Cash (Sexy Bastard #2) (22 page)

“And you’re afraid that
Cash is setting you up for the same thing, aren’t you?”

“He’s
just—there’s something he’s not telling me.
I know there is, and it’s important to him. I trusted him with
my secrets—I told him all about Tanner and his secret wife,”
I say louder then I probably meant to.

People start to stare at me. This is
why you don’t have meltdowns in public. Cassie just stares
wide-eyed at me. My friend is shocked that I chose wrong. I was
always the one making smart choices. Making the right choice. Now,
I’m lining up to be the new girl of the week with a bartender
with commitment issues. “I don’t
understand why he doesn’t think he can trust me.”

“I think you need to talk to him
about this.”

“What if there is someone else?
What if I’m just the girl he’s using to get over Morgan?”

“Either way, you need to know.
Press the issue. You’re a lawyer. When you have someone on the
stand, do you back down? Hell no, you go right for the jugular. Don’t
let Cash get away before you press the issue.”

That’s what I was afraid of.

Cash

The Library is finally about to start
being a real thing. The building crew’s moved out, and the
place actually looks like a bar now and not the bookshop it used to
be. Jackson’s dragged me down here to finalize the last few
placements around the bar. The heart of the club is the circular
bar—and it’s risky, we always knew that—but it’s
giving us more trouble than any of us ever thought.

“So we have a speed well at each
point,” I say, smacking post-its where I think each one should
go. Jackson looks at me through narrowed eyes from his position at
the bar. The Library is coming together. The top floor is already
finished and staged. It’s just the last few things here at the
bar that needs to be finished.

Jackson grunts. I know he wants to have
a heart to heart, and I am trying my best to just work on the bar
issues.

“We’ll get bogged down if
we don’t have more,” I say, ignoring the unspoken
question. I am really getting tired of talking about my family. We
need to focus on the other details such as the number of speed wells
we’re going to put in around this circular bar.

“So you and Ryder are on the same
page? When’d that happen?”

About the same time Savannah and I
started falling off the page. Coming home to an empty apartment was
not on my agenda, but if I stayed with Savannah she would have wanted
to know about Morgan, and that would mean I’d have to talk
about Emmett and Martha, and everything else. I could have easily
found someone else to blow off all my steam with, but since I started
fucking Savannah I don’t want anyone else. It’s driving
me insane.

I stand at the bar and try to imagine
what it’s going to feel like once the place is teeming with
people. Opening The Library is going to put me back in control and
then I’ll hunt down Savannah and not leave my apartment for a
week.

“Ryder and I have solved the
issue. Relax and design a new building.”

“I am not going to be the rope
between you guys again. I don’t need that shit.” Jackson
hits another tag on the other side of the bar, marking another speed
well location.

“Aw Jackson, just because you
have to keep a close eye on Shelby doesn’t mean the rest of us
need dads.” I relax against the bar and picture how I want to
set up the bottles.

“Shelby is off limits to you
pervs and you know it. But since I’m stuck being the mature one
of the group, have you told Savannah yet? Secrets get out faster than
you after a one-night stand.”

There are a lot of things I’ve
told Savannah. How fucking hard she makes me. How much I love her
pussy. But there are some things she just doesn’t need to know.

I duck under the bar and stand behind
it. This is my domain. Running my hands over the polished oak, I
expect to feel the insanity in me settle. But it doesn’t. The
bar’s not as smooth as the inside of Savannah’s thighs.
This should be home. Whatever happens in the world, I can come back
to the bar and start again.

Except, I don’t
feel it. Something’s missing.

Jackson pulls up a chair and smacks the
bar. “Let’s see how these cocktails of yours are coming.”

There’s enough liquor in the
place for me to make the basic drinks. I grab a bottle and a shaker,
tossing them around easily searching for the rhythm I don’t
feel. Clearly, because none of these drinks are shaken. I set the
shaker down without breaking my stride and follow it with the bottle.
My hand free, I flip up a glass.

