2 Cash

CASH A Sexy Bastard Novel By

Eve Jagger

Cash Copyright © 2015 Eve Jagger All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Epilogue

To my Mother. I love you more than all the stars in the sky, and all the blades of grass on the earth. Your Petunia Pig. Xx

CHAPTER ONE

Cash There are two things in life that need to be handled with care: cocktails and women. Push a woman too far and you’ll end up stuck outside in nothing but your boxers—take my word for it, it’s not pretty. Shake a cocktail too hard and you kill the flavor. But when it all comes together, it’s magic in my very capable hands. Altitude is packed, but it’s been this way since we opened. The long bar spreads out before me and the crowd gathers, ready for a show. I fell into tending bar as a way to put myself through school and even after four years of grade-A education, I’d still rather shake, stir, and muddle my way through life. The bottles fit easily in my hands as I measure out rum and lime juice. The woman across from me wears a blue dress that she might have had painted on, and the gold chain around her neck leads the eye straight to her assets. I give her a winning smile that’s been proven to melt more than one heart. To all the men in the bar: I’m not sorry, but her attention’s on me. She twirls a piece of a hair around her finger and I can imagine what it’d look like spread out on my bed. Straining the cocktail into a glass, I reach for the garnish but Blue Dress Beauty is already reaching for her drink. I grab her wrist. Under my fingers her pulse jumps and I meet her eyes. This one is definitely ready to play. She gives me a wink. “Not done yet,” I say, releasing her. “I don’t know if I can wait.” “Oh, I think you can. You’re gonna enjoy this,” I tell her, my voice low and deep. I grab a fresh sprig of mint and tear off some leaves, keeping eye contact the whole time. “What did that mint ever do to you?” she asks, flirty. “It’s been very bad.” She arches an eyebrow at me. “It’s not the only thing being bad tonight.” I smack the leaves. “A quick spank and it releases all the flavor.” I wink, drop the mint into the drink and present it to her. “Taste it now.” She tries the drink. Nothing like a beautiful woman enjoying a perfect cocktail—except perhaps a woman after sex. I lean in so I can whisper in her ear. “You see? Better things come to those who wait.” “And if I’m in a hurry—?” I’m just about to tell her exactly what’ll happen if she’s in a hurry when a masculine voice interrupts my train of thought. “Traci?” A guy strolls over. He drapes an arm around her shoulders, and she rolls her eyes at me and tries to play him off. “Nice of you to show up. I was just getting a drink.” She gives me another wink. A girl like her could send that man packing in two seconds flat, and I might as well help her along. My MO doesn’t include backing down from douchebags like this guy. The man takes the drink from her and gulps, “Not bad,” he shrugs. “I’ll have the same as my girlfriend.” That remark is pointed at me. Hint taken. I make another drink, and slide it across the bar. “To those who wait,” the woman raises her glass. She gives me a suggestive lick of her lips, the

kind of gesture designed to make me think about that mouth wrapped around my cock. But it’s too late. Never gonna happen now, lady. There are enough single women in this bar, and I don’t go for someone who’s already taken. I get back to work, until I hear a chuckle. Jackson is behind the bar, grabbing some beers. “Hey, back off, this is my turf,” I joke. “You build the bars, I serve the booze.” “Yeah, yeah. Maybe if you weren’t so busy flirting, I wouldn’t have to get them myself.” “I can multi-task just fine,” I shoot back. “But anytime you need lessons with the ladies, I’ll be happy to help you out. Start with the basics, you know, save my advanced skills course for later.” I spot a couple of hot blondes arrive, arm in arm and looking for a good time. “Speaking of which, double trouble 101, over in the corner.” Jackson snorts. “Someday, I’ll enjoy watching someone tie you down.” “Never gonna happen,” I say, saluting him with my beer. I take a drink and set it aside. It’s back into the trenches, and there is nothing like working my way through a room. Jackson tosses me another beer and I grab it, juggling the other two in a move that’s more flash than technical. The patrons cheer. This is the life. Some guys can be happy with just one woman, but I figure, why deny the rest of them the pleasure? I move through the line of the bar, mixing drinks and taking names. A brunette with a come-andfuck-me smile looks from me to the menu. “What you want is not on that menu,” I say, plucking it out of her grasp and easily tossing it over my shoulder. “And how do you know that?” “Because,” I say, grabbing a bottle of liquor and pouring a steady stream into a shaker full of ice, “you want to try something new. Something that will help you let go. And that is why I’m here.” “To catch me when I fall or help me let go.” She’s teasing. I’m game. “Both.” A quick shake and she watches my arms. Straining her drink, I slide it across the bar as she scribbles something on a napkin and slides it across to me. Her number. “Call me sometime?” she says, casual. “Bet on it.” I pocket it and leave her with her drink and a smile—a smile that says there’s so much more to come. But later, for now, I’ve got more thirsty customers to deal with. I serve fast, until a piercing whistle cuts through the din. “Oh, barkeep,” a sugary voice calls. “I’m just about dying of thirst over here.” I laugh. I know that voice, and trust me, this girl is more spice than sugar. “Savannah, baby,” I greet her with a grin. “What can I do you for tonight?” She smiles back. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me? Or are your special powers slipping?” There’s a note of amusement in her voice. And a challenge. “Oh, ye of little faith.” I look her up and down, which is never much of a chore, especially tonight. She’s wearing a tight navy dress that hugs her curves and begs to be peeled away slowly – or shoved up fast. Which means there’s a hot date on the horizon – lucky bastard. “I know exactly what you need.” “Funny,” she smirks, “That’s what all the guys tell me, but somehow, they all come up short.” “Not me, sweetheart.” I tell her, setting down a tumbler and reaching for the whiskey – the good shit. “When I make you a promise, I always deliver.” I set the glass in front of her with a flourish. She gives me a slow clap. “No thanks needed for the drink,” I tell her.

