Page 19 of Cold Foot Cash

So confident. So cocky. So arrogant, him thinking she would call him.

Her life was a firestorm and she couldn’t add her complicated feelings around Cash to the mix. She nodded and made her way to the door.

“Did you just curtsey?” he asked, following.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“That was so fuckin’ cute.”

“Stop following me,” she told him out on the sidewalk, and he did.

Harley made it across the street before she turned to find him standing on the sidewalk, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He pulled one out and waved, and her heart beat a little faster.

She’d had fun tonight. She could admit that in the privacy of her own mind.

She’d had fun with him.

A smile stretched her lips and she lifted a hand and waved, and then made her way inside the motel office. Everything really did happen for a reason.

Tonight, Lance had messed with her head, and she hadn’t fallen apart. It was a first.

Perhaps she was getting stronger, and not going back and forth as much about doing the right thing. Or perhaps Lance was finally losing the power he’d held over her.

Or maybe, just maybe, Cash was just the perfect distraction for tonight.

Chapter Four

Harley didn’t have any clothes here.

She looked around her motel room, taking stock of what there was. There was a make-up wipe, and miniature bottles of lotion, shampoo and conditioner, and two bars of soap—one for the shower and one for the sink.

She didn’t have anything to sleep in, or make-up, or anything.

When she’d come in here though, the general store still looked hopping, so she could probably run over there and grab a few necessities. Maybe they would even have some face wash and moisturizer and she could do a mini spa night here. Just do some self-care and relax while she was in Darby.

When she pulled the phone out to check the store hours, there were a bunch of texts stacked on top of each other, and the top one was from Lance, in all capital letters.WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?

What?

Harley opened the text thread and sank slowly onto the bed as she read through the confusing jumble of texts from Lance that seemed to get angrier and angrier until she scrolled up far enough to see what had set him off.

A text from her phone, sent to Lance.Wow, sending her a crying pic on her porch. Quite the move. Dude, have some pride in yourself. Suck your tears back into your face and go back to your girlfriend. Harley is busy.

And then there was a picture of her waving to King and Reed. The picture was one of those portrait-mode ones, and the lighting in the bar looked cool. It was pool tables in the background and her hair cascading down her back, and hertattoos on display in her tank top as she waved. If she wasn’t so confused right now, she would’ve liked the way she looked. The guys were smiling at her.

When had Cash even taken this picture? With her own phone?

Was he a pickpocket? Was that what he went to prison for?

She racked her brain, trying to figure out when he’d had her phone long enough to send this text, take a picture of her, and text it to Lance.

Oh, Lance had figured out it was a guy on her phone, and he was losing his mind.

Who are you with Harley? WHO?

HARLEY! ANSWER ME!

You motherfucker, give her back her phone.

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