32. Cash
32
CASH
A fter spending the day on the couch, eating pizza, watching Friends reruns and the first two Jurassic Park movies, Monroe’s hangover seems to be mostly gone. The sun is starting to set outside when she stands up and stretches her arms over her head. I admire the shape of her ass and legs in the pastel purple leggings she changed into after her shower.
I’ve been subtly admiring things about her all day. The color of her eyes when she isn’t wearing any makeup is somehow brighter. The way she smells when she’s clean, but doesn’t have perfume on makes me want to hold her close and inhale. I stayed on the other side of the couch, but halfway through Jurassic Park , she scooted closer to me and draped her leg over my knee.
“Tell me about your mom.”
I turn to face her. She’s twisting a strand of hair around her finger.
“What about her?”
“How old were you when she died?”
“Fourteen.” I trail a finger around her knee cap.
“Were you close?”
I smile at a memory of her standing in the ranch kitchen, dark hair reaching her waist. “She held our family together. She would sing every morning while she made breakfast. Pops has never been the same since losing her. None of us have.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Just picture Dolly in twenty years. Caring, kind, and a great cook. We’re all protective of her because when we look at her, we see mom.” A lump rises in my throat. I never talk about my mom.
“She’s lucky to have you, all of you.”
I nod. “What about your parents? Do they ever come to the show?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t even know if my dad is alive. He left when I was a baby. My mom has come twice. She married a millionaire who died suddenly a year later. She’s resourceful with the money. She has a group of friends she travels with. She dates a lot. We talk, sometimes, but she always thought she would be famous. We were really poor growing up, so when Fidel discovered me, she let me move to California and never really checked in. I think she’s proud of me but…she’s proud from a distance.”
I can see the pain etched on her face. Her mother didn’t want to be a part of her life if it meant Monroe would be the one in the spotlight, leaving her in the shadows.
“I need dinner. Something greasy to end this lazy day,” she blurts out .
I stand, grabbing the empty pizza box to take into the kitchen. “Let’s get some shoes on and go grab something in town. Fried chicken?”
Her eyes widen. “Oh my gosh, yes. With extra gravy and French fries!”
I chuckle at the look on her face. “I had no idea you were such a fan of fried chicken.”
“Every girl likes fried chicken. Scratch that. Every person likes fried chicken.”
We put on our shoes and head outside. Monroe rubs her arms over the thin long-sleeved shirt she’s wearing, which matches her leggings. I go back into the bunkhouse and grab my Carhartt work jacket hanging by the door. She slides her arms into it as I hold it out for her.
“Thank you. It got chilly all of a sudden.”
“Texas spring weather is bipolar.” I feel the instinct to reach out for her hand, but I press mine against her lower back to guide her to my truck instead.
I take her to the passenger side and open the door for her. She bites her lip and hops up into it. I walk around to my side and climb in, turning the ignition on and cranking up the heater. Her teeth are chattering.
“You are so warm.” She scoots into the middle seat next to me until our thighs touch.
Warmth spreads through my chest. I reach down, gripping the inside of her thigh. The reality of her being inside my truck when, yesterday, I was telling myself that this would never happen still doesn’t feel real.
“When did you fall in love with her?”
The words have been floating inside my brain since Kacie said them yesterday morning. I can’t stop myself from thinking about it, about this woman.
I turn the truck onto the dirt road leading to the long driveway and head into town. Monroe lays her head down on my shoulder and sighs.
“So, are we going to talk about it?”
My grip on the steering wheel tightens. She trails her fingers over my forearm. I reach over to turn on the radio. Her voice fills the truck, singing one of her biggest hits about falling for a man she just met.
Does she know I’m in love with her?
“Please don’t make me listen to myself right now.”
I turn the dial to a station that plays ’90s country.
Yesterday, she asked me what my dick tasted like and begged me to fuck her against a hay bale, but she was also as drunk as I’d ever seen her. We’ve been sexually attracted to each other since the first day we met, but the introduction of more isn’t something I ever thought would happen.
Kacie’s right; I don’t do committed relationships or emotional connections. I haven’t been close to a woman since my mother died.
