9. Cash
Chapter Nine
Cash
Collecting Haven from the library, taking her hand in mine, and walking into The Friendly Table is a surreal sequence of events.
Doesn’t mean I don’t like it.
Even if it’s just fake to her, I like being her boyfriend. I feel ten feet tall as I help her into a booth against the window.
She pulls a little notebook from her purse and sets it on the Formica tabletop between us. “People are looking.”
Story of my life. And I hate that it’s the story hers, now, too, but we can make it better.
“That’s the whole point.” I sprawl across from her, her complete opposite in every way. Hopefully people look at us and see her as the ray of lovely sunshine that she is in comparison to my tattooed, bearded, muscled roughness. “Don’t pay attention to them. Look at me.”
She lifts her chin, her eyes turning bright as a faint flush slashes across her cheekbones. I like that, too. So fucking much, it could be dangerous. But I won’t let that danger touch her. I’m going to take good care of her for as long as she’s mine.
“That’s my girl,” I murmur. “You’re doing great. Tell me about your day.”
That surprises her enough that she actually relaxes, just slightly, her shoulders dropping half an inch. “My day?”
“Mm-hmm. Like you’d tell a boyfriend.”
That makes her squirm, but it makes her smile, too. I’m reminded of her drunken confession that she’s a virgin. Don’t think about how much or how little she’s dated before.
“I can’t remember what I did today. I was pretty distracted.” She toys with the notebook again.
“What’s that?”
“I made some notes for us to discuss.” She lowers her voice. “Maybe later, though.”
I smile. “Okay. What are you going to get for dinner?”
“I’m not sure I can eat, I’m so nervous.”
I nudge her foot under table. She jumps. I smile, and she laughs. “That’s better. I’m starving, so get whatever you want, and I’ll finish it if you don’t.”
“What if I order something you don’t like?” Her brows pull tight.
“Why are you worried about that?” I shake my head. “You don’t need to worry about me, Haven.”
“Easier said than done.”
I shift myself forward, so I’m leaning across the table. So it’s easier for her to share secrets with me. I want to reassure her, whatever her concerns are. “Why is that?”
“Because you keep threatening to kill people,” she whispers.
I laugh. “Sure. They’re assholes. I hope they feel that energy and piss themselves in fear.”
Her eyes flare, shocked. But deep in their pretty hazel depths, I see a burst of pleasure. I wonder if she knows how much I can see there, how obvious it is that she wants there to be consequences for cruelty.
Me too, Haven. Me. Too.
“I think we have that in common,” I point out. “You would just use different words.”
She sucks in a little shocked breath. But she doesn’t deny it.
I grin. “You know, once you get past the surface differences, we actually make sense.”
“Because we have common decency as a shared value?” Her eyebrows arch up in amused surprise.
“And we both like to read.”
“That is where our similarities begin and end.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. I bet we both like French fries.” I hand her one of the menus propped behind the napkin dispenser. Getting this dinner date back on track.
“You, me, and the entire world.” But she’s smiling softly as she peruses the menu, and that sweetness punches its way into my chest and takes up residence.
After a minute, she lifts her head and finds me still staring at her. Her pupils dilate and the tip of her tongue darts out, sliding along her lower lip unconsciously. “Have you decided what you want, then?”
Fucking hell. Yes, I know exactly what I want. And she’s not really mine for the taking. “I’ll have the special.”
Her eyes dart to the chalkboard behind the counter. “That sounds good.”
A new heat that I barely recognize swirls through my chest. “Something else we have in common.”
And she must hear it in my words, must recognize it as a danger, like a fawn in the forest hearing a twig snap, because her clever gaze snaps back to my face.
It’s going to be an endless struggle, staying on the right side of being good enough for her, when deep inside, I crave her with a hotter fire than I understood before.
The things I would do to hold that gaze as she sucks my cock…Fuck. Fuck.
“Listen,” she starts to say.
And I don’t want to hear it. Not on our first date. Not even if it’s fake date.
I cut her off. “This doesn’t need to be terrible, right?”
“No. Of course not. It’s not terrible. You’re not terrible. It’s just—”
There’s only one strategy here, and it’s tease her mercilessly until she forgets whatever she saw in my eyes. “Are you afraid you’ll want to kiss me all the time?”
