Long Hard Fall Page 4

  She’d been warned off Cash before she’d even known him. Then she’d been warned off him again when she’d gotten to town. And who had landed in her bed? And who made her insides molten when she thought of having lunch with him?

  She groaned and rolled over. Her first instinct was to hit her makeup and do her hair, but she talked herself down. She wasn’t as worried about presentation as Ellis, no longer had to be the poster child for his growing financial advisor business.

  But she had some pride. She pushed herself up and went to the bathroom. Throwing her hair up into a ponytail, she evaluated her outfit. Black athletic leggings and a running sweater with neon piping. Ironically, she’d thrown it on after her run earlier this morning.

  This little vacation was earning its worth just being able to hang out in comfortable clothing all day. Her business-casual attire from work didn’t suit her—itchy slacks and tops that she had to race to remove from the dryer or she’d have to drag out the dreaded iron. On vacation, she didn’t have to worry about taking a flat iron to her hair, or stiff clothes, or even makeup.

  No oatmeal for breakfast, either. Typical Abbi, she was usually running late so Ellis always made them breakfast. She didn’t have anything against oatmeal, but after the hundredth morning in a row, a girl got desperate. Not desperate enough to wake up earlier, though, so she’d shovel in her oats while praying someone brought goodies to work.

  What would Cash serve for lunch?

  She’d be early if she left now, but sitting in her room and reminiscing was killing her.

  Her phone pinged.

  I’ll call after work. Don’t play games.

  Games. That’s all Ellis thought this was. That she’d run home and shrink under the pressure of finding her own place and she’d default to their relationship. When he didn’t get his way with her, he made it her fault. She’d capitulated so often that she barely noticed how she constantly took the easy route to avoid conflict.

  When she’d left town, she’d finally stood her ground.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Abigail. You go through your brother’s things and decide you have to find his friends. Ones your parents were deeply hurt by. Now you’re packed and leaving for Minnesota. Don’t be impulsive. You aren’t that girl anymore.”

  “This isn’t about you, Ellis.”

  “What about us? You’ve come up with this weird conspiracy that your brother’s death was so much different than other soldiers who died over there. It’s war.”

  “Mom and Dad thought information was withheld from them, too. It’s not just me. Perry’s been gone almost three years. It’s not impulsive.”

  “I won’t stand by while you run off digging up skeletons.”

  “Look, I have to go. Are you coming or not?”

  Then he’d played the trump card. “No, I’m not. If you go, you’re going to throw us away.”

  Wild child Abbi had reared her head, announced they were done, and walked off.

  The conversation still upset her, a perfect example of how he had controlled her, and how she’d allowed it. Abbi grabbed her tote bag and went to her car. She wasn’t going to head to Cash’s right away. A responsible guest would bring a food item to contribute for lunch.

  Chapter Five

  Cash stared at the food lining the counter. He’d grilled burgers. Then doubt had assailed him and he’d wondered if Abbi was fucking vegetarian or something. So he’d grilled kabobs with mushrooms, bell peppers, and onions.

  Then he’d wondered if dessert was expected at a lunch date, so he’d grilled pineapple.

  Then he’d wondered if Abbi liked grilled food at all.

  He was a one-trick pony. He manned a mean grill and defaulted to the oven if the weather was atrocious, as it easily could be in Minnesota.

  A knock yanked him out of his food troubles.

  “Come in,” he called, then winced. He should answer the door. That’s what people did when they had someone over for lunch.

  But this wasn’t a date, so it didn’t matter.

  Her footsteps echoed through the house. “Cash?”

  “In the kitchen.” The old farmhouse’s kitchen was separate from the rest of the house, but Abbi seemed to find it easily enough.

  He froze when she walked in. Knowing she was coming over the last twelve hours should’ve prepared him, but here she was, in his house. His guilt reared up that he was just stringing her along, his longing to touch her soft skin almost overrode his manners, and the conflicting feelings of wanting her to leave town and fearing she’d do just that…it all robbed him of words.