Fuck, I’m having all kinds of personal realizations now.
“Talk about what?”
“About the picture and why you went to see your ex right after we …” Her voice trails off.
I squeeze her inner thigh. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about with her. I thought she might’ve been the one to take the picture. That’s why I went to see her.”
She sighs. “But she wasn’t. Duke said she called in sick.”
I clear my throat, shifting in my seat before answering her, “Well, she lied. She came to the ranch, saw us, took the picture, and then went back home.”
Monroe shoots up, staring a hole into the side of my face. “Are you serious?” she whispers.
I glance over at her, swallowing over the lump in my throat at the shocked look in her blue eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am that she did that to you. I’m trying to get to the bottom of who paid her to?—”
She gapes at me. “Someone paid her for it?”
I nod, looking back at the street in front of me as I pull up to the local fried chicken restaurant. The drive-through has one car in front of us. I order a family-sized meal with chicken tenders, gravy, extra French fries, rolls, and a large sweet tea.
Monroe grabs the bag of food and starts picking out French fries. I shove the straw into the lid of the sweet tea and hand it over to her. She takes a long sip before letting out a deep, satisfied sigh that goes straight to my groin.
“I haven’t had sweet tea in years,” she hums before taking another drink.
“I have my brother looking into who it could’ve been. Do you know a girl named Hannah who makes sourdough?”
She shakes her head. “Why?”
I pull out onto the street as rain begins to pelt the windows. “Never mind. I don’t want you to stress about it. You won’t have to see her again.”
She leans her head back against the headrest and stares out the windshield.
“I thought you went over there to confess your love to her.” Her voice is quiet .
Something clamps my chest. I glance over at her. She’s chewing on her bottom lip. Her face is scrunched up in deep thought. My boot slams on the brakes as I take a quick left turn. I speed up as the road turns from pavement to packed dirt. It’s getting muddy. Lightning strikes in the distance. After ten minutes, we reach the back corner of Redford Ranch. There’s a gate leading into a pasture. I pull off the road right up to it and shift the truck into park as the raindrops turn into a torrential downpour.
I face her. “Strawberry Wine” by Dianna Carter filters through the speakers. My hand reaches out to grab the food from her, and I set it on the back seat. Her eyes stay lasered in on my lips as my hands grip her hips. I lift her up, placing her on my lap, where my erection is growing. She stretches out her hands to steady herself on my shoulders. Her tongue darts out and wets her pink lips.
“You don’t get it, do you?” I lean into her, inhaling her scent.
She lets out a tiny gasp, fingers squeezing my shoulder muscles.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” I groan, my hand trailing up her waist and underneath her shirt. My fingers scrape against her bare skin.
She stretches her leg over, straddling me. Her fingers leave a trail of electric shocks as she interlaces them behind my neck. “Tell me,” she breathes into my ear, and heat spreads down my neck.
My dick is fully hard now, pressing up against her sweet pussy .
“You can feel it, can’t you, baby? Are you sure you’re ready to hear it?”
I kiss her like it’s the first time again. My lips press into hers, and I savor the taste of Monroe and sweet tea. She moans, grinding against my erection. My tongue dives into her mouth, exploring every inch of her.
I want to feel that mouth around my cock.
My hands scrape against her scalp, tugging her head back until the kiss breaks and her neck is bare to me. She leans back, giving me access to her breasts. I pull the hem of her shirt up and unhook her bra from the back. Her full breasts pop out, nipples erect and the perfect rosy shade. I suck one into my mouth. She whimpers and squeezes her hands tighter around me.
“Cash …”
Lightning strikes outside again, overhead. I trace small circles over the skin of her stomach with my fingertips, knowing what it does to her. I let go of her nipple and move to the other one. She releases her grip on my neck, her hands traveling up into my hair.
I’m in heaven, tasting her skin and feeling the way her thigh muscles tighten on top of me. The song changes to “Breathe” by Faith Hill.
She pulls my head back, eyes searching mine in the dark.
“I need a minute. I need—” She’s panting, her lips slightly quivering and swollen from my kiss.
