Page 11 of Cash

Her answer was silent, but when she took off toward the trail that would wind around the bunk houses and eventually leading to a wooded area that would open to the back field, her preference was clear—walk.

The shed was at the back end of the property. It was a haul but not that far.

As soon as we cleared the bunk houses, I broke the silence, “What’s up with you and Penny?”

“Penny?” she spat like she could barely tolerate saying the woman’s name.

“Yeah, Penny, you know, the blonde you keep grunting and growling at. Not to mention every time you’re in the same room with her you look like you’re devising new and fun torture techniques to add to your repertoire.”

“I don’t waste time torturing meaningless twits.”

I believed that but it still gave me nothing.

“Seriously, what’s your problem with her?”

“I don’t have a problem with her.”

That was a straight-up lie.

“I think that’s the first lie you’ve told me.”

She nearly stumbled but quickly recovered. “Trust me, it’s not.”

This chick was a trip. She might’ve been the only person I knew, besides Zane, who freely admitted she’d blatantly and shamelessly lied straight to your face with no remorse. That was, ironically, next-level honesty.

“I’m not counting the bald-faced lies you keep spouting out about not wanting me, when we both know you do.”

Unsurprisingly, Lore didn’t bite.

CHAPTER THREE

“How long do you think you’re gonna pout for?” Cash asked from the aisle seat next to me.

I rolled my eyes to the cabin’s ceiling and contemplated murder. “I don’t pout. I’m nursing a grudge.”

Unluckily for me, I was studying the outline of the compartment that hid the oxygen masks, which meant I missed his smile, thus I didn’t know to brace before Cash’s deep, throaty chuckle hit me.

Damn, but I loved his laugh. Unfortunately, he laughed a lot and each time he did, I soaked it up like a junkie. I reminded myself, one day soon I’d lose my fix. This was the last errand I was running for Zane, then I was going home—wherever that was.

Last night I used my secure laptop, one that didn’t use the farmhouse’s internet so Kira Cain couldn’t track my search history, and I looked at properties from California to North Carolina and every state between. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t looking for a bugout location to hide in. I was looking for a home. A home with a good school district and low crime rates in a small town somewhere.

A place with a yard. A place that would be safe for Cara to ride her bike. Something else I needed to do: buy her a bike. And more clothes and stuff for her room and toys and books. Yes, she needed lots of books to read. There’d be no internet and TV would be kept to a minimum. And I needed to find books on parenting—something I should’ve been studying up on instead of flying across the country with Cash.

Yet, there I was, buckled into an airplane seat, preparing to land.

“Not sure what grudge you're holding.” He chuckled. “Your ass is in first class and the attendant just picked up your second empty glass.”

He was correct. We were in first class and I had downed two gin and tonics. This after I slept for the first four hours of the flight. Which was something I never did. Sleeping in public made you vulnerable. Which was another reason I was pissy—screw him for making me feel safe enough to sleep.

“I’m sorry, drink police, were you expecting me to drive from Salt Lake to Wyoming?”

Cash chuckled.

We hit a bit of turbulence and before I could stop myself both hands gripped the armrests—including the extra-wide one between our seats. Cash’s gaze flicked to my white knuckles. The glance was maybe a millisecond before his eyes were back on mine, but I knew what I’d given away. Something new to be pissy about.

“I don’t ride shotgun with a woman behind the wheel,” he told me.

I forced myself to relax as the plane did another dip and focused on the absurdity of Cash’s statement.