  Or it might’ve been her appearance. She was tempting in her athletic clothes with her hair pulled back. He’d nibbled that neck before.

  Did she remember?

  From the flush staining her cheeks, she just might.

  He lamely waved his tongs over the plates of food. “I didn’t know what you’d like. I just grilled burgers.”

  Her mouth parted while she looked over the food. She held up a bag he hadn’t noticed. “That’s perfect. I brought some chips. Hope you like Cool Ranch…” She wandered over to the tray of fruit. “Is that grilled pineapple?”

  “Yeah, they were on sale.” Pineapples were a safe topic. Could they stick to that all afternoon?

  “I love pineapple, but I’ve never tried it grilled.” She handed him the bag and snagged a ring.

  He relaxed as she chewed. They were just hanging out. If she wasn’t making a big deal out of this, then he wouldn’t, either.

  Her eyes drifted closed. “Mmm, this is really good. It brings out the sweetness, but the smokiness gives it a whole new flair.”

  Her lips glistened with pineapple. If he kissed her, would he taste the same thing she did?

  Her eyes flew open. “Oh, I’m sorry. How rude, huh?” She searched the counter.

  He lifted a plate from behind him and handed it to her. “Don’t worry, we’re pretty informal around here. We eat standing or sitting, or bring it on the go. Go ahead and fill your plate. It’s a little breezy out, so we should eat inside at least.”

  She shot him a grateful smile and did as he said while he opened the chips and retrieved mineral waters for them. No alcohol today. He wanted her reaction to him to be organic.

  They settled at the table. He arranged his silverware around his plate. Then switched it around, then just set it on his plate in frustration. This was just lunch between two people who had to talk. Not two people who spent an amazing night together playing with each other’s bodies.

  From the way she dug into her burger, she didn’t have the same reservations. Of course, she didn’t remember like he did. Drunk. She’d been so open and full of laughter, he’d had no idea alcohol had been fueling her night.

  With a bitter taste in his mouth, he dug into his food and froze again when Abbi groaned.

  “I was so hungry,” she said around her mouthful. She swallowed and continued. “I went for a run this morning and haven’t eaten since. Probably not the best idea.”

  “We never have to worry about refueling with protein here. We always have fresh eggs and freezers full of meat.”

  “Sounds delicious.” Another groan escaped. “I miss red meat.”

  He choked on a chip, and a blush stained her cheeks.

  “I mean, if I never see another chicken breast, it will be too soon.”

  “But has your chicken been brined and grilled, because that, honey, you can never have too much of.”

  “Seasoned, plain or in a salad, it’s all been done way too much.” She set down her burger, took the top off, and loaded it up with grilled veggies.

  The corner of Cash’s mouth twitched. His cousins often did the same thing.

  “You like to grill?” she asked.

  “No.”

  She stopped and he laughed.

  “If it wasn’t for the grill,” he amended, “I’d probably starve. I’m not an oven guy.”

  This was the Abbi he remembered. Easy con
versation, easy laughter. Something he didn’t often experience outside of family. At his age, women were looking for a night of fun that’d lead to a long-term relationship and since he had a reputation, they put extra effort into trying to tame Cash Walker. He often fantasized about a real relationship, but then his parents would visit. And there was the reminder.

  “Where are you staying now?” he asked as he finished his meal.

  She polished off her last bite. “I’m at the Nightstays. It’s a little more expensive, but the room’s bigger and since I was staying so long, I wanted the comfort.” A smile curved her lush lips. “It doesn’t smell like an old dishrag and the owner hasn’t tried setting me up with anyone.”

  “Because those owners have children still in elementary school. Give ’em time.”

  She giggled and they fell quiet for a moment.

  Cash cleared his throat. He knew he couldn’t avoid the real reason why she was here forever, but he’d try. “Are you…just here for a few days?”

