Page 1 of Cold Foot Cash (Wreck’s Mountains #4)

“Do you see him?”

Harley Monroe squinted her eyes at the man walking across the parking lot of the cabinet-making warehouse, and then looked back at the picture on her phone. “They look similar.”

“Oh my gosh, it’s really him, isn’t it?” her sister, Carolina murmured over the phone. “Tell me it is.”

“Yeah, it’s probably the guy who is in the pictures, but probably not the guy who has been talking to you.”

“Should I come up there? Maybe I should be there.”

“I told you to just show up here two months ago, and you made up a dozen excuses, and never followed through.”

“Well, if this guy looks like Cash, then I was right. He exists. Maybe his mom really was in the hospital and maybe his face really was disfigured in that car crash and that’s why he couldn’t video-chat with me.”

“This dude looks one hundred percent hot, and scarless. He’s not even limping,” she uttered, tracking the man’s movement as he reached the front door to the warehouse. He definitely hadn’t broken both his legs in a car crash last week. Suddenly, he turned and looked directly at her with bright, glowing gold eyes. Harley yelped and flopped over sideways in the seat, so he couldn’t see her.

“Harley?” Carolina asked.

“Shh.”

“Don’t shh me, what’s happening?”

“I repeat, that man has zero face scars, there would be no reason for him to be avoiding a video chat with you. He is fine. Repeat, he’s freaking fine.”

“Is he six feet tall?” Carolina asked.

“Oh my gosh, why do you care about that so much?” she whispered, craning her neck so she could see if he was still there. Nope, he’d disappeared. He must’ve gone inside for his shift, thank goodness.

“Well, he said he works at Grizzly Cabinets, and he’s there, so I’m finding no lies so far.”

“Face scar, Carolina. Face scar. No limp. No casts on his legs. No car crash.”

“Well, maybe he’s shy and just didn’t want to meet me yet.”

“Mm mm, I saw the way he walked. That man has no problem with confidence. Plus he’s built like a gym rat. Beard on point. You’ve been talking to a catfish, or this guy is married with a family and has been playing you.”

“Gasp! He grew out a beard?”

That’s what her sister had taken away from that? A beard? “A short one. Designer scruff. He probably wears cologne. His shirt didn’t have any holes in it, and his hair looked like it had product in it.”

“Wait, why are you telling me this stuff?”

“Because you aren’t listening. There is no reason, if this is the guy you’ve been online-chatting with, that he couldn’t do a video call for three months, Carolina. It doesn’t add up.”

“Okay, are you growing a crush on my man. You keep talking about how hot he is. I will fight you, Harley.”

“Oh yeah? Like when you stole Frank Herder from me in the eighth grade, and then dated him all through high school, and then almost married him in college and I had to watch you sucking face the entire ti—”

Knock, knock, knock.

“—Aaah!” Harley screamed for way too long at the startlement the man caused by appearing like a freaking ghost right beside her window.

When her eternal scream ended, she just sat there slouched over in the driver’s seat staring up at the fine-ass man her sister may, or may not, be in a relationship with.

His lips were pursed into a smile.

“Hey crazy,” he said easily. “Want to roll down the window and talk?”

“I carry bear spray,” she told him, and yanked it out of the passenger seat to show him.

“Okay, well that’s over the top.”

“Says a man!”

He frowned, looking utterly baffled and oh Mylanta how was he even hotter when he frowned? “Yes,” he drawled. “I am a man.”

“Well, you are safe in the world and can walk around all safe and free to not carry bear spray, but I am a woman and—”

“Most women I know carry pepper spray. Or carry a pocket knife? Wield a Taser? The can of bear spray is pretty bulky. What, do you carry it in a backpack? In a shopping cart? I’m trying to imagine you just walking down the street at night swinging that thing.”

All right, he was rude and judgmental. “If I roll down my window, you have to promise not to hurt me.”

The man opened her unlocked door, and she yelped, but all he did was lean on the frame all smooth and masculine and yep, she’d been right—he wore cologne. “You’re the one hunting me,” he pointed out.

“You’re dating my sister.”

He narrowed his eyes. “That’s a weird statement on its own, but when you pair it with aiming the bear spray at me, I’m having a hard time finding my footing.”

“Carolina Monroe. You’re talking to her, and I demand to know if it is actually you talking to her, and also, if it is you, why the hell can’t you respect her enough to plan a meet-up, or visit her, or do a damn video chat to prove you are who you say you are. Do you have a girlfriend? Are you married? Are you freaking cheating on her?” she demanded, wrenching up her voice an octave.

He had both of his arms up, one resting on the top of her door, and the other against her car, and how did this make his biceps look even more demigod-like. God, her sister had atrocious taste in men. Carolina loved perfect, model-like Ken dolls that were all jock, and no personality.

“I’m having trouble understanding the words that are coming out of your mouth,” he admitted.

She snorted. “Typical.”

“Typical what?”

“You are my sister’s exact type—brainless meathead, but you look like a pretty package.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” he asked.

“Hey, you know I’m still on the phone right?” Carolina asked over the speaker.

Shit.

Harley sat up straighter and hugged her bear spray to her chest like a shield. “Do you recognize his voice, Carolina?”

“Um, hi Cash.”