First up: 351.3 The Librarian. Whiskey,
Absinthe, and a little sugar. Into the glass it all goes, and I grab
a long handled spoon and give the cocktail a good swirl, adding
bitters to the top before sliding it across the bar.

Jackson takes another drink. “I
thought bartenders were supposed to help people with their problems.”

“Damn, this is good. How do you
come up with these things?”

“Good sex,”
I say. “How do you come up with your buildings?”

“Orgies,” he says, with a
smirk that says he’s yanking my chain. That, or Mr.
Straight-Laced Jackson is pulling one over on all of us.

Grabbing another glass, I make myself a
drink: 808.9 The Classic Section. It’s my own version of a
Manhattan. Drink in hand, I’m able to handle whatever Jackson
might throw at me.

“You have to tell her.”

At least he waited until I had a drink
before jumping back into the issue. I pause mid-drink. There are a
lot of things I want to do with Savannah, but telling her about my
parents isn’t even making the list.

“Why?” I put down my drink
and start filing the bottle back into place. It’s an easy
pattern to follow, and gives me something to concentrate on besides
my relationship with Savannah.

“Because you’re getting to
the place where she’s gonna start asking some questions, like
where is this going? And what are we?”

“She knows what we are.”

I’m the guy who makes her scream.
We are friends. What more does it need to be?

“Because it’s been my
experience—before anything comes out of your mouth, yes I have
experience—that women like to have those things confirmed
verbally. Have you even asked if she’s exclusively seeing you?”

“When would she date someone
else? We’re together every night.”

Every night, except last night, she’s
been coming on my cock. I doubt Savannah snuck out of her apartment
to go hunt up a man for the evening. I mean, she knew I was
available. Even before we started whatever it is we are, she wasn’t
the type to take home random men—no matter how much she needed
the orgasm to de-stress.

“You are hopeless, you know
that?”

“Drink your Librarian and shut
up,” I say pointing Jackson back toward his drink. I’m
the one behind the bar: I give the advice, not the other way around.

“The date not go well last
night?”

“Let’s just say it put some
things in perspective.”

“Like…”

“We will never work—not as
long as my family is…” I drift off.

“So you’ll tell Ryder but
not Savannah about dear old mom and pop Gardner?”

Last night, I was five seconds away
from Savannah discovering the truth about me. Morgan Dockson could
have gotten in two more words and the world I’d built around
Savannah and I would come tumbling down. It’s a lie that grows
bigger by the day. Someday I’ll think about tearing it down,
but for now, it’s all that’s keeping me together.

“Let’s say we get serious.
She’ll have to meet my family.”

“There is no way they can be that
scary.”

“You don’t know them like I
do. They will ruin this. Mom will immediately jump into floral
arrangements and pull out every wedding magazine known to mankind. My
father will just sit around and judge her, and worse, me.”

“Hate to tell you this, but
that’s how it is in every family.”

“Even your paragon of familial
bonding?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

“You never met my parents, so you
don’t get to judge.”

And then I remember that Jackson and
Shelby’s parents’ are dead.
They died in a car accident five years ago. It’s why he’s
so protective of Shelby: they’re all each other’s got.

“Sorry man, I didn’t mean
to be disrespectful.” I tip my glass toward him. “Everything
my father touches just rots. We’re certainly not your family.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, you do not
know the deep dark secrets of the Masters family, okay? Yes, you know
Shelby and she’s cool, but trust me. We all have family secret
closets, and we don’t want to show them to people we don’t
care about.”

“Isn’t that why we have our
own family?” I ask, saluting him with my glass.

“And what is happening with that?
But trust me: Savannah can take it, but you have to trust her. She
can forgive a lot of things, but the longer you wait the harder it is
going to be to get her back.”

“Are you done with the
inspirational pep talk?”

“Depends. You gonna tell her?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get right
on that.”

As soon as my father pays restitution
to the people he hurt.