“Oh no, that was for the number burning a hole in your pocket.” She flashes a smirk. “Savy, as always, your charms are much appreciated.” Savannah leans over the drink and then looks up at me with a critical gaze. “What, no mint? Don’t tell me I haven’t been a bad girl. But really, does that line actually work?” “I’ll have you know that smacking the mint before adding it to a drink helps to release its aromatics.” “That’s a very big word for you. However do your patrons keep up?” Savannah sips her drink, and I have to pull my eyes away from the gentle suction of her lush lips at the rim of the glass. I’ve been warned enough times by our mutual friends: Savannah is off limits. Nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting though. “So who’s the lucky guy tonight?” I ask. “Better than the last one, I hope?” “My last date was fine, thank you,” Savannah says primly. I grin. “Really? Because from what I heard, Mr. Slobber could use some pointers.” “Who told you about—” Realization dawns, her blue eyes narrowing like a hunter on the prowl. “Cassie is so dead.” “Before you murder my friend’s girl, please explain Picky Eater. I liked that story, too.” She shoots me a glare and slams back the rest of her whiskey with a grimace that I can’t help but find sexy as hell. Most girls who toddle in here on their stilettos go for wine or a fruity cocktail, but there’s nothing sexier than a woman who can appreciate her whiskey. “How much is left in that bottle?” she asks. I hold it up. “At least a few bad decisions, I’d say.” “Hit me.” “This isn’t poker, baby, but if you’re willing to play hold ‘em, I’d be happy to help you up the ante.” “And what’s the buy in?” “Just a night of your time.” I tease. “It’ll be fantastic. I can guarantee you’ll be seeing stars by the end.” Savannah rolls her eyes and nudges the empty glass toward me across the bar. “Your manwhore tactics should not be pointed in my direction.” I lean over the bar and hold her gaze, “Savy, if I ever try my tactics on you, you’ll beg for it and say please and thank you when it’s done.” She stiffens, her back going beanpole straight. I’ve gotten under that picture perfect exterior. The girl can shoot straight whiskey and make a trucker blush with her language. I lean back. Savannah’s blue eyes are dark and her lips parted as if she’s searching for a response. “The word you’re looking for is: please.” “Cash?” she asks coyly, rolling her shoulders slightly to draw attention to her breasts. I look because if she’s going to put it on display, it would be a pity to see it wasted. “Yes.” “Please...” “Please what? Use your words, what do you want?” “Please refill my glass.” She pushes her glass toward me. “We’re going to have to work on your begging skills,” I laugh. As I refill her glass I spot a guy who just walked in: dress shirt, suit, slicked back hair, and loafers. He’s looking around at the controlled chaos in the bar with a slight sneer. Attitude for days. He spots Savannah, and starts to make his way towards us.

