Callahan? I think I have everything I need for now.”
I stepped back from Mike, putting a safer distance between us. “Be right there,” I called back, then turned to Mike. “I should go.”
He nodded, looking almost disappointed. “Right. Of course. Your buyer.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of us moved for a long moment, caught in some strange tension that I didn’t understand and definitely didn’t want to examine too closely.