Til You Can’t
Til You Can’t
CASH
OCTOBER
“Maverick,” I whispered, trying to pitch my voice perfectly to wake him up without disturbing Cheyenne. She’d probably kill me if I woke her or the baby up. Thankfully, Stormie Mae was asleep in her room.
I looked at the alarm clock on Maverick’s side of the bed. 4:48 AM.
Perfect. It wasn’t too early. In fact, if it weren’t a Saturday, he’d already be up, so if anything I’d let him sleep in a bit.
“Mav—”
“You got three seconds to get the fuck outta my room, Cash.” My cousin’s voice cut through the quiet like a razor. He shifted and sat up in bed, glowering at me as he did so.
“I need—”
Cheyenne gasped, darting up beside Maverick. “What the actual fuck?”
“Shhhh!” I hissed. “You’ll wake the baby.”
As if she didn’t know that.
“You better get the fuck out of here before I wake everybody for five square miles,” she snapped, and even in the darkness of the room I could all but see her blue eyes sparking like twin infernos.
I grinned. “Testy this mornin’, aren’t we Chey?”
“What the fuck do you want?” they both grumbled in unison.
It wasn’t like I was going to tell either one of them yet. If I did I risked Mav not coming at all and telling me to fuck right off.
Pegging him with a hard stare, I said, “I need you.”
Chey cut in before Mav could even utter a word. “What the fuck could you possibly need Mav for at…” She looked at the clock. “Five’o’clock in the fucking mornin’ on a fuckin’ Saturday?”
Damn, she was mad mad. Like spitting mad. Maybe this hadn’t been the best move. But I was desperate, and I needed his help.
“It’s important ranch business.” I told her. “You’re still shoutin’, and it’s a good thing for you that Cason isn’t here with his swear jar.”
“It’s a good thing for you Maverick doesn’t let me keep a loaded gun by the bed.” She got up and pushed me out of the room.
“That’d be really irresponsible with the baby.” I smirked as she shoved me through the door.
“Do you really need Maverick?” she asked, some of the anger dissipating into defeat.
I nodded, letting the smirk fall. I couldn’t do this on my own, and not going to lie, I was a bit scared to have Mama’s help. “I really do. It’s very important.”
“Stay here.” She pointed at the couch. “And don’t make any noise. You wake that baby up, I’ll kill you. Maverick will be out in a minute.”
“You’re still talkin’ pretty loud,” I whispered. “I’d say you’re probably gonna wake her up.”
“Cash!” she hissed, her glare promising death.
I let out a quiet chuckle as she disappeared back into the room. I knew I’d pay for this later, but right now nothing was going to ruin my mood. Not even old Sourpuss when he come out.
Mav and Chey’s place was dark and quiet as I waited on the couch. Not even five minutes later, Maverick wandered out into their living room, looking like a wraith in his usual all black ensemble, his scowl deeper than normal.
“What. The. Fuck?” he asked, each word out of his mouth dripping with annoyance, the low timbre barely above a whisper.
“Come on, man. We gotta go.” I stood, already aiming for the door. “We’re burnin’ daylight.”
“It’s five’o’clock in the mornin’, you done pissed Cheyenne off and now—”
Stormie started crying in the other room.
“Oh shit,” I breathed.
Maverick grabbed me by the shirt and rushed me to the door, ripping it open before shoving me out into the still-dark morning. Not going to lie, I was more than a bit shocked when he continued on right behind me instead of going back in to deal with the baby.
I didn’t know if that boded well for me or not.
“What’s so important?” he asked, settling into the driver’s seat of my truck. He held out his hand for my keys expectantly. God knows he didn’t want me driving.
“Come on.” I slapped the keys into his palm, forcing a sense of seriousness in my tone. “It’ll be better if I show it to you.”
It was still dark as Mav and I pulled up in front of my parents' place. He hadn’t even put the truck into park and I was already out the door, my boots crunching over the gravel.
I didn’t worry too much though. Mama was a heavy sleeper and Dad was probably out feeding cattle and doing chores at this point.
Sneaking in had been an olympic sport for me growing up.
I was an expert on stealth. Grabbing the spare key from under the welcome mat, I opened the door slowly and motioned Maverick inside.
He was confused, annoyed, downright pissed, but he was still here. That had to count for something.
“Come on,” I murmured.
“What the hell are we doin’?” he hissed under his breath. “Is Aunt Violet okay?”
“Everyone’s fine.” I brushed him off. “We gotta be quiet. She ain’t up yet.”
