10. Halle
HALLE
Iwipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, which only spreads the dust from the armoire everywhere.
This stupid fucking armoire.
I saw it at a garage sale this morning—a beautiful heavy oak piece that I scored for next to nothing.
At the time, it looked manageable and with minimal girl math, it was going to fit through my front door.
However, now that it’s been dropped off and my front door is clearly too narrow, the past twenty minutes feel frustrating.
My arms burn from pushing it, my back aches, and my T-shirt is drenched in sweat, clinging to me uncomfortably.
This shit is not going to get the best of me.
I step back, hands on my hips, assessing if there’s an angle I have yet to try, and willing it to shrink just enough to fit.
“Come the fuck on,” I mutter. “Just … fit.”
It doesn’t. I try to lift one side of it, but my grip slips from sweat and it thuds back down, almost smashing my foot in the process.
This is what I get for being impulsive. I wanted something vintage for my bedroom that could be my centerpiece—something that already has character. Now I’m sweaty, frustrated, and seriously considering making this thing firewood, just so I can set it on fire.
Before it comes to that, I pull out my phone and fire off a text to Colt. He’s always down to help, and I bet with the two of us, we’d get it in, in no time.
Me:
Hey, you off work yet? Bought an armoire at a garage sale and I need help.
Colt:
Got you. Bringing backup with me too.
I shove my phone back in my pocket, relieved. Colt’s always down to help, and it should be pretty painless of a move for him and Rhett.
A few minutes later, a red truck pulls into the driveway. Colt hops out of the passenger side first, but it’s Cash climbing out of the driver’s seat that makes my stomach drop straight through the floor.
Are you fucking kidding me, Colt?
He’s well over six feet of pure farm-built muscle in a fitted gray T-shirt that stretches across his chest and shoulders, paired with worn jeans that sit low on his hips. His hair is messy under a backwards ball cap, and he looks stupidly good.
And I hate how aware I am of it.
Calm the fuck down, Halle.
Colt eyes the armoire and whistles. “Damn, Halle! What the hell did you get this time? That thing is way bigger than I thought. I’m glad I brought help.”
I force a smile, trying not to look directly at Cash. “I got some heavy shit, what’s it look like?”
Cash’s eyes find mine immediately across the yard. He doesn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth lifts in that small, knowing grin that makes my pulse spike.
I break eye contact first, looking away and gesturing to the armoire. “Thanks for coming, boys. I swear it looked smaller at the yard sale.
Colt laughs and pulls me into a half hug. “I’m not even surprised. We got this, right, Cash?”
Cash nods, still wearing that annoying grin. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”
I cross my arms, trying to sound casual. “Why isn’t Dawson or Rhett here?”
Colt shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Cash wasn’t busy.”
Cash’s grin widens as he looks straight at me. “Couldn’t let you wrestle this thing alone.”
Asshole.
They assess the situation faster than me, muttering about measurements and angles to each other like it’s rocket science.
Together, they agree on a plan. They tie the doors shut with leftover rope from Cash’s truck, then lift it with a coordinated grunt.
Colt takes the heavier end, angling it to fit through the door, while Cash supports the other side, keeping it steady.
I stand back, arms crossed, trying to not stare at Cash.
The way he listens to Colt, nods once, and adjusts his grip without hesitation …
It’s annoyingly attractive. The veins in his forearms stand out as they coordinate the lift, and I hate how my body reacts to the sight.
They bump it once against the wall on the way down the hallway to my room and curse, stopping to adjust before muscling it through and setting it down.
“Damn,” Colt says, wiping his hands on his jeans. “You weren’t kidding when you said this shit was heavy. Where, exactly, do you want it in here? There’s no way in hell you’re moving it by yourself.”
“Far wall—near the window in the corner, please,” I say.
They both nod and maneuver it carefully around the bed and into the corner. After a few minutes, it’s settled.
Colt steps back, eyeing it to make sure it’s centered where I want it. “It looks good here. Definitely fits the vibe you’ve been talking about,” he says as we walk down the hall to the kitchen.
I get them both a glass of water and the three of us sit in the kitchen for a moment.
Then Colt slaps his hand on the counter, startling me. “Hey, Cash, you still got that measuring tape in the back of your truck?”
“Yeah, why?”
Without a second thought, Colt starts heading to the front door. “I told Halle I’d measure her cabinets. I’ll be right back.”
Before I can protest, the door closes behind him and it’s just me and Cash.
The air in the room thickens instantly, so I busy myself with something in the cabinet that really doesn’t need to be rearranged, my back to him. “Thanks again,” I say. “I really owe you guys. I was never getting that in by myself.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, I hear him moving behind me, footsteps getting closer. My pulse kicks up, and when I turn, he’s much closer than I expected, eyes locked on me.
“Are you still avoiding me, Halle?””
“I’m not avoiding,” I say, stepping sideways along the counter. “I’ve just been busy—work, the house … you know how it is.”
Cash follows, crowding me until my back hits the counter. “Busy,” he repeats, voice low and rough. “That’s what you’re calling it now, Darlin’?”
We end up trapped in the corner by the fridge. He plants one hand on the counter beside me and the other on the fridge door, boxing me in completely. He’s so close I can smell the faint mix of his cologne, sweat, and the sun on his skin.
My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it.
Cash leans in, voice dropping to something filthy and intimate. “You kissed me like you were starving for it in that field. Now you’re standing here with your thighs pressed together like you’re trying not to think about how wet you are.”
