by A. K. Evans
“Fuck you,” Mitch spat. He struggled against Cal’s hold and looked at Sam. “Sam, we need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Is this what you want?” he asked, a look of disgust on his face. “Some guy that owns a bar that’ll never be able to take care of you?”
This guy thought he was something special. He was crazy.
Surprisingly calm about it, Sam declared, “Cal takes care of me better than you ever did. He took better care of me than you did when I was with you. He’s always taken care of me in all the ways that matter.”
My turn. I hated this guy, and I wanted him to know how much of a douchebag he was.
“Money isn’t always the way you take care of people, asshole,” I started. “Sam’s the happiest she’s ever been in her life now that she’s with Cal. Even if things didn’t work out with them, you wouldn’t stand a chance with her again. She knows what it’s like to be loved by a real man.”
Mitch looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. He didn’t respond to me, but he took in my words because he looked at Sam and said, “Love? He loves you so much, and yet, he’s okay with you continuing to work your shitty job.”
“Sam’s actually leaving her job,” I shared.
I felt Sam’s gaze on me, but I didn’t look at her. This wasn’t how I wanted her to find out.
Cash loosened his hold on Sam, stepped out from behind her, and explained, “I told Demi we want you to design a bunch of gear for the band for us to sell at our shows on tour.”
Sam was in a state of utter disbelief.
Looking down at the T-shirt he was wearing, Cash assessed it. Then he brought his attention back to Sam and said, “This shirt kicks ass.”
If things hadn’t been so intense between Cash and me from the start, I might have used that moment to launch myself into his arms and kiss him senseless. He’d already made my best friend’s whole year by wearing her shirt on stage and asking her to design gear for the band to sell on tour, and it still wasn’t enough. He went that extra step and told her that her shirt—the one I’d picked out for him—kicked ass.
Sam let Cash’s words sink in before returning her attention to Mitch. She started speaking to him, but I couldn’t pay attention to what was happening beyond that. My eyes were still on Cash. He glanced over at me, and for some reason I couldn’t say what I wanted to say to him.
Despite my silence, his features softened, and the expression on his face was enough to make me think, even if only for a moment, that perhaps he wasn’t nearly as awful as I had originally made him out to be.
He held my gaze a moment longer before redirecting his focus on Sam and Cal. Mitch, it seemed, had left. Once again, I didn’t pay attention to what was being discussed because I was too distracted by all the unexpected actions from Cash.
He’d shown me a side of him that I didn’t know existed again, and I just didn’t know how to react or respond to it.
Eventually, Cash concluded his discussion with my best friends and turned toward me. He held my eyes briefly before he smiled and walked back toward the stage to play another set. My eyes followed him the whole way there.
And I wasn’t too proud to admit to myself that I felt a longing unlike I’d ever felt before.
This was a disaster, and I had no idea what I was going to do about it.
Seven
Demi
My head was pounding.
As much as I wanted to blame it on the loud music from last night’s live performance by My Violent Heart, I had to be honest with myself.
I had a headache because I didn’t sleep well, and it had nothing to do with the music being too loud.
For the better part of the night, I tossed and turned in my bed, struggling to settle down and get comfortable. The truth was, I hadn’t been able to get everything that had happened at Granite out of my mind.
Obviously, My Violent Heart’s performance last night had been huge. It was such a big deal for Cal and the bar. Sam made out well, too. Not only that, the bar patrons also had the time of their lives.
It seemed I was the only one who hadn’t benefited from the evening.
And that was all Cash’s fault.
Okay, that might have been a slight exaggeration. I did thoroughly enjoy the actual performance. Being able to see one of my favorite bands ever playing live in front of me was beyond my wildest dreams. I had no reason to complain about that. I was up close and personal. And I’d technically met Holland, which totally made my night.
But that’s where it stopped for me.
Because not only had there been so much that happened with Cash prior to the band’s first set of the night along with what happened when Sam’s ex showed up, but there was also more I had encountered with him when the show ended.
Instead of me just being a witness to Cash in a situation that was unrelated to anything pertaining to me directly, I had another face-to-face encounter.
And that chance meeting had been the biggest part of why I couldn’t seem to find sleep.
Following My Violent Heart’s performance, there was still a large crowd. The band interacted with a lot of the patrons, and I was happy to see that our little corner of the world got the attention it did.
It was nice to know that Cash and his bandmates didn’t just walk off. They loved their fans, something that was obvious long before they played at Granite. In fact, when it came to a couple of the guys in the band—namely Cash, Killian, and Roscoe— it might not have been a far stretch to say they loved their fans a little too much.
Of course, that wasn’t to say that Holland, Beck, and Walker didn’t love their fans. They did. They just didn’t have all the same antics that the other three did when it came to the groupies.
As the crowds started to thin out and the rest of the employees at Granite started winding things down for the night, I decided to do my part and chip in. Unfortunately, that meant that I ended up in the same room I’d been in earlier in the evening with Cash. And I hadn’t been in there for more than a few minutes when he found me.
