Chapter Eight
CASH
THE ROLLING PIN.
It’s the rolling pin's fault.
That smooth little fucker rolled on the floor and right under my boot.
I tried to grab the counter, steady myself, steady Shay—where the hell did she even come from?
But it all happened way too quickly.
One minute I’m reaching, and the next we’re hurtling toward the floor.
It was a dance I wasn’t expecting. My hand shot out, catching her hip, yanking her close as we toppled together.
I heard her low yelp of surprise and hugged her tight against me, shielding as our bodies hit the floor.
Impact jolts up my spine and knocks the wind out of me.
A grunted curse tears from me, and my body clenches against the sting.
Chest to chest, knees tangling, we collapse in a tangled heap. Her body presses against mine, and I feel every curve, every inch of her.
The entire room goes dead silent.
“Is this part of the class?” Jaclyn leans over us, hands on her hips, squinting through her red glasses. “‘Cause I’d really like to have my turn next.”
Flat on my back, my arm holds Shay flush against my side. She’s half draped over me, her knee wedged between my legs, one arm propped on the floor while the rest of her is very much on me.
“Not part of the class.” My voice sputters out in a strained groan.
Every word is a fight against the pain.
“Well, hell, ain’t that a kick in the teeth. Y’all need help?” She offers a hand.
“Just give us a second,” I grit out, teeth clenched, every syllable tight with pain.
Her eyebrows quirk upward. “Maybe y’all need more than a second because that ain’t no rolling pin she’s holding onto for dear life.”
I feel it.
Fucking hell, shit.
