Page 15 of Cash's Treasure

Anyone else who touches you is a dead man.

“Don’t be crazy, Kayla,” I say with a laugh. Those are just words someone says when they are riding high on emotions. There is no way he meant them in the literal sense. The man spends his time crunching numbers for Christ’s sake.

Convinced that my best friend is not the psycho Lana just tried to imply he is, I walk out the door and head for the parking lot, all thoughts slipping my mind when I see Cash straddling his bike, waiting for me.

“You always take forever to get your stuff,” he complains, grabbing my nape a second before his lips are on mine. I gasp, and he takes that as an opening to deepen the kiss, and just like that, I lose all functioning brain cells the second his tongue grazes mine.

Nothing else matters as he brushes his mouth over mine and sends heat back to my sex. I whine when he breaks the kiss to drop his forehead against mine.

“I could get used to this,” he says roughly, and it’s a sentiment I echo.

“If I’d know you were open to it, we would have done it ages ago,” I tell him, my heart hammering in my chest when he leans down to brush his lips over mine. This time around, it’s more like a touch of skin than a kiss.

“You needed time, baby. You were a wreck when I found you,” he says, and I can’t deny that he’s right. I need security more than romance back then. He pushes back to secure my helmet over my head and pats it before turning around so I can climb on the bike, my skirt riding up when I do.

I wrap my arms around his waist, and we set off into the night. We’ve done this a hundred times over, but tonight feels special. I don’t even let the memory of my stepbrothers dampen the mood.

I’m riding the same high when we get to the condo and his lips are back on mine the second the door closes behind us. I am pressed against the door, and soon, I am writhing and moaning against Cash as he thrusts into me from behind. I press my forehead against the cool door as my best friend brings me to new heights before sending me falling back down with such intensity that it has me crying out, probably waking the neighbors.

It seems we can’t enough of each other because he pounces on me when we’re in the shower and teases me until my knees are weak and my throat hoarse from calling out his name.

“Okay, enough.” I glare at Cash as he approaches me after I have changed into something comfortable for the night.

“What?” he asks innocently, reaching out to grab me, but I slip past him.

“It’s late; we’re not going to have dinner at this rate,” I call out to him as I head to the kitchen and he follows behind. He grabs a beer from the fridge before making himself comfortable in the kitchen to watch me cook, something he’s done often since we started living together. It’s way past a normal dining time, but for us, this is normal. My shift ends late in the night, and Cash always waits for me so we can have dinner together. It’s a comforting routine, especially since I hate eating alone.

“Are we going to talk about the two men who grabbed you from the bar?”

“Hmm,” I hum, leaving my chicken stock to boil as I assemble the rest of the ingredients for dinner. I avoid his eyes as I gather the short grain rice, the alliums, and other spices I want to use to prepare the dish tonight. “How does mushroom risotto for dinner sound to you?”

“Kayla!”

I look up, our eyes connecting over the rim of the beer bottle. “Remember when you asked me why I prefer cooking to ordering out?”

I can read the impatience in his eyes, but he indulges me, nodding. “Yeah, you said you preferred home-cooked food to wasting money on takeout.”

“Yeah, well, that’s actually true, but not entirely,” I say, grabbing a pot. “I love to cook, always have. My earliest memory of my mother was in the kitchen with her, cooking. After she passed, I thought I kept doing it to remember her, but really, I just love being in the kitchen.”

Cash remains silent. In the time we’ve spent together, I’ve never brought up my past, choosing to bury it deep inside of me, but my stepbrothers showing up has forced it all out.

“My dream was to go to culinary school right after high school, and my father was supportive of my dream. It was pretty much an unspoken agreement between us that he would pay my tuition.”

“What happened?”

“He got married,” I answer, slicing up the mushrooms. “At first, I was happy that he was moving on, but I soon realized he’d married the devil herself. She created this wedge between my father and me. He’d already been stolen from me before the world robbed me of him.”

“Kayla . . .”

I flash him a smile to show him that it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. Sure, it did a year ago when he died from a heart attack, but I’ve had time to mourn, thanks to Cash. “I’m fine,” I tell him. “The men you met tonight, Henry and Mark, are my stepbrothers. They, along with my stepmother, kicked me out of my home the day after the funeral.”

I notice his fist clench hard around the beer bottle, and I place a soothing hand on his thigh, assuring him that I am long over the incident. Sure, I couldn’t go to culinary school like I’d dreamed all my life, but it’s not too late. I’m only twenty-one and can still enroll once I save up enough money for it. Besides, I’ve been taking classes online and buying cook books to learn what I can.

“Why are they looking for you now?” Cash asks roughly.

“I honestly have no idea,” I say, checking on my chicken stock. “They said something about my father’s money, but I don’t know why they would come to me for that. My stepmother got the mansion and all my father’s assets.”

Cash is quiet for a long time as he ponders my words. “Most wills are read before the funeral. Your father left you nothing?”

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