“Hey, oh…” he trailed off as he entered the room.
I had been bent over, my ass to him, rummaging through the T-shirt boxes. Apparently, a bunch of Sam’s shirts had been sold, so I was trying to condense everything down to fewer boxes.
When I stood and turned around, I watched as Cash’s eyes has shifted from my waist up to my face. Clearly, he’d been checking out my ass.
Typical.
“So, what did you think?” he asked.
“About what?”
Cash shot me a look of disbelief. “The performance,” he replied.
“Oh, it was great,” I told him. “It was my first live My Violent Heart show, and it definitely exceeded my expectations. You guys are amazing.”
“Thanks,” he returned. His eyes shifted to the empty boxes of T-shirts. “Looks like a lot of shirts sold.”
“They did.”
“Holland went and found Sam to pay her for them directly, but I told her I’d find you and let you know we weren’t just walking off with them,” he explained.
I let out a small laugh. “I didn’t think either of you were going to do that,” I assured him. “Though, even if you had, I get the feeling Sam is still going to sell a lot more of these shirts now. Thank you, by the way.”
Cash tipped his head to the side. “For what?”
“For what you did for her,” I clarified. “Not only offering her the opportunity to create some stuff for your band, but also for doing it in front of her ex-boyfriend. He’s a dick.”
“I got that much,” he said. “But I think I should be honest with you.”
I knit my brows together, feeling confused. “What did you lie to me about?” I asked him.
Shaking his head, Cash answered, “I didn’t lie. I just want you to know that the reason I offered Sam that opportunity was for you.”
“Me?”
Cash shrugged. “I he
ard you talking to Holland earlier tonight before the show,” he started. “You were so excited for Sam and wanted to see her succeed. I wanted to see you happy and excited like that again.”
He wasn’t serious. He had to be playing me.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re feeding me a bunch of lines?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Seems like you’re a little wary of me,” he suggested. “But I’m telling you the truth. I liked seeing the look on your face when Holland asked if she could wear one of the shirts tonight. Why do you think I took off my shirt and asked you to pick one out for me?”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Because you want me to give you my number, and since I have continued to turn you down, you thought I’d cave if I saw you half naked,” I guessed.
Cash chuckled. “Okay, so maybe that was part of it, too. Did it work?” he asked.
“No.”
“Damn,” he hissed. “I would have thought between that and my nice gestures to help out your best friend that you’d at least see that I’m not a bad guy.”
Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.
“Hold up a minute,” I ordered. “I never said that.”
“What? You never said what?”
“I never said you were a bad guy,” I remarked.
“You could have fooled me,” he scoffed.
Obviously, this had gotten to a point where he was mistaking my unwillingness to bow to his whim as me thinking he was an awful person. Just because there were things that I refused to accept didn’t mean that I thought all men were bad people.
I felt compelled to clarify my position.
“Cash, you’re a phenomenal singer, and I’m sure you’re a decent guy,” I began. “You showed me that tonight with what you did for Sam and even the way you are with your fans. But I know I’m not wrong when I say that you’d be a horrible lover.”
Shock and disbelief washed over him. Cash’s look of horror lasted a matter of seconds before he grinned at me. “I can promise you that is not the case, firecracker,” he said, his tone low and seductive.
What?
It took me a moment to figure out why he was acting like that, and that’s when I realized he completely misunderstood what I was trying to say.
“No, no. That’s not what I meant,” I replied, feeling horrified that I had implied he was bad in bed. “What I meant is that I’m not interested in a one-night stand with you. I did not mean to imply that you were bad at the actual… thing. I have no doubt that you’re just as great at that as you are at singing.”
Cash’s lips twitched, and I suddenly started thinking I wasn’t making this situation any better for myself.
“So, what you’re telling me is that you’ve considered what it’d be like for you and me to do the actual… thing?” he asked, taking slow, deliberate steps toward me.
Shit.
This was not what I had intended.
I mean, I had thought about what it would be like to be with Cash. I might not have liked his ways, but I wasn’t blind. The man was breathtaking. And his voice alone could do things to me that nobody’s voice should ever be able to do to anyone. So, I had considered what it would be like.
But I was not going to tell him that.
“Absolutely not,” I lied.
The corners of his mouth tipped up. “I think you’re lying.”
“I don’t care,” I retorted as I stepped back away from him.
Unfortunately, in my haste to get away from him, I forgot about the T-shirt boxes behind me. I stumbled backward and started to feel myself fall, but at the last second, Cash caught me and hauled me up against his body.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Cash’s arms were wrapped firmly around my body, the scent of him was invading my nostrils, and his body felt like heaven against mine. My chest was rapidly rising and falling, and it felt like that was the only movement I was capable of at that moment.
Cash held on just a bit longer, and when he confirmed I was steady on my feet, he loosened his hold.
I was grateful for it at the same time I hated it.
“Thank you,” I rasped.
