CHAPTER
THREE
Cash stowed his binder of recipes above the microwave just as the door to the garage slammed closed behind Lark. “Guess I don’t need to protect this.” He grinned to himself as he started toward the garage exit as well.
He wove his arms into his jacket, a prayer already running through his mind.Lord….
Not knowing quite how to continue, he simply let himself stand still for a moment as he tried to hear God’s will for him. He put his hands in his pockets to get out his own gloves just as Lark burst back into the house.
Cash startled away from the door lest the corner of it hit him in the face. “Hey, now.”
“What’s taking you so long?”
“I didn’t even have my coat on, sweetheart.”
Her eyes darted up to his cowboy hat at the same time a frown creased her eyebrows in the cutest way possible—but Cash didn’t want to see that distasteful look on her face again, at least not because of him. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”
“Okay,” he said easily, now following her into the garage. “What should I call you?”
She threw him a death glare over her shoulder when she reached the bottom of the steps. “How about my name?”
“Oh, that’s no fun.” He reached for the door handle and pulled, which unlocked his truck. He got in at the same time as Lark and quickly pushed the button to start the ignition. “You don’t like a pet name? Something your boyfriends call you?”
“You’re not my boyfriend.” Lark pulled the seatbelt across her body and clicked it into place. She looked at him, and Cash swore she was challenging him on purpose.
He grinned at her. “Yeah, but it’s Lark or nothing?”
She looked out the windshield, and Cash put the truck in reverse and expertly backed out of the garage.
“You’re going to hit my car,” Lark said.
“I am not.” He eased past it just fine, though he probably only had a couple of inches to spare, and got them on the country lane headed south toward Coral Canyon. “See? Plenty of room.”
Lark folded her arms, then unfolded them, then reached to fiddle with the heat vent in front of her.
Cash let his mind flow freely through pet names he could use for Lark that wouldn’t bring that frown to her face. A lark was a bird, and he started mentally going through things that might work with that:little bird, sparrow, high flyer.
She was feisty—he could use that. A real firecracker—also good. Cash also had a distinct feeling that both of those would earn him the frownanda fist flying toward his nose.
“What do your girlfriends call you?” Lark broke the silence with only a hint of the usual bite in her tone.
Cash glanced over to her. “I’ve had a variety of nicknames.”
“Really? For Cash?”
He released the smile he usually gave to reporters. “Oh, you know. Moneybags. Pretty Boy. Big Spender. Black Stallion.”
Lark’s eyes widened with each nickname he said. A scoff fell out of her mouth. “Black Stallion?”
“Because I’m so dark.” He shifted in his seat and focused on the road in front of him. “That all comes from my daddy, by the way. I’m a shade lighter than him, thanks to my blonde momma.”
“Did she teach you to cook?”
“No.” Cash cleared his throat. “She lives in Utah. It was my step-mom who taught me.” He came to a stop at an intersection and looked at Lark again. “She used to own Hole In One, the doughnut truck. You grew up in the area; maybe you’ve heard of it?”
A tiny smile touched Lark’s mouth. “Yeah, I have. Jet loved the one with the peanut butter and bananas.”
Cash chuckled and got the truck moving again. “That sounds just like Jet.” His truck warmed quickly, and Cash adjusted the setting back to seventy degrees for his half of the cab. “You can fix yours with that knob right there.”
