by Liz Isaacson
“Wow,” he said.
“So you better start wearing a watch or something to track your steps,” she said. “I bet you get a ton every day, and you can bank them up.”
Cache felt a little light-headed. “This sounds kind of crazy,” he said.
“It’s fun,” Karla said. “And it’s right up there on the right.”
Cache spotted it, the huge sneaker on top of the building hard to miss. He parked and got out, taking Karla’s hand when they met at the front of the truck. “Let’s go see what they have.”
The vibe inside the diner was completely outside Cache’s sphere. It was hip, and he was pretty much the opposite of that. But the menu was scrawled on the wall in chalk, and big, loopy letters spelled out that they did have chicken fried steak.
Karla stepped up to the counter, another wicked gleam in her eye. She first showed her phone and said, “Ham and cheese omelet,” and went through choosing a biscuit over pancakes, and orange juice over coffee.
“And he’s a new customer.” She grinned at him.
Before Cache could even blink, a foghorn filled the restaurant, and he almost fell backward with the noise. “New customer,” the girl there chirped, and every employee in the shop repeated it as if having a new customer they fed for free was the most amazing thing on the planet.
Every one of Cache’s senses were overloaded, and Karla ordered his chicken fried steak for him. “Pancakes?” the girl asked.
“Yes,” Cache said.
“Oh, that’s a mistake,” Karla said, her lips barely moving. “The biscuit is the size of your head and amazing.”
He looked from her to the girl taking the order. “Is that true?”
“The biscuits are delicious,” she said.
“Fine, switch me to a biscuit,” he said, and he chose orange juice instead of coffee as well. He got a card with less than five thousand steps left on it, and Karla’s app got drained down to twelve steps for her omelet. They moved to a table in the corner, a shoe with the number twenty-four on it.
“This place is quirky,” Cache said. “And I’m completely deaf from that horn.”
“It’s great, right?” Karla asked, peeling a wrapper off her straw.
“How did you find this place?” he asked.
“One of the volunteers at the ranch told me about it,” she said. “Genevieve over in the Canine Club.”
“Oh, right,” he said, hoping he didn’t have to say anything else about Genevieve. “Are you two friends?”
“I mean, friendly,” she said. “Why?”
“No reason,” he said, deciding to just tell her. “We went out once, and it was a complete disaster.”
“Is that so?” Karla said, full flirt in her eyes.
“I’m hoping this won’t turn out the same.”
“I think it’s going fine,” Karla said, smiling.
“Me too,” Cache said, smiling back. “So, Karla, what do you do for fun?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I sure like watching my cowboy boyfriend play in his band.”
That weekend, Cache had double ranch chores because Dave was at Fort Irwin for his weekend Army training. He normally didn’t mind, but this weekend, he’d really like to spend some time with Karla.
Instead, he worked the morning in the barn, medicating the horses, then over at the Canine Club as normal. He bypassed his cows for now and headed over to LlamaLand to take care of Dave’s chores. He fed and watered, cleaned stalls, and moved over to Piggy Paradise, where he had more to do. Taking care of two men’s jobs in one day was extremely difficult, but he liked the extra pay he got. Scarlett and Dave insisted he take the money for the weekend, and Cache had stopped arguing with them.
Sawyer came over to the fence where Cache worked, and he said, “I don’t know how you ran this ranch alone.”
“It wasn’t easy,” he said. “And it wasn’t like this either. The ranch is at least ten times the operation it used to be.”
“Yeah,” Cache said. “How’s the baby?”
A soft smile touched Sawyer’s mouth. “Really great.” He yawned. “I won’t lie, though, I’m exhausted. I’m too old to be getting up in the middle of the night.”
Cache chuckled with him and said, “Well, I have to go feed the chickens. See you at church tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Sawyer said, knocking on the fence post before he went on his way toward the stables.
By the time Cache made it to the cow pastures, twilight had gathered and all of his cows waited by the trough.
“Sorry, guys,” he said, glancing down. But they’d already been watered. He glanced around as if the responsible party would be there, but he saw no one.
“Thank you,” he whispered to the sky, as if God Himself had filled the troughs so Cache could stumble home to a hot shower and something to eat.
The scent of spicy Mexican food met his nose as he got out of his truck and headed toward his house. He was isolated now in his cabin, as his next-door neighbor on the right had been Hudson and he’d moved into the homestead when he and Scarlett had gotten married.
And around the U-shaped bend, Carson, Jeri, and Sawyer had all moved on. So Cache sat near the corner of the U-shaped Community all alone, with Lance on his right. He liked the cowboy perfectly fine, and he was the best drummer Cache had ever met. But he kept to himself almost all of the time, and he never had much to say, even during band practice.
But he was obviously eating well tonight. He sighed as he opened his front door and started to kick off his boots. He froze when he realized all the lights were on. Music played from somewhere. And the scent of Mexican food…that came from his kitchen.
Someone had clearly been here to set up this fiesta, but he couldn’t see them. “Hello?” he called, thinking maybe someone had moved into his house while he’d been out working. Scarlett was hiring several new people, and his place was fairly stale. Maybe they’d thought this cabin was available.