Jackson locks up The Library and we
head back to Altitude. He’s not wrong about telling Savannah—I
know it—but I just want a few more days where it’s not
complicated. The bar is in full swing, and I’m ready to roll my
sleeves up only to remember that Katie’s acting head bartender
tonight. This place is soon going to be hers. She nods at me when I
come in, pouring five drinks at once before an adoring crowd. She
smiles at me and says something to a man sitting in front of her at
the bar that makes him laugh. Good to know that this bar is in good
hands.

I pull out my phone and check for any
calls or texts. Shutting the door to my stairs, I slowly climb them,
hoping to find anything on my phone from Savy. Last night may have
been royally screwed, but it’s the longest we’ve gone
without talking.

Nothing.

I stare at the phone and my finger
hovers over the call button. What if she still wants to talk about
last night? I can’t explain Morgan Dockson to her. I shove my
door open and toss aside my phone, content that tonight I’m
going home alone.

Because if it’s not Savy, I don’t
want to be around people.

“Well, about time you showed up,”
Savannah says.

My head jerks up. Savannah’s
laid out on my bed, propped up on one arm naked as the day she was
born. Jackson’s words scream one last time through my head. I
should tell her—Savannah crooks a finger at me—but not
right now.

“I do believe, counselor, that
this is called breaking and entering.” I pull my t-shirt over
my head as I walk to the bed. Savannah crawls up to the edge of the
bed getting closer to me, her fingers tracing the tattoo that covers
my shoulder.

“Not if you have a key.”
She kisses my chest and I know I can’t tell her. Not tonight.
Let’s have just one more night. Tomorrow. Maybe.

Yeah, tomorrow we’ll talk about
my family.

I help her with my jeans. Her fingers
trail over my cock. If I wasn’t hard at the sight of her naked,
I am now.

“Savannah—“

“Uh, uh, uh,” she says,
stroking me again. “Don’t make me get the handcuffs,”
she says. Savannah leans down and licks the bead of pre-cum off the
tip. Any coherent thought flies out of my head.

Her tongue runs up the length of me
before she wraps her lips around my head. There is nothing more
important in the world than what her tongue is doing to my dick. And
then she plays with my balls, and I about lose it.

Fisting her curls, I try to pull her
up. It’s my time to enjoy her. She scrapes her teeth along the
side of my dick, and I jerk.

“Don’t tell me you can’t
handle it a little rough,” she says, coming up for air.

“Sav—” but the words
get lost when she descends on my cock again. She’s as terrible
as I am, working me to the edge and backing off just as easily before
driving me back up the wall once more.

Savannah finally has pity on me, and I
come harder than I ever have before. She swallows all of my cum and
sits back, licking her lips.

“Why, Mr.
Gardner. You
can
behave.” She smiles up at me, and I can already feel myself
getting hard again. I want her more now than I ever have before.

She lays back on my bed and I slip
between her legs, sliding into her. We can forget last night, because
tonight is better. She moans, and I can’t think about trying to
explain myself or my family to her.

This is a new start.

It’s all I can think about when I
fall asleep curled up around her.

Savannah

This was
not part of the plan.
It’s the first thought I have
when I wake up the next morning spooned against Cash, his hand spread
across my hips, anchoring me to him. I could get used to this, I
think, and allow myself to sink back into his warmth. He nuzzles
closer to me in his sleep, the stubble on his chin tickling my cheek.
This has to be one of the best ways to wake up. I wouldn’t mind
doing this every day.

The thought is a metaphorical ice
bucket.

That was the whole point of the plan.
It had been simple, talk about what we were, clothes on. Clothes on
wasn’t an option Cash Gardner liked very much. Then I let
myself into the room, and that plan went out the window. I was right,
he was completely up for sex. I just hope he’s as willing to
talk about what’s next for us. We have crazy sex, but can we
have more? That’s the question we always back away from like
it’s a thief holding us hostage. We’re stuck somewhere
between friends and lovers.

Still trapped in early morning bliss, I
curl up and wait for sleep to drag me back under. A few more hours,
and then I’ll face the harsh light of reality. Then my stomach
rumbles. I’m starving. Late night sex may mean I can skip
Pilates, but my stomach still requests at least three meals a day.
But with the way Cash goes, I might need to increase that number.