That girl has no taste. “You need to work on your selection skills,” I sigh, nodding to the new arrival. Savannah waves at him. “What is he, an accountant?” “Banker,” she corrects me. I snort. “Sounds stimulating.” “How would you know? He could be more than just a pretty face, Cash. Because unlike some people, I’d actually like to find something…more. Like Cassie and Ryder,” she adds with a wistful sigh. Our friends are currently snuggled in the corner booth, too caught up in each other to notice the world around them. Ryder cracks himself up in the middle of some story he’s telling, and Cassie places a hand on his chest, throwing her head back in an unselfconscious giggle that more than a few men around them notice. They’re happy together. Really happy. “Sickening,” I say cheerfully. “But hey, if Ryder wants to take himself off the market, I’m more than happy to pick up the slack.” “Ass.” Savannah gives me a playful shove and hops down from her stool. “Well, how do I look?” “Bun,” I say, pointing to her head. She pulls out the few pins holding up her blonde curls and gives them a good fluff, looking like she just rolled out of bed after a night of great sex. She takes a final sip of her drink and pushes it toward me. “Thanks for the liquid courage, but I think you need it more.” I’m thrown. “Me? Why?” “You need to lose this fuck ’n run attitude. Settle down, find a girl to annoy fulltime. Who knows, you might like it.” I roll my eyes. “Sure. And that banker over there’s going to turn out to be the best screw of your life. I don’t think so.” “At least I’m trying,” Savannah shrugs, and goes to meet him. The crowd parts for her. Her date immediately goes for the kiss—wrong move, dude. Savannah turns at the last second and gives him her cheek. She meets my eyes, and I can read her so well by now that I catch the meaning behind her gaze right away: it’s going to be a long night. I head for the pass, ready to step in—no reason she needs to keep up with the bottom feeder for the next few hours. But Ryder steps in front of me when I try to get out. “Hey,” Ryder says, blocking my path. “Finally. Your girlfriend let you out by yourself?” Ryder just grins. “Gunner just let in a bachelorette party, so you can find a new skirt to chase.” “I need no help in that department,” I say. There are at least four numbers in my pocket from tonight’s shift alone. “Cassie told me to tell you, hands off Savannah.” On instinct, I scan the crowd and find Savannah and Loose Lips. She’s got that cool smile on that says she’s got it all under control. Something tells me I’ll be getting one hell of a story when she comes in for the next date. “Now why would I be looking at Savannah when there’s a bachelorette party headed my way?” I head over to the party. These girls are ready for a good time. They’re a flutter of pastels, flowy fabric, and pearls, but I’m willing to bet there’s more than one wild woman under all that polish. I step up to the front and begin the show. “Ladies, who’s eloping with me tomorrow?” A collective cheer goes up from the group. I take drink orders and am just starting to shake my first drink when a woman pushes her way to the front. “Cash? Cash Gardner?” A salon-made blonde who’s stepped off the pages of my memories is

standing there in front of me. The shaker freezes mid-air. Her eyes widen. “Oh my god, it is you! Don’t you remember? It’s me, Morgan! We went to school together, back at Landsbury Prep. I can’t believe I’m running in to you here!” I stare back, numb. There’s a weird ringing in my ears, and I fight to focus on Morgan. She’s going on about how she just talked to my mom last week, and some charity gala they’re all planning at the country club, but it’s like she’s talking a foreign language. I thought I’d left this all behind. I grab one of the other bartenders. “I need to work the front,” I tell him. “You take it from here.” Then I fight my way out from behind the bar, heading blindly down the back hallway and out to the alley behind the building. My building – or at least, part of it is. People take it for granted that I’m just the hired help here, but I own the place in partnership with the other guys. I paid my own way through college too, I never took one dime of my parents’ money, not after I learned the truth about just how dirty it really was. I left that life behind me: prep schools, and country clubs, and all the bullshit that goes along with it. Only Jackson knows a little about where I came from, but the others are in the dark. But I guess there’s no escaping the past. There’s always something, pulling me back. Reminding me about the debt I owe. Until I find another girl to distract me. Yeah, that’s just what I need. I take another breath, then head back inside to go find tonight’s distraction.

