Page 49 of Cash

“So, your aunts,” I say to start a conversation.

I watch as a beautiful smile graces his face. He knows his aunts are outrageous as hell, and yet loves them completely. Cash’s face softens a little as he shakes his head.

“My mom died when I was fourteen. Brain aneurism. No warning, no health issues. Alive in the morning, dead by noon. My aunts stepped up and got Dad and me through it.”

“I’m so sorry, Cash. That must have been devastating,” I say while placing my hand on his forearm.

“Was. Shook up everything in our world. Mom was the heart and soul of our family. Dad struggled for a long time. Still does some days. Lola and Lottie refused to let him give up on life. Did the same with me.”

“I still have both my parents, so I can only guess how hard that must have been at any age but especially at fourteen.”

“Not a good subject for a first date, though. How’d you get partnered up with James?”

I let Cash change the subject and conversation flows easily. Cash might be a man of few words, but he’s not silent. I notice that he doesn’t waste words. If five words are all that’s needed, then he doesn’t use six. He’s blunt and to the point. I like that about him. He answers questions and asks them just as often. I’m comfortable with him, and I’m enjoying this date way more than any I’ve had in a long time. Even after our food arrives, we continue getting to know each other while eating.

“I should’ve warned you upfront that I like to eat,” I say while squirting ketchup on my plate. I do this after I rearrange the various plates of food that were set in front of me.

“Like that, Livi.”

“Like what? That I eat more in a meal than most women do in a day?” I ask while dipping an onion ring into ranch dressing.

“Yep. Not a fan of women starving themselves.”

“Uh, Cash. If you like curves, I don’t have many of them. My dad says I’m built like a teenage boy.”

“Bullshit.”

I grin before I get to eating dinner. I know I already ate a so-called meal, but that was hours ago. Good food, good company and cold beer makes this girl a happy one.

“Cash!” I hear shouted as a couple of leather-cut-wearing bikers stop next to our table.

Cash gets a couple of backslaps before their eyes turn to me. Their smiles turn wolfish as one leans an elbow on the table between Cash and me. His eyes slowly rake my face before he leans closer.

“You ready to ditch Cash and ride with a real biker?” he asks in a smooth voice with a grin.

Before I can answer, the biker’s whole body is moved and my stool is pulled close to Cash’s. Cash drops his hand on my thigh and leans his shoulder into mine. The biker laughs good-naturedly before taking a seat across from us. When he reaches for an onion ring, I slap his hand before thinking. The surprised look on his face and Cash’s chuckle makes me grin.

One thing I know from working with mostly men is to stand up for myself. If you don’t, most will walk all over you, and that’s unacceptable to me. I move my plates so they’re in front of me and then hold an onion ring out to the thief. The message is clear, and it’s a truce that he can take or leave.

“Just so you know, that wasn’t a turn-off,” jokes the biker as he accepts my token.

“Pigeon and Horse Nuts, Livi,” Cash says as an introduction while gesturing to who each name belongs to.

I wink at Pigeon, the thief, before glancing curiously at Horse Nuts. I watch as a big, beautiful grin crosses his face as he waits silently. I remain silent too even though it’s killing me. Being a cop, I’m a naturally curious person. Some might say nosy, but I ignore those misguided souls.

“Just ask, Livi. Horse loves to explain his name,” laughs Pigeon as he signals the waitress.

“Horse loves to tell his version, anyway,” Cash adds.

“Is there a difference between versions?” I ask.

“Oh, fuck yeah, there is,” Pigeon answers after giving their drink orders. “Huge difference, in fact. There’s the truth, and then there’s the story he tells when we’re not around to monitor his bullshit.”

“Jesus, tell me we’re not talking about Horse’s balls again?” barks a voice from somewhere behind Horse’s hulking body.

A muscled, salt and pepper haired biker pushes between Horse and Pigeon before his eyes land on me. He’s shorter than the other men but not short. He has a close-cropped dark beard with some white in it, and the man is handsome. He’s tatted, compact and carries himself with confidence. I instantly know that he should come with a warning sign that reads: Don’t Cross Me. I like him immediately.

“Horse was about to give his version to Livi,” Pigeon tells the newcomer.

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