“We’re good,” I confirmed, finally looking up at him. “Though maybe we should establish some... boundaries. Since we’re still living together.”
Cash raised an eyebrow. “Boundaries? Like what? No more shower peeping?”
My face burned hot. “I was thinking more like... separate spaces. You know, keeping to our own rooms. Maybe establishing a schedule for shared areas.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” he drawled, leaning back in the booth. “But if that’s what you need to keep your hands off me, Pastor, I’m willing to try.”
I opened my mouth to protest but was interrupted by Dolly returning to take our orders.
“You boys decide what you’re havin’?” she asked, pen poised over her notepad.
“I’ll have the breakfast special,” Cash said. “Extra bacon.”
“Just toast for me,” I said, my appetite suddenly gone. “And maybe some fruit if you have it.”
Dolly jotted down our orders, giving me a concerned look. “You sure that’s all you want, sugar? You’re looking a bit peaky this morning.”
“I’m fine,” I assured her. “Just not very hungry.”
After she left, Cash studied me with those penetrating green eyes. “You always eat like a bird, or is that just your way of doing penance?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just wondering if you’re punishing yourself for enjoying last night,” he said casually, as if discussing the weather. “Seems like something a guilt-ridden pastor might do.”
“I’m not guilt-ridden,” I insisted, though the lie tasted bitter on my tongue. “And I’m not punishing myself. I just don’t have much of an appetite this morning.”
“Because you’re sore?” His lips curved into that infuriating smirk again.
“Because I have a lot on my mind,” I corrected, though he wasn’t entirely wrong. “The tornado cleanup, the rebuilding efforts, this karaoke fundraiser Dolly wants to do...”
“Karaoke?” Cash’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”
“It’s for a good cause,” I said defensively. “To raise money for the people who lost everything.”
Cash snorted. “This town and its fundraisers. Always trying to slap a band-aid on a gunshot wound.”
“At least they’re trying,” I countered. “What’s your solution?”
His expression darkened. “My solution is to get the hell out of here as soon as I can sell that worthless pile of rubble my father left me.”
“And what about all the people still suffering? The ones who lost their homes, their livelihoods?”
“Not my problem,” Cash said flatly. “I didn’t ask to come back here. I didn’t ask for any of this. And not a damn one of them came to my rescue when I lost my home.”
I stared at him, trying to understand the depth of pain behind those angry words. “No one asks for tragedy, Cash. But sometimes it finds us anyway. And how we respond to it says a lot about who we are.”
“Save the sermon for Sunday, Pastor,” he growled. “I’m not some sheep you can feed platitudes to.”
Before I could respond, Dolly returned with our food, setting the plates down between us. The tension must have been palpable because she glanced between us with concern.
“Everythin’ all right over here?”
“Fine,” Cash and I said in unison, neither of us sounding convincing.
Dolly looked unconvinced but left us to our meals, anyway. She probably wasn’t concerned about the new pastor in town starting a fist fight.
We ate in strained silence, Cash attacking his eggs and bacon with unnecessary force while I nibbled at my toast. The easy banter from moments before had evaporated, replaced by a heaviness that seemed to press down on both of us.
