Chapter 4
Cash
Over the last few days, dinner in the ranch house has become a warm, loud, and…fun affair. It’s reminiscent of the old days when Mama had still been alive and everything was still good on the ranch. The house feels alive again with warmth, laughter, and delicious meals.
I know most of that has to do with Anna coming into Wyatt’s life, and by extension, mine.
Kali has only been on the ranch for a few days, but she fit in almost at once.
Laughing and chatting with Anna as if they are old friends, asking Wyatt questions about the history of the ranch and complimenting his cooking.
She even helps clear the dishes every night before she slips back to the guest cabin for the evening to write.
We invite her to stay, telling her she doesn’t have to run off so quickly, but every night, Kali insists, saying how she likes to write while the day is still fresh in her mind. A reminder as to why she’s really on the ranch in the first place.
And that she’ll be leaving.
I can’t deny that, despite my initial misgivings about having her here, I’m enjoying her company. A lot. Since that first ride, we’ve gone for three more. Each one a little longer, even pushing the horses into a gentle trot earlier today.
Now, with Kali back in her cabin, the house feels too quiet. Just the low hum of the dishwasher from the kitchen, and the crackle of the fire. The wind has picked up a little outside, a sign of a late winter storm that was forecasted to blow through later.
Wyatt’s sitting on the couch, an arm around Anna, who looks half asleep after a busy day at her vet clinic in town.
“You can keep trying, brother,” Wyatt says, breaking the silence, “but you can probably get a better view of her cabin from outside.”
My head snaps away from the window where I’d been looking at the soft glow from the cabin window through the trees. I open my mouth to protest, but I know I’ve been caught out.
Wyatt laughs. “You don’t seem to mind the reporter so much now, do you?”
I shake my head, but I can’t fight the smile that pulls at my mouth. “She’s… different.”
“Different how?” Wyatt prods.
I shrug, staring into the glass of whiskey I’ve been nursing. “She’s not looking for trouble. Just wants to understand the work. The horses. This place. Most reporters come in with their minds made up about the story they’re going to write. She actually listens.”
Anna’s voice softens. “I like her. And I think she likes it here, too.”
Wyatt chuckles. “Yeah, I noticed Cash has been spending plenty of time showing her around. And going for rides. How’s that going?”
“She’s getting the story,” I say, though my tone comes out more defensive than I mean it to.
“That all she’s getting?”
Anna bursts out laughing.
“Don’t start.” I shoot them each a look, and Anna bites her bottom lip. “You wanted me to be nice to her,” I say with a growl. “That’s all I’m doing. I’m answering her questions so she can write her story.”
“Whatever you say, brother.”
“It is what I say.” When they exchange a glance with each other, my annoyance only grows.“What?” I demand. “What do you want to say?”
It’s Anna who answers. “It’s just the way you look at her,” she says.
“And how do I look at her?”
Wyatt’s eyes flash. “Like you want to bend her over the porch railing and—”
“Wyatt!” Anna smacks his arm, and it’s my turn to laugh.
“What?” He shrugs innocently. “I’m just making conversation.”
Overhead, the lights flicker and we all look up as if we can keep the lights on by sheer will. “That doesn’t bode well.”
It’s not forecasted to be a particularly bad store, but up in the mountains, it doesn’t take much for the power to go off.
“I don’t mind a storm,” Anna says and wiggles closer to Wyatt. “It’s cozy.”
I’ve heard all about how Anna was stranded up at the ranch, alone with Wyatt after a bad winter storm that brought the two of them together. I do not need any of the gory details.
I also do not need to stick around while the two of them get cozy.
With a shake of my head, I toss back the rest of my whiskey and drop the glass on the side table before getting to my feet. “Maybe I should go and make sure Kali has wood chopped for a fire, just in—”
My words are cut off by another flicker of the lights. Once. Twice. And then everything goes dark.
I glance toward the window, but where the soft, warm glow from Kali’s cabin once was, there’s nothing but inky blackness.
“I guess that settles that,” I say into the darkness as I pick my way across the room to the front door.
“Stay cozy, Cash.” I hear Wyatt call behind me as I grab my jacket, and the door slams shut behind me.
Kalli
Writing at night is my favorite. Ever since getting to the ranch, the words have flowed from my fingers. I don’t know if it’s this place, the horses, the people, or the story I’m working on, but I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed my work so much.
It’s the people, I think.
Well, one person in particular.
Cash Thorne has proven to be more than just an interview subject.
After the kiss we shared, something shifted between us.
I’m not complaining about it. I mean, I know it’s completely unprofessional to be fantasizing about him the way I am, and Brooke’s text messages about how I should do whatever it takes to get the story are still at the back of my mind.
But that’s not what I’m thinking about when I look at Cash Thorne.
In fact, I wish she’d never even suggested it.
Because all I can think about is the way his touch sends thrills straight to the base of my spine, and the way something inside me flares to life when he tips his head and looks at me with those deep blue eyes.
But I can’t write about any of that. I am doing my very best to keep things professional and write the very best story I can. Wyatt and Anna have been so nice and welcoming to me.
And Cash, well…
I shake my head to clear it and refocus on my work, but I only get another sentence written before I’m plunged into darkness.
“Oh great,” I mutter, slapping my notebook closed. I prefer to write my first drafts by hand, and I haven’t even taken my laptop out of the bag.
I grab my phone and switch on the flashlight function. Cash did say that if the power goes out, I would need to light a fire to keep warm. The only problem I can see looking at the fireplace is that…I have no idea how to light a fire.
With my phone in one hand, lighting the way, I move across the room and crouch in front of the fireplace, fumbling for some wood.
