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“I thought you said dinner would be a quiet affair,” Nick said when they stepped out into the hallway a few hours later. They’d dozed in and out for a few hours, waking up to touch, kiss, and caress before nodding off again. The din from the kitchen and dining room was a rolling thunder of animated voices.
Sundays on the ranch were casual. Rory or Cash usually heated one of Harry’s premade casseroles in the oven and served it up to those who ambled over to eat. Some guys hung out in their cabins and ate leftovers on Sunday evenings. But Cash had told Nick he’d help pull his pants up in earshot of Owen, and he’d kept his hand possessively on Nick’s leg with Owen in the back seat of the car.
“I should’ve known better,” Cash muttered, fighting back a smirk. He debated how to handle the situation—give those nosy Neds something to talk about or keep it cool and leave them guessing?
Nick must’ve read his mind because he said, “How do you want to play this?”
Cash stopped in the hallway, backed Nick against the wall, and planted a hard kiss on his lips. “For keeps,” Cash said when they pulled back, breathless and wanting.
Nick held up his hand with his pinky extended. Cash snickered and curled his finger around Nick’s. The pinky promise was ridiculous but endearing as hell. “Listen,” Nick began, “I know how private you are, and I don’t want you sharing anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
Cash thought about it for a second. “I am a private man, but I’ve honestly had nothing to share with the guys. I was just a sad, lonely man living vicariously through others.”
Nick cocked his head to the side. “You forget I’ve seen how people respond to you in a crowd. They practically devour you with their eyes and offer themselves up on a silver platter.”
“But I haven’t nibbled in over two years. It was like settling for a burger when I really wanted a steak.”
Nick hooked his finger in Cash’s belt loop and pulled him closer until their mouths almost touched. “You’ll never have to eat burgers again.”
“That’s a pity,” a male voice said.
Cash and Nick jerked apart like naughty teenagers and whirled to face their interloper. Dylan grinned like a lunatic at the end of the hallway.
“Tomorrow’s Labor Day, and I planned to grill my gourmet burgers with all the fixings. Guess I can come up with a different menu.” His wry grin said he knew damn well they weren’t really talking about food.
“Will there be bacon for these gourmet burgers?” Cash asked.
“All the fixings must include bacon,” Dylan replied.
Cash could practically taste the crispy, salty meat. “Nick likes avocado slices.”
“Noted,” Dylan said. “Dinner’s ready. Come eat while it’s hot. Harry made million-dollar spaghetti.” With that, he spun around and ducked back into the kitchen. Dylan knew that would get him moving.
Cash grabbed Nick’s hand and tugged him down the hallway.
“What makes spaghetti worth a million dollars?” Nick asked.
“It’s baked spaghetti with a cheesy layer in the middle.”
“Like lasagna?”
“Sort of,” Cash replied. “I think there’s cream cheese in there too.”
Nick groaned and stepped up the pace. “Sounds good to me. I’ll carbo load and sleep like the dead tonight.”
A hush spread over the kitchen when Nick and Cash stepped into the room, still holding hands. “Oh, get over it,” Cash told them. No one moved or practically breathed for a few seconds. Then the group exhaled collectively and started talking at once as they helped Harry carry the food to the dining room.
She’d tossed one of her delicious salads together and made several loaves of cheesy garlic bread. On her way out of the kitchen, she leaned close and whispered, “Happy for you, boss. I hid another loaf of banana bread in the pantry.” Harry winked and continued toward the dining room.
Nick squeezed his fingers, and Cash turned to face him. “You’ve created the most incredible atmosphere with your family.”
“Thank you.”
And they were his, which is why he should’ve trusted them with the truth about the damn trackers when he’d installed them. Cash couldn’t go back and change the past. He could only explain his decision, apologize for the subterfuge, and promise to be more transparent if faced with a similar choice in the future. Cash waited until the animated chatter about Tyler’s arrest settled into focused eating and furtive glances in his direction. He set his fork down and told them everything. Cash saw a brief look of hurt cross Ivan’s eyes. The big guy was used to being included in every decision regarding the ranch, but his subtle nod let Cash know he understood.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he explained. “I just didn’t want any of you to think I suspected you of the thefts or anything else nefarious. I’ve never wanted you to feel micromanaged the way you were in jail. I hope you can forgive me.” Cash’s heart fell when no one spoke or moved for several moments.
“I’d still be in the county jail if not for you installing those tracking devices,” Tyler said. “No one would’ve bothered to check storefront video footage to catch that jerk planting evidence in the truck.”