“You’re welcome, Demi,” he returned.
This was too much. I needed to clear my head after that encounter with him.
“I should probably get back to work,” I told him, pointing to the boxes behind me.
“I thought you didn’t officially start until Monday,” he noted.
Shit.
I had said that.
“Yeah, but I couldn’t let Sam and Cal do this alone tonight,” I said.
I didn’t know whether Cash believed me or not, but he never called me out on it. Letting it go, he finally declared, “Well, then I guess if you don’t need my help, I’ll get out of your hair.”
Shaking my head, I insisted, “I’ll be fine.”
“It was nice to see you again,” Cash remarked before moving back toward the door.
Each step he took away from me filled me with such longing. I couldn’t begin to understand what was going on with me. One minute I was backing up trying to get away from him, and the next minute I felt myself wishing he would stay.
Maybe that was it.
Deep down, even if I wanted to believe he was a good guy, Cash would never stay.
And that was something I couldn’t handle.
Stopping at the door, he looked back at me. “Good night, firecracker.”
I don’t know why he kept calling me that, but I knew I liked it a lot. I just wondered how many other women he had a nickname for.
“Good night, Cash.”
With that, he walked out.
And now I was here at my place with a massive headache because I hadn’t been able to sleep. I was up all night thinking about him.
With all the drama of Mitch showing up at Granite last night, I hadn’t had a chance to speak with Sam. I decided now would be the best time. Maybe I could find some clarity in a conversation with her.
I picked up my phone, found her name, and tapped on the screen.
Three rings later, Sam answered, “Hey, Demi. How’s it going?”
“Miserable,” I mumbled.
She let out a laugh. “Why does that not surprise me?” she asked.
“You know me too well.”
“Did something happen?” she questioned me. I couldn’t miss the tone of her voice. She was oddly curious. It was almost as though she had already anticipated what I was going to say. Even still, she waited for me to respond.
“I didn’t sleep well last night,” I told her.
“Oh?” she replied. At that, I could hear hope and excitement in her tone. Sam was definitely heading in the wrong direction with this.
I took several seconds to think about how to share what I was feeling, and I struggled to come up with a way that felt right. So, I blurted, “Cash Morris is making me lose sleep. If I didn’t like him before, I definitely don’t like him now.”
“But is he making you lose sleep in a good way?” she countered.
“There isn’t any way that I would consider good,” I told her.
“You know what I’m talking about,” she said.
I did. I knew all too well exactly what she was referring to. The issue was, I had spent the better part of the night thinking about that, so the last thing I needed was more reminders.
“I’ve never felt so confused in all my life,” I admitted.
Sam hesitated briefly before she replied, “I think that’s the best news I could hope to hear from you.”
“I’m confused, and you think it’s a good thing?”
Soft laughter came through the line. “In this situation, absolutely,” she confirmed. “It tells me that perhaps you haven’t completely given up on the possibility of allowing yourself to find some happiness.”
Even if I wanted to believe that I could one day find some happiness in a romantic relationship, which was already a far stretch, believing that I could find that with Cash was simply naïve.
I’d be such a fool.
He’d chew me up and spit me out.
And I’d be far worse off than I already was.
“I don’t understand why I can’t do it,” I declared.
“Do what?” Sam asked.
“Treat Cash like the rest,” I clarified. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve had loads of partners or anything, but I have taken care of business when I have the urge. Why can’t I do that with him? Just fuck him out of my system and move on. Isn’t that what he does? I could beat him at his own game and get myself a few orgasms in the process.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s because you told me not that long ago that Cash Morris isn’t the kind of man that a woman would only want to have sex with once,” Sam answered. “You said that he was the kind of man that a woman hopes she’ll be able to change, that she’ll be the one he wants to stop and settle down with.”
Right.
She was exactly right.
I had said that to her one day when I was still working at the hotel. Hearing it again, I realized it was the truth.
That was the reason why I couldn’t bring myself to give him any more of me than my crappy attitude. If I softened even a little bit, I had no doubt I would regret it.
When I took too long to respond, Sam added, “You know, it’s okay to want that. And it’s okay to want it with him.”
“Wanting it and actually believing it could happen are two different things,” I reminded her. “I can’t take that risk… not with someone like him. He’d be so uninterested so fast once he got what he wanted.”
“Maybe he won’t,” she argued. “Honestly, I think you should just give him your number. In fact, I was so close to doing it myself on Thursday when I was leaving work.”
“What?”
Sam gasped. There was a long pause before she whispered, “I have a confession to make.”
“What?” I asked, already not liking where this conversation was headed.
“I might have been the one to tell Cash that you’d be at Granite on Thursday night,” she shared.
I didn’t respond.
Sam did this.
Why would Sam tell him that?
“I’m really sorry, Demi,” she apologized. “I just… I just really think that you deserve to be happy. Cash could have gone anywhere for this break his band is on right now, but he chose to come back here for you. I’m sorry, but I think that’s got to count for something.”