  “I had two weeks of vacation. El—I had nothing else planned, so I used it to come here. I don’t know how long I’ll be here.”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  Her tone went flat. “I’m a bank teller.”

  “That bad?” He’d never given the occupation a second thought. His bank was his parents’ bank, and his grandparents’ bank. He’d known all the employees for ages, even gone to school with some.

  “No, it’s just not my thing.”

  “Then why work there?” He couldn’t imagine not waking up and ranching every day. He’d lived that nightmare for eight long years, but it’d been better than being at home at the time. When Dillon had gotten out of the army, Cash couldn’t stand to be in the military without his cousin and had gotten out, too. Thankfully, when he’d moved back home, his aunts and uncles had sold the Walker Five operation to Cash and his four cousins—and his parents had moved away.

  “It’s a respectable job. It pays the bills.” It had the ring of a pep talk she gave herself before each shift.

  “There’s lots of those that do both and you can enjoy. What’d you go to school for?”

  Her gaze darted away and she shifted in her chair. “Visual arts.”

  Cash reclined in his seat and folded his arms. “Yeah, I can see how it can be hard to find work in that field in a small town, but there’s gotta be something.”

  She gave him a look he couldn’t interpret. “I’m sure there is. So…”

  Aw, shit. Here it was.

  “You and my brother were good friends?”

  Cash regretted his last handful of chips as they formed a lump in his gut. “He joined the unit a couple of years before he… Yeah, we were friends.”

  “How often were you deployed?”

  Cash readjusted his hat. He should’ve taken it off for lunch, but he wasn’t used to special occasions. “Three times. The first two weren’t uneventful, but nothing occurred like what happened to your brother.”

  “How soon afterward did you get out of the army?”

  This was starting to feel like an interview. He expected her to pull out a notebook and pencil from the bag she’d left on the kitchen counter.

  “As soon as that deployment was over.” He’d been signing papers as soon as his boots had hit the ground.

  “Did you ever think of visiting my parents?”

  Good lord, no. And say what? His throat grew thick with panic. Facing Daniels’s parents? While he’d come home alive? No. Nope. He wasn’t going to reopen the worst wound they’d ever received.

  His phone saved him. “Excuse me.” He shot up to answer it and left the room.

  His cousin Brock got right to the point. “Dude, can you take over for me?”

  “Yeah.” Cash didn’t care why Brock asked, it was a way out of Abbi’s interrogation.

  “Can you do it now? Josie just got notice that her brother’s getting transferred to the prison in St. Cloud.”

  Cash tamped down the irritation that stirred when Brock discussed his new girlfriend. It was his issue, not Brock’s. He had a hard time letting go of his protective nature, ever since he’d first seen Brock getting laughed at on the playground. It was harder now that Brock had admitted he was autistic. But they were both adults, and Brock was in love. Cash was still accepting that it wasn’t his business.

  “Are you in the east section today?” Cash mentally prepared his speech to tell Abbi why he had to jet.

  “Yes, I’ll leave the combine parked at the approach. Aaron’s running the truck to empty the hoppers. I’ll catch a ride from him.”

  “Got it.” Cash hung up and found Abbi picking at an almost empty plate of pineapple.

  “You know what would make this really good?” she asked as he entered the dining room. “Whipped cream. Especially if the pineapple was still hot off the grill.”

  If she’d make that noise again over how delicious it was, he would buy five cans of whipped cream and two more pineapples this afternoon. He shook his desire off. He’d already tapped that, and she was going to be pissed at him when he left anyway.

  “Sorry to cut this short. I’ve gotta get to work earlier than I thought.”

  Abbi pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes on him. Was he transparent? “And when can we talk?” Her words were frosty.

  He checked the weather app on his phone. “Rain’s forecasted by Wednesday. If it rains, we can take a breather harvesting.”

  “Wednesday? It’s only Sunday.” She slapped her hands on her legs and stood. “Is harvest the reason why you can’t make time?”

