Cash:sitting out is killer
Cash:want some company?
Rae:What kind of company?
Cash:me…if that ain’t too dull for you i can pick u up
His grammar was giving me hives, but the thought of spending time with him again, even though our last two encounters had ended with one of us storming off, gave me fucking life.
Rae:Yes please.
***
The rest of the week passed as though it was tied to a snail. Cabin fever didn’t help, but as my chest cleared enough for me to enjoy fresh air again, eventually I found myself waiting at the gatepost three hours before Cash’s ETA.
It was a crisp winter day, frost on the ground and sparkling in the trees. The kind of day fairy tales were made of when they didn’t involve posh cunts with dogs chasing wildlife through the fields. Guilt twisted my stomach, but I tried to ignore it. Meg and Fletch had agreed with Cash.“Stay home, Rae. We can’t risk you getting hurt again.”
Getting hurt was a risk with every operation, and I had the scars to prove it, but though my bruises were fading, I didn’t fancy trying to outrun anything beyond an elderly sheep just yet.
Carefully, I scaled the gate and perched at the top. It gifted me a view of the path leading to Fletch’s land and I wondered how long I could sit here before my legs went numb. Long enough to—
“Rae?”
I jumped a fucking mile, twisting my neck so fast I was surprised my head didn’t spin clean off. “The fuck? You’re not supposed to be here yet.”
Cash grinned. “And I reckon you’re not supposed to let any fool wander onto your camp, but here I am.”
“Dick.”
“Yup.”
We stared at each other, not quite friends, but more than two blokes who’d fucked around one time. Cash was dressed for the mud—weatherproof trousers, boots, and a hat that hid most of his glorious hair. He looked like a sab, and I fought hard to remind myself it was the last thing he wanted to be.
I turned my attention to the large bag at his feet. “What’s all that? Have you come to stay?”
Cash rolled his eyes. “No chance. I brought some stuff to make the van more comfortable for you.”
“Why are you so good to me?”
It wasn’t what I’d meant to say, but I didn’t regret asking, even when Cash’s only answer was a shrug. Perhaps he didn’t understand himself any better than I did.
Fuck it.I eased myself down from the gate. “You got me. I’m curious. Show me?”
We made our way to the van. Cash held my elbow to keep me steady. I didn’t need him to, but I didn’t stop him either.
“You look better than I thought you would,” he said. “Them bruises healed up?”
I dug in my pocket for the van keys. “Mostly. I’m good if I don’t move too fast.”
He nodded, and as his gaze drifted to the horizon, somehow I knew he was picturing the hunt in the next county—the horns, stampeding hooves, the salivating terrier men waiting in the wings.
I shuddered. Or was it him? With him still gripping my elbow, I couldn’t be sure.
Either way, I needed a diversion and focussing on the heat pulsing where he touched me was just about perfect. I nearly cried when he let go.
I opened the van’s side door, glad I hadn’t made much mess inside yet. “So what do you have in your Mary Poppins bag to make this shit homey?”
“You’ll see.” Cash reached around me and slid my makeshift bed out in one easy movement, lifting it over his head and slinging it onto the van’s roof like it weighed nothing. “You well enough to handle a drill?”