I lick my lips, and her eyes follow the movement.
“What is it, Princess? What do you need?” My voice is scratchy with desire .
Her eyelashes flutter, and she looks down. “I need you to tell me what is going on in your head right now.”
I lean back against my seat, loving the view of her spread out on my lap, tits on display and knowing no one could possibly see us with the storm around us. I shift my weight, trying to remind her that most of my blood is between my legs so that’s where my thoughts are. She seems like she needs to say something, so I try to redirect my thoughts and focus my eyes on her face.
“Talk to me.” I trail a finger around her belly button.
“I just need to know. After the picture and the online rumors about us, are you still going to finish the tour?”
The romantic tune plays around us. I know she has no idea what I realized earlier today about how deep my feelings for her go or that I’ve never felt this emotion before with a woman. I’ve successfully kept them all at arm’s length my entire life, never letting my heart get involved where my dick has already been. I’m twenty-eight years old, and this is the first time I’ve actually been scared to have the what the future holds talk with a woman.
“I don’t think online rumors should determine whether or not I continue to protect you.”
She sighs in relief, reaching her fingers up to trace along my jawline. “Okay. Then, I just need to know one more thing.”
“What’s that?” I lean down, planting a kiss on her shoulder.
She tilts her head to the side, staring into my eyes. “Is this just physical for you?”
Here goes. Man up and tell her the truth .
My fingers move up to her face. I cup her cheek, brushing my thumb over it. “From the moment I laid eyes on you at the Sundance Pavilion, I’ve been attracted to you. I don’t know a man who’s alive and breathing right now who isn’t, including my shithead younger brother. But we aren’t living in the same reality. Your life, your career, your fan base … it’s a lot. My life goals don’t go beyond these fence lines. You’re used to penthouse suites, room service, screaming fans, and red carpets. I literally spend my days covered in cow shit and as far away from other people as I can possibly get.”
Her face falls. Tears begin to well in her eyes, and my heart splinters open.
“But”—I wipe away her tears with my thumb—“the way I’m feeling right now is unfamiliar territory for me. I don’t do relationships and commitment. I keep my distance from people. I’ve tried to do that with you for more reasons than just because I’m your bodyguard.” I clench my jaw, debating how much more to say, knowing it’s still not going to be what she wants to hear. “But you’ve opened up a part of me that I kept buried for a long time.”
I stop before telling her it was my mother’s death that caused me to start ignoring my emotional side. Being raised by an alcoholic father after that didn’t hurt the process either. I resist the urge to tell her more, to spill my guts to her. It’ll just complicate things further.
She studies my face, leaning back against my steering wheel. “You’re not the only one with a less-than-perfect past and the inability to feel all the emotions normal people have. I—I don’t have anyone. I used to think there was Ember and Fidel for me to count on, but with everything that’s happened, I don’t know who to trust. My mother barely speaks to me, unless it’s to ask for money or talk about herself. The last time I saw my father, I was in diapers. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t remember that I exist or he’s dead. I have … I have no one. Everyone wants a piece of me. No one wants the broken, lonely little girl who was abandoned by her dad and just an inconvenience to her mom. I have a big, empty house that doesn’t even feel like a home. It never has.”
I shift my weight under her, wishing my boner would go down since we’re entering into emotional, vulnerable territory and not messing around anymore. I cup her face with my hand.
“You have me now. You’ll never have to wonder whose side I’m on—got it? I’m Team Blue, always. You have all of us. Dolly and Rosie are as real of friends as they get. Redford Ranch is always open to you, no matter what. You have a place here when you need it.”
She peers up at me with glassy eyes. She leans forward, pressing a kiss to my lips before climbing off my lap. I feel a mild sense of disappointment at the loss of her body heat, but I want to make sure she’s okay emotionally before we take it further physically. Her fingers move to work on undoing my pants.
“You don’t need to do that, baby. We can just eat chicken and head back.”
She smirks up at me. “Do you know how much tongue work I’ve had to do in voice lessons?”
I lean my head back against the seat rest. “I’ve never thought about it.”
“Well, you’re about to.”