Bouncing, she continued.“Yup.And we sold out, too.Coach said we’re gettin’ new uniforms now.”
Cassie held out her fist.“Did you do what I said?”
Grinning, Junie knocked her knuckles.“Yup.Told ’em I was so poor my dad couldn’t even buy me a phone.”
She blinked.“Junie—that’s not what I said.”
“You said to make ’em feel bad,” Junie argued.“So I did.”
“She sure as hell did,” a deep drawl added, Nash coming up behind her in a gray T-shirt, his leather cut hanging off one arm, dark hair pulled back in a loose knot.
“Got an earful pickin’ her up—some woman lecturin’ me on proper providin’.”
“Hell,” Cassie muttered.“I swear on my mama that is not what I told her.”She pointed at Junie, bopping her lightly on the nose.“I said puppy dog eyes, sweet as pie—pleases and thank-yous.Make ’em feel so bad they buy two.”
“Some of ’em bought whole bags.”Junie shrugged.“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”
“Where’d you hear that?”Nash demanded.
“Crusher.”
“Christ, kid…your mama is gonna murder me.”
“She ain’t done it yet.”
Cassie turned to Nash with a laugh…that died in her throat.It was a stupid thing—the way the heat sat on his skin, the damp collar of his shirt, the edge of it curled just enough that she caught a strip of tattooed skin beneath.Morning came back in a heady rush.Sheets twisted around them.One hand gripping her ass as he thrust hard inside her, the other clamped over her mouth, keeping her quiet.The way he’d groaned her name right before he came—like he was saying it straight to her skin—branding her with his breath.
Nash, catching the way she lingered on him, started to smirk.“Margie,” he said, his eyes still on Cassie, “you mind keepin’ an eye on this hellion while I steal your girl?”
“My girl?”Margie snorted.“She moved into your place weeks ago.I’m thinkin’ she’s your girl now, Nathanial.
“Junebug, take the apron—and don’t be roundin’ numbers like Cassie here.I want all my pennies.”
His girl.
His.Girl.
Cassie’s stubborn instinct was to scoff it off—to roll her eyes or make a joke—but the warmth that unfurled low in her chest came anyway, every bit as stubborn.
Ever since…the incident—and Nash refusing to leave her side while she healed—they’d slipped into something that felt dangerously close to familiar.Except that it was softer, somehow.And easy in a way it had never been before.
“Pennies aren’t even a thing anymore,” Junie said.“’Sides, most people pay with cards.If I had a phone, I could help.”She shot that last part straight at Nash.
“I don’t got a phone,” Margie replied, “An’ I’m perfectly happy.House phone is bad enough.”
“Don’t tell people that.Tell ’em your TV’s real old or somethin’.”
“My TV is old!And I damn well like it like that.”
“You want people to buy your stuff or not?”
“I want ’em to stop squeezin’ my tomatoes,” Margie grumbled.
Handing off her apron, Cassie came around the table, Nash slinging an arm over her shoulders as they moved into the crowd.Without thinking, she tucked herself tighter into his side.
“You hear who it is?”she asked.“The special guest?”
Nash shook his head.“Heard it might be a woman, but nothin’ for sure.”
