Hard 5 by Stephanie Brother
8
It’s late, and I’m curled up in a comfy brown armchair that I’ve moved from the still-messy dining room into the kitchen. Big Boy is at my feet, curled up and resting. His soft breathing sounds are calming, although I’m beginning to worry about how much he sleeps. It would seem that Cary is too. I caught him sitting on the floor stroking Big Boy earlier, his expression in a far-away place. I imagined him remembering when they could run together through open fields, the sun’s rays glistening off Cary’s tan skin and Big Boy’s glossy coat.
I don’t know what’s come over me.
The book I’m reading could be responsible for my flowery thoughts. The store in town only stocks books that are easy reading; romance novels with cowboys on the cover and thrillers or murder mysteries with eerie covers and even scarier content. I’m not much for scaring myself with fiction. Life can be terrifying enough, and I’m a believer that what you put into your mind stays with you. I’d rather put in love than hate.
The novel I chose is a slow-burn romance about a preacher’s daughter who falls for a stranger to the town. It’s pretty obvious that he’s going to have a shady past that will come back to bite them. It’s predictable in a way that feels good for where I am right now. Every time I pick it up and slide between the pages, I feel safer.
Big Boy stirs as footsteps make their way down the hall. I thought everyone was asleep already, but I guess I was wrong.
It’s Cash who appears in the doorway, not realizing I’m here. He fixes himself a glass of water and glugs it down so fast that I worry he’s going to choke. When he’s done, he rests both hands on the countertop, bracing himself as he sighs long and deep. For a man who was laughing earlier, he sure seems to have the weight of the world on his shoulders now.
Big Boy makes a grumbling noise—he’s probably chasing rabbits in his dream—and Cash turns, his eyes widening when he notices me.
“You’re awake,” he says, straightening. He’s a man who knows how to put himself back together fast.
“I like this time,” I say. “When everything is done, and everyone is resting. The peace…it’s good for the soul.”
Cash nods, his expression thoughtful as his eyes drift from mine around the room. “This is the time that my mind fills with problems that need solving,” he says. “My brothers all fall asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow, but it’s like the pillow is a reminder of everything I haven’t done.” He rubs his face, his tiredness so obvious it makes me want to run my fingers through his soft, brown hair and caress the back of his neck until his eyes droop.
I wonder what he’d think of that: Cash, the man of few words, who holds himself together as tight as a bowstring.
“I can make you some hot chocolate,” I say. “Maybe slide a little brandy in there to help you sleep?”
Cash shakes his head, eyes drifting over me as lightly as a sheet shaken high and left to fall onto a waiting mattress. “Would you walk with me?”
I glance down at my socked feet and striped pajama pants that aren’t exactly ideal walking gear, but I guess there is nobody to see me for miles. “Sure.”
Pulling my favorite worn cardigan closer, I stand quietly so as not to wake Big Boy and tiptoe to the rack of boots by the door. Cash slides his on too, both of us in silence, and then holds the door open for me to step out into the cool night air.
The stars are out in force, the sky clear of clouds, allowing their twinkling light to be clearly seen. I inhale through my nose, relishing the scent of the evening as it settles on the land. The distant noise of cattle reminds me of times when I’d come out late with my pa to see to animals in distress. Cash pulls the door closed behind him and moves to stand next to me. It’s so dark, but he’s brought a flashlight to shine a narrow beam ahead of us, and he leads the way, his familiarity with the land greater than mine.
“There’s something about this time of night and being outdoors.”
“Everything has settled,” I agree. “I love watching those stop-motion videos of plants and how they twist their leaves to the sun and close their flowers when it gets dark.”
“Have you ever seen a bird sleeping in a tree? They tuck their heads around.”
I shake my head. Being out at night hasn’t been a regular thing for me. Maybe if I’d had a sibling I would have gotten up to more mischief, but as an only child, the dark was always a scary place. I pull my hands inside my sleeves and cross my arms, bracing against the slightly cool breeze, glancing at Cash, who seems unaffected. He’s dressed in the same plaid shirt he wore earlier but in looser jeans that hang from his hips. His biceps strain the fabric of the short sleeves, his skin so tan there that it makes me wonder what his shoulders are like, protected from the elements as they are.
He clenches his jaw, the muscle at the side ticking in a way that feels pensive. He’s holding something inside—something that wants to come out.
“We’re so busy right now,” he says eventually. “I think we’ve taken on too much.”
“Can you hire more hands?”
He nods, but it’s not with enthusiasm. “We can, but I’d rather not. It’s hard to find good people. Getting them familiar with how we work takes time and effort that I just don’t have to give.”
“So, what are you thinking?”
He slows his step, gazing down at me, his gray eyes searching my face. In this light, his pupils are wide open, and the outer rings glow yellow from the torch beam, making them look almost leonine. “We’re going to leave your farm as it is, for now.”
“Leave it?”
“We don’t have the resources to take down all the fences and extend our plans into that land.”
“Or time to demolish the house?” The hope in my voice makes me feel so small and pathetic that I flush.
Cash nods, and I can feel my heart beating in my throat. It’s only temporary, but everything is going to stay the way it is for a little longer. The stillness around us suspends us in a strange, isolated state, the seconds ticking past so slowly like we’re walking through deep water. I want to thank him, but that’s stupid. He’s not doing this for me. He’s doing it because he doesn’t have any choice. Then, out of nowhere, his hand rises up, his thumb stroking over the soft skin of my cheek, trailing down to my chin. It’s like a whisper at midnight, soft but shocking. My whole body comes alive, drawn with a magnetic pull that I’ve never felt before and that I don’t understand. “I don’t know how you do it,” he says. “Everything’s different for you, but you keep going.”