My back presses against the counter behind me. “I told you, it was a mistake,” I whisper, making sure that if Colt walks in he hears nothing. “I meant it when I said there was nothing to talk about. Let it go, Cash.”
He huffs a dark little laugh, eyes dragging down my body before coming back to mine. “You’re a shit liar, Darlin’. Your body’s practically begging me to touch you right now.”
He shifts his hips forward and grinds his hard cock against me slowly. He’s thick and heavy through his jeans, pressing right where I’m aching.
A soft, wrecked sound slips out of me before I can stop it.
Cash groans quietly against my ear. “Fuck. Listen to that pretty little sound. You have no idea how badly I want to bend you over this counter and show you what a real man can do for you.”
My hands fist his shirt. I should push him away—he’s literally hell on wheels for me. Instead, I’m breathing hard, trapped between his body and the counter, consumed by how big he is. My thighs press together instinctively, trying to ease the throbbing ache between them, but it only makes it worse.
God, I want him.
I want his hands on me. I want his mouth. I want him to follow through on his filthy thoughts. The shame of how badly I want him burns hot in my chest, but it doesn’t stop the heat pooling low in my belly.
“Come on a date with me, Halle,” he murmurs, lips brushing my jaw in a way that makes my knees weak. “Let me take you out. Let me show you how good it can be when you stop running from this.”
I shake my head, even as my body arches toward him. “I can’t do this with you.” I force the words out, trying to believe them myself.
He leans in a fraction more, not quite touching me but close enough. “Your mouth says that, but your pussy is practically begging for me right now.”
The front door opens, Colt’s voice carrying down the hall. “I found it. It was buried under some shit. Sorry! Y’all good in there?”
I duck under Cash’s arm, heart hammering, face burning with a mix of shame and lingering arousal. “Yeah!” I call back, already moving away on shaky legs. “Cash was just helping me figure out whether I should stain or paint the cabinets once I get them started.”
Cash straightens out, putting one hand in his pocket and sliding the other off the counter. “Yeah.”
Colt glances between us, eyebrow raised slightly, but he doesn’t push. He checks the measurements, writing them all down for me.
After that, he double-checks the armoire placement to make sure I’m still happy with it. “All right; I’m all set. Let’s head out.”
I thank them both as I stand on the porch, watching them both pull out of the driveway and down the road. I wave like everything is normal but on the inside I’m anything but.
I close the door and lean against it with my eyes closed. My body is still buzzing from the proximity.
Cash’s voice echoes in my head—the way he crowded me, and the intensity in his gaze. I want him. There’s no denying the pull between us, but wanting and having are two different things. I know better; I’ve seen his game already.
I push off the door, and head toward the bathroom, peeling off my sweaty shirt as I go.
I need a shower.
And a fucking drink.
Maybe even both at the same time.
The bar is quiet tonight. Aria and Matt cut the music off as soon as the last person stepped out the front door.
So now, it’s silent, except for the hum of the cooler since it’s a restock night.
I’m wiping down the same glass for the third time, just to do something with my hands.
With both Matt and Aria here, closing is a breeze.
The three of us divide and conquer at break-neck speed.
Aria’s eyes find me from the other side of the bar, where she’s tallying inventory. Red glass of wine and pages for orders splayed out in front of her, she asks, “What’s eating at you? That glass isn’t going to get any cleaner.”
I shrug, setting it down and moving to a new glass. “Nothing. It was just a long day.”
Matt chuckles as he walks up beside her, kissing her cheek. He’s the silent but strong type. Solid in all the ways you need an uncle to be—listening instead of offering advice.
Aria, however, doesn’t buy my bullshit for a second. “Try again. You’ve been distracted since you walked in.”
I hesitate, staring at my hands. Cash floods my brain—the kiss, this afternoon, when he boxed me in …
“I kissed Cash.” The words just fall out. “At Grandpa Ben’s party. A week ago. I’ve been avoiding him ever since, and today, he shows up to help Colt move furniture like nothing happened, and I—” I press my palms into my eyes. “I feel like such an idiot.”
Aria’s eyebrows shoot up, but not in a surprised way. She and Matt exchange a look that makes me feel like this isn’t the first time that we’ve been talked about.
“An idiot for what?” Aria asks, leaning forward on the bar. “Because you kissed him?”
“Yeah …” I admit, slumping against the bar.
“I’d had too much to drink, Dad had just gotten in my head about Mom, and Cash was just …
there. You know how he is. The only thing dependable about him is that he won’t be.
I have enough shit going on without adding that kind of mess to it.
But today, when he had me pinned against the counter—”
“Pinned?” Aria cuts in, tone sharpening.
“Not like that. Just close … He called me out on avoiding him. So I told him it wasn’t happening—that there’s nothing here.” I shrug, like it settles it. “Except … I’ve thought about it every day since, which is stupid. Which is—” I shake my head. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”
I hang my head, and Aria sighs, reaching across the bar and squeezing my hand. “There’s not a damn thing wrong with you.” Aria doesn’t miss a beat. “Cash could charm the panties off a nun—you’re not the first and you won’t be the last. Doesn’t mean you have to be stupid about it.”
Matt nods in agreement. “For what it’s worth,” Matt says, topping off Aria’s wine, “I’ve never seen that boy sit still for anybody. Make of that what you want.“
“I know,” I say, my voice wavering. “I just hate feeling this way at all. It’s too soon to want or think about someone else. Plus, it’ll just end badly.”
“Right now, you don’t need a rebound with a body count. Especially not one wearing Cash Thornwood’s face.”
Tears threaten at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. “Thanks. Both of you. I don’t know what I would do without this.”