Page 47 of Tasting Fire
Emmy could’ve died today.That reality had been ricocheting through Cash’s brain for hours. And it had convinced him that he couldn’t keep holding the past against her.
Which prompted a visit to Grif. He hadn’t blinked when Cash asked him to unlock Emmy’s door for him. He simply said, “I really like her, Cash. She’s quiet, she’s nice, and Jonah thinks she hung the moon. But there’s something about her. Something sad that makes me think she’s not as unbreakable as she pretends to be. Don’t play with her. She’s not one of your normal hose honeys.”
“I’m well aware.”
“Does this mean that young women all over the county are about to get their hearts broken?”
“Anyone I’ve dated knows the score.”
“If you say so,” Grif said. “But apparently Chelsea has been mouthing off about you, saying if this doctor-bitch tries to snag you, she’d better get ready to roll in the mud.”
Really? Chelsea hadn’t seemed all that jealous at the Triple B. Then again, he couldn’t have given a shit less about her being out with someone else. Maybe she’d just been putting on an act. “Doctor-bitch? Were those her actual words?”
“It’s not like I talked with her directly, but that’s what Mr. Greene told my mom, and he’s usually a pretty accurate reporter of all things Steele Ridge.”
Which meant Chelsea could’ve been the brick tosser. Not that she would normally do anything that would endanger her once-a-week manicure. But she had plenty of charms to entice some good ol’ boy to do the dirty work for her. “Thanks for the intel.” Cash had heard Chelsea say catty things in the past, but he couldn’t imagine she’d ever resort to physical violence. “Now you go home and take care of your girls.”
Grif gave him a half-assed salute and jogged down the stairs, heading home to his wife, teenaged daughter, and infant daughter.
Cash hauled two bags full of food and supplies inside Emmy’s place and put them on the small counter before returning to the door and inspecting the locks. Looked as if Grif had recently replaced them. Good.
After the day she’d had, when she got home Emmy would need some decent food and a good night’s sleep. Those were both things he would make certain she had.
It didn’t take him long to put together a colorful salad of fresh seasonable vegetables and grilled chicken. One benefit of being the son of an organic farmer was that Cash never went without excellent produce. If his dad didn’t grow it, he had a friend one or two counties over who did.
With oil, vinegar, mustard, and a few seasonings, he whisked together a vinaigrette. Cash wasn’t the cook Way was, but he could hold his own, and he had an honest prejudice against bottled salad dressings or jarred sauces.
And although he wanted to make sure Emmy ate, he wasn’t setting up a seduction scene, so no wine tonight. Just a little sparkling water.
Cash checked his watch. Emmy should be home within fifteen minutes, so he texted her.
Hey, I’m at ur place. Didn’t want u to freak when u got home.
Her response came back quickly, which hopefully meant the ER had been slow tonight.
Really? My plan was bed.
That made him smile. Another text came right away.
I meant 2 sleep.
As if he had anything else in mind.
And another popped up.
Didn’t mean 2gether. Not trying 2 make moves. Gah!
Gotcha. Not here 2 make moves either. (Altho my moves r EXCELLENT)
He dropped a couple of couch pillows on the living room floor and spread a quilt over them. On top, he arranged—as much as any guy arranged shit—the salad, plates, and glasses.
When he heard Emmy’s steps on the stairway, he unlocked the front door and opened it wide. She did look wiped out—her normally braided hair with wisps standing out from static electricity, tired eyes, and a slow stride. But as a man with two sisters, he knew better than to mention that she looked like hell. Shep, on the other hand, would’ve been brutally honest.
Probably one of the many reasons his brother was divorced. That and the fact that his ex was a certified wack job.
“Hey,” Emmy said.
“Long shift?”