“Do I have any other choice?”
He exhales, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, revealing my face to him more clearly.
What does he see when he looks at me? A lost girl? Someone who needs protecting? I don’t want to be that. I want to be resilient and strong. I want his respect, not his pity.
“Connie really liked you.” His mouth twitches with a smile. “She told me to hang on to you, like you were a wild mare, ready to bolt at any moment.”
“Connie has some funny ideas.” I smile, trying to lighten the mood between us.
“Oh yeah. And what were they?”
“She wants to hook you all up with her friend Sandy. I think she thinks you need the love of a good woman.”
“I don’t know any woman who’d be able to put up with us.” Even as he says the words, his eyes trail over me. I wish I could know what he’s thinking. If I could lift that hat of his and read his mind, I wouldn’t have to feel so uncertain about everything.
“You’re not so bad.”
Bringing his chin down in a subtle nod, I can tell that my terrible compliment is appreciated.
“So, Sandy, eh?” Cash raises his eyebrows, drawing them together, wrinkling his forehead in the cutest way.
“You’re getting ideas already?” I chuckle.
“Oh, I have ideas all the time. Don’t you?”
Our eyes meet, my summers-day blue to his yellow-gray, and my heart skips a beat. I could tell him how my hands itch to touch his broad chest and find out if he’s smooth there or has a soft patch of hair that would tickle my cheek. I could tell him that my lips are sensitized to the point of insanity waiting for the press of his, or that I’ve imagined the slide of his tongue into my mouth more times than would be decent between a husband and a wife.
Oh God.
I moisten my lips without realizing what it will tell him. Body language is so innate, so hard to conceal.
“Have you ever been kissed, Melanie?” he murmurs, eyes fixed on my parted mouth.
I shake my head as my words die on my tongue. Maybe he’ll laugh at my inexperience. I mean, what kind of girl gets to my age without ever having a boyfriend? I bet Amber’s had her fair share of male admirers. I bet she wouldn’t be trembling being so close to Cash.
But he doesn’t laugh. His breath hitches as though I just told him something that overwhelmed his senses. His hand finds mine and raises it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to my skin. Beneath my baggy shirt, my heart thuds slow and hard.
Those eyes that swim with longing fix on mine, and I realize that this kiss is a test. If I snatch my hand away, he’ll know I don’t want him. If I do nothing but stand like a swooning, trembling mess, it’ll be obvious that he can take it further. Cash knows the art of seduction, or maybe he’s just excellent and dealing with skittish mares.
I don’t tug my hand away. Instead, I close my eyes, holding onto the slide of warmth that spills through me.
When his lips touch mine, it’s like the first taste of ice cream on a hot summer’s day. He has to lean down a long way, and his hand presses against my lower back, keeping us both steady. Soft, slow kisses send shivers up my spine and across my scalp, and I lose myself in all of the unfamiliar sensations.
How can a man as hard and strong as Cash touch with such gentleness? How can such a simple thing as his lips on mine send my heart fluttering? I don’t know what to do, but he leads, and I follow, my mouth parting as he draws my bottom lips between his and sucks gently. Oh…that should be illegal, it feels so good. My hands find their way onto his body, the left resting against his solid bicep, the right against the undulation of muscle that is his chest, and I actually moan.
He’s going to laugh, I think. But he doesn’t. My moan seems to spur him on, his tongue dipping between my lips as explicitly as anything I’ve ever imagined when I’m alone in my bed in the dark. My fingertips press into his flesh, gripping to steady against the swoon the overtakes me, and when his hands slide over my ass, squeezing beneath so I’m pressed against him, I feel it.
There against my stomach is the ridge of something long and hard.
My cheeks heat, knowing his cock is so close and that he’s so aroused.
I don’t have any pretty clothes. My hair is a tangled mess that needed cutting a year ago. There’s not a hint of make-up on my skin, and yet, this gorgeous man wants me.
“Melanie.” He breathes my name into my neck like he’s pleading with me for something.
Instinctively, my hand slides into the hair at his nape, and he moans, long and deep.
“You taste like honey,” he says, kissing my cheeks, first one then the other.
I snort at his fancy words, and Cash smiles broadly. “Not one for flirting?”
Should I be embarrassed that I don’t know how? Or maybe that I don’t want to know how. Pretty words don’t mean anything without true emotions. There are no true emotions between us, other than lust.
I shiver, the air feeling colder around us. Like waking from a dream, I suddenly feel strange. Cash kissed me, and I kissed him back. It was good, but what will it mean? What will he expect?
And more importantly, what do I want?
“You’re cold?” Cash asks, rubbing my upper arm. His hand is big and warm, and the contrast makes me shiver again.
Nodding, I glance back to the house. “We should go back inside,” I say. “Do you think you could sleep now?”
His thumb traces my jaw, and his eyes are almost dreamy. “Maybe,” he replies softly.
Cash leaves me in the kitchen, where I return to my book. We don’t speak of what happened, maybe because neither of us truly knows what it will mean, but as I hear him retreat up the stairs, I press the tips of my fingers to my lips, closing my eyes and reliving the simple, perfect, kiss from a complex man all over again.