7. Cash
CASH
It’s bad enough that I’m my grandfather’s namesake. To also share the same birthday as him is a cruel joke the universe has been running on me for twenty-two years, and I have not found it funny once.
I don’t say that to sound bitter. I’m not bitter. I love this ranch and I love my parents and I love my grandfather more than I know how to say without it coming out wrong.
I’m the one who got Ben’s name and none of his virtue and all of his stubbornness, and every year, on our shared birthday, I think about that.
And every year, I decide I’m fine with it.
This year, I’m mostly fine with it.
The barn looks good, though. Mom and others have been out here since noon and it shows—streamers, mason jar flowers, the good folding chairs she rented, tables with nice linens. For a barn party, it doesn’t look half bad.
I grab a beer from the cooler and do a lap.
Rhett is near the back, already wound up about something.
That’s just Rhett at any event, though—itching to get away.
Dawson is talking to one of our cousins, Makai, who just started to work full time on the ranch this summer.
I’m not sure why the guy wants to even settle down here.
He’s spent his entire life traveling the country with my Uncle Ethan, Aunt Lila, and his sister.
My parents are with Uncle Luke near the food table. Mom catches my eye across the room, and I give her a wave and look away before she can do anything about it.
I grab a second beer and decide I’m fine.
About an hour or so later, Grandpa Ben comes in. He was surprised, and the party started, now that everyone’s here. At some point, his eyes find mine across the barn as he talks to the Dawson family. He grins and points at me. I point back.
That’s our thing. It has been since I was old enough to understand we shared a day.
Every year, across whatever room we’re in.
There you are. There you are back.
He makes his way through the crowd, stopping for every hug, every hand on a shoulder, taking his time with each person like the line behind them doesn’t exist. I hang back. He’ll get to me.
I watch him reach Halle before he gets to me.
She’s got her arms around him and he holds on a beat longer than a standard hug and says something in her ear. Whatever it is makes her laugh, her head nodding slightly, something in her shoulders that had been tight since she walked in, releasing.
I want to know what he said.
He always knows the exact right thing. Has this specific gift for finding the thing a person needs to hear and delivering it so quietly it almost feels like it came from inside themselves.
When he finally gets to me, he grabs the back of my neck, our foreheads almost touching.
“Happy birthday, boy.”
“Happy birthday, old man.”
He laughs. “Seventy-five.”
“How’s it feel?”
“Same as seventy-four,” he says. “Maybe a little better.” His eyes move over my face. “You good, Cash?”
“Always,” I say.
He goes to say something else, then someone pulls him away, and the crowd closes back around him.
Colt appears at my elbow out of nowhere.
“I think you wanna dance,” he says. “Liven this place up.”
I look at him. “Mom and Aria are about to bring more food out. I don’t want to dance. What’s your deal?”
He cuts his eyes toward Halle. His voice drops. “She needs a break from the questions. Please. Dance with my sister, dude.”
I look back at her, and watch her nod at something her dad said with that smile that has nothing behind it. She’s clearly unhappy with whatever he’s talking to her about.
Mine.
The thought hits hard and low. She’s been mine in my head for months. But tonight, I finally get to put my hands on her with permission.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m on it.”
I grab the phone off the speaker dock and the mic off the table.
“Hey, everyone.” My voice comes out through the barn and half the room turns. “What are we doing here? This won’t fucking do, not on my birthday. Grab a drink and let’s dance.”
The room cracks up, and Mom’s voice rises over the laughter. “Benjamin Cash, you watch that mouth of yours.”
I drop the mic, grab a fresh beer, and cross the floor.
Halle’s dad, Jack, has turned toward the commotion, and her stepmom is already being swept toward the dancing by someone. Halle is standing in the space they left, slightly alone, and I walk up to her, holding out my hand.
She looks at it, then at me. “What are you doing?”
“Asking you to dance.”
“I can see that. Why?”
“It’s my birthday,” I say. “And I want to.”
Something moves across her face. She looks at my hand for one more second.
“I’m not a great dancer,” she says.
“Good thing I am.” I don’t wait for her to overthink it; I take her hand and pull her toward me. My other hand settles on her waist, fingers pressing just enough to feel possessive. “Come on, Halle. Dance with me.”
She was lying about not being a good dancer.
