Page 67 of Cold Foot Cash

She blabbed on for hours, and he asked questions to encourage her to keep going. She talked through breakfast sandwiches, and then turkey sandwiches for lunch. She talked with him until the sun was low in the west.

And he talked back. She learned so much about him, and she loved every bit of it. He was complicated in some ways too, like her.

And when they were finished, he told her he wanted to go out and get her dinner while she showered, and then have a movie-watching night on the couch, and the idea was perfect. She was drained from unloading her life to him, but in a good way. She wasn’t carrying all that weight alone anymore.

When he left, he pulled her up from the love seat and hugged her, and oooh what a hug. It felt like she had a big, warm, protective blanket all the way around her. She didn’t want it to end. He swayed her gently, and held the back of her neck like he didn’t wanted to keep her close, and this was almost, almost as good as flying with him.

“Maybe three more days,” he rumbled.

“Maybe,” she agreed, and hoped by some miracle he was right.

Chapter Seventeen

Cash had minded the girl-rules. He had taken Raynah’s advice, which he believed it was excellent advice, and he’d been open to listening to all of Harley’s hurt, and took it all in calmly, and that was all well and good.

But…he was still himself, and currently, he was pulling up to Lance’s house, aka Harley’s house that the dipshit had pushed her out of, so he could set up a love-nest with his girlfriend. Cash had found out that Lance was taking Harley’s money, and now he was trying to take half of the proceeds from her car that she wasn’t even planning on selling?

Laugh out loud. Hell no. Fuck this dude.

Cash shoved open the door of his truck and got out.

Nice neighborhood. Of course it was. Harley had bought the house with Lance when they’d had two incomes, and she made a lot more than he did. Cash knew that now because she’d spilled it to him today. No wonder Lanced needed as much of her savings as he could get his stubby soft little hands on. He couldn’t afford the mortgage on his salary alone, but he probably loved the prestige of living in this area.

A Lexus was parked in the driveway next to a Honda Civic, so he must be home.

“Don’t fight him, don’t punch him,” Cash chanted to himself a few times before he knocked on the door.

A dark-haired woman answered the door, wearing a pair of low-rise jeans and a red crop top. Alissa, he assumed.

“Whoa, hello,” she said. “Are you the lawn guy?”

“Sure,” he answered. He looked down at the sparkler on her ring finger. “Is your fiancé home?”

“He’s working upstairs. This is my house too. I can tell you what we need done.”

“Is it your house too?” he gritted out. “Harley is still paying half on the mortgage through this week. Can you go get Lance? Please.”

He hated this chick already.

“Lance,” she screamed up the stairs.

“What!” he screamed back from upstairs.

Cash snorted. Ah, romance.

“Pretty sure your ex’s boyfriend is here!” she yelled. As she walked away, she kept talking. “Every day revolves around Harley. Every single day. Forever. Forever and ever, every day will revolve around Harley!”

Okay, this was awesome. Ten points just for entertainment-value so far.

As Lance came down the stairs, Cash got his first real look at the guy. He was wearing black slacks at home on a Saturday, and a polo shirt that was a size too small. His hair was thinning on top, and he seemed to be growing it out in the back. His glasses rode low on his nose. He’d probably been better looking in his twenties, but was aging like a fine milk. Harley was about ten times too pretty for him.

“Let me guess, Harley’s boyfriend?” Lance asked.

“No,” Cash said honestly. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. Can we talk?”

“What are you doing at my house.”

Cash cocked his head and looked him up and down. All he sensed from him was weakness. “This is you and Harley’s house until Tuesday.”

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