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

Harley didn’t have any clothes here.

She looked around her motel room, taking stock of what there was. There was a make-up wipe, and miniature bottles of lotion, shampoo and conditioner, and two bars of soap—one for the shower and one for the sink.

She didn’t have anything to sleep in, or make-up, or anything.

When she’d come in here though, the general store still looked hopping, so she could probably run over there and grab a few necessities. Maybe they would even have some face wash and moisturizer and she could do a mini spa night here. Just do some self-care and relax while she was in Darby.

When she pulled the phone out to check the store hours, there were a bunch of texts stacked on top of each other, and the top one was from Lance, in all capital letters. WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?

What?

Harley opened the text thread and sank slowly onto the bed as she read through the confusing jumble of texts from Lance that seemed to get angrier and angrier until she scrolled up far enough to see what had set him off.

A text from her phone, sent to Lance. Wow, sending her a crying pic on her porch. Quite the move. Dude, have some pride in yourself. Suck your tears back into your face and go back to your girlfriend. Harley is busy.

And then there was a picture of her waving to King and Reed. The picture was one of those portrait-mode ones, and the lighting in the bar looked cool. It was pool tables in the background and her hair cascading down her back, and her tattoos on display in her tank top as she waved. If she wasn’t so confused right now, she would’ve liked the way she looked. The guys were smiling at her.

When had Cash even taken this picture? With her own phone?

Was he a pickpocket? Was that what he went to prison for?

She racked her brain, trying to figure out when he’d had her phone long enough to send this text, take a picture of her, and text it to Lance.

Oh, Lance had figured out it was a guy on her phone, and he was losing his mind.

Who are you with Harley? WHO?

HARLEY! ANSWER ME!

You motherfucker, give her back her phone.

Pick up your phone Harley!

Call me back.

Call me back right now!

RIGHT NOW!

We’re still married.

That one had her mouth dropping right open. Oh now they were still married? Lance had been living with his mistress since they’d separated a year ago. But yeah, if she started moving on, all the sudden she’s the problem.

She read through the rest of the texts, appalled by his behavior. She’d never seen him like this, but then, he’d never had competition for her before. She’d never given him a single reason to question her.

Huh. Interesting. So, Harley was supposed to just accept his girlfriend, Alissa, but if she had an ounce of fun with someone from the opposite sex, he was allowed to lose his mind.

A text came through from an unknown number. Can we talk?

Who is this? she texted back. Send.

Alissa.

Harley’s heart dropped right to the floor. Alissa. That name…that name had ruined her life.

She tried to fill her lungs with oxygen, but she only gasped and still felt like she didn’t have enough air.

Please , Alissa texted.

What the hell was happening? She didn’t have anything to do with her. She’d never wanted to. Not even a little.

A call came through from the same unknown number, and with shaky hands, Harley answered. “Hello?”

“Hey,” the soft woman’s voice came through.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to leave him alone.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Whatever is happening…whatever head games you’re playing with Lance, can you please stop? Can you just let him go? We’ve been doing so good, we’re happy, but whatever you’ve been doing the last few weeks is getting into his head and causing huge problems for us.”

“Not that I’m obligated to give a shit about your relationship problems, but that annoying part aside…you think I’m messing with his head?”

“I know you are. He tells me everything. I’m asking you, woman to woman, can you just leave him alone?”

“I don’t want him,” Harley said, and now she absolutely felt the truth of those words with every fiber of her being. She really and truly didn’t want him back. Hearing his girlfriend’s voice was too much. Accepting the wrong he’d done to Harley was too much. His behavior the second he felt threatened by another man’s presence was too much. This drama was way, way too much.

She put Alissa on speaker phone, opened Lance’s text thread, and screen shot his conversations with her lately. She rarely even responded, so it was mostly him talking to himself and begging for her attention. It had been picking up for the last few weeks, for sure. She even screenshot his angry texts after Cash had texted from her phone. And then she sent the entirety of those texts to Alissa.

