“Hell no,” Cash said, already rummaging through my cabinets like he owned the place. “It’s what my mom used to make when we didn’t have money for the fancy stuff from the store. I think it’s better though.”
I watched him pull out a loaf of bread, butter, and the garlic salt I’d forgotten I even had. There was something different about him now, less guarded. The mention of his mother had slipped out so naturally I wasn’t sure he’d even noticed.
“Your mom taught you to cook?” I asked, leaning against the counter.
“Some,” he said, slicing the bread with quick, efficient movements. “She died when I was twelve. Cancer.” He glanced up at me briefly. “After that, it was mostly me and Dad figuring things out on our own.”
My chest tightened at the matter-of-fact way he said it. Another piece of the puzzle that was Cash Callahan, another loss that had shaped him into the guarded man standing in my kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
He shrugged, spreading butter on the bread slices with the same careful precision he’d used on the garlic. “Long time ago. She would’ve liked you though.”
The comment caught me off guard. “Yeah?”
“She always said the best people were the ones who fed folks without expecting anything back.” He sprinkled garlic salt over the buttered bread. “People like you.”
“I bet she’d be proud of you too,” I added, smiling back at him. “You’re a good man, Cash. No matter what you might think about yourself.”
“I’m not so sure about that…”
I stepped up beside him, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at me. “Well I am,” I said. “And I’ve got the big man himself on my side, so I know I’m right.”
Cash, despite his best efforts, smiled. “If you say so, preacher.”
Chapter 20
Mike
Ihad a hard time sleeping that night. I kept rolling over, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of the evening. The way Cash had opened up about his mother, about the ranch, about the life he’d lost. The vulnerability in his voice when he’d talked about those Saturday mornings riding fence with his father. And then that moment when I’d touched his face, when he’d leaned into it like he was starving for gentle contact.
My body was still humming from being so close to him in the kitchen. Every accidental brush of his fingers against mine, every time he’d moved past me in the small space, I’d felt that familiar heat building low in my belly. But it was more than just physical attraction now. Something deeper was taking root, something that scared the hell out of me.
I rolled onto my side, punching my pillow in frustration. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of. Getting attached to someone who’d made it crystal clear he was leaving. Cash had his walls up for good reason, and I was an idiot for thinking I could be the one to tear them down. Even when I knew some things couldn’t be changed, my heart just went ahead and filled itself with hope, anyway.
The house creaked around me, settling into the night. I could hear the faint sound of Cash moving around in his room, restless as I was. Part of me wanted to go to him, to offer comfort or just the warmth of another body. But we’d set our boundaries that morning. Just sex, nothing more. Getting up and going to his room after the night we’d had felt like crossing a line we’d both agreed not to cross.
Around three in the morning, I finally gave up on sleep and padded to the kitchen for a glass of water. The house was dark and quiet, moonlight streaming through the windows and casting everything in silver shadows. I was at the sink, filling my glass, when I heard his door open.
“Can’t sleep either?” Cash’s voice was rough with exhaustion.
I turned to find him standing in the doorway, shirtless and wearing only a pair of low-slung pajama pants. His hair was mussed from tossing and turning, and there were shadows under his eyes.
“No,” I admitted. “Too much on my mind.”
He moved into the kitchen, and I was acutely aware of how small the space felt with both of us in it. He opened the refrigerator, the light casting harsh angles across his face as he grabbed a beer.
“Nervous about tomorrow?” he asked, twisting off the cap.
“Among other things.”
He leaned against the counter, studying me with those dark eyes. “What other things?”
I took a sip of water, buying myself time. “Just… thinking about you I guess.”
The air between us crackled with tension. We stood there in the semi-darkness, neither of us moving, both of us fighting the pull that seemed to exist whenever we were in the same room.
“Mike,” he said softly, and my name on his lips sounded like a prayer.