CHAPTER TWO

Cash Last call. The stragglers hit the pavement, and the lights come on. I cash the waitresses and other bar staff out. They all head off with nods to each other and to me. Barely holding myself upright, I head for the stairs that will take me to my apartment. Just as I reach door number one, Jackson comes out of the office, flipping through a stack of mail. “Wait up,” he says, as I jam my key in the lock. “What’s up?” I mutter, completely exhausted. Jackson plants the stack of mail on my chest. “You gotta move out of this crap hole.” “Let me report your concerns to the architect,” I shoot back with a grin. “Very funny.” Jackson presses a stack of mail to my chest. “Came to the office by mistake.” I mumble something, ready to catch some z’s since, contrary to Ryder’s prediction, I’m heading home alone. Morgan Dockson is apparently still the worst cock-block known to man. Glad to know some things never change. She’d been insufferable at school—the one who always had to follow all the rules and believed that everyone else should, too. She wasn’t anyone’s favorite. Least of all mine. “Going home alone,” Jackson says with a smirk. “Does it have anything to do with a particular blonde at the bar?” “Who?” He couldn’t possibly have noticed my freak-out over Morgan—or did he? “Savannah? You were talkin’ to her most of the night. She and her date were looking pretty cozy, though. Never knew you for the torch-carrying type.” “Savy? No way. We’re just commiserating over losing our buddies to the big L word.” “Me think he doth protesteth too much.” Jackson smirks. “Whatever, dude. See you tomorrow.” He waves me off home – not that I have far to go. My apartment’s upstairs, above the bar. I should probably find a new place, but you really can’t beat the commute. I mean the traffic—even from across the street—would just kill me in the end. Plus, on those nights when everyone’s a little too buzzed, it’s nice to be able to sweep my flavor of the night off her feet and into bed in ten seconds flat. Kicking my door closed, I flip through the envelopes. My apartment’s a cobbled-together comfort. It’s sleek, rugged, and mostly second-hand. Why get new stuff when there is still perfectly acceptable material just lying around? A salvaged antique brick and reclaimed wood TV stand, repurposed steamer trunk for a coffee table, a cut-down, sanded, and refinished barn door for a headboard. When you grow up with shiny, marble, brand new and stale, all you want is something that feels real. And the truth is, I like building this stuff. Working with my hands makes me feel useful. I dump my keys in the bowl and check the mail. Bill. Bill. Useless Ad. Postcard from Knox, living the pro-ball life in New York... Gardner and Sons. Fate, you fickle bitch, you would have both land in my lap in the same day. First Morgan, and now my monthly hush money. Still in my socks, I head to the kitchen. Taped to the inside of the cabinet just to the right of the sink is a list. It’s got too many names and not enough of them crossed off. I scan down the list. Marissa Stamretz. Congrats. Ripping open the bank statement, I see the deposits have too many zeros and none of it makes me

feel good. I could buy a lot of soap with that kind of dough and still never feel clean enough. So I send it on to the people who deserve it. Who are owed it, really. Not that the law sees it that way, but I learned a long time ago, what’s legal and what’s just are two different things. I seal up the new check in an envelope and address it. Marissa Stamretz, I hope it helps. I hope it makes up—oh hell, I just hope she isn’t already so far gone that it can’t help. I cross her off my list. Crawling into bed, I try not to think about all of the names still left.

CHAPTER THREE

Savannah People always assume that Harvard is the top law school in America. It’s not. In school we’d like to say Harvard was for people who couldn’t get into Yale or Stanford. That’s right, Harvard is not number one, not number two, but third. It gave us all the need to push ourselves to bigger and better things. We may not be the top law school in America, but we sure as hell act like it. And fuck if I don’t live up to that standard. That sort of blind confidence is the only thing keeping my smile in place and my head firmly attached to my shoulders. I’ve stuck my head so deep into the sand when it comes to my personal life I’m about to hit the Earth’s core. It’s also been great that I’m basically holding my department together, so I can fill my empty bed with contracts and my laptop. I don’t even want to think about how many times this week I’ve woken up to ink stained PJs because I fell asleep while working. For once, it would be nice to wake up to something toned and naked. The elevator dings, and it’s time to put thoughts of bare-chested men out of my head. Pity. I plaster on a smile and square my shoulders. I am Savannah Sunday, I kick ass, I am up for a promotion at work, and I fucked up my love life. If anyone is going to make big things happen, it’s me. Briggs, Meyers, and Associates occupies four floors in a high rise in downtown Atlanta, with sweeping views of the city. This is our base of operations, and I may as well be a four star general. The receptionist looks up at me when I enter, and I give her a small wave. Our Entertainment Division is a long corridor. We handle everyone from musicians, to rising film stars, to DJs—and we’re the best in town. “Coming in late this morning, Savannah?” Richard asks. He’s already got his suit jacket off and his sleeves rolled up. He’s the competition. I’ve been holding the department together after our boss retired, but Richard—or The Dick, as I personally prefer to call him—has been angling for the spot that should be mine. I’ve been coming in early to get a head start on work, and I have to admit, it’s amazing how a lack of sex life makes you more productive. Despite the number of dates I’ve been through in the last few months, nothing has been worth taking home, let alone sampling. Good for my clients, bad for me. “Good morning to you too, Richard.” I watch him struggle through another set of boxes. “Can I help you with something?” No reason the department should go down on my watch, regardless of our rivalry. “Just going over the last few clauses in a contract and I wanted to look at something Meyers had written several years ago. He mentioned it yesterday when we were going over…” He drops off, probably because I wasn’t supposed to hear that Meyers—a partner—was going over his work. Meyers is a misogynistic pig who only hired me because Briggs interviewed me and did it behind Meyers’s back. The Dick is Meyers’s favorite. The only reason I wasn’t given the position after the first month was that Meyers wanted to give The Dick a chance. Because the five years he’d already been here weren’t evidence enough of his incompetence. “Get a paralegal to do it.” I don’t want to work with him. In fact I’d like to fire him, but for the good of the team I play nice and bide my time until I can boot his ass to the curb. I don’t love being a

bitch, but sometimes, in this business, even southern belles have to show their balls . “I want to make sure my client’s receiving the personal touch,” The Dick says, his gaze flicking up and down my body. Ugh. “Okay, then you go ahead and do it. But they’re not billable hours.” I turn on my heel and sweep down the hall, trying not to think about The Dick’s eyes glued to my ass. I’d hook up with Cash before I’d let The Dick bill a client for time spent looking up an obscure quote that he wouldn’t let a paralegal touch. At least I’d get the better end of the deal.

