17. Cash
Chapter Seventeen
Cash
Fred Bingham isn’t at the church when we get there, but after a nervous phone call from his assistant, he swiftly arrives a few minutes later. He’s completely cold to Haven, barely sparing her a glance as he sweeps past us, acknowledging his staff first before finally nodding our way.
“I have a meeting at the top of the hour,” he says when I close his office door behind Haven.
“I need to get to work as well.” Her voice is steady and calm. “This won’t take long.” She holds out the note. “Did Jeb write this?”
Pastor Bingham looks genuinely surprised. At her poise, or the directness, or the accusation…I’m not sure which.
He takes the piece of paper. Silence stretches as he examines it. “This was left for you?”
“Cash found it at the garage after he spent the evening at my apartment last night. I’ve received some…criticizing…emails at the library, but this is the first physical note. And whoever wrote it—”
“It’s not Jeb.” He shakes his head. He looks through a stack of papers on his desk, then spins a folder around so she can see it. “This is his handwriting.”
From where I’m standing behind her, a protective don’t fuck with her wall, I can see that the penmanship is completely different.
Fuck.
Haven comes to the same conclusion. Her shoulders drop in disappointment. But she isn’t going to miss the opportunity here to send a message.
“Someone in your congregation thinks they are judge and jury about my choices,” she says as she reaches for the note.
Bingham pauses a beat before he reluctantly hands it back. “That’s an uncharitable accusation.”
“It’s been an incredibly uncharitable six months since I moved home. I have never spoken ill of your church.”
“You don’t attend services, either. Your absence speaks volumes about your…opinions.” His gaze flicks to me and his voice gets even harder. “As do your choices.”
“Haven chooses, at every turn, to be kind and understanding.” I say it with a calm that I learned from navigating the injustices of the legal system. There’s no point in getting mad. Mad is a protest against injustice, and a dead giveaway that you feel wronged.
That’s not a position of strength to operate from.
I put my hand on her shoulder. “I don’t make that same choice, which is why we make a good pair. It’s called balance. Keep that in mind as we continue to get to the bottom of who is threatening your niece.”
Outside, Haven keeps her lips pressed tight together in a thin line until we’re in my truck, and then she kicks her feet in frustration. “Argh, he’s ridiculous.”
“I’m sorry. I’d hoped you were onto something with getting him to look at the note.” I squeeze her shoulder, then put the truck in gear. “I’ll drop you at the library.”
“Aren’t you going to work?”
“I’ll be back. Riley’s got it covered for the morning.”
“Are you going to talk to Jeb?”
I smother a laugh. “No, but I will, any day of the week. Just say the word. I need to go out to the ranch for a bit. I want you to promise me that you won’t leave the library. And if anyone suspicious comes in, anyone at all, you’ll call me.”
“I promise.” She reaches across the console and presses her hand to my thigh.
Fuck, I like that a lot.
Focus, asshole. Now is not the time to be thinking with your dick.
“After work, I’m going to take you back to your place so you can pack up a few things, and then we’ll go out to the ranch tonight.”
“What?” She takes her hand away.
I catch her fingers and hold on tight. “I’m not taking any chances with your safety.”
“My— Cash, the last threat was for you, not me.”
“We’re one now. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the first evening I stay late at your place, someone leaves that note for me.
They took a lot of care to not be recorded, too.
This is someone who is watching us, watching you with disturbing closeness.
You can’t stay alone anymore, and I don’t even like being in town overnight.
If you want me to write it in your notebook as a relationship rule, I will. We keep each other safe.”
“What about your garage?” She turns on the seat to stare right at my profile.
I focus all of my attention on driving.
“You said that you moved back into town because of break-ins at the garage. I can’t ask you to—”
“Property crimes aren’t as important as your life.”
“What if I stay at the garage with you?”
“It’s still safer at the ranch. Zane and Ridge are both there all the time. I’d rather have back up.”
“Back up! For what, a gunfight?” When I don’t answer that, she gasps. “You’re serious.”
“A madman just tracked Hope across two provinces. And he did have a gun, yeah. So when someone targets you, I’m going to assume they might be armed and dangerous.”
“That’s not what this is.” But her voice has gone small. “Cash, tell me that you don’t think this is like that.”
“I don’t know what to think.” I hate doing that to her. I wish I could lie and tell her that it’s probably nothing. But I don’t think that for a second, and I won’t minimize the risk just to make her feel better.
When I park outside the library, I turn the truck off and hop out, going out to her side.
I pull her into my arms and bury my face in her hair. “If it’s not Jeb, then there’s a wildcard factor we don’t know about. If you’ve got some free time, make a list of literally everyone who has scowled at you in the last six months, all right?”
“Yep.” She lifts her mouth and kisses my jaw. “Thank you for being clear-eyed about this.”
“I’ve got you. And now I need to head out to the ranch so I can figure out where we’re going to sleep tonight.” I chuck her lightly under the chin. “Looking forward to that, I’m gonna be honest. Hate the reason it was necessary, but I liked holding you last night.”
She smiles, all the way to her eyes, and nods, blowing me another kiss before she skips inside.
God damn it, I’m falling hard and fast for this woman.
I’m in serious trouble, but I like it, so I’m not looking to get myself out of this problem of my own making.
And the sex lessons are a nice lighthearted balance to the fear that could squeeze the joy out of her.
It doesn’t have to mean anything more than that.
By the time summer ends, she’ll be more knowledgeable about what she wants, what she deserves in a relationship, and everyone in town will forever know that she has a fearsome ex who still has her back.
She’ll be safe. Then I’ll walk away clean.
Nobody will ever fuck with her, ever again.
The rest of how I’m feeling some way about her—protective, possessive, primal—just needs to stay locked tight, for her own good.