The guy’s eyebrows shot up and he shook his head in surprise. “You know my name.”

“And I know you’re favorite food is pizza, you love your little sister dearly, you are a momma’s boy, and you prefer baking over grilling. You like late night talks, and eat ice cream sandwiches when you are missing me.”

His mouth had fallen open somewhere in the middle of that. He leaned over in this obnoxious hot-guy move and scratched the back of his thumb against his three-day scruff. God his eyes were pretty in the sunlight. They looked gold.

“My favorite food is spaghetti and meatballs, I don’t have a sister, I haven’t seen my mom since before I went to prison, I can make a mean steak but couldn’t bake a desert if someone held a gun to my head, I am in the woods most nights and leave my phone at home, so no talking there, and ice cream sandwiches are delicious, but I haven’t had one in years. I don’t know you from Adam, lady.”

“Wha…what do you…How?”

“You say you’ve been talking to me? Where? I live up in the mountains with a bunch of recluses and my social media pages have like three posts from a half dozen years ago. I’ve been thinking about getting on a dating app or applying for one of those mail-order brides when I get drunk enough to consider it, but dating sounds hard and I’m pretty sure I would be shitty at it, pardon my language. Where do you think you know me from?”

“Ponder?”

“What’s Ponder?” he asked, leaning closer to Harley, eyes on the screen that was lit up in her car that read Carolina’s name.

“A dating app. Come on. Stop messing around, Cash. It’s not funny.”

But Carolina’s voice sounded uncertain, and Harley could tell the delusion was starting to falter. She didn’t like her sister getting hurt like this. It was brutal. Men were scumbags.

“I’m sorry, lady. I’m not talking to anyone on Ponder. Did you ask the guy to send you videos?”

“Well, no. I trust you.”

“It ain’t me. Did you talk on the phone?”

“Yes.”

“Did he sound like me?”

“Well…he had a deep voice. It was raspy. He said he was sick with a cold when we talked. He sort of sounds like you.”

“This guy really doesn’t have a scar on his face, Carolina,” Harley said softly. “The guy you’re talking to lied.”

“He said I have scars?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he send you pictures?” Cash asked.

Harley turned her phone screen to show him the picture Carolina had given her, and Harley saw the spark of surprise in his eyes. “Go look at the Instagram page of a girl named Beary Happy, spelled b-e-a-r-y—”

“Yeah, I got it. I’m getting on her page now.” Sounding miserable, Carolina asked, “Is that your girlfriend?”

“No, she’s my Crewmate. That’s Timber. Scroll down a few lines.”

After a couple seconds, Carolina said softly, “Oh my gosh.” The disappointment in her voice tugged at Harley’s heart. “That’s the same picture you sent me. I mean, that he sent me. It’s the exact same one. It’s even cropped the same.”

“I bet if you scroll through my Crew’s pages, you’ll find whatever pictures he was sending you. I don’t post them of myself. They get posted of me by my friends who take pictures like freaking paparazzi while we’re out.”

“Well, what do I even do with this?” Carolina asked, and now her voice was thick and tear-stained with sadness.

The guy sighed and stared at the ground, shook his head. “I don’t know. I just know I’m not what you’re looking for. I promise, I’m not what anyone is looking for.”

“Cash!” a guy yelled out the front door of the warehouse. “You’re late, man! Let’s go!”

Cash clapped his hand on the door and straightened up. “That’s my boss. I’m real sorry, lady. I hope you find the asshole who did that to you.” He gave a sympathetic smile to Harley and backed away from the car.

“Harley, I’ll call you later,” Carolina rushed out, and Harley could tell her sister was crying.

God, she hated whoever had done this to her. Carolina had really fallen for him. Catfishing was an awful game.

The line went dead, and Harley called out, “Hey, Cash?”

He paused in the gravel parking lot and turned back to her. “Yep?”

“Thanks for setting the record straight. I’ve been trying to talk some sense into her, but she’s a romantic. The heart wants what it wants, and she really wanted you to be real.”

He pursed his masculine lips and nodded. “Tell her to go through the followers of my Crewmate. Maybe start there. He clearly gave her enough information for you to track me to my job. He has to know some of the basics about me. I’ll ask my Crewmates if they’ve had any weird messages on there too.”

“Crewmate.” She frowned as something dawned on her. “Wait, are you a shifter?” His eyes were glowing like molten gold right now.

Cash gave her a cocky grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Yes. Yes I would. That’s why I asked.”

“It was weird to meet you, Carolina’s Sister.”

“Wait! How do you know her name if you aren’t the real Cash?”

“It’s on your caller ID, Genius.”

“Oh. Ha. I knew that. It’s Harley! My name is Harley, not Carolina’s Sister.”

But he didn’t turn around again. He just went straight inside without waving her off or anything. Which was fair, now that she thought about it, because she had made him late to work, and she had brought this strange situation to his doorstep, errr, workstep. At least he had been nice enough to answer questions and clear the air.

He was probably still a dumb meathead though.

She set the bear spray in the passenger seat and pulled the door closed, gripped the steering wheel, and pulled out of the parking lot.

Carolina’s Cash wasn’t real.

With conviction in his voice, the real Cash had said he isn’t what anyone was looking for.

Mystery solved.

Now Carolina could move on, like Harley was desperately trying to do.