AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Cash pursed his lips while studying the chip selection at the grocery store in Last Chance Creek. What snack was most suitable for a forty-nine-year-old man while bingeing the newest season of Heartstopper? Cash wasn’t one to use his age as a reason to avoid many things, but he wasn’t proud of his obsession with the series about queer teenagers and their first loves. Their vitality and innocence sometimes made him feel older than dirt, but mostly it made him grateful that a new generation could see themselves in the characters.
It was unlikely Cash’s life would’ve turned out differently if he’d had positive representation as a teen. He’d lost his mom to poverty and drugs and had gone to live with strangers at a time when he was figuring things out about himself. Cash hadn’t felt comfortable coming out, or letting others in, until he was thirty. He’d rebuilt his life from the ashes of his past and had been tired of living a lie. The penniless dirt track racer had to pretend, but the successful technology inventor did not. Cash had thought his newly gained wealth would insulate him from scrutiny and scorn, but it only perpetuated the narrative that he was an outsider who didn’t belong. But those closed doors and snubs didn’t deter him; they fueled the perpetual fire in his soul and made him richer.
He couldn’t think of a single hard knock he’d change because they’d all led him to this point. Well, maybe not to standing in a grocery store staring at the same bag of Fritos for a solid ten minutes. He meant his ranch, his people, and the journey he’d taken to have them in his life. Contentment didn’t negate his few regrets or warm his bed, but the one man who could fix both problems was across the country. Who the hell was he kidding? It wouldn’t have mattered if Nick was at Quantico, on Mars, or standing beside Cash. He was off-limits. Cash just needed to convince his foolish heart of that fact—a feat he hadn’t accomplished in twelve years. But had he really tried that hard?
A warm, masculine chuckle invaded his thoughts, and Cash jerked his head to find Seth Burke approaching him. He bit back a snort. Burke didn’t approach; he swaggered with big dick energy. The sheriff was a good five inches taller, a few years younger, and had the persistence of a bloodhound when it came to Cash. Burke’s uniform consisted of a pressed khaki shirt, dark denim jeans, boots, and a white Stetson hat. Cash wasn’t sure what shone brighter in the store’s overhead lights—the shiny sheriff star pinned to Burke’s shirt or his white, toothy grin. Damn, but the man was fine as hell with jet-black hair, gray eyes, and sun-kissed skin. No matter the time of day, that superhero square jaw was clean-shaven to show off his magnificent bone structure. Why the hell couldn’t Cash return the man’s interest? He could trade heartache for the kind of twinges and stings that left a man smiling instead of moping.
“What’d that bag of chips do to you?” Burke asked when he reached Cash. His voice was jovial, pure good ole boy, but the tension around Burke’s mouth betrayed him.
Cash snorted and faced his friend. “I was just lost in thought.” He glanced down and saw Burke had already placed several items in his basket. “I didn’t see your truck in the parking lot.”
A dark brow arched. “Or you would’ve kept driving?”
Cash sighed. “Of course not. I was just making conversation.”
“The inane kind you make when you’ve been avoiding your friend?” Burke pressed.
Were they friends? They met for lunch regularly at the diner and texted often, so definitely more friendly than acquaintances.
It was Burke’s turn to sigh but his was deep enough to pull his shirt taut across his chest. “Okay,” he said, “maybe our friendship is more of a one-way street, but I thought we were at least friendly. You’ve blown me off for lunch the past few weeks and only text after I initiate the conversation. What’s going on?”
“We are friends,” Cash said and realized he meant it. He enjoyed having Burke in his life, but that would change if he spoke honestly. Cash wasn’t one to back down from a confrontation, but he didn’t initiate them either. He chose avoidance until the showdown was inevitable, which he guessed was now. If their friendship was genuine, it would survive the conversation they needed to have. “Look, Burke—”
“Seth,” he said. “How many times do I have to tell you to use my first name?”
The sheriff’s authoritative tone took Cash by surprise. Burke sounded more like he was interviewing a cagey perp than talking to a friend. And Cash wasn’t used to having his decisions questioned, let alone getting grilled by someone else. Still, he was responsible for the frustration rolling off the broad-shouldered sheriff, so he forced back his irritation, cleared his throat, and said, “It’s meant as a sign of respect. Besides, lots of friends refer to each other by their last names.”
Burke snorted. “It’s another way you keep me at arm’s length.”
He stepped closer until only their red shopping baskets separated their bodies. The proximity was unnerving, but Cash lowered his gaze instead of backing away. Burke’s smoky aftershave conjured images of bonfires and shared blankets, but when Cash allowed his mind to go there, it wasn’t the sexy sheriff’s body pressed to his. A pang of longing swept through him, forcing Cash to close his eyes. He might’ve even swayed a little closer to the brawny body that promised a physical release from the loneliness that rattled his bones.