“How hard can it be?”
Answer: very.
Within minutes, I’ve managed to knock over the log pile, burn my fingers twice with the matches, and I’ve cursed more than I probably should have. I’m on my hands and knees trying to stack the logs when I hear a rap on the door. “Kali?”
I turn, just as the door creaks open to reveal Cash holding a lantern, watching me from the door with a bemused expression on his face.
“Need a hand?”
I want to be a strong, independent woman. I want to be able to do this. But I also want to be warm.
I turn, half blinded by the light of the lantern. “Power’s out,” I say dumbly.
“I see that,” he chuckles. “What’s your plan there?” he nods toward the stack of wood I’ve piled in the fireplace. “Were you planning on using a blow torch to light it?”
I tip my head before holding up my hands in defeat. “I’ve never built a fire before.”
“You don’t say?” Cash laughs as he crosses the floor to me. “Mind if I take over?”
“Be my guest.” I shift over as he kneels beside me, and suddenly the cabin feels too small. The fresh smell of the snow outside clings to him, and when his shoulder brushes mine, my whole body goes still. If he notices, it doesn’t seem to affect him the same way.
Cash moves with confidence and ease. First, he pulls out almost all of the wood I’d piled in the ashes, and starts building a teepee with smaller pieces, paper, and wood shavings. Within minutes, he lights a match, and the flames catch, flickering to life.
I watch in awe as he blows gently into the fireplace, coaxing the flames higher as he adds bigger and bigger pieces of wood.
Soon, the room is lit up with a warm glow.
“Thank you.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“Not for you.”
Cash laughs again, gets to his feet, and holds out a hand to help me up. “You’re welcome to come over to the house if you’re cold here. If the power stays out too long, Wyatt will get the generator going.”
I hesitate. “I hate to be an imposition. You’ve all already been so generous.”
“We won’t mind at all,” Cash says. “But if you do want to head over, we should give them a few minutes. If I know those two, they’re taking full advantage of the power being out.”
“Oh.” Heat rushes to my face as I catch his meaning. “Maybe I’ll just stay here then.”
“I don’t blame you.” He nods. “Maybe I’ll stay a few minutes, too.”
For a moment, it’s quiet except for the gentle crackle of the fire as we both stand and stare at the flames. After a moment, Cash lowers himself onto the couch, stretching an arm along the back. “Mind if I sit?”
“Of course not.” I join him on the small sofa, careful to leave space that neither of us really wants.
“Maybe we can talk while we wait for the lights to come back?”
“Could be a while.”
“I have nothing but time.”
The way his lips curl up in a sexy smile makes my stomach clench.
“Alright,” he says. “Is it on the record?”
“Only if you want it to be.”
He studies me for a second, then nods.
Before he can change his mind, I ask, “Why don’t you trust reporters?”
He exhales, his gaze fixed on the fire. For a second, I don’t think he’s going to answer.
“Last production I worked on, an actress got thrown off a horse. It was her own damn fault. She wouldn’t listen and spooked the horse with her antics.
She was fine. Bruised and scared and her ego was hurt of course.
But someone leaked the story, saying we forced her to do unsafe things with the horse and that we pushed the animals too hard.
The studio and production company threw me under the bus instead of telling the truth.
I lost every contract I had within the span of a week. ”
“That’s awful,” I whisper, genuinely horrified.
“That’s just the way they are,” he says. “Reporters aren’t looking for the truth. They’re looking for the best story.”
“Not all of us.”
He shrugs as he glances over at me. “Right,” he says softly. “Not all of you.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I do,” he says without hesitation. “What’s your story?”
I pull my leg up close to my chest and wrap my arms around it as I stare into the fire. Somehow, the firelight makes it easier to talk. “This is my first big feature,” I tell him. “I was hired to polish and copy edit other pieces, but when no one wanted this—I mean, when it came up.”
But I caught myself too late. Cash laughed. “No one wanted this assignment? Grumpy ol’ cowboys too much for the soft city reporters?”
“Their loss,” I said honestly. “This is the kind of break I’ve been waiting for. The type of assignment that decides if I get taken seriously. I keep telling myself I’m doing it for the story, but I think it’s more about proving it to myself if I’m honest.”
His eyes meet mine in the dim light, and the space between us disappears. “You’re doing fine, city girl.”
The nickname shouldn’t sound the way it does in his voice. Sweet, soft and…flirty.
I smile, that same strange pull toward him again. “Thanks.”
The silence stretches, filled only by the cracking of the fire and the wind outside. It’s warm in the cabin now, but when his hand brushes mine on the couch, shivers shoot straight through me.
When I turn to look at him, he’s already watching me.
The air changes. His fingers wrap around mine. Tighter.
I should say something. Remember that this is an interview. It’s on the record. I need to be professional. But I can’t. My pulse is too loud. My heart’s too busy remembering what his mouth felt like when I kissed him.
He leans in. Just a fraction.
“We shouldn’t,” I whisper.
“I know.” He searches my face, his eyes dark and steady. “I’m older than you. You’re here for the story.”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” I know it’s a lie the moment the words slip from my lips. “It can just be—”
“Off the record?” His lips twitch up with the joke at the same time his hand comes up to cup my cheek and his lips brush mine. It’s a light touch. Soft and testing.
“Off the record,” I agree, and then the kiss deepens. It’s slow and deliberate as his hands twine through my hair, tugging me gently toward him as if I’m going to go anywhere.
His hand finds the back of my neck, mine curls into his shirt. The fire sparks and everything but this cowboy and the need he ignites in me, fades away.