Martha tried to hand him two worn twenties. He stepped back. “No can do. I have to do one good deed a day to keep myself from going to hell. Since I pounded some guy down the hall, I figure this makes up for it.”
She grinned. “Actually, I’d say that makes two good deeds for the day.”
“It felt good, I can tell you that.” He walked toward the door. “Keep the cash. But if anyone asks, you have no idea who hit that dickhead in 17.”
Martha nodded. “Not a clue.” Then she shocked him by hugging him. “Thanks so much. You really helped us out.”
He left, feeling not so down. Until Cash called, bitching him out for being late to pick him up at the warehouse. Apparently, Cash was waiting to ride with him to their next job. Which they’d be doingtogether,without the Jackson brothers, who had been tapped for a same day emergency move.
Smith hung up and banged his head on the wall. “This is so not my day.”
Chapter Nine
Smith didn’t say much to Cash as they worked, though he felt his brother’s gaze on him throughout the move. The customers had thankfully opened the door and left, promising to return in several hours. Smith and Cash were to lock up after they finished.
To Smith’s pleasant surprise, when Cash kept his mouth shut and did nothing but work, he wasn’t so bad. Although it almost became a contest to see who could move more, faster.
They finished ahead of schedule, making the Friday an early one. As they moved the contents to a storage unit in West Seattle, Cash started talking.
So much for a quiet ride back.
“So. You’re going to Reid’s tomorrow night.”
“Yep.”
Smith fiddled with the radio and finally settled on a country station through all the static. The sky above looked like rain.
“I hate country music,” Cash muttered.
Smith turned up the radio.
“Such a dick.” Cash turned it off.
Smith sighed and looked out the window. Traffic backed up on 99, and he bit back a swear.Shoot me now.A glance at Cash showed the asshole grinning at him.
“Gee, this gives us more time to talk.”
Smith swore aloud this time. “Shit. What do you want?”
“Well, just…” Cash swallowed and gave him a forced but pleasant smile. “How are you doing?”
“This is painful. I mean, it hurts all over.”
Cash sighed. “I know. I promised Jordan I’d try to be nice. It’s awful and makes me nauseous to be nice to you. I hate it.”
“Great. Then shut your pie hole and put the music back on.”
“Then again, knowing how much you hate talking to me makes it all worth it.” Cash’s green eyes glowed with mirth, his dark hair and muscular form so similar to Smith’s that it felt odd to look at him.
“Tell me what I can do to shut you the hell up,” Smith growled.
“Maybe you can explain why you’re such a dick, for starters.”
Smith smiled. “It’s genetic.”
“Oh, that’s clever.” Cash rolled his eyes.
“Look. We share the same mom and dad. Big deal. You already have a brother and a family. What the hell do you want with me? Because I really want to know.”
