Page 10 of Long Hard Fall

Cash resisted the urge to jump out of the stall and watch Abbi saunter away. Then he resisted the urge to jump out of the stall and watch Abbi drive away. Either way, she was leaving and it was a giant relief with a gaping hole of regret.

Perry Daniels’s little sister.

He could’ve gone his whole life without meeting her. The wild little sister Daniels had worried about. Cash hadn’t lied; he’d told her what had really happened. They’d been clearing a building and her brother hadn’t walked out alive with the rest of them. He almost hadn’t, either, thanks to Daniels.

His eyes drifted shut. He’d slept with Daniels’s little sister. He couldn’t save the man and then he’d bedded his sister.

“You with me, cuz?”

He started and covered it by stroking Patsy Cline. Worry overrode his tumultuous feelings—barely.

“I caught her early enough, tell me I did, Doc.” If he’d left Abbi after sex like his standard MO, he would’ve been up early like usual and might’ve noticed his mare’s condition then. In his haste, he’d missed the warning signs of colic.

“Now that your company’s gone, I’ll do the rectal exam. If that’s clear, all she’ll need is to be tubed to let the gas out.”

Cash assisted his cousin. Being around horses his whole life, and with a cousin who let him glove up and help, he was familiar with the process. What he wasn’t prepared for was losing his girl. Patsy Cline was one of his first major purchases, even before he’d taken over the ranching side of the Walker Five operation. He and the colic-prone mare had bonded, and horse therapy was legit. Just not enough to fix his issues.

With the pressure eased on the creature and Bunny’s promise to check on her later so he could relieve Dillon, Cash went to his house to clean up.

Popping in through the front door, he did his damnedest to ignore Abbi’s lingering floral scent. His body stirred, and he ruthlessly tamped it down. No more drinking from that trough.

On the way to the same tiny bathroom she had used, he scanned his walls. Had she stopped and looked at his family photos? Had she noticed his mom and dad were rarely in the same one?

For reasons only obvious to him and his sister, his parents hadn’t wanted their turbulent marriage immortalized.

Nah. Why would Abbi pay attention to any of that? She’d made it clear when she’d sprinted out of the motel room that she wasn’t here for anything beyond her brother’s story.

Cash shook his head. Typical Daniels. Sticking him with the fallout.

He freshened up and hopped into his truck to go in search of Dillon. Cash chose an approach that bordered the field Dillon was harvesting and parked. Exiting his pickup, he texted Dillon and dropped the tailgate to have a seat.

The trees of the shelter belts were losing their leaves but wouldn’t be bare until the temps dropped closer to freezing day after day. More wind got through them in the fall, but they still proved to be nature’s snow fence when necessary.

The soy field looked like it’d seen better days, but to a farmer like him, it looked like dollar signs. They were grateful for the harvest, especially after a nasty hail storm in July had taken out significant portions of their crop. Despite the afternoon chill, the sun was warm and shining bright. Cash tipped his face up to it and cursed.

Flashing hazel eyes and a saucy grin filled his head. Why couldn’t he quit thinking about Abbi? Perhaps he’d known deep down that they had an ominous connection.

Yeah, that was it. It had nothing to do with how her body had not only felt like paradise, but with how uninhibited she’d been.

He ground his teeth. But she’d been fucking drunk. Her reaction hadn’t been real.

Abbi Daniels. He took off his hat and cradled his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. He couldn’t forget her, and all the while she couldn’t remember him.

Chapter 4

Dillon had already made two rounds on the quarter of land that comprised the field. The magnificent red combine came into view as the drone of the engine reached Cash. Dread built about the upcoming conversation with his cousin. They’d just reached a solid point in their bro-ship after years of Dillon blaming Cash’s irresponsible side for Daniels’s death. Cash was always responsible when it counted.

He slid onto the tailgate, waiting for Dillon to pause the operation and swap duties.

The combine rumbled to a stop. Dillon scaled down from the cab and jogged toward him. He carried his lunch pail and nimbly picked through piles of shredded soybean plants.

Dillon reached him barely out of breath. “How’s Patsy Cline?”

He got a run in almost every morning, while Cash only met him two or three times a week, just like old times in the army. They’d pass for brothers with the same body frames and similar features. Only Dillon’s rusty brown hair was obviously different compared to Cash’s sandy blond. Cash was only a month younger, and they’d been inseparable their whole lives—they might as well be twins. Admittedly, in their army days, they may have claimed to be twins once or twice to women.

“What’s wrong?” Dillon’s clear gaze was concerned. Cash’s chest grew heavy.

Only six months ago, he’d been afraid Dillon was going to crawl into a bottle and screw on the lid. Now, he was bright eyed and bushy tailed, with a smart and intelligent woman waiting for him at home. Figuratively only. Elle did her own thing and Dillon gladly chased after her. But Dillon’s parents had been like that until the death of his dad. Cash’s heart broke for his Aunt Christy, but the anticipation of grandkids in her future seemed to keep a spring in her step. If Cash couldn’t have any of that in his life, at least he got to witness it with Dillon.

---