“Cash!”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I smirk. She knows what to do with a smirking, flirty Cash. “Don’t worry, I want to kiss you all the time, too.”
She rolls her eyes. “You can’t say that—”
“Haven?”
Our heads swivel in unison.
Jasper Lane is standing a few feet away from our table. The sheriff is in civilian clothes tonight—jeans, a work shirt, cowboy hat in hand—but the way he carries himself doesn’t change out of uniform. And he’s looking at me like I’m a threat to the woman I’m having dinner with.
She reaches across the table and slides her fingers over my hand.
That instinctive claim smashes the cocky wall I’d just climbed behind. God damn it, her touch feels good.
Jasper narrows his eyes, then addresses me next.
“Kincaid.” He’s calm as always. Even the night he slapped cuffs on me, he was steady and cool. I hated him for that. “Good to see you.”
The last time we saw each other was the day Zane killed Hope’s violent ex, out at our family ranch. We both arrived too late to intervene.
Not that I would have stopped Zane from doing what needed to be done.
I turn my wrist so Haven’s fingers slide onto my palm. So I can close my big fist around her hand and return the public claim. “We’d invite you to join us but we’re on a date.”
“Is that so?” He rocks back on his heels. Then he nods again to Haven, his gaze lingering on her face a little too long. “In that case, Cash is a lucky man. Have a good evening.”
“Don’t growl,” Haven whispers as he retreats to the counter.
“I was just clearing my throat.”
“You’re going to be a very committed fake boyfriend.”
“Told you,” I say. “Fearlessly terrifying.”
“You don’t need to scare off Jasper. He didn’t write those emails.”
“But he might happen to mention how cozy we look to the person who did.” I squeeze her hand as Mercy approaches, giving her brother a playful hip bump on the way. “Enough about that.”
“Hey friends,” Mercy says, looking back and forth between us.
We’re still holding hands on the table, and when Haven goes to slide her fingers out of my grip, I tighten my hold on her.
“Here for dinner?”
“Sure are. We’ll both have the special,” I say.
Mercy’s eyebrow lifts when I order for both of us, but other than wordlessly glancing at Haven for confirmation, she takes our order and swiftly departs.
“Two down, a thousand good citizens of Dragonfly Creek to go,” I tease.
“About that.” Haven frees her hand and reaches for her notebook. “I realize that I made this very complicated from the start, and I want to undo that mistake.”
I don’t think it was a mistake that she launched herself across the street and glued her mouth to mine in front of Jeb Martin. But I have to agree that it has made everything else more complicated. “What are you thinking?”
She flips the notebook open and turns it around so I can read her tidy handwriting.
Relationship Rules, she’s written at the top of the page.
This has to be mutually beneficial
We need a compelling reason why
We have to plan the breakup
Well, at least she sees this as a thing we’re doing together.
“Do you have a pen on you?”
She pulls one from her purse.
I take it, making sure my fingers brush hers. I hope she gets a little jolt of pleasure from the contact, too.
This has to be fun
The reason why is right in front of us
Everything is negotiable, including the end date
I don’t look up at her as I scrawl my additions to the list, but I can feel her reacting across the table. Hear her little intake of air, the way she holds that breath. And then lets it go in a carefully controlled exhale.
The advantage of ordering the special is that the food arrives quickly, so the conversation gets shelved. Haven slides her notebook and pen back into her purse, and I change the subject to learning more about my new girlfriend, starting with her time at school.
“How did you like Edmonton?”
“It was nice. Different than here, of course. But I needed a change, and Calgary would have been too close. Also, if I hadn’t moved to Edmonton and found a job there, I don’t know if I’d have stuck it out for my Masters degree, and I wouldn’t have become a librarian, and I wouldn’t have moved home, so… ”
“It’s a full circle thing.” I nod. “I feel the same way, you know. About jail.”
She gasps. “Don’t joke.”
“Oh, I joke about it all the time. And I don’t want you to think it’s off-limits.
It’s a part of my life.” I nudge her knee with mine under the table, which is easy to do because I’m a big guy who takes up too much space.