Karla opened the back door and stepped inside, carrying a pair of oven mitts and a plate of something. “Oh, there you are,” she said with a smile.
He finished kicking off his boots, his toes sighing in relief. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Making dinner,” she said. “I know the Army weekends are rough.”
Cache moved through the cabin and into the kitchen with her. “Wow, this is amazing. Thanks.” He looked down at the bubbly pan of burritos. His eyes met Karla’s, and everything else fell away.
Feeling reckless and bold, he reached up and cradled her face in one palm. “Is this keeping things secret?” he asked. “How many people saw you come over here?”
She grinned at him, full of playfulness and punch. “No one,” she said. “I came really early today while everyone was still working.”
“Smart,” he said, enjoying this little game between them. “And I’m starving.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place to fix that,” she said, opening a couple of cupboards before she found the plates. “And I won’t even ask you how many steps you put in today.”
Cache laughed, but by the way his feet ached, he had more than enough steps for anything on Karla’s menu.
Chapter 10
Karla laughed as she and Cache snuggled together on his couch. She hadn’t anticipated quite how long she’d need to stay, but he said he didn’t mind. They’d enjoyed the chile verde pork burritos she’d made, and he’d told her all about the dairy farm in Nevada where he’d grown up.
She sure liked listening to him talk, but when he’d put a movie on the small TV in the living room, that was fine too.
He’d fallen asleep the moment the movie had started, but Karla didn’t mind. She liked the weight of his arm across her shoulder, enjoyed the deep, even way he breathed, and she craved the warmth of his body beside hers.
She giggled again at something on the movie, her thoughts straying left and right as they’d been doing since he’d dozed o
ff.
She wanted to admit she liked him. Wanted a relationship with him. One that wasn’t hidden in the shadows because of her own insecurities. One she could shout to the world and answer questions about and feel confident in.
Why couldn’t she do that?
“I like you,” she whispered against his shirt, and he immediately shifted. Adrenaline spiked her heartbeat, but he didn’t open his eyes and he didn’t say anything. In fact, a soft snore rumbled through his throat, and somehow it was the sexiest thing Karla had ever heard.
The movie ended, and Karla delicately disentangled herself from his arms, waking him.
“I’m so sorry,” he said groggily, wiping his hand down his face. “I slept through the whole thing, didn’t I?”
“Yep.” She grinned at him and slipped her shoes back on. “It’s fine. You worked the job of two men today.” She started to walk past him, but he took her hand in his, his fingers encircling her wrist.
She looked down at him, and time slowed to a stop. He was absolutely stunning without that cowboy hat on, though the sight of him wearing it also got her pulse accelerating. A smile crossed her face, though she hadn’t expressly told her brain to do it.
“Look, I—” he started at the same time Karla leaned down and brushed her lips along his forehead.
Fear and foolishness hit her, and she tried to pull her hand away. Cache held it firmly now, refusing to let her go. He rose, crowding into her personal space. She stepped back, but he didn’t let her go far.
“I was going to say I really appreciate you coming over and making me dinner.” He gazed at her, the heated desire in those brilliant blue eyes scorching her.
“Yeah,” she said stupidly. “I’m glad you liked the burritos.”
Cache closed his head and dipped his head, but his aim was all off. He didn’t kiss her—didn’t even try. He wrapped both arms around her as if they were slow dancing and pressed his cheek to hers.
Comfort streamed through her, and she could get very used to having this man’s presence in her life. “I like you without the hat,” she murmured.
“Yeah?” he asked. “I feel a little naked without it.”
She giggled, taking in a deep breath of his day-old cologne, his sweat, the crispness from something he used on his hair. “Do you sleep with it on, cowboy?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Especially if I’m catching a nap when I should be working.”
She held onto his shoulders as they swayed, pure pleasure rolling through her. “I should go,” she finally whispered.
“Yeah,” he whispered back. “I’m real busy again tomorrow, but we’re still on for church, right?”
The peace lessened, but Karla decided it was time to figure out how she really felt about the Lord. Church. Religious things.
“Yes,” she said, though part of her wished he’d be too busy to go.
“We don’t have to to for long,” Cache said. “I’ll be sweaty from working, and I usually slip in late and leave early. But I like to go for a little bit.”
“Text me when you’re ready.” Going late and leaving early sounded like a good plan for her, as she hadn’t been to church in a while. “And how do you feel about mushrooms on pizza?”
“Everything belongs on pizza,” he said, pulling back and smiling at her.
“All right, then,” she said. “You stop by my cabin tomorrow night when you finish working, and I’ll feed you again.”
He leaned down again. “Thank you, Karla.” The words whispered in her ear, and his lips caught on her earlobe for a microsecond. There, then gone. She froze, and he seemed to as well. Then he pressed his lips against her neck just below her ear, and a sigh moved through her whole body.
She wanted to taste him, but he never strayed toward her mouth. Instead, he lighted kisses down her neck to her shoulder and straightened. “You should definitely go,” he said, his voice throaty and a wild look in his eyes.