“I haven’t talked to him on the phone in months,” she told her. “I haven’t stepped on your relationship with him. That was your gig. There’s all of our conversations over the past few weeks. This all seems like something you two need to deal with in your home. Oh wait, I mean my home. That was my home that you’re living in right now. I’m not involved in your meltdowns. Please leave me alone.”

“So…you’re still on for Tuesday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. I’m counting down.” God, she meant that.

“It’s just he said you’ve been begging for him back, and he’s been questioning everything, and talking about not going to the courthouse on Tuesday.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I haven’t begged anyone for anything. I’m out of town right now, trying to get away from y’all’s weird shit. He was on my porch sending me crying pictures tonight. Feel free to tell him to leave me alone. Can we end the call now? And never repeat it again? He’s all yours. Truly. No one wants him but you.”

Furious and shaking, Harley hung up the phone and sat there mortified for a few seconds before she laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. She’d heard divorces could be hard, and messy, but this emotional roller coaster she’d been on for the past year was exhausting. It had drained her to just a shell of herself. And now she was so close, and Lance was sinking his claws into her again? How dare he.

She squeezed her eyes closed as she began to cry in earnest. Harley let herself curl up on the mattress and lose it. She hadn’t cried this hard in so long. She’d been numb, but here in this little motel room, after hearing that awful woman’s voice, she felt so hurt by it all. That woman had stepped on her marriage, and then was asking her to leave her own husband alone. That’s what was happening? And Harley would be classy. She had always been classy. She would allow people to embarrass her and hurt her and she would never make them pay or lash out or take any of this public. She wouldn’t post about it, or ask for sympathy. She just absorbed everything.

Her whole damn hometown knew. It was this huge scandal, and she’d just tried to keep her head up and act like all the whispers didn’t affect her, while her heart was breaking.

It was all so messed up.

Being away from it and having the clarity to see the absolute absurdity of it all just opened the floodgates of her emotions.

She hated what he’d done to her. Hated how bad she felt. Hated knowing she wasn’t enough.

And he was sending her damn wedding pictures! It was too much! She’d been so happy, so hopeful, so faithful, and what had he done? Hurt her and didn’t care. Not at all. He’d made Harley move out of their home, and while she was still sleeping on a damn futon in her tiny apartment, he had moved Alissa right in. He’d replaced Harley so easily, while she had been trying to figure out what had even happened.

She thought of calling Carolina, but she didn’t want to bother her. Not when she was going through a break up of sorts as well. Harley sat up and pulled the napkin from her pocket and looked at Cash’s phone number, scribbled across it.

She could call him, but mostly she would just want to ream him for texting Lance, and taking a picture. He’d been talking about how those guys shouldn’t take a picture of her without her permission, but he had done the same thing.

Why had he done that?

Lance was losing it on her, and Alissa was calling, and she felt so raw and angry and sad.

She crumpled the napkin and chucked it onto the floor, hugged the pillow close and curled around it again, sobbing.

She cried and cried until her tears ran dry, and her body was exhausted. She let it hurt. It needed to hurt. She’d kept everything inside for so long, trying to do the right and classy thing. Trying to make sure everyone around her was good, but she wasn’t good. She wasn’t okay.

Six more days. Six days and the emotional roller coaster and the should-I, shouldn’t-I debate that had been wrecking her heart for the last year would be dead in the water. Six more days and she could cut the dead weight out of her life, and finally feel lighter.

Tonight had been good for her. Sure, this part hurt, and it sucked, but she’d had fun tonight with strangers, and remembered how to laugh, and got flirted with. A handsome man bought her a drink. She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t unlikeable. She just wasn’t her old self anymore, and she was going to have to mourn that part of herself, because she couldn’t go back. She’d been through too much hardship. She’d learned too much and had too much life experience with something painful now.

But…she could grow into a new version of herself, and hopefully someday she would like herself again.

Tonight had been a good starting point. It had been a reminder that she was still alive at least.

