Chapter Twenty-Three #2
We watch people come and go through the courtyard, on their way to get dinner at the farm-to-table restaurants a stone’s throw away.
I try to imagine what people might have thought about my cherries at the public tasting today.
I can hardly wait to find out. Wyatt tells me about business school and offers ideas for marketing my cherries and honey.
I tell him about the competition and the pitch I have to deliver tomorrow.
With his arm round my shoulder, he gently runs a finger up and down my neck. He asks me all sorts of questions, including what’s special about my cherries and how they can fill a gap in the market. I realize he’s really helping me narrow down my pitch.
“Thanks, Wyatt, for all the ideas.” I tilt my head up. “I’m really glad we did this.”
“Me too,” he says, his eyes soft. He brushes my cheek with his thumb and kisses me on the lips, short and sweet.
“Sorry.” I gesture towards the building. “Hold that thought. I drank too much lemonade.” I free myself from Wyatt’s warm arm and head to the bathroom, praying Cash’s shift is over.
Wyatt chuckles and waves me away. “It’s OK, go, go.”
Cash’s shift is not over. The moment I walk through the door, I bump straight into him. He’s rushing to a table with drinks, and they splash back all over his chest.
“Cash,” I say, “I’m so sorry!”
I’m about to help him with the drinks when he points with his free hand. “Stay there.”
After snatching a pile of napkins, he finds me in the back hallway by the restrooms. He tugs a small keychain from his front pocket and opens an unmarked door.
After stealing a glance behind us, he pulls me inside.
It’s a storage closet with sacks of sugar and flour, packets of parmesan and red pepper, and giant cans of tomato sauce.
“Cash!” I hiss. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t take this any more.” He dabs his shirt with the napkins. “Please, will you hear me out?”
“Cash, I’ve told you. I don’t want to get in the middle of anything with you and Kaylee,” I say.
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “No. Ugh, this is so messed up.” He sets the ball of wet napkins on a shelf and rubs the back of his neck. “The thing is… It’s complicated. Kaylee and I have to… Well, you see, our contract specifies we’re a couple.”
I stare at him. “What?”
“The sponsor was looking for a girl and a guy who could represent his ranch-wear brand – you know Buckaroo Billy’s?
He said us being a couple generates public interest and buzz.
People love small-town sweethearts.” Cash does his best impression of what sounds like a slimy old man with a gravelly voice.
“Kaylee can financially afford to back out of the contract, but I can’t.
She agreed to go along with it until semi-finals, mostly because she likes the idea of her photo, our photo, being plastered on the marquee.
She needs her up-and-coming can-chaser status to be on the up and up with her followers. ”
“So … what are you saying?” I shake my head, utterly confused.
We watch the door as footsteps echo in the hallway, but they go to the restroom.
“I’m saying Kaylee is not my girlfriend, Dahlia. We dated, but…” He looks down at his black shoes and hesitates. “After I saw you at the rodeo… This is going to sound crazy, but I just realized, with Kaylee, it wasn’t…”
There’s a pause.
“… Right?” I fill in, hoping I don’t miss the mark. Hoping the moments we shared on the night of the storm might still mean something.
“Exactly.”
As his words sink in, I raise an eyebrow. “After you saw me…?”
He looks bashful and gives a half laugh. “Or maybe it was after the kick in the head.”
I’m reeling, trying to piece it all together. “Did you know I’d be there when you came up to the ranch that first day…?”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t. That was a total coincidence. Weird, huh?”
“Yeah.”
Our gazes cling tightly to one another until I close my eyes and sigh. “If this is true, why did you not think to tell me?”
Cash rushes to explain. “I almost did, several times, but I’m not supposed to tell anyone what’s really going on. Small-town gossip spreads like wildfire. The photos from the publicity shoot haven’t come out yet. The glossy-couple image has to stay intact until the rodeo’s over.”
“OK…” I run my hand through my hair. It’s a lot to take in – a lot to believe. “Like I said, Cash, I don’t want to get in the middle of anything.” I point to the door, needing to escape – because, if I don’t, I can’t trust what I might say next. “I should get back to my date.”
“Just another minute?” Cash pleads.
He looks into my eyes, unblinking. His long, black lashes cover half of his pupils, making me feel incredibly vulnerable. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, and his shoulders scrunch up near his ears. “Are things serious with you and Wyatt?”
I twist my mouth and shrug, but it’s hard not to get a flash of excitement that he sounds jealous.
Still, jealousy is not what I truly want, and I feel a burst of frustration.
“Is Wyatt why you were being so crappy earlier?” I raise my brows expectantly.
“There are giant posters and videos of you and Kaylee everywhere, but Wyatt’s a problem? ”
He winces.
“You were being crappy yesterday too, so you know,” I add.
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” He hangs his head.
“I never felt bad for you, not in the way it sounded. That was the most idiotic thing I’ve ever said.
I do hate that your dad did that, though.
That’s what I meant.” He pops his knuckles and bites his lip.
“And I’m sorry about tonight. Dahlia, seeing you with another guy is doing things to me I didn’t expect.
I’m sorry. You don’t deserve any of this. ”
“I don’t understand any of this.”
“I know, and I don’t want to hurt you. Please trust me to make it up to you. I just need a little more time.” His hands come out of his pockets, and he touches my chin. “Dahlia, I promise, soon I will do whatever you want.”
“Oh, really?” I say, pissed but also intrigued.
He stares at my mouth. “Whatever you want,” he repeats, forcing his eyes to mine.
My anger trails off as he inches closer. Close enough that he’s got to hear my heart thrumming against my chest. How does he know exactly what I want?
“I swear,” he says again, stalwart. His black apron, covered in flour, touches the front of my shirt. I get lost in his unwavering gaze, having to remind myself to breathe.
Then the door handle rattles. Keys jangle, and our heads jerk towards the door. Cash’s pinky brushes against mine and he squeezes my hand as if to tell me I’m safe. He uses his other hand to hold the door closed.
“Hey, I’m getting more sauce.” Cash’s voice cracks. “Need something while I’m in here?”
The person on the other side of the door mumbles, “Get a sack of flour too.”
Cash widens his eyes. “Will do.”
“Everything OK in there?”
I cover my mouth with both hands.
“Yep!” Cash blurts.
“OK, thanks, man.” The footsteps plod heavily away.
“That was the owner,” Cash whispers.
“The way your voice cracked…” I say, the tension collapsing into giddiness, regardless of how confused I am with him.
We both almost die in a fit of silent laughter, before I regain my composure. “I’ve really got to get back, Cash.” I hike a thumb over my shoulder, remembering that I still have to pee.
“I’m sorry for getting you into this mess.” His eyes are soft, and he swallows hard as he lets me back out into the hallway. “But I’m not sorry for how I feel.”