“I don’t want you to go at all,” Lark said.
“Believe me when I say I’m really happy to hear you say that.” A smile curved his mouth, and it seemed like he had more to say, but an alarm went off on his phone, the distant sound of it echoing down the hall from the kitchen. He took her hand and stepped past her. “Come on, sweetheart, that’s my alarm to get ready to get out to the ranch.”
“Oh, okay,” Lark said. “I’m sure I can get all my stuff in.”
“I’ll help you,” Cash said. “I’m just meeting with a cabinet maker, and that was my alarm to get up off the couch and get ready. I’ve still got about twenty minutes.” He reached the island in the kitchen, swept his phone off of it, and silenced the alarm.
He turned back to face her. “Let’s get you unloaded, and you can unpack while I’m gone.” Lark nodded and followed him back out the front door. She felt like they had more to say to one another, but she let the job of unloading her car consume her. Since she was just a college student with not much furniture to her name, and Cash had impressive muscles, she found herself closing the hatchback on her SUV only ten minutes later. Cash took the last couple of laundry baskets in through the front door, and Lark sighed up to the piercingly clear and deadly cold blue sky.
“Well, that could have gone better, Lord,” she said, a hint of disgust in her tone. “But he sure does like me, right?”
All of the things Cash had said about her being too tempting, and how glad he was to see her definitely added up to him likingher, and liking her a lot. An idea struck her, and she went back into the house and hurried into her bedroom.
She’d driven here wearing a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt and thick, furry winter boots that would keep her feet warm. But if she was going to explore Cash’s renovation with him, she’d definitely need a hat and gloves.
“And a scarf,” she muttered, digging through the bottom laundry basket where she’d put her winter gear. She found everything and dashed out into the kitchen just in time to see Cash putting his wallet in his back pocket. He looked over to her, his gaze dropping to the hat and gloves in her hands.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked with a smile.
Lark reached up and pulled her hat onto her head. “I’m coming with you,” she said as she strode toward him. “And I won’t entertain any arguments about it.”
Cash chuckled. “I’m not arguing.”
“I’ve waited two weeks to see you, and I’m not going to let you drive away and leave me here to unpack by myself.”
“Lark.” He took her face in one palm, and that stilled the world for her. “I said I wasn’t arguing.”
Tears filled her eyes, and Cash ran one thumb down the ridge of her nose and across her bottom lip. She loved it when he touched her like that, and she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“I know you are, honey,” he said, that cowboy twang in his voice twice as thick since he’d gone to Vegas and surrounded himself with rodeo cowboys. “And you can make it up to me,” he added with a grin. “When we get back home.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
Cash stewed with his own thoughts as he and Lark loaded into the truck and got on the highway leading across the northern border of Coral Canyon.
So much had been said and done in Cash’s life lately. Lark rode prettily in the passenger seat with her white cabled hat and all of her beautiful hair spilling out the bottom. He didn’t want to say what was on his mind, and yet his stomach grew sicker and sicker with every moment he kept it to himself. Finally, he sighed and reached over and took her hand in his.
“I’m very worried,” he said.
“About what?” she asked.
“I don’t want you to give up your whole future for me,” he said. “I’m not worth that, and you don’t even know if you like me.”
“Of course I know I like you,” she said.
“In ten years,” he said practically on top of her. “Are you going to be able to put up with me obsessively making doughnuts for Thanksgiving, or—or—or inviting tons of people over to the house when you just want to celebrate the holidays alone?” He looked over to her, knowing that she had not thought through all of that.
“Well, we’re not engaged,” she said. “I’m just not going back to school.”
“You haveonesemester left,” he said.
“You don’t even care about college,” Lark said.
He rolled his neck as he tried to figure out what to say. “It’s not about college,” he finally said. “It just…it feels like you’re giving up a lot to be with me, and I’m doing whatever I want and expecting you to conform.”
“That’s not how I feel about it,” Lark said, her voice just as deadly and just as quiet as his.