“Why won’t I stop pursuing you when a smarter man would?” Burke asked, his voice low and husky.
That caught Cash’s attention, and he jerked his head up. He almost regretted it when he met Burke’s hungry gaze. Cash wouldn’t pretend the heat and intensity didn’t affect him, but the reaction was purely physical. Seth Burke, as sexy and virile as he was, didn’t stir Cash’s soul. If Seth was a stranger he’d met far enough away from the ranch to maintain his privacy, Cash would have given in to the physical attraction. But Burke was his friend, and he wanted to keep it that way.
“Have dinner with me at the Feisty Bull.” Burke held up his hand to block the decline forming on the back of Cash’s tongue. “This isn’t a date. I just want to talk and eat a good steak. It’s no different from us catching up over lunch at the diner.”
Cash studied Burke’s mercurial gaze, looking for any hints of insincerity but came up short. The hunger and yearning he’d witnessed earlier was gone. “Name the time.”
Burke’s full lips curved into a devastating smile that made Cash question his sanity. “Seven.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
Burke leaned into Cash’s personal space, so Cash stepped back. The taller man just rolled his eyes and reached for the bag of corn chips Cash had been staring at while lost in thought. Burke dropped the bag into his own cart, winked, and continued down the aisle. “See you tonight.”
Cash blew out a breath once his friend turned out of sight. What the hell had he just agreed to and why? He knew why. Nearly everyone on the ranch had found their happily ever after, even if two of them were too dense to realize it yet. While it warmed his heart to see his little family flourish and grow, it fed his loneliness until it had become a ravenous monster. Cash knew he was due for some serious soul searching. He’d allowed his pining over Nick Scott to sabotage any potential relationship before it could flourish. What opportunities had he overlooked while obsessively watching Nick for the tiniest clue he might return Cash’s feelings? He wanted better for himself. No, he deserved better. Cash just didn’t know how to get over his feelings for Nick. Because you don’t want to get over him. Hence, the required soul searching.
Cash snagged a bag of Fritos and a can of bean dip off the shelf and placed them in his cart. Now he just needed something sweet for his Heartstopper marathon, which he’d postponed until everyone was gone. Ice cream was his real weakness, but Burke had headed in that direction. Wanting to avoid another run-in, Cash headed toward the bakery instead. He perused the cookies, pies, and pastries, but nothing grabbed him. When he was sure enough time had passed, he headed toward the freezers. Cash expected to take twice as long to choose his ice cream, but his gaze immediately landed on a pint of Twix. He pulled two out of the freezer and placed them in the cart. A guy never knew when he’d have an emergency and need a fix. Like maybe ruining a friendship with honesty? For good measure, he grabbed a bottle of wine on his way to the checkout lanes.
Cash patted aftershave on his smooth neck and studied his trimmed beard with a critical eye. He’d cut the salt-and-pepper bristles with great care. Nick once said the sharp symmetrical lines drew the eye to Cash’s lips. Had that been a compliment or one of the signs Cash longed for? Just thinking his best friend’s name triggered a cocktail of emotions that made Cash want to reach for his phone and cancel his date. Not a date. It was just a steak dinner and a conversation with Burke. Guilt tied his gut in knots, though he didn’t understand why.
Cash hadn’t been exactly celibate during his twelve years of pining for Nick Scott, but the men he’d taken to bed were hookups who didn’t have feelings for him. Burke was different and deserved better. The chemistry just wasn’t there to build a relationship on, even though Cash found the man attractive.
With a heavy sigh, Cash ended his critical assessment and headed into his walk-in closet to pick something to wear. He didn’t want to dress up too much and give the wrong impression, but he wasn’t about to insult Burke or himself by showing up in joggers and a hoodie. He settled for a pressed black dress shirt, dark denim jeans, and his black Stetson. Cash carried the outfit into his room and laid it on his bed next to his sleeping border collie. Patsy raised her head and wagged her tail.
“It’s not a date,” Cash told her. She released a series of sharp barks. “I’ll be home long before eleven, girl.”
Patsy released a soft growl, laid her head on the bed, and covered her nose with a paw. Even she knew his pining over Nick was pathetic. Cash left her to remove a pair of boxer briefs from his dresser drawer and pull them on. He’d just snapped the waistband into place when his phone pinged with an alert from the security camera at the gate. It had a motion sensor that triggered a notification. People with the gate code would enter on their own, and he would receive a second alert whenever that happened. Visitors would hit the intercom button, and Cash could communicate and open the gates from the app. When he didn’t receive an opened-gate notification or intercom call, Cash thought maybe wildlife had triggered the motion sensor. Or perhaps someone turned around in the driveway.
