I thought about kissing him again, except I stank, so I grimaced and said, “I need to take a shower.”
He nodded and followed me back inside.
The hot shower brought out more than a couple of bruises I hadn’t felt before now, but it also eased the ache in my muscles. By the time I got out and got dry, dawn was starting to creep in. The workday was almost here, so I dressed in my scrubs, tied my hair back, and went downstairs.
The kitchen smelled of frying bacon and eggs.
Cash was standing in front of the stovetop, poking at the contents of the pan with a spatula. “Hope you’re hungry.”
I opened my mouth to tell him I wasn’t, not at this hour, but my stomach knew better. It growled. That middle-of-the-night wrestling match with Paul Dawson’s cow had apparently built up an appetite.
We ate, Cash picking at his early breakfast and me digging into mine like I hadn’t seen food in months. Dog sat hopefully at our feet while outside the dawn slowly shifted into daylight. When I was finished, Cash asked me in a soft voice if I wanted more, and I shook my head. He stood up to collect my plate and stilled when I reached out and touched the back of his wrist.
My fingertips brushed against his soft skin, and his danced briefly against the rim of my plate before he relaxed.
“Sorry,” I said. “I should have asked.”
Cash gazed down at where I was touching him. “It’s okay.” He blinked. “It’s nice.”
I dragged my fingers across the bump of his ulnar styloid. He turned his arm as I did, and my fingertips came to rest against the blue veins on the pale underside of his wrist. His pulse fluttered.
“Still okay?” I asked, and he nodded, wide-eyed.
My gaze traveled to the crook of his elbow, and my fingertips followed it. Cash was breathing deeply, his shirt rising andfalling over the ridges of his collarbones. His fingers shook a little, but he didn’t tense or try to pull away.
This moment felt as profound as the kiss we’d shared earlier. Cash was made up of quiet moments, of stillness and depth, and to be allowed to share one with him was a privilege. I could barely tear my gaze away from where my fingertips slid gently across his skin.
“You know I’m not going to be in Goose Run for long,” I said.
He nodded. “I know.”
“I like this,” I said, drawing my fingertips back down his forearm to his wrist again. “I like being close with you. I liked kissing you last night. But I’m not here forever.”
“I know,” he repeated, his dark gaze solemn. And then he stepped closer. “That’s okay.”
I shifted in my chair, circling the fingers of one hand around his wrist and raising my other hand to put it on his hip. He moved into the space between my knees and just stood and allowed himself to be touched, to be held. He could have pulled away easily, but he didn’t. He trusted me enough to allow this, and I didn’t know Cash well, but I knew that was a huge deal for him.
He drew a breath. “I…”
I rubbed a circle on his hip with my thumb, the fabric of his shirt whispering, while he found the words he was searching for.
“I never wanted anyone before,” he said at last. He swallowed. “But I want you, for as long as you’re here.”
My chest ached. I’d never been as vulnerable to anyone in my life as Cash was being now. Wouldn’t have had half the courage required to do it. Cash was brave as hell.
“I want that too,” I said.
Maybe something else could have happened then. With any other guy, it probably would have. But with Cash, this soft, sustained moment of physical contact between us already feltso charged, so weighty despite its gentleness, that I struggled to articulate it, let alone understand it. If I’d ever felt like this before with anyone, I didn’t remember it now. The moment seemed like a hundred different strands coming together at just the right point in time—some wildly random and some tediously ordinary—but like wires touching, they sparked. Cash was just a guy in a kitchen, and I was touching his arm, and how the fuck did it feel so miraculous? And why did that slight twitch of Cash’s mouth, the one that was barely the shadow of an actual smile, seem to light up the room as much as the dawn?
I didn’t want the moment to end.
When Cash finally stepped away, it was with a regretful smile. He took my plate and set it down in the sink.
“Leave it,” I said. “I’ll rinse it and load the dishwater later. There are probably a few coffee mugs up in my room.”
“Okay.” He turned and leaned against the sink, then lifted his hand to cover a yawn.
“Did you get any sleep last night?” I asked him, pushing my chair back as I stood. “It can be hard going to sleep again after a nightmare.”
