by Jennie Marts
“Let’s see them.” She stood in the circle of his arms as he brought the phone to them and clicked on the photos.
The pictures were good. He was surprised at the smile on his own face, so different from the usual charming smile he offered when he got his picture taken. One had his lips parted in an actual laugh, and the picture expressed pure joy.
“Well now, isn’t this cute?”
Cash looked up to see Tiffany Jordan standing on the other side of the pie display, her hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised.
“Hey, Tiff,” he said, his arm tightening around Emma’s waist as she tried to pull away. “You know Emma Frank?”
Tiffany was one of the women he’d sometimes take out to a movie or meet up with at a bar for a drink. She had big blond hair and ample hips currently encased in a pair of tight jeans. The neckline of her snug shirt dipped low, and her gaze traveled up and down Emma, obviously assessing her competition.
She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Emma.” The tone of her voice didn’t convey that she thought it was nice at all. She looked back up at Cash. “I’d heard that you were dating someone new, but I didn’t realize you two were an actual item.”
He knew she was goading him, but he didn’t take the bait. He could feel Emma shrinking into herself, and the next words popped out of his mouth before he could even stop to think about them. “Yep, we are an actual item. She’s the one for me, the only one.”
Like a violet in the warm sun, Emma’s shoulder eased back, and she stood taller. He slipped his hand into hers.
“Well, what do you know about that?” Tiffany asked, her expression amazed. But like a dog with a bone, she wasn’t quite finished with her questions. “Are you saying Cash Walker is officially off the market?”
“That’s exactly what he’s saying,” Emma piped in, surprising Cash and probably herself a little.
He chuckled. “You heard the lady.”
“Well, I never thought I’d see the day. Nice to meet you, Emma. I guess we’ll see you around then.” Tiffany gave them one final glance before offering them a wave and heading in the direction of the quilts.
“Well, I’ll bet that news travels around town quicker than a hot knife through butter.”
Cash tipped his head down and brushed a kiss against her lips. “Good, then I can cancel that ad I was takin’ out in the paper next week.” He held up his hands to illustrate the headline. “Cash and Emma, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”
A laugh escaped Emma’s lips, and she playfully slapped his arm. “You’re bad.”
He slid his arm around her waist and growled into her ear, “Let’s slip out to my truck, and I’ll show you how bad I can be.”
“Tempting, but your mom is at the festival, and the last thing I want to do is get caught by your mother making out in your pickup.” She grinned up at him, a naughty gleam in her eye. “But hold that thought, and you can show me when we get home.”
He followed her out of the exhibition hall, a smile tugging at his lips at the way she said “when we get home.” Pointing to the fairway, he asked, “How about if I win you a stuffed animal?”
She dragged him toward a shooting-gallery-style booth, with three toy rifles affixed to the counter. “How about if I win you a stuffed animal?”
He chuckled. “You pretty good with a gun?”
“My dad taught me to shoot,” she said, handing the kid behind the counter a couple of singles. “Besides, I feel like I’m on a bit of a winning streak lately.”
“Lately, huh? You win something besides the pie competition?”
“Yep—there’s a rumor going around that I won a cowboy’s heart.”
Chapter Seventeen
Cash handed a freckle-faced kid a corn dog then turned to Cherry. “I think that’s it for my shift. You need anything else?”
Cherry looked around the fairgrounds at the dwindling crowd. It was close to eight, and the festival was winding down. The sun had set, but the lights around the booths and down the fairway still gave off a cheery glow.
“No, I think I’m good. Taylor and his dad will come by in a bit and help me pack all this up. Thanks for your help though.” She gave him a quick hug. “And tell Emma thanks again for me. We wouldn’t have made it through the noon rush without her help.”
“Will do.” He tipped his hat and couldn’t help the grin that snuck across his face. “She’s pretty great, isn’t she?”
Cherry grinned back, the knowing grin of a woman. “Yeah, she is. You two seem pretty cozy. I swear you’re all that girl talks about at the diner.” She patted his arm in affection. “I’m glad for you. You deserve this.”
“Do I?”
“Yes, of course you do.”
He shook his head. “I can’t imagine a single thing I’ve done so right in my life that would make me deserve a woman like Emma.”
Cherry blinked and pressed her hand to her heart. “Well, that right there is exactly why you deserve her. Now git outta here before you say something else mushy like that and make me smear my mascara from cryin’. Go find Emma, and tell her what you just said.”
“All right, I’m goin’.” He laughed as he stepped out from behind the booth and headed toward the exhibition hall.
Emma had said she was going over to pick up her pie and ribbon, and he’d told her he’d meet her over there after he finished up. His truck was parked behind the hall, and they were leaving from there to head back to the farm.
Walking across the fairgrounds, he thought about what Cherry had said.
Did he deserve this? This overwhelming feeling of happiness? Why? What made him so deserving?
He’d promised himself that he’d tell Emma tonight that he was in love with her, but now feelings of doubt were creeping up, surrounding his heart like the nasty vines of bindweed that snuck through the grass, clinging to every stalk.