Rob’s outside my office with a stack of contracts in one hand and a green tea latte in the other. Rob’s been with me since I started here, and he’s the type of assistant I would go to the mat for. And it’s not just because he knows my coffee order. Rob knows how to handle difficult clients, ferret out information, and he can read contracts so well I suspect he may have negotiated his own birth. I take the contracts and the latte and he follows me into my office, going over messages. “We haven’t heard back from Davies, so I—” “You sent the flowers to him and the—” “Bourbon—to Mathias, yes ma’am.” I glare at him. Rob’s one flaw in my opinion is the ‘ma’am.’ The tips of his ears redden. He grew up in the country, or as he says, just to the left of the middle of nowhere—and it was the kind of oldfashioned place where everyone was ma’am or sir if they held a position over him. He moved to the city to find more open-minded people, and somehow he found us. I’m glad he did. Wherever he wants to go, I will move mountains to help him get there. Flipping open the first contract, I start scanning it while we run down the laundry list of morning issues. “Put Davies on the call list and we’ll hit him up again. He needs a new lawyer to take on the studios. We have plenty of experience there.” Rob makes a face. “I got the impression from his assistant that he really wants someone in Los Angeles.” I stop short. “Why? When he spends ninety percent of his time shooting in Atlanta? We’re far more accessible, and we’ve dealt with these studios plenty of times before.” “I’ll remind his assistant of that next time we speak.” “Great. And Mathias?” “Possibly has a new client for you, but I couldn’t get much more out of him than that.” I look up. Rob can find snow in the Sahara. Whoever Triton Entertainment thinks they have, they think that person is worth big bucks. Just what I need to put me above The Dick. “Thank you.” Rob heads for the door and I grab a pen, writing in an addendum to a clause. He backtracks and stands in front of me, head down. “Also, Meyers wants to know if you’re still going to the event at the Intercontinental tomorrow?” “Does Blake Shelton sing country music?” I answer, not looking up from my writing. “I know that and you know that, but Meyers—” “Rob,” I warn. Normally, I’d enjoy the joke, and probably add a follow up, but with me angling for this job, I can’t chance it. Meyers isn’t my biggest fan at this point. No need to poke the bear. Even if it is true. I stare at Rob, the pieces not adding up. “Why exactly is Meyers so interested? I RSVP’d for that weeks ago. We’re confirmed to meet with the heads of several record labels that night. Everything is set.”

My assistant looks uncomfortable. “I think it’s because you left early that one time. He’s got the idea stuck in his head that you’re not invested enough in the business.” Rob looks away. I pause, pen mid-air above a clause. That one fucking time was several months ago and I prefer not to remember the worst day of my life. It was the last time I let anything to do with my heart get in the way of my job. Of course he thinks I’m not engaging in the business. “Tell him I’ll be there and he’ll be glad I am in the end.” Rob nods and starts to go, but then turns back. “How was the date, by the way?” he asks. “Thank you, Rob.” I dismiss him, feeling my cheeks flush. He shoots me a sympathetic smile. “That good, huh? Want me to cancel Mixer Man tonight?” The last thing I needed was for my dates to get new nicknames before they even made their terrible appearance. But really, I should cancel. If Meyers thinks I’m not interested in the business, I’m in more trouble than I originally thought. Cancel, I think. Cancel, it’ll be better for your career. Live a little—it’s Cash’s words that come back to me, sending a shiver down my spine. Maybe I’m spending too much time at Altitude, and my brain isn’t thinking clearly. And as soon as those words come, I remember his promise that I’ll beg and then thank him for it. The thought alone has me turned on. I need this date. Otherwise, I’m liable to do everything Cash asks. I’ve let work eat my life for far too long. “Confirm what’s on the calendar, Robert.” “Yes, ma’am.” And just as he’s leaving, “Right away, ma’am.” Rob finally leaves grinning, and I get through the rest of the contract and a handful of emails before my cell phone buzzes. I answer without even looking at the caller ID. Big shot lawyer on call twenty-four seven, that’s me. “Savannah Sunday.” “Good morning to you, too.” Cassie’s all too familiar chipper tone comes down the phone. It’s been easy to fall back into our old ways. Cassie was MIA overseas for almost two years, and we seem to constantly be making up for lost time. Brunch, phone calls, texting—if it wasn’t for her new boyfriend, we’d probably still be having sleepovers and staying up way too late with wine, popcorn, and boy talk. It’s great to have her back. I relax in my chair, slipping off my heels. “Morning, Cassie.” “I saw the date last night. So spill. Good, bad, fantastic? Did you take him home?” “I’m surprised your man even let you look at my date.” It comes out harsher than I mean it to. Sometimes I’m just jealous of my best friend’s good fortune. She totally deserves it. All of it. And then some. I just wish it could be as easy for the rest of us. I was stupid enough to think it might be— and I completely missed some crucial details. “You’re avoiding the subject,” she says, sympathy in her voice. I was hoping she’d forget how I called her out on that same tactic when she started seeing Ryder. The girl is relentless. “So it was that good?” “Let’s just say we won’t be picking out our china patterns any time soon.” “So that’s a maybe on the second date?” There’s Cassie for you, always looking on the bright side. I sigh, letting her cheerful attitude about love buoy my enthusiasm. “Let me clarify, we’re not picking out china patterns ever.” “Okay. So he didn’t work. But that’s okay! There’re—”

