Page 9 of Hung Up on the Hacker

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Cash woke long before dawn, his mind and arms full of Hadley. He ought to have used the time to plan the best approach to talking to Holt. Instead, he lay in the dark, breathing in her sleep-warmed scent, lingering in the feeling of absolute rightness, having her sprawled beside him. Even the fact that she took up more than her half of the queen-sized bed made him smile. She never questioned her right to be anywhere, ever. That unapologetic nature was something he’d always loved about her. So much of his own life had been spent fighting for his place.

Would Holt make him fight for his place with her? And if it came down to it and Cash was forced to choose, which way would he go? The idea of losing either of them cut him deep. But it wasn’t a choice. Not really. He loved Holt as a brother, but he was in love with Hadley. Of course, all that presupposed she chose him if given the same ultimatum. Some men might make that call for her, simply walking away in some self-sacrificial gesture. Even if he hadn’t known better—and he did—he was too selfish for that. If there was a chance in hell Hadley would choose him, he was taking it. And he’d spend the rest of their lives making sure she didn’t regret it.

As daylight crept across the foot of the bed, he carefully eased away from her. She merely rolled into the warm spot he vacated, curling up like a cat. Grinning to himself, he tugged on jeans and a sweater, running his hands through his hair. They were on no schedule today, with nowhere to be. He’d leave her sleeping. Slipping out of the room, he silently shut the door behind him.

A sound had him whipping toward the stairwell.

Ari Bohannon, the innkeepers’ daughter, stood by the window, one dark brow arched and a knowing smirk on her face.

Putting on his best bland nothing-to-see-here face, Cash strode toward the girl, nodding a greeting. Ari nodded back, barely swallowing a grin, before trotting down the stairs ahead of him.

Damn it. He should have made Hadley go to her own room last night. But he’d missed her. Missed having her in his bed beside him, knowing she was close enough to take care of. Not that she’d appreciate the sentiment. She valued her independence and the fact that she could take care of herself. With her history, she’d never want to be a burden on anyone. But that wasn’t what this was. He just wanted to look out for her. She wasn’t a morning person to begin with, and she’d been extra tired lately. It wasn’t exactly a surprise. They’d essentially traded orgasms for good nights’ sleep for months. But this seemed like more than that, and he was low-key worried about it. Maybe she needed more iron. She was prone to living off pasta and not much else when she got busy at work. When was the last time she’d had a physical?

As it was midweek and still early, no one else was in the dining room. Cash helped himself to the coffee laid out on a sideboard before settling at one of the tables by the window, his back to the corner. Some habits couldn’t be easily broken.

A tall, willowy blonde came in. “Good morning! You must be Cash. I’ve heard… well, honestly, not an enormous amount about you.”

Recognizing Jonah’s fiancée from the surveillance he’d done, he answered her smile. “That’s a calculated move. I’m a man of mystery. You must be Rachel. Congrats on the engagement.”

She beamed, happiness practically radiating out of every pore. “Thanks! Jonah and I are gearing up for a winter wedding to avoid the busy season at the bakery.”

Cash wondered what constituted the busy season for a bakery. “Seems sensible.”

“What are you in the mood for this morning?” She nodded toward a narrow folio tucked in the condiments. “Those are our regular options. But since it’s just you, I can whip up something off-menu, if you like. Eggs of some kind, if you’re not looking for something baked. If you’re still here by the weekend, we’ll have the full Southern available.”

“What exactly is that?”

“Biscuits and gravy, bacon or sausage, eggs, and grits.”

Knowing she was from upstate New York, Cash lifted a brow. “Can you actually cook a full Southern?”

Rachel dimpled. “I promise I’ve been taught by true Southerners how to make proper grits. And I’ve had biscuits in the bag for years.”

“Good to know. Could I get an omelet?”

“Sure thing. What would you like in it?”

“Meat, veggies, and cheese. I’m not fussy about what kind. Surprise me.”

“You’ve got it.” At the door, she turned back. “Does Holt know?”

“Does Holt know what?”

“About you and Hadley.”

Cash froze, the mug of coffee halfway to his mouth.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Evidently, Ari had shared what she saw in the kitchen.

“I’m not letting the cat out of the bag. I’m just confirming the status and whether I need to keep my mouth shut. Even from Jonah.”

Keeping that same bland expression in place, he settled back in his chair, as if he wasn’t secretly freaking out. “No, he doesn’t know. That’s why we’re here.”

Rachel nodded. “Understood.”

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