Page 35 of Cold Foot Cash

“That’s the dumbest smile I’ve ever seen on your face,” Kade called from his station.

Cash forced the smile off his lips and gave Kade the middle finger before he tucked his phone back into his pocket and went back to work.

The next half an hour dragged on eternally, but when he finally got out to his truck, and saw the three sandwiches from three different shops lined up on the driver’s seat, he couldn’t stop grinning. There was a note tucked under the farthest one, written on the motel notebook paper.

Dear Cash, Cash, Wants to Smash,

It’s me, your new best friend, Harley. As a thank you for the coffee this morning, here is lunch. I’m guessing a man as big asyou needs to eat a lot. Message me which one is your favorite so I know. Here’s my poem for you to keep forever.

Cashew, Cashew, I’m learning all about you.

You have a big wiener, I could tell,

I suck at poetry, roast beef is my favorite.

-Hottie Harley (your nickname for me, not mine)

Fuck he liked this girl.

Cash read the letter a few times, then pulled down the tailgate of his truck and spent the rest of his break eating two of the sandwiches. She said he had a big wiener. He smiled bigger. New favorite compliment. She liked him. He could tell she liked him. Today was supposed to be a bad day, with the fight last night, and his truck being damaged, and being late to work, but it wasn’t bad at all.

In fact, it was shaping up to be one of his favorite days.

Now he needed to figure out what to get for her next special delivery.

Harley was fun to play games with.

Chapter Nine

Harley checked herself in the mirror, turning this way and that. She’d wandered up and down the main strip of Darby, and discovered three clothing stores, and one that was a western boutique. She’d found a pair of skinny jeans with holes at the knees, and a pair of tan hiking boots to coordinate with her cream-colored, figure-hugging top. She’d also found a fitted flannel in white and pink that was nice and warm for the bonfire tonight. It was getting warmer in this part of Montana during the daytime, but nights were still chilly.

Her phone rang, and expecting it to be Cash telling her he was out front to pick her up, she rushed to where it laid face up on the motel bed.

It was a text message from her lawyer, Abigail Baker.Hey, I need you to check your email when you get a chance. Lance submitted a proposal for mediation before Tuesday. I don’t know what he’s trying to accomplish. Let me know what you think about his request.

Harley rolled her eyes closed as the swell of disappointment washed over her. Couldn’t he just get to Tuesday without making it some big dramatic event? Couldn’t he?

She scratched her forehead and texted her lawyer back.Yeah, he’s been texting me. I’m not encouraging anything, but he’s not getting it.Can the email wait until tomorrow morning? I am just heading out. I’m trying so hard to just enjoy a night.Send.

Her lawyer would understand. She’d played therapist for Harley during some hard moments throughout the divorce process, and had been eternally frustrated by Lance’s behavior.

Yep, Abigail texted back.It can absolutely hold until tomorrow. Go have fun. You deserve it!

Harley smiled at the awesome text and then shoved the phone into the new purse she’d purchased for herself from a little western boutique. It was made of soft brown leather with long fringe hanging from it. Was it too much? Perhaps, but who cared? She liked it.

The temptation to open the email and see what the heck Lance was up to was there inside of her, scratching at her resolve, but it wasn’t big enough for her to actually open it. What was the point? Whatever he was trying would ruin her evening, and she had been looking forward to the bonfire all day. Today, he wasn’t allowed to have the power to ruin her plans. He’d had way too much power for way too long.

It was okay for her to get a break. That’s why she had stayed in Darby, after all.

Knock, knock, ho, I have snacks.

The text from Cash brought an instant giggle from her, and killed any uncertainty Lance had created.

Harley opened the door to find Cash leaning against the doorframe, giving her one of those smoldering hot-boy glares.

“Your charms do not work on me.”

“What if I do this,” he said, placing his thumb and forefinger on his chiseled jawline and arching an eyebrow. Good grief that man was hot.

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