27. Cash
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cash
Fuck.
I can see the hurt on her face, I know I’m letting her down, and I still say nothing.
I love you.
Why would she say that?
How can she think that?
“Haven—”
“You don’t have to say anything,” she says brightly, scrambling to her knees. Her back goes super straight, perfect posture, as she pulls herself behind her polite librarian persona, even though she’s just wearing one of my t-shirts and a pair of panties I was hoping to pull off her at some point.
Not gonna happen now.
“I’m not worth it,” I grind out.
“I won’t argue about this with you.” She lifts her chin. “It’s late. We should sleep.”
“I don’t want to argue, either.” I frown.
She leans in and kisses me lightly. “Good. Pretend I didn’t say it. This doesn’t change anything.”
The hell it doesn’t.
My heart aches in a new and unfamiliar way as she tucks herself under the blanket and rolls over, giving me her back. The frustration burns hotter when her breathing quickly evens out, her body sliding into slumber before I can figure out what to say.
She loves me.
She can’t take that back. She wouldn’t lie about something like that. She’s too pure.
I took advantage of her feeling insecure and threatened, I moved her into my bed. I took her damn virginity.
It might not have been to protect her all along.
And her only response is that she loves me?
I don’t deserve her. I never will.
And I don’t know how to get her out of this trap I set for her.
I didn’t mean to hurt you, I think as I stare at the spill of her lovely hair over my pillow.
But I know that if I say that out loud, it’ll only hurt her further.
She slides out of bed at dawn. She moves fast for a girl who’s only had a few hours sleep.
Like a coward, I lay there and listen to her have a shower in the bathroom across the hall.
I pretend to be asleep when she returns and gets dressed.
But when she goes upstairs and I hear her tell Zane she’s heading into town early, that’s where I draw the line.
I’ve fucked up, but we don’t know that I’m the target. And if I’m not, I’m not letting her drive to work alone anymore. Whoever is doing this, for whatever their reasons, their anger at Haven is escalating.
I shove my legs into jeans and head upstairs.
“We’ll drive together,” I say as I take her coffee cup from her hands.
She presses her lips together to keep from protesting.
We share a second cup of coffee and some bacon and toast, then a quiet drive into town.
Yesterday feels like a surreal dream. To go from teaching her to dance on a mountain top to barely exchanging five words before she jumps out of my truck at the garage and darts across the street, even though the library isn’t open yet…
I drag in a tight breath, furious with myself.
That feeling only gets worse when there’s a voice mail message on the garage line from Jeb Fucking Martin, saying he wouldn’t need that brake appointment after all, because he got a better quote in Diamond Valley.
I’m glad I won’t have to see his fucking face, but I didn’t need to hear his fucking voice, either.
I grab the keys for the first car on my task sheet for the day. I just need to get my hands greasy to bury myself in work for the day.
And try my damnedest to not think about the fact that my brother is getting married in three days, and the last thing my family needs is to find out that I’ve broken Haven’s heart.
The next afternoon, Ridge interrupts a silent drive home with Haven, calling my cell phone as I turn off the range road.
“Hey buddy,” I say as I answer it. “I’ve got Haven in the truck with me. Don’t say anything rude.”
“The fucking bull escaped again!” It sounds like he pulls the phone away from his ear, yells at someone—or some animal—then comes back. “What did you say?”
“Never mind. Where’s the bull?”
“Probably running toward you right now. He got through the north fence this time.”
“All right. Hang on.” I glance across the cab to Haven. “Sorry. We gotta run interference.”
She shrugs. “It’s okay.”
Our ranch is the last property on the gravel road, but it continues as a dirt track, running along the north side of our ranch.
Instead of turning under the gate that announces Kincaid’s Refuge, we head straight, and it doesn’t take long before I see Ridge’s stubborn, freedom-seeking asshole is on the trail.
“Yeah, he’s out here,” I say to my brother over the speaker phone. “You coming on horseback?”
“Yep.”
I put my truck in park.
“Stay here,” I say to Haven before grabbing my phone and hopping out.
She doesn’t listen.
It’s fine. A bull that’s proving to be a bit of an escape artist is probably more blustery than dangerous. He knows where home is.
I still think about ordering her back in the truck, because I want her to stay as safe as fucking possible.
But she’s already reading the situation, watching the bull and flanking wide, keeping her distance.
She knows what she’s doing, maybe just by instinct.
Maybe because she’s read a fuck ton of books, about an endless number of scenarios.
Maybe she’s read a cowboy romance with this exact scene in it.
Whatever the reason, she knows what she’s doing.
She’s smarter than even I give her credit for.
And if I treat her like glass right now, on top of everything else, she’s going to shatter, then pick up one of those shards and stab me with it just to prove a point.
We push him together slowly, no sudden movements, our arms wide.
The bull swings his head, blows hard through his nose, decides we’re more trouble than we’re worth.
Haven keeps her line without me having to say a word.
By the time Ridge comes up the track, the bull is reluctantly heading back in the right direction. My brother climbs his horse well out of the way until they’re on our side of the bull, and then he takes over and we’re relieved of our duty.
Haven brushes her hands together and turns around.
Her shoulder grazes mine as she passes.
And she walks back to the truck without looking at me.
We’re still not talking, but it’s a different kind of silence than this morning.
The message is loud and clear. We can work together. We don’t need to dwell in messy feelings that are too complicated for this moment, that will never be resolved in a way that can make both of us fully happy.
“You were great back there,” I say as I slowly back my truck up the track. “Thank you.”
“Any time.” She stares out the window as the ranch gate comes into view. “It was pretty cool to pretend to be a cowgirl there for a minute.”