My mouth drops open, heat flushing my face so fast I’m surprised I don’t burst into flames. My brain short-circuits, trying to come up with an answer that won’t lead to years of therapy.
“W-what? No. That’s not how it works, baby.”
Cash goes very still beside me. I glance over, and his expression is somewhere between shocked and stunned stupid.
Emmy shrugs like it’s no big deal and pulls her stuffed horse to her chest. “Okay. But if he gives me pancakes in the morning, I might change my mind.”
I throw an arm over my face and groan while Cash whispers, “Pancakes. Got it.”
Emmy lays down between us like she’s claimed her new bed for the night. “Next time you wrestle, I want to see.”
Cash lets out a low chuckle, and I whisper, “We are never living this down.”
“Still worth it,” he says again, voice warm with amusement.
And somehow, despite the embarrassment, I believe him.
Chapter thirteen
Oil, Inheritance, and His Other Life
Cash
Last night should’ve been enough to quiet the noise in my head. But even now, with the memory of her soft skin and whispered words lingering like smoke, there's a part of me that can't stop waiting for the other boot to drop. Like I finally touched something real, and now I’m terrified of breaking it. The barn. Her kiss.
The way her body folded into mine like we were made to fit. It wasn’t just sex, it was something else. Something bigger. Like a promise whispered in the dark. That maybe we’d turned some corner. But now, the light of day’s washed it all bare, raw and unsure again.
The hill behind the ranch house rolls out like a golden carpet under the morning sun, the light filtering through the pecan trees in that hazy, golden-hour way that makes everything look softer than it is. But there’s nothing soft about the storm I can feel in the air, just don't know why yet.
I stand with my hands braced on the railing, watching Emmy chase a butterfly down by the fence line. Her laughter echoes faintly, a reminder that not all parts of my life are built on lies. Just… most of them. By the look on her face, somethings brewing. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Avery coming across the yard towards me looking very serious.
“You gonna say something,” Avery says to me, “or do I have to start guessing which oil rig made you rich?”
Her voice isn’t angry. But it’s tight. Confused. Which is worse. It stirs something sharp and restless in my gut, guilt, maybe, or that gnawing fear that I’ve already messed this up beyond repair. Because the confusion in her voice isn’t just about the money. It’s about trust. About whether the man she opened up to last night is the same one standing in front of her now.
I turn slowly, every muscle in my shoulders tense like I’m about to get tossed. “How did you find out?”
She holds up the folder I hoped she wouldn’t see. "I went to the bunkhouse to see if you wanted breakfast, this was lying there open on your desk in the bunkhouse." Inside is deeds, mineral rights, drilling contracts. Now she has seen proof of the double lifeI’ve been living since I struck oil on a parcel of land I inherited from my grandfather.
Her eyes are bright and curious, scanning my face like she’s thrilled for me or mad I didn't share this part of my life. I'm not sure which.
“It’s not what you think,” I say, even though I have no damn clue what she thinks.
She has the folder tucked tight under one elbow. “Please explain it, Cash. Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve been pretending to be some struggling ranch foreman while secretly rolling in enough oil money to buy half the county.”
I rake a hand through my hair, the weight of it all threatening to crack my ribs open. “I didn’t pretend. I just didn’t volunteer the information.”
“I'm thrilled for you but, why?”
Her question hits hard, because the answer is tangled and raw.
“Because money changes the way people look at you,” I say. “It turns everything into a transaction. Suddenly you’re not the guy who’s worked this land his whole damn life, you’re a bank account. A walking opportunity. And I didn’t want that. Not from you.”
Her expression falters for half a second before she resets it. “So you just thought lying by omission was better? That I wouldn’t care about the truth?”
I take a step toward her. “I care about you, Avery. More than I should. And I knew if you saw that side of my life too soon, it would build a wall between us. I wanted, needed, you to see me for me. Not for the money.”
She’s quiet, staring at me like she’s trying to reconcile two versions of the same man. The one she kissed behind the barn. And the one who’s apparently sitting on a private oil fortune.
