Page 30 of Tasting Fire
Resigned, Cash stuffed the loaf under his arm. Against his side, it had the consistency and weight of a medicine ball. Maybe he could toss it… Nah, if he tried to feed that down the garbage disposal, he’d have to replace it. “What are we gonna do about her cooking?”
His dad laughed. “Let her ride it out and hope to hell she gets bored soon.”
Maggie joined their group, and Cash scanned the room for Emmy. She was propped up against the wall and looked as if she hadn’t slept in a week. He needed to get her upstairs and into bed. And if, after their kiss, the thought of crawling into it with her skidded across his mind, he was only human.
“Sweet. Looks like Cash drew the short straw this week.” Maggie poked at the bread under his arm. “Feels like fruitcake.”
“Eggplant bread.”
“Bless your little heart.” She grinned and socked him in the arm. Then she sobered again. “I’ll be looking into this brick thing. Me, little brother. This is my job. Your job is to squirt water on stuff and patch up people’s boo-boos. You do yours, and I’ll do mine. You hear me?”
Oh, he heard her all right. That didn’t mean he planned to actually listen. “I’ll want an update tomorrow,” he told her.
“I’m assuming you plan to stay here tonight?” she asked.
Cash’s dad and Shep were listening to the conversation with obvious interest.
“I’m not leaving her alone.” He was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea that Emmy wasn’t marrying some other guy. And that the guy had fired her because she’d said no.
But hadn’t he done something similar? Rejected Emmy after she’d rejected him?
In an uncommon show of affection, Maggie leaned in and kissed Cash’s cheek. While she was close, she whispered, “Be careful, Cash. She’s not the only one who could be hurt.”
Uh-uh. He was a grown man, not some moon-faced kid. He could look out for himself.
Dude, you kissed her. Publicly and with plenty of tongue.
One kiss was just that. A kiss. People did it all the time—hell, they did a lot more than kiss—without getting all tangled up emotionally.
Then again, Cash had always been able to resist Emmy McKay about how the Cookie Monster handled the temptation of a warm, fresh-baked treat.Dude, you are on an Emmy-free diet for the rest of your life.
“My eyes are wide open, big sister.”
“From where I’m standing, they look like they have stars in them.” She patted him one last time, and his family meandered out the front door.
Cash locked up behind them. When he turned around, Emmy had slumped to the bottom stair tread. “Maggie’s on the case,” he said.
A skeptical smile touched Emmy’s lips. “Maggie, huh? I guess that means you have no intention of talking with Stan Jackson.”
“I never said that.”
“Let’s go now.” She got to her feet. Judging by the narrow-eyed, tight-lipped expression on her face, he half expected her to lift her fists and bounce around on her toes like a boxer ready to go another round. “Or I’ll confront him without you.”
Maggie would love it when she found out he’d ignored her. Again.
But if Stan was fucking with Emmy, he was crossing a line from professional pique to criminal intent.
“We’ll take my truck.”
By the time they made it to Stan Jackson’s place, a run-of-the-mill duplex not far from Barron’s Park, Emmy wasn’t just concerned, or even angry.
She was pissed.
She couldn’t afford to lose control of this team. If she did, the whole thing would collapse.
And Cash had her back, at least on this. Did that mean he was simply accepting her authority as they’d discussed earlier or something more?
When he parked, she shoved out of the passenger side and stalked toward the door. She paused before beating the wood with the side of her fist like she wanted.