“Objection, mentioning the number of fucking fish in the sea is against the best friend’s rules for supporting dating friends.” Cassie laughs at my feeble lawyer’s joke, which I appreciate. “Fine, fine. But if you ever need some help I know a lot of single guys…” Right, let me accept help from my happily dating best friend. Plus, the single guys she knows now all run a club—and an illegal fight night— with her boyfriend. “Just don’t forget what a catch you are.” I glare at the contract in front of me. It’s a music deal for a client I already represent. A rock band Mathias found headlining one of the clubs in the area. They’ve been pretty successful and were my first major client, so I’m going to make sure this contract is on the up and up. There’s a post-it note from Rob on there saying Mathias has a new artist for me to hear. ‘A country music artist?’ The world shrinks to pin pricks and I lose track of Cassie’s voice. It could be nothing. Country music is basically one-third a part of Southern blood, the other two being church and sweet tea. Triton has millions of clients, and there are millions of people looking to be the next big thing. It’s probably nothing. “Savannah…Savannah?” I slam the folder shut. Nope. No fucking way. Not right now. “Savannah. Don’t make me come over there.” “What, sorry? Sorry, trying to do two things at once.” I stare at the wall and try to forget the feel of guitar string-calloused hands. For once in my life, I’m happy there’s a phone line between me and my best friend. “Oh come on, Savannah. I know you better than that. Out with it.” “Fine. Yes, I have a date tonight, and let’s hope he’s one worth taking home.” “That’s not what I mean and you know it.” I guess even a phone line can’t stop Cassie’s ESP. “You think that line will distract me? Wrong. Where is the Savannah I know? You are a take-charge girl. You can have any man dancing at your fingertips. This string of bad dates is not you. What happened? What’s got you so shook up?” “It’s nothing.” I want to curl up around a tub of ice cream and eat the whole thing while bawling my eyes out and watching The Notebook. But that’s not how this works. You have to keep pushing to act like the best. Time to pull it together—he’s not worth it. “It’s just my stupid ex, is all. He just… broke my heart. And sometimes it feels like I’ll never be okay again.” My voice hitches, but I steel myself and clear my throat, pushing the memories away. “Anyway, no big deal. I’ll be fine. Really.” “Savannah.” Her voice softens, and even the joking tone is gone. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” A lump forms in my throat and I reach for my latte to wash down the memories. If only it was permissible to drink whiskey before noon. “Because I’ve been busy,” I say. Not quite a lie, but far from the truth as I can possibly get. “There’s just this promotion at work, and the dates, and you’re so happy…” “I don’t care if I’m walking down the aisle, if something throws you off this much you object to the marriage and we get to the bottom of it,” she says, her words built on five kinds of steel. Sometimes I forget that no matter how much Cassie’s been through, it doesn’t break her. She can rebuild her life from the rubble. “I’m not interrupting your fucking wedding,” I laugh. “You most certainly will.” “Fine, but when we finish, we’ll walk you down that damn aisle.” “After we figure out your situation. So let me in, let me help. I didn’t move all the way back across the Atlantic to still be cut off from my best friend.”