She was so damn nice. And good—like good to her very soul.
He’d watched her today as she’d helped his mom and Cherry in the booth, as she’d smiled and greeted customers she knew from the diner, and as she’d gazed at him in adoration when she caught him watching her.
Adoration that he definitely didn’t deserve. But for some reason she did act like she adored him. Like he was something special.
And he hated the fact that he knew he’d eventually let her down.
Today had been great. He’d felt on top of the world a few minutes ago, but Cherry’s words struck a chord with him, and those familiar seeds of doubt crept up so easily, causing a cloud of gloom to settle over him as he rounded the corner of the exhibition hall.
What the hell?
He stopped short at the sight in front of him. Then anger poured through him, propelling him forward, and he rushed ahead, his blood already boiling with rage.
Emma stood in the shadows of the buildings, her back against the wall, cornered like a trapped animal. Earl and Junior Purvis surrounded her, and he watched as she held out the pie to them, and Earl slapped it from her hands.
A shocked gasp slipped from her lips as the pie tumbled and spilled to the ground, and Cash heard Earl’s mocking laugh.
“That’s not the kind of pie I’m interested in,” Earl sneered, his words drunkenly slurring together as he pressed Emma against the wall and roughly grabbed her breast as he shoved his knee between her legs.
Cash had thought that jeering laugh was the final straw, then he saw Earl touch her, and heard her cry out in fear, and that was it.
Something in him snapped.
In three steps, he made it to where they stood. Grabbing Earl’s shoulder, he spun him around and slammed his fist into his nose.
A sharp crack sounded as Earl’s nose broke, and blood poured down his face.
Earl howled in pain, then his fists came up, swinging wildly at him.
But he was obviously drunk, and his movements weren’t as quick. Cash easily pulled back and avoided his sloppy attempts, then brought a roundhouse punch around tha
t slammed across Earl’s chin.
The other man’s face snapped sideways. The blood from his broken nose sprayed through the air in an arc that left bright red droplets on the shoulder of his stained gray T-shirt.
Cash heard Junior charging toward him and kicked out his leg, connecting the heel of his cowboy boot with the other man’s knee. Junior went down, clutching his leg, as he let loose a whine of pain followed by several descriptive swear words.
Earl shook his head, as if trying to clear it, then bent forward and charged into Cash’s gut.
“Oomph,” he gasped, as the air went out of his lungs. He staggered back, shoving Earl away from him. The other man hit the ground, falling on his butt. Grabbing a handful of dry dirt, he tossed it toward Cash’s face.
Tears stung his eyes as the dust peppered his face, but the dirty move only fueled his rage. His head told him to pull back, but his anger had a mind of its own, controlling his actions as he drove his fist into Earl’s face.
“Don’t you ever touch her again.” He spoke through gritted teeth as he landed punch after punch, using his fists to enunciate the words. “Don’t even look at her.”
“Cash, stop, please,” Emma cried, reaching for his shoulder to pull him back. “That’s enough.”
He heard her words, but they sounded far away, and he shrugged off her hand.
Junior followed his brother’s lead and started throwing dirt and trash at Cash from where he lay doubled over on the ground. An empty beer bottle grazed his forehead, and the shot brought him temporarily to his senses.
He backed away from Earl and his brother, his breath coming in hard gasps, then grabbed Emma’s arm and dragged her toward the truck. “What the hell were you thinking? How could you let yourself get caught alone with those bastards? They could have killed you, or worse.”
He wasn’t making sense, and he knew he shouldn’t be yelling at her, but he couldn’t seem to rein it in, couldn’t control the temper that was pouring from him, seeping out of his pores like foul sweat.
Stomping up to the truck, he slammed open the door. “Get in,” he growled as he turned to her.
He stopped short—frozen by the look of fear on her face.
Yanking his hand away as if her arm were on fire, the anger seeped from him like water from a sieve.
“Oh my God, Emma. I’m so sorry.” He reached for her.
And she flinched.
And his heart broke in two.
He sunk to his knees. What had he done?
She flinched—from him—shied away from him in fear. He knew that look, had seen it a hundred times on his mother’s face.
And on Gillian Carter’s face in high school when he’d taken a tire iron to the back of a car.
He’d sworn to himself that he would never cause that look to appear on another woman’s face, but he’d failed to keep that promise. Just like he’d always feared. Like he’d always been afraid that he would.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse and rough.
He held out his hand, and bile rose in his throat at the dark smudges of Earl’s blood that stained it.
Emma stood still, her arms wrapped around her middle.
Pressing up from his knees, he backed away from her. “I’m so sorry, Emma. I thought this could work. But I was wrong. I told you that you needed a better man than me. I should have never let things get this far.”
A look of a different kind of fear crossed her face, this one an expression of alarm mixed with anguish. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about. You just saw for yourself. I’m a monster. I have a rage inside of me that I can’t control. And I know you saw it. I just saw the look on your face. The same look I’ve seen on my mother’s face when my dad went after her. It was fear, Emma. Pure terror. You were afraid of me.”