She moves like someone who’s done it before and just forgot she liked it. I keep it simple—nothing that would spook her. Just the back and forth while the music does the work.
After a minute, she starts to relax. The tension in her shoulders melts away by degrees, and her weight shifts slightly toward me instead of away. I have to fight the urge to pull her even closer.
God, she’s beautiful.
Pink hair catching the string lights, that soft white floral skirt brushing against my legs, the way her eyes still hold a little sadness even when she smiles.
She doesn’t deserve a single negative thought floating around in her head.
Whoever stopped loving her is a fucking idiot.
I don’t even know the full story of their divorce yet, but I already know her ex-husband royally fucked-up.
Someone like Halle shouldn’t ever be left feeling this unsure.
She’s been out of reach for months—this bright, sharp, untouchable woman who’s way too good for me. And now she’s in my arms.
It makes me nervous as hell.
“Happy birthday,” she says softly.
“Thank you. First person to say it today.”
She glances up, surprised. “Seriously?”
“I share the day with Grandpa. It’s his milestone. I don’t like the attention anyway.”
“That’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told, Cash Thornwood,” she teases, but there’s a sweetness in it that hits me straight in the chest.
“You really think of me as that shallow?”
“Like a kiddie pool.”
I grin, slightly wounded but loving every second of it.
“I’m sorry. That was mean,” she adds quickly. “But you are a lot.”
“I’ve been told worse.”
Then the song kicks up, and I spin her.
My hand finds her waist, turning her out and back in.
Her skirt flares and she laughs, her free hand coming to my shoulder to steady herself when she lands back against me, closer than she was before.
Close enough that I can smell whatever she’s wearing and file it away in the part of my brain that is going to be absolutely insufferable about this later.
“Was that necessary?” she asks, slightly breathless.
“Completely,” I murmur. “You look too beautiful tonight to stand still.”
She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she looks up at me through her lashes, something soft and surprised flickering across her face.
Then, I dip her.
One hand at her waist, the other catching hers as I lower her back. Her hair falls, the skirt fans out, and for one perfect second, she’s looking up at me with pure, unguarded happiness.
My heart stutters.
I pull her back up slowly, keeping her close. “You know … I’ve been trying to find a reason to do this since the first night you walked into The Bar.”
She blinks, caught off guard. “Cash …”
“I mean it.” I hold her gaze. “You’re stunning, Halle—inside and out. Don’t let anyone make you forget that.”
“Okay,” she says, slightly unsteady. “Does that work in your wooing of women?”
I keep my hand on her waist, thumb brushing lightly over the fabric of her dress. “I’m not trying to woo you, Halle.” My voice comes out lower than I intended. “I’m just dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room. And for once … I don’t want the song to end.”
She doesn’t have an answer for that. Neither do I, honestly. Because the thing is … I meant to be charming. That’s what I am. I show up and I’m charming and women respond to it and I move on. That was the plan three months ago when she started at The Bar, and it’s been the plan every night since.
It is not feeling like a plan right now, though.
Then the song ends, she thanks me quietly, and she’s going back into the party before I can say anything.
Makai finds me about thirty seconds later, which is the universe’s way of making sure I don’t do anything stupid.
My cousin has always had impeccable timing.
“Happy birthday, man,” he says, pulling me into a hug that nearly spills my beer.
“Finally,” I say. “Someone remembered.”
“I always remember.” He turns and pulls someone forward. “You know Maggie.”
Maggie has curly blonde hair and an easy, confident smile that says she’s comfortable in a room full of strangers.
“Happy birthday,” she says. “We should all get together sometime!”
Dawson materializes at my other elbow the way he does with a drink in hand.
We talk for a while. Makai has stories from the road, Maggie laughs at the right moments—and adds things that are actually funny—Dawson is steady and reasonable, and I drink my beer and contribute commentary and keep not looking at wherever Halle is across the barn.
I have another drink.
Then another.
Colt slips out the side door at some point, and Rhett disappears. I make the mental note to not ask about either of those things because some doors should stay closed, and I like Colt too much to get involved in whatever that is.
The party gets louder and warmer and I lose track of Halle somewhere in the back half of the night. I figure she’s with Aria or her mom.
I do a lap of the barn.
She’s not at the bar cart. Not with the women’s table in the corner. Not anywhere I can see.
I slip out the side door.