And hopefully she’d stay asleep for the majority of this. I wasn’t in any particular hurry to let her know why I needed to use her kitchen. Or in this case, for who.
“You two idiots couldn’t sneak past a dead dog if its head was encased in concrete.” A light flipped on, and my heart stopped a moment. Dad sat in his recliner in the living room as if he’d been waiting for us.
Probably was.
“Shit,” I spat. “Wasn’t expectin’ you.”
Dad shook his head, his gruff voice reminding me of a thunderstorm on the horizon. “I heard you comin’ in and out carryin’ all these damn groceries and singin’ fuckin’ Apples and Bananas, you idiot.”
I couldn’t tell whether he was amused or pissed. Probably a bit of both. But there was a spark in his hazel eyes.
Maverick dropped any pretense of being quiet, the scowl on his face growing by the second. “Okay, what the fuck is goin’ on?”
“Shhh!” Dad and I said at the same time.
“Violet’s still asleep,” Dad warned in a hushed voice. “What are you two dipshits doin’?”
I dragged Maverick toward the kitchen, keeping my voice quiet as I replied, “We won’t be needin’ any help.”
It was already going to be enough having to explain it all to Mav—if he didn’t kill me first. I couldn’t imagine the shit Dad would give me if he knew what I was about to do.
Dad got up and speared me with a withering glare. “And I guess I won’t be gettin’ any help feedin’ horses and all that?”
“It’s the weekend. We do chorin’ for you all the other days… And we got important work to do.”
“I know when you say “we”, you mean Mav.” He huffed, shaking his head as he followed us toward the kitchen and to the back door. “You better clean up any mess you make,” he muttered before stepping out into the morning, leaving a string of curses and complaints in his wake.
“Cash…” Mav’s tone was little more than a growl.
Raising my hands in a calming gesture, I said, “Okay, okay. Don’t get your panties all in a twist. Let me show you.”
One could argue that I could have done this back at my place, it’s not like my house didn’t have a nice damn kitchen to cook in, but I could barely even boil water, let alone had all the fucking supplies or appliances to make something of this caliber.
I beckoned my cousin toward the kitchen island and the linen-covered basket sitting there.
With a flourish, I whipped off the fabric and said, “Tada!”
He shot me a quizzical look. “Croissants?”
I nodded. “Chocolate croissants.”
Mama always said the best way to a girl’s heart was chocolate, and my little she-devil was a chocolate fiend.
His jade eyes didn’t hold a shred of amusement. “You dragged me all the way here—”
“We’re gonna learn how to make them,” I interrupted. “Well, you’re gonna learn how to make ‘em. Then, you are gonna teach me.”
His face turned pensive, almost like all the cogs in his brain were working to solve the puzzle presented before him. “Why?”
The moment of truth. Best to play it cool. Don’t make it seem more than it is. It’s completely economical. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than a simple, kind gesture.
I shrugged. “They’re Ollie’s favorite and I’m goin’ broke buyin’ em everyday.
Figured it’d be cheaper in the long run, not to mention super thoughtful and sweet if I just learned how to make them on my own.
” Nudging him with an elbow, I continued, “Come on, it can’t be too hard.
I already got a recipe online and everythin’. ”
Some of the anger dulled, the harsh lines of his face smoothing out ever so slightly, but his words were still gruff as he demanded, “Did you read the recipe?”
I scoffed. “No. I figured it’d be more fun if we read it together.”
“This ain’t gonna be fun at all!” he grumbled, rifling through a few bags of groceries, placing them one by one on the counter top. “Look, just leave me the recipe and let me do it, okay?” he finally breathed out, his voice tired, almost resigned.
“No.” I shook my head. No, I was going to do this.
Call me whipped, call it stubborn pride, but I would be making these damn chocolate croissants today if it was the last thing I did.
“Mav…this is important to me. It’s important that I learn how to do this and I need you to help me.
Please…” I sounded pathetic even to my own ears.
“I’ve never done anythin’ like this for a girl before.
I need a helpin’ hand from the best man I know. ”
“Shut up,” he muttered once more, looking around at the mess I’d already made in Mama’s kitchen. But I knew I had him. Maverick was a damn romantic through and through, and acts of service was his number one love language.
“So…” I grinned, cocking my head to the side expectantly. “You gonna help me?”
He tilted his head to the ceiling, pinching the bridge of his nose and massaging the spot right between his eyes. “Don’t I fuckin’ always?” he groaned. “Where’s the recipe?”