“No, it wasn’t. I was afraid of the situation.”
“No, you weren’t. I saw it in your eyes. You were afraid of me. And I swore that you wouldn’t ever have to live like that again. And I won’t let you. I’d rather let you go than have you ever be afraid again.”
She stepped forward, and he backed away. “Cash, please. I wasn’t afraid of you, I swear.”
“I know what I saw.” A pain like a vise grip squeezed at his heart.
“I was afraid of Earl and his brother. And I’ve been terrified of Leroy. But I’ve never been afraid of you.”
“You should be. You saw me back there. I just beat the hell out of those two guys. I couldn’t stop myself.” He held up his hands. “This is Earl’s blood on my hands. I’m no better than Leroy.” He hung his head in shame.
“Bullshit.”
His head popped up at the vehemence in her voice.
She took a step toward him, her back straight and her voice full of steel. “That’s bullshit. You’re nothing like Leroy.” She came at him full force and shoved him in the chest. “I know the man I’ve been with the past several weeks, and I know you are not like him.”
Her behavior stunned him, and he stood speechless as she shoved him again.
She spit out her words, her own anger now evident. “Do you feel like hitting me now? Do you want to teach me a lesson for shoving you in the chest, you bastard?”
“What? Hell no, I don’t want to hit you.”
“You sure? I just called you a bastard. What are you gonna do about that?”
“I’m not gonna do anything about that. It’s true.”
“What if we were together, would you let me have friends?” She shoved him again, goading him into a reaction.
“What are you talking about? Of course you can have friends.”
“What about a job?”
“I helped you get a job.”
“But that was before we were together. What about now?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she looked around, her eyes wild as she grabbed the mirror from the side of his truck and broke it free then threw it at his feet.
“Hey, that’s my truck.”
What the hell was she doing?
“What are you going to do about it?” She came at him again, this time slapping her hand across his face. “You want to hit me now?”
The sting of the slap burned his cheek, but he still didn’t bite. He knew what she was trying to do now, and it wasn’t working.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. “I’m not going to hit you. I’ll never hit you. You can slap me a hundred times, and I won’t ever hit you back.”
She broke down, sobbing against his chest. Tilting her face to him, she reached up and touched his cheek. “See, you’re nothing like Leroy. I could never have gotten away with doing any of that to him. He put me in the hospital once for calling him a bastard. I just slapped you, swore at you, and broke the mirror off your truck, and you didn’t come after me. You didn’t hit me back. Don’t you see, you’re nothing like him.”
“I see what you’re trying to do. And I appreciate it. But it won’t work, Emma.”
As much as he wanted it to. As much as he loved her, and so help him, he did. He knew that for sure now. Knew that he loved her with every fiber in his being.
Which was why he had to let her go.
No matter how much it tore him up inside.
No matter if it ripped his guts out and left them dragging behind him in a bloody trail of pain and anguish, he had to walk away.
Her test had proved nothing to him except that he was already hurting her. He might not have reacted tonight, but he’d already flown into a rage once, and his anger was spent. What would happen the next time his temper took over and all he saw was red?
He couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk her.
He had to leave—to walk away—before he did any more damage. “I’m sorry, Emma. It’s over.”
Chapter Eighteen
Over?
What was he talking about? How could it be over?
Emma couldn’t believe it.
Hadn’t she just s
hown him—proved to him that he was nothing like her ex. She knew it—knew in her very heart—that he would never hurt her.
She wasn’t afraid of him.
Watching him beat up Leroy’s brothers hadn’t made her scared of him, she was scared for him. Scared that he would get hurt.
The situation was insane. Cash was acting crazy, and she might have looked scared when he told her to get in the truck, but that was just a knee-jerk reaction. A habit formed from years of abuse.
She knew he wouldn’t hurt her.
Hadn’t she just beaten him in the chest, slapped him across the face, swore at him—even torn the mirror off his beloved truck? And he hadn’t raised a hand to her.
That proved it to her.
But he was still walking away?
His face carried the expression of a broken man—his eyes full of sorrow and anguish. And determination.
He pulled her to him again, hugged her tightly to his chest.
His voice broke. She could barely make out his words as he whispered into her ear. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I love you. That’s why I have to let you go.”
What? What did he say?
Did he just tell her that he loved her?
His words were so soft as he growled them against her hair. Maybe she’d just imagined he said that.
Because he sure didn’t look like he loved her when he pushed her away and took a step back.
He picked up the broken mirror and tossed it in the bed of the truck. “Take the truck back to the farm. I’m not coming with you. I’ll find another way home tomorrow.”
Tomorrow?
What did that mean? Where did he plan to spend the night tonight?
Would he crash on a friend’s sofa or find solace in the arms of another woman? One of the many in this town who’d be happy to have him in her bed? Like Tiffany.
The thought of Cash seeking comfort from Tiffany broke her heart.
And proved what she knew all along. That she was never really good enough for a guy like Cash.
She tried once more. “Please don’t do this. Just come home with me, and we can talk about this.”