Page 87 of Wild For You

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Iwake up, confused, unsure of where I am. The walls are colored in a soft blue hue. My first impression is that it’s still early morning, and the sun hasn’t broken through the thick curtain of last night’s clouds. And then I realize we’re still in Cash’s home cinema and there are no windows to let in the glorious morning rays.

My cell phone shows it’s already past 10 a.m.

I get up to gather my scattered clothes and notice the empty bottle and wine glasses littering the table. Some of the pillows are piled up in a telltale arrangement. My cheeks warm up as I remember Cash’s weight pinning me against them to ride me hard.

By the way, where is he?

There’s no sign of him. No note. Nothing.

Which can only mean he’s making breakfast.

I slip into last night’s clothes and make my way upstairs. The door’s open. On a hunch, I step into Cash’s bedroom and peek into his walk-in closet. Some of the hangars hang empty on the rack. The space where I swear I saw a brown suitcase is empty, too.

Obviously, I’m not familiar with the contents of his closet, but I’m pretty sure Cash packed up a few things.

My heart drops.

Swallowing the bitter acid rising in my throat, I check his bathroom and find it meticulously clean, but that’s not what worries me.

His toothbrush is missing.

Unease washes over me, followed by fury.

He wouldn’t just up and leave without telling me, would he?

Just because some clothes, his suitcase, and toothbrush are missing doesn’t mean he’s left. Right?

“Cash,” I call out and get no answer.

I head for the kitchen, half expecting to find him there, wearing nothing but a cocky smile. Or maybe we have a visitor, and he hasn’t heard me calling.

But the kitchen is empty, too. There’s no brewed coffee, no lingering smell of bacon and eggs. Not even the smell of his aftershave.

“Cash,” I call out again, even though I know better than to expect an answer.

More acid rises in my throat, choking me. Where the hell is he?

That’s when I spy Margaret through the window. My heart’s beating fast as I dash outside.

She greets me with a smile. “Erin, how are you?”

“Where’s Cash?” I ask, ignoring her question, my voice shaking with anger. I’m so livid I don’t mind that my hair’s a mess and my clothes are disheveled.

“Oh dear.” She regards me for a few long moments, her gaze prodding but not judging. “Let’s go inside. I’ll make you some tea.”

I fold my arms over my chest, not wanting to sound rude, but I can’t help myself. “I don’t need tea. I need to know where Cash is right now.”

“He left early this morning. My husband drove him to the airport.”

“Airport? Why would he…” Hundreds of thoughts begin to race through my mind. Why didn’t he wake me up? Why didn’t he tell me that he needed to leave? Why didn’t he bother leaving a note? I push them all to the back of my mind to focus on the conversation. “Did he say where he was going?”

“Only that it was business related and important.”

I nod. What could possibly be so important that he left without waking me?

Surely if it were an emergency, he would have told me.

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