  He nodded. As an excuse, there were worse ones.

  “Then why I don’t I come with?”

  His eyes widened. “Where? In the combine?”

  She smiled like she’d busted him in a lie. “Why not? My grandpa farmed, and I remember combines can seat more than one. I can follow you and hop in, and hop back out when we’re done talking.”

  She made it sound so easy. It sounded more like a nightmare to him.

  “You can’t tell me you’ve never had a girl in the combine with you,” she teased.

  Shock and the urge to run made it hard to comprehend her question. “No,” he managed to get out. “No, I haven’t.”

  He backed up as she rose. She fully intended to come with him. Why was he feeling like he was anticipating another date? Why did spending the afternoon with her in tightly enclosed quarters sound so…not awful?

  She wanted to discuss her brother. He could respect that, but he couldn’t rehash that experience. It’d almost destroyed Dillon, and he didn’t want his own thoughts and speculations to harm Abbi in any way. Right now, she had everyone else to blame about her brother’s death. Her parents probably held themselves accountable to some extent. It was natural. But they could blame the army, they could blame the war, hell, they could blame Cash and Dillon and the other guys in their platoon. If he admitted that “hey, I think your boy got himself blown up on purpose so you could have his life insurance money,” what would it do to them?

  Abbi’s tenacity at ferreting out the complete story would only lead to heartbreak.

  His mind spun, trying to figure out how to say no. He strongly suspected she’d chase him out to the field.

  Suddenly, an idea blossomed.

  ***

  A slow grin spread across Cash’s chiseled face.

  He was up to something. She’d suspected the harvest excuse was just to get out of talking about Perry. Cash had looked like he was ready to keel over at the idea of her accompanying him to work. But now…

  “Well, now, I’m sure you’d love to ride in the combine, but it can be a long and boring afternoon. If you really want to come with, you can drive truck.”

  “What truck? Your pickup?” Would riding in his pickup jog more memories of their night together? She was getting snippets, but not fine details. The memories were full of naked skin and pleasure, but she couldn’t recall exactly how he’d tasted, how hot his kisses
had been. She remembered laughing and enjoying herself, but what had they talked about?

  “The grain truck.”

  Oh, to drive alongside the combine to be filled. Her dad used to talk about driving the grain truck to haul the harvest to the silos. “Don’t I need a special license?”

  He frowned. “I don’t know. You gonna crash it?”

  “I might if you keep refusing to talk to me.”

  A heavy sigh escaped him. “I don’t have anything to talk with you about, Abbi. I don’t know what you’re looking for.”

  She tilted her head and considered him. His tone was so serious, so…withdrawn. No, she believed there was something he didn’t want to discuss. Was it selfish of her to think it was something he needed to talk about?

  Maybe if she appeased his panic, he’d open up. “I understand that it’s not a subject you’re jumping up and down about. I get it. But I took vacation and I’m here. Can I come with you and you can at least share some stories about him?”

  This deer in the headlights looked even more ready to bolt. The deer analogy made her think of his horse.

  “How’s Patsy Cline?”

  “Recovering.” For the first time since she asked about going with him, he seemed to inhale fully. “She struggles with bouts of colic. Her old owner sold her for dirt cheap ’cause he was tired of dealin’ with it. She’s the best purchase I’ve ever made.”

  Abbi smiled at his dedication to a creature no one wanted. “Good.”

  He gave all he had to his horse. Did he offer the same to his women?

  She was stricken with indecision. How long was she going to chase after Cash and nag him about Perry? Maybe she should come back another time.

  Her hopes fell further.

  Should she go home? Should she even bother talking with Dillon Walker? It was one thing to have the nerve to drive up to a strange man’s place, asking about her brother. But would she have been as persistent with Cash if she hadn’t jumped into bed with him first?

  Would Dillon be as hospitable to a stranger, or would he run her off?

  Maybe she could just ask. “Does Dillon know I’ve come by?”