Which I don’t see as a problem at all right now, because it gives me all the excuses in the world to touch her casually, endlessly.
“Just like the church is a part of your life.”
“Was a part of my life,” she corrects.
“I wondered. You don’t go to services on Sunday.”
“No.”
But I can’t help but notice that a small gold cross pendant still glints at the base of her neck. “Do you miss it?”
She looks surprised at the question. “New Harvest? No.” She takes a few bites of food, then sets her fork down. “But I do miss having a congregation of my own.”
“Did you go to church in Edmonton?”
“Yes.” No elaboration.
I want to get her to share more, but I don’t want to push too far.
This is just the start of a summer of getting to know each other better, so that can wait.
“I liked the prison chaplain a lot. Same with the padre in the army. Not big on the organized part of religion, but a nice minister is a nice minister.”
She smiles in a way that makes her cheeks round and her eyes sparkle. “Emphasis on nice.”
“Or kind.”
“Even better.”
“Kind spiritual leaders,” I say, ticking my finger. “Another thing in common. And how are you liking the meatloaf?”
She laughs out loud, and it lights up her entire face. “The meatloaf is great.”
“I like it, too. What is that, a dozen things we have in common now?”
“Slight overstatement.”
“Only slight. We can come here for breakfast and find out we also both like eggs.”
She laughs out loud. “Everyone eats eggs.”
“Truly not. Some people don’t like the texture. Some people prefer flax seed and chickpea water.”
“What?” She goggles at me.
“Oh, Haven, have I got stories for you.” As we continue eating, I tell her about some of the more out there vegan recipes my mother has tried over the years.
Not because we’re vegetarian—that would be weird, for beef ranchers—but because she’s in that kind of a hippie-adjacent community, and she has vegan friends.
“And sometimes I think she does it just to fuck with us.”
“Well she is the only woman in your family. She’s outnumbered, and outsized. Although I suppose Hope and Bellamy are bringing some balance to that now.”
“We went from only one bossy woman to two and a tiny, demanding tyrant on the ranch in the blink of an eye.” Which brings us back to the topic of the upcoming secret wedding.
“Speaking of which, I was hoping—” I lower my voice.
“I don’t know what to get them for a wedding gift. Do you have any ideas?”
“What does Zane like? Is Hope similar to him, or are they opposites?”
“That’s just the thing…I don’t exactly know. I’m so busy with the garage that I only get out to the ranch a couple of times a week, and there are always things to do. It’s not like I’ve sat down and had a long conversation with Hope.”
“Maybe instead of having dinner with me, you should be out there getting to know your future sister-in-law.” She picks up a green bean and wiggles it at me.
“Or maybe our next dinner date should be out there together, so you can help me figure this out before the wedding.”
She rolls her eyes. “When she came into the library, she asked about midwifery books.”
“Really? I didn’t notice that.”
“I think you were distracting her daughter at the time.”
I grin. “I do like the little rugrat. She’s cute. And smart for her age.”
“So we can surmise that family is important to her—and that’s true for Zane, too, right?”
“Of course.”
“So maybe something that represents the foundation of this new family?”
“Tree roots,” I say.
Haven’s eyes light up. “Yes, exactly. Maybe a piece of art?”
“I like that. Thank you.”
“What should I get them?” She shakes her head. “You can’t just put my name on your gift. We’re fake dating, so it would be awkward after we break up. Don’t argue, please. I’d rather give them something separate, as a friend of the family.”
Instead of arguing, I shove the last bite of meatloaf into my mouth. But that also makes it hard to answer her question, and it hangs over us in silence as I chew.
Fucking. Awkward.
“Books,” I finally manage to answer. “Maybe build them a starter family library?”
Haven sighs in relief. “I can do that.”
“Good. I’ll tell them that you’re coming, too.”
“Are you going to tell them the truth?” A flash of insecurity streaks across her lovely, sweet face. “I don’t like deceiving them.”
I swallow hard. “We won’t be deceiving them, don’t worry.”
As if my brothers would even ask why I want Haven to come as my plus-one, when it’s fucking obvious—to everyone except my new girlfriend, apparently.
My new fake girlfriend, who can’t imagine why I would want her for real.
Damn it.