It’s that emotional punch to the gut that makes me feel about five inches tall. I was keeping this all in because I wanted to protect her from my stupidity. Besides it was in the past, and I was firmly going to leave it there. Done. Gone. Buried. No one needed to ever know about my bitch of a broken heart. “Cass,” I start, and don’t know how to make the words come out. This is why I don’t tell people, because then they think less of me. They take on that tone that means I’m to be pitied. But I’m not. Honestly, I have it together—mostly. I will not let one man take me down. I will get through this, if it’s the last thing I do. “You want me to get someone to beat him up for you? I know a guy.” I let out a hoarse laugh. Leave it to Cassie to put the topic back in a familiar funny court. “No, that’s okay. He probably wouldn’t survive, and then we’ll have a big lawsuit on our hands.” “I know it’s hard to talk about rough stuff, but if you ever need to, Savannah, I’m here. No judgment. Promise.” And that right there is why Cassie is my best friend. She knows how far to push me and when to wait. I try to make my voice light. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s fine. Besides, I have high hopes for my date tonight, and I’d like to not go to jail for premeditated assault.” “Get it, girl. Who is he, give me the deets.” A few minutes later, I hang up with Cassie. Her bright outlook for my date tonight has almost banished all thoughts of him. No use dwelling on the past. You got into this mess, I tell myself, by falling in love with the wrong man—you can get out of it by falling for a right man. After Picky Eater, Altitude became my dating spot. My dates would suggest other places, and I’d counter with Altitude. It was always my final offer, my deal breaker. There were many reasons why I liked this spot. One, the food was just my style. Two, if anything bad happened, help was just a finger wave away. I had a system. A look at a waitress, a signal for a specific drink, and suddenly the date would be done in five minutes. And three, I really like the place. Even with so many ridiculous dates, the club never failed to feel like a second home. If there was one thing I learned in law school it was that there’s nothing to boost your confidence like playing on your home turf. I forgo the bar tonight, settling instead on a booth. One of the waitresses, Katie, brings me a drink, and I give her our signal. The date needs to be over. Actually, it needed to be over before it even officially began, but I wanted to stick it out and prove to myself that I was being a good sport. For the record, Cash’s advice sucks. Speaking of the devil, my eyes drift to the bar where he’s busy putting on a show for the crowd. His blond hair is unruly, and every time he smiles his dimples pop out. It’s easy to understand why women all but remove their panties the minute they see him. He’s more lithe than Ryder and Parker who each are packed with hard muscle. Cash is…flexible, like a swimmer. The muscles that wrap his body are meant to move and twist. Tonight, he’s in his usual uniform: a white V-neck T-shirt and jeans. The end of a tattoo licks his arm. What I wouldn’t give to peel back that shirt and discover what’s beneath —I stop myself mid thought. This is Cash I’m thinking about. Cash slides a drink over to a woman and makes her laugh. See, I tell myself. You’re not the only one he comforts in times of need. That thought knocks me out of it. Where did that even come from? I am on a date—not here to scope out my friend.

I met my date at a Harvard Law school mixer. There he’d been a straight-laced lawyer. Suit. Tie. Respectable day job at a good firm. Silly of me to believe that façade. By night, he dresses in shiny black pleather and a ripped t-shirt. I half expect him to let his mullet fall out. I’ve seen this style done well, but this is a mess and a half on Mixer Man—and he prefers himself this way. “This is a great bar,” he says, his eyes darting around the room appreciatively. “You think they’re hiring DJs?” “I don’t know. Why?” That last question is more to myself than for him. Why am I doing this? What sort of hell have I condemned myself to? Cash had better have a full bottle of whiskey waiting for me when this is done. “Well, I guess, since we’re dating—to be honest, this lawyer stuff isn’t for me. My parents wanted me to go to law school. So I went, got a job, checked all the boxes—and now I’m looking to make a clean exit. Law was never my thing. But you? Trust me, they’ll love you.” He leans in and goes for the kiss. I’ve been avoiding kisses for the past two months; I could practically go pro as a kiss avoider. I turn my head to catch a waitress’s attention, and to make sure he doesn’t even graze my cheek, I block him with my hand. “It’s been lovely, but I think we’re done here.” I throw my bag over my shoulder and make to stand. But he doesn’t seem to get the hint. “So how about Saturday, then? Would you come out to my show?” “Sorry, I’m stuck in all weekend—life of a lawyer.” I shrug and down the rest of my drink. We are officially over. Mixer Man shakes his head. “You need a new profession. You’re too sexy for the law.” And I leave. Just walk away. Yes, because a woman can’t be pretty and also have a brain. How foolish of me. “I’ll call you,” he calls after me. I can’t wait to hit the ignore button. I sit at the end of the bar, which I’ve come to think of as my own personal front porch. Cash comes over, and I expect my usual: a tumbler and a healthy pour of whiskey. Instead he sets down a shot glass, a bowl of limes, and a shaker full of salt. “I’d prefer whiskey or maybe a glass of red wine,” I say, realizing too late that there’s far more venom in my voice than necessary. “Please,” I add. “Try again,” Cash says. “Pretty please with sugar on top?” “As long as I can lick the sugar off.” “Give it to me.” “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Cash says with a smile, his dimples popping out again. “However, I’m going to switch it up for you. Whiskey is what you do after every date, and it’s time to mess up the routine. Shots. If you’re nice, I’ll even let you do body shots.” “So considerate.” “Women should always come first,” he says with a wink as he spreads his hands on the bar and points to each item. “So: salt, shot, lime.” “Is this your proven bad date cure? You’re going to get me insanely drunk very quickly?” “Nothing like that. It’s a game. Whoever has the worse date, loser takes a shot.” “And the manwhore thinks he can beat me? Haven’t you heard about my dates?” “Oh, I have stories that would make your toes curl.” He leans over the bar—I bet it’s not just his stories that would make my toes curl. Whoa there, I scold myself silently. Am I really considering letting Cash Gardner make my toes curl? It’s been longer than I thought. I mean, he is gorgeous, but