She’d come to Darby thinking what she needed was to take care of her sister and find out if she was being catfished, but perhaps what she had really needed was time and distance from her life in Bozeman.

So okay.

Harley pushed up off the bed and looked around. The room was the same, but she felt so different now.

The general store next door was open for another forty-five minutes. She washed her face and grabbed her purse, and made her way out of the room. The store was a short walk away, and she was in her head so deep, thinking about those texts, she barely noted that she’d picked up a shopping basket.

Uh, what did she need?

Harley drifted to the aisle on the very right with the intention of moving aisle to aisle and getting whatever she needed. Usually she made lists, but tonight, she could barely think straight.

“Hey stranger,” a familiar voice said on aisle two, and Harley gasped as she turned to find Cash standing there.

“Are you following me?” she asked, averting her face. She wiped her cheeks just out of insecurity.

“No. I didn’t know you would be in here. We’re all here grabbing some stuff before we head…back…to…hey, are you okay?”

He was standing next to her now, and she could so easily smell his cologne. “I’m great. Have a good night.”

“Hey,” he said, following her.

“Leave me alone, Cash. Please.”

“But you’re crying.”

“I’m fine.”

“But—”

Harley looked up at him and pleaded with her eyes. “I’m just going through it right now. You’re seeing me at some bad timing. I’ll be fine by morning. I always am.”

He stood there frozen. There was a deep care in his glowing gold eyes, but a part of her was still angry.

“You texted Lance from my phone, and he went off, and then his girlfriend called me.” Harley inhaled a sob and shook her head hard. “I don’t want to do this again,” she whispered.

“Hey Cash, are you ready to go?” someone called.

Harley glanced up to find King in the mouth of the aisle, and when he saw her, a frown immediately darkened his face. “What’s going on? Are you messing with her?”

“No,” Cash said. “Can you give us some space?”

“What’s happening?” Now Reed was coming this way with King.

Cash stood between them. “Hey, she’s having a moment guys. Let her be.” He created a shield with his body, blocking the others completely.

He got it. He really understood. She didn’t want to see anyone she knew right now—not like this.

“Back off,” Cash said again. “Keep the girls back too. Please.”

“Okay,” King said softly. “We’ll meet you by the trucks.”

“You guys go on back home. I’m going to get her back to her motel.”

“Okay, let us know if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” she said in a hoarse voice, still too chicken to look at them again.

“They’re gone,” he rumbled.

And she didn’t know why she did it, but she melted against him and wrapped her arms as tight as she could around him. “Thank you.”

“You’re good.” He slipped his strong arms around her and held her close. “You’re good,” he repeated. “You’re safe, you’re okay.”

She didn’t understand why, but this particular hug, at this particular moment was everything.

“I don’t know what I need,” she admitted softly, easing out of his embrace, embarrassed. “I don’t have any clothes and I don’t have a hairbrush, and I don’t know what to buy

“That’s okay. Let me help. I am good at this stuff. Uuuh, do you have anything here?”

“No. I just have the clothes I have on, and two granola bars in the console of my car.”

“Okay, you need pajamas and shower stuff, and probably some waters. Some snacks. Do you need girl stuff?”

“What’s girl stuff?”

“I don’t know. Tampons and stuff?”

She laughed thickly. Okay, that was pretty cute.

“No, I don’t need that stuff right now.”

“Okay, great. Perfect.”

“Cash?” she said, looking up at him. “I’m really mad at you.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

She pursed her lips against a smile. “You’re not allowed to take my phone again.”

“Fine.”

“That wasn’t a good friend move.”

“Disagree. That cement-head should absolutely see you move on.”

“It’s not how I want to handle any of this, and I didn’t move on. It’s not true. I’m at the end of this thing, and I want to go out the way I want to. The high road is the best road.”

“The high road sucks.”

“It’s my choice.”

He blew out a sigh and cocked his head. “Fine.” He waited a two-count and then said, “I don’t regret it though. I hope he lost his shit.”

