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He’d grabbed a couple of candles from the diner and now lit them, placing them on the dresser. It wasn’t much, but they filled the room with a warm glow. A part of him thought Chess would bail, and he didn’t realize how much he wanted her in his room until he heard the door open behind him.
She closed the door, arms laden with extra blankets, and he took them from her, tossing them onto the bed and moving aside to give her some room.
“You want a drink?” he asked casually. Why the hell did everything feel different? Hadn’t they just had a nice evening at the diner? Hadn’t they had some laughs and nice moments with ease?
“I’ve got beer and…” He flashed a smile. “Beer.”
She accepted a can of Bud Light and sat on the edge of the bed. They made small talk as if they were strangers getting to know each other. Which, in a way, they were.
“So,” he said watching her closely. “Your name.”
She frowned and looked confused. “Yes?”
“I’m going to assume Chess is short for something.”
A small smile drifted across her face, and in that moment, Cash thought he could watch that smile all day long. And then some. It changed everything, and if anything, the bruises that were still visible gave her a touch of frailty that called to him.
I want her.
And not in a one-night-stand kind of way; he wanted more, and that surprised the hell out of him. Cash wasn’t that guy. He was a loner, and this situation was complicated.
“Francesca.”
“What was that?” He blinked away thoughts of her naked and tangled up with him in bed.
“I was named after my dad’s great-grandmother, Francesca Davis Somers. She was a pilot in World War II, if you can believe it. A total badass. She taught men how to fly fighter planes. I met her once. I was young, maybe four? But I remember how soft her skin was and that she smelled like cinnamon. She used to keep a bag of those hard cinnamon heart candies in her pocket.” Her smile drifted away. “I wish I was more like her.” Chess sipped from the beer. “What about you?”
“What about me?” Cash kept his tone light, but already, tension crept along his shoulders and neck. He wasn’t the kind to share. So what was it about this woman that tore down all his walls?
“I don’t know anything about you.”
He stared down at his boots and then thought, what the hell. Cash looked up and shrugged. “I’m from the South. Louisiana, to be exact. My parents split when I was a kid. My mom remarried a couple of times, always to assholes, though the worst is the guy she’s still with, Pete. They’re still in Louisiana, my dad is in Florida, and I haven’t spoken to either one of them in years. Blue and I, we’re tight. She lives here with her husband, Cam, and they have two girls.”
“Cam Booker?”
Cash nodded. “You know him?”
“It’s Crystal Lake. Everybody knows everybody.” She eyed him up, her expression unreadable. “You’ve never been married?”
“Not the marrying kind.”
“So, no kids.”
He shook his head. “None that I know of, anyway.” At the look on her face, he laughed. “I’m kidding. I definitely have no kids. I went into the military as soon as I graduated, and then I…” He paused. Was he going to lay everything out? He considered this for all of two seconds. “I did a stint in prison.” He watched closely for her reaction. When that bit of information didn’t faze her, he continued. “I got into it with someone who’d hurt my sister, and I paid the price. When I got out, I traveled a lot, cleared my head, and decided the nomad life wasn’t for me, though I haven’t exactly laid down roots anywhere. A friend of mine from my military da
ys is a PI, and I helped him out with a few cases. I discovered I like that sort of thing, and now I’ve got my own license and make a decent living doing something I enjoy.” He tipped his head back and took a long swig of beer. “That’s more than I can say for most folks.”
Curious, he had to ask. “What about you? What’s your passion?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Come on. I don’t believe that. You wanted to be an actress.”
“And I told you I sucked at that.”
“There has to be something.”
She averted her gaze. “If I told you, you’d probably laugh, considering…”