Karla wasn’t afraid of him, but she supposed their relationship was moving a little fast. So she tucked her hair, ducked her head, smiled, and headed for the front door. She twisted the knob, but Cache opened it fully, standing there with his hand higher up on the door while she slipped into the night.
The air was cooler out here than inside the cabin, and Karla took a deep breath as she hurried down his steps and out of the circle of light from his porch lamp. Once under the cover of darkness, she relaxed, every step back to her cabin filled with hope and the promise of a fun, loving relationship with Cache Bryant.
The next morning, Karla couldn’t make herself get in the shower. The idea of going to church had been tolerable as she stood in Cache’s arms the previous night. But now?
Now, she felt like throwing up.
She stood at the window in her bedroom, which looked out over the open land behind her cabin. At one point, she’d gone to Scarlett with an idea to make this wild area of the ranch into a tourist attraction. Cabins, a firepit, outdoor games, campsites, all of it. Jeri had even drawn up a few maps for the area, along with blueprints for different sized cabins.
But, in the end, the idea hadn’t panned out. It would bring more money to the ranch, sure. But Forever Friends was worried about the impact tourists would have on the animal sanctuary, and everyone had decided that such an attraction wasn’t necessary.
The ranch had plenty of money now that it had been up and in operation for a few years. Scarlett seemed to know what she was doing, as did everyone else who came to Last Chance Ranch to work.
Her phone sounded, and she glanced down at where it sat on the nightstand. Ten minutes, Cache had said.
And Karla still wore a pair of khaki shorts and a tank top with a yellow curry stain on it. She didn’t move, though the moment teetered on important. If she was going to go to church with him, she’d better get ready.
Maybe she wouldn’t go.
She picked up her phone and sent him a question. Do you believe God forgives everything?
Because Karla didn’t. She’d gone too far down the wrong road. The Lord couldn’t possibly love her. Not after what she’d done.
“And you’ll have to tell Cache,” she whispered to herself. She immediately rejected the idea of telling him she’d been unfaithful to her first husband. Even if Jackson was already cheating on her. Even if he’d already moved out. Karla had known it was wrong. They hadn’t been divorced yet, and she shouldn’t have gone out with anyone, much less spent any time with them in the bedroom.
She pressed against her stomach, as if the resulting life from that one-night stand was still inside her.
Cache’s text came back with, Yes. Luke 4. The woman at the well.
Instant tears sprang to Karla’s eyes. She knew the story of the woman at the well. A woman who lived in sin, and yet who the Savior ministered to. Taught.
Loved.
She turned away from the window, a tear running down her face. She wanted to feel comfortable thinking about the Lord. She wanted to feel like she belonged in church—and with Cache.
Right now, she didn’t. But maybe if she went, she would.
Changing quickly, she pulled on a black skirt that swished nicely around her knees. She replaced the stained tank top with a bright blue blouse and had just pulled her heels on when Cache knocked on her back door.
No time for hair and makeup, she decided she could go to church with a fresh face and whatever her hair was currently doing. She ran her fingers through it as she went to answer the door, and she shared a few anxious seconds with Cache as they looked at one another.
“So you’re coming?” he asked, his gaze sliding down her body and back to her face.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m not one hundred percent put together. But you said you’d be going sweaty, so I figured I could go without earrings.”
A smile formed on his mouth, and Karla couldn’t look away from it. “You look great, sweetheart.” He nodded toward his truck which idled on the gravel road behind her house. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
He steadied her in her heels on the gravel and helped her into the truck. The ten minute drive to church felt like a death march, and Karla slicked her hands down her thighs when he pulled into a parking spot and turned off the vehicle.
“I don’t know,” she said, feeling that ball of emotion at the back of her throat again. “Cache, I—I’ve done some bad things.”
He simply looked at her. “You don’t have to be perfect to go to church.”
“I know,” she said, suddenly angry. “But you have to be good.”
“Karla,” he said, his voice somewhat reproving. He reached for her, but she kept her arms crossed against her stomach. If she moved, she was sure to be sick.
“What are we talking?” he asked. “Like, you’ve…well, I don’t even know what to say. Have you been arrested? Sent to jail?”
“No,” she said, tears coming again. Did she have to tell him? What if he walked away and never came back, the way Jackson had?
Number one, he’s not Jackson, she told herself. Number two, your marriage with Jackson had already been over by the time you’d told him about the cheating and the baby and the subsequent miscarriage.
“Karla,” he said again, the bell in the church starting to ring over the last syllable of her name.
She couldn’t look at him. “You go in,” she said. “I’ll follow.”
“Yeah, I don’t think you will,” he said. “You’ll bolt as soon as I get out of this truck.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling weak and so unlike herself. This new person she’d become at Last Chance Ranch didn’t feel like this. Didn’t have to. “This is why I don’t date.”
“Why is that again?” Cache asked, seemingly nonplussed about the bell and the few people hurrying inside the gray building with the cross on top.
Karla just needed to blurt it out. Short sentences. Like ripping off a bandage.
But this bandage had been fused to her heart for five years, and she knew yanking on it would probably cause too much bleeding.