“He did,” she assured him. “And no more hugging. I’m married.”

He rolled his eyes at the ceiling and then led her toward the next aisle. “On a technicality. That dick-sack lost you a long time ago, and you know it.”

“What is a dick-sack?”

He picked up a pair of red flannel pajamas. “Do you want to get these or lingerie?”

“Lingerie? Why would I want to wear that to sleep in?”

“I don’t know what you like. I just met you like four minutes ago.”

“And you’ve already seen me cry,” she muttered to herself. “So smooth.”

“I don’t know. I got a half-chub hugging you. I don’t think the crying deters me,” he said as he sorted through sizes in the pajama pant bin.

“Do you just say whatever comes to your head?”

“You said come and head in the same sentence.”

“You’re a drain on your entire friend group, aren’t you?”

“I am like one of those liquors you need to take in small sips,” he agreed.

She was back to fighting smiles. Cash was a fixer of moods.

He wasn’t lying. Cash was actually good at compartmentalizing a task and going with it. He was logical and led her through the store, helping her pick what she needed. He even gave opinions on a few clothing options, and a jacket that would be good for the still-cool weather here.

When she had paid out, and her wares all bagged up, he walked her back to the motel. In front of her room, he handed her the two bags he’d been carrying, and stepped back, shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “You have a lot going on,” he said.

She huffed a humorless laugh. “At this time, yes I do. I hate it. I can’t wait to feel normal again.”

“You will. Tuesday, you will.”

“Yeah.” She didn’t need to tell him that Alissa said Lance was already talking about not showing up. Again. “Um, thank you for not being a douchebag about all my crybaby stuff.”

He grinned. “A hottie with a body, all vulnerable and open, letting me take care of something for her? I haven’t felt this useful in over half a decade.”

“Mmm, on account of prison?” she jabbed.

His grin deepened. “On account of prison. There weren’t many women in there passing me their number and asking me to be their hero.”

“I’m not asking for you to be my hero either, you know.”

“I know. You’re tough. It’s just kind of nice to see someone else having a hard time.”

She snorted. “Thanks a lot.”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. It’s just nice knowing I’m not the only one without all my shit together.” His lips thinned. “That also sounds like I’m wishing hard times on you just to make myself feel better.”

She couldn’t help her smile. “You’re a monster,” she murmured.

“Well at least I’m not crying on your porch sending you selfies.”

She laughed. Okay, he was making her feel better. He really was. Smiles should not exist tonight, but they had by the dozens.

“Do you want to see what you caused?” she asked, stalling. Truth be told, she didn’t want him to leave yet.

“Let me see, but be warned, if he is cussing and calling you names, I’ll fuckin’ fly to Bozeman and throttle him.”

And she believed him. The look in his eyes said he had no patience for that behavior, and also that he didn’t bluff. She should be scared, or worried at least, but she wasn’t. She liked that he was sticking up for her. She liked that he had that grit and confidence to him.

How long had it been since she’d opened up enough for anyone to even want to get protective of her? Lance hadn’t ever been the protective type.

She opened the text thread and handed her phone over to Cash.

Cash leaned his shoulder against the wall next to her motel room door as he read and scrolled. His face was unreadable other than his eyes, which were sparking with irritation.

“You know he’s not allowed to talk to you like this, right?” he asked as he handed her phone back to her.

Harley shrugged. “It’s almost over.”

“Was he like that when you were together?”

“Only at the end. When I started asking questions, trying to figure out if he was cheating, he got really defensive. It was a different side than I’d ever seen of him, you know? He had to get me back in line, thinking I was crazy so he could keep doing what he was doing with less guilt, I guess.”

Cash nodded slowly, his eyes blazing molten gold. “Sounds like a real catch.”

“I thought he was. He was smart, you know? Had a PHD, was intellectual, could carry very intelligent conversations and I felt smarter being around him. Sounds weird, but I was attracted to that. He could walk into a room of intelligent, educated people, and run the conversation, and entertain them, and God, it was fun to watch. It was fun to be around it.”

