Page 25 of Cold Foot Cash

“What?” Cash sounded genuinely surprised.

“You’re right,” she repeated.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that word combination out of a woman’s mouth before.”

She huffed a tired laugh. “Well, there’s a first for everything. Odds are you’re going to be right at some point in your life.”

“And my time is now,” he murmured, and there it was—the spark of humor was back in his eyes. That humor had been fuel for her today.

“You need a friend, don’t you?” he asked.

“I have friends.”

“Back in Bozeman? Great. Do they know what’s-his-nuts?”

“Yep.”

“Do they like him?”

“They don’t like what he did to me, but they like him. We had a big friend group. They’re mostly upset that our divorce will change the dynamic of the group…so…”

“So what? Keep going?”

“I’ve distanced myself this year. I guess it feels harder carrying the guilt over their feelings when I’m already going through a hard time.”

“Maybe you need a friend with no eggs in the basket, you know what I mean?”

She cocked her head and studied his blazing gold eyes. He was looking straight into her soul with such earnestness. “You’re offering to be my friend?”

“Sure.”

“And nothing more? Because until Tuesday, I’m not messing up, or falling for anyone, or growing a crush, or emotionally attaching myself to any man. And probably for a year or two after that too. I’m angry with men. Men suck.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s fair. I won’t kiss you. I won’t finger you. I won’t ask to touch your body. I’ll try to keep my pervy thoughts about how fuckin’ pretty the curves of your body are in my head, and I won’t put any pressure on you for anything more than friendship.”

It was a beautiful promise, and an ugly one all at once. She was confused over her feelings about his offer. She needed that—no strings attached, no pressure, no feelings. But the oath of an interesting man to only see her as a friend also stung in ways she didn’t understand either.

“Deal,” she said.

He ducked his chin to his chest and closed the five feet of space between them, and held out his hand. “It was nice to meet you today, Harley.”

She pursed her lips against a smile and slipped her hand against his warm palm, and shook it. “It was nice to meet you too, Cashew.”

A grin confiscated his face. “You rhymed,” he said, releasing her hand, and backing away. “I’m a poet too. I’ll write you a poem sometime. It’ll be about friendship.”

She laughed and waved. “Thanks for being nice to me today.”

He did a little salute as he walked away, giving her his back. Without turning around, he told her, “My pleasure.”

Harley watched him all the way to the exit, and waited until he was completely outside to press her back against the wall and process what had just happened.

It was an eternal day, she was tired, and emotionally drained from the roller coaster, but Cash was something else. He was special. He had her attention.

Her heart was pounding harder just from touching his hand.

A part of her wished he would bust in here, kiss the devil out of her, and distract her from the messy week, but a bigger part of her wanted to stay steady, and finish out the last days of her technical marriage with class, unlike Lance had done to her.

And that’s what she was going to do.

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