“Fun to be his?”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “I’m not smart like that, but I felt good having a man like that see value in me.”

Cash shook his head and pushed off the wall, stood to his full height. “Text me if you need anything.”

“Wait, are you upset?” she asked, frowning at his back as he strode down the hall toward the exit.

“Nope.” He didn’t turn around though, and now she was swimming in confusion.

“Wait!” she said, following him. “You are mad. What did I say wrong?”

“You didn’t say anything wrong,” Cash said, turning around. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just can’t watch you elevate a man in your imagination who would talk to you like that,” he said, jamming his finger at her phone. “If he’s so fuckin’ smart, why did he throw you away?”

Harley was stunned. She parted her lips to defend the old Lance, but why? Cash was right. All the smarts and education and intellect in the world couldn’t take away from the fact that he had willingly hurt her, and over a long period of time, and now was losing his mind because he thought she was finally moving on?

Cash was spot-on.

Maybe Cash was the smart one.

She swallowed down her defensiveness and nodded. “You’re right.”

“What?” Cash sounded genuinely surprised.

“You’re right,” she repeated.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that word combination out of a woman’s mouth before.”

She huffed a tired laugh. “Well, there’s a first for everything. Odds are you’re going to be right at some point in your life.”

“And my time is now,” he murmured, and there it was—the spark of humor was back in his eyes. That humor had been fuel for her today.

“You need a friend, don’t you?” he asked.

“I have friends.”

“Back in Bozeman? Great. Do they know what’s-his-nuts?”

“Yep.”

“Do they like him?”

“They don’t like what he did to me, but they like him. We had a big friend group. They’re mostly upset that our divorce will change the dynamic of the group…so…”

“So what? Keep going?”

“I’ve distanced myself this year. I guess it feels harder carrying the guilt over their feelings when I’m already going through a hard time.”

“Maybe you need a friend with no eggs in the basket, you know what I mean?”

She cocked her head and studied his blazing gold eyes. He was looking straight into her soul with such earnestness. “You’re offering to be my friend?”

“Sure.”

“And nothing more? Because until Tuesday, I’m not messing up, or falling for anyone, or growing a crush, or emotionally attaching myself to any man. And probably for a year or two after that too. I’m angry with men. Men suck.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s fair. I won’t kiss you. I won’t finger you. I won’t ask to touch your body. I’ll try to keep my pervy thoughts about how fuckin’ pretty the curves of your body are in my head, and I won’t put any pressure on you for anything more than friendship.”

It was a beautiful promise, and an ugly one all at once. She was confused over her feelings about his offer. She needed that—no strings attached, no pressure, no feelings. But the oath of an interesting man to only see her as a friend also stung in ways she didn’t understand either.

“Deal,” she said.

He ducked his chin to his chest and closed the five feet of space between them, and held out his hand. “It was nice to meet you today, Harley.”

She pursed her lips against a smile and slipped her hand against his warm palm, and shook it. “It was nice to meet you too, Cashew.”

A grin confiscated his face. “You rhymed,” he said, releasing her hand, and backing away. “I’m a poet too. I’ll write you a poem sometime. It’ll be about friendship.”

She laughed and waved. “Thanks for being nice to me today.”

He did a little salute as he walked away, giving her his back. Without turning around, he told her, “My pleasure.”

Harley watched him all the way to the exit, and waited until he was completely outside to press her back against the wall and process what had just happened.

It was an eternal day, she was tired, and emotionally drained from the roller coaster, but Cash was something else. He was special. He had her attention.

Her heart was pounding harder just from touching his hand.

A part of her wished he would bust in here, kiss the devil out of her, and distract her from the messy week, but a bigger part of her wanted to stay steady, and finish out the last days of her technical marriage with class, unlike Lance had done to her.

And that’s what she was going to do.

Bonus—she’d made a new friend.