he’s a friend. Keep reminding yourself, Savy. “Down boy,” I say to him. “Trust me, you got nothing on me.” “If you say so.” He smiles. “Being a gentleman, I’ll go first. And speaking of domesticated animals, a woman once meowed at everything I said and did.” I snort. “A man once took me out to dinner and watched me eat everything by myself.” Cash shakes his head. “You lose that one. Sorry. Try harder next time.” “I always play to win,” I glare. “Although Cat Woman sex does sound amazing—as long as she was declawed.” Cash motions to the shot. I lick the salt off my wrist quickly, trying to ignore the intensity of his eyes on me, down the shot, then chase it all down with a bite of lime. I fight back a grimace and flash a thumbs-up instead. It’s been a long time since I’ve done shots, and I can feel the alcohol go straight to my head. Cash pours another. “Nice work with the salt there,” he says, deadpan, though I can see a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Looks like I’m up again. A woman once made me a painting out of felted hair that she collected from her drain. True story.” He looks at me and folds his arms. I’m agape. “Do you actually sleep with these women?” He shrugs. “They don’t seem as crazy in person. At least, not right away.” “Tonight a man wanted me to be his get-out-of-parent-rage girl. He figured it’d be okay to quit lawyering if I was there to impress his mom and dad. And he wanted me to go to his band’s gig on Saturday and also see about getting him a job here as a DJ. Also, he said I’m too sexy to work in law, which I guess, besides being sexist, would negate the first part of the bargain and leave neither of us with the ability to appease the doting parentals.” I take a deep breath after letting all that out in such a long rush. Cash debates, and then takes the salt-shaker. “I think I actually lose that one.” “You do.” I push the limes in his direction with a small, satisfied smile. He licks salt off his hand, taps the shot on the table, and takes it, chasing the drink with a lime. Several horror stories later, we’ve amassed a small pyramid of shot glasses and the edges of my vision are beginning to unravel and fuzz. The world’s taken on a new glow, and it makes my simple problems feel so much less important than I once thought of them. “I just—why can’t I find a man? I mean I’m a catch, right? Do I just have loser stamped across my head?” I ask as Cash pours another shot. “I can neither confirm nor deny that.” “I’m not saying I wanna get married,” I slur, “or that I need a man to complete my life. I can take care of myself, you know? But I’m wound up tighter than a spring right now. I will take anything with two legs and a dick that can give me a passable orgasm. Seriously.” “Have some standards,” Cash urges. “Says the man with none,” I retort. “Ouch. Just for that, you get the next shot.” Salt. Shot down the hatch, but when I grab for the lime my fingers slip and the lime goes flying. The tequila burns me from the inside out. “Bite down, Savy.” Cash holds up a lime and I lean in and bite down, sucking in the juice from the fruit. Looking up through my lashes at Cash, a million dirty things rush through my head. All of them starring Cash Gardner. It’s enough that when he pulls the lime away and runs his thumb along my

lower lip, I catch it with my teeth. His eyes darken. This isn’t just two friends having fun. There’s something happening. One more push and this could happen. Not just that, I would gladly let it happen, and probably enjoy every minute of it. Cash clearly thinks the same, because he leans closer. “You know, Savy, if you ever need to relieve that stress, all you have to do is ask. I promise by the time I’m done with you, you’ll come so hard you’ll be grateful for asking.” I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or my hormones finally kicking in, but I’m halfway to saying yes before my brain kicks in. I sigh. “Like I said last night, I want something more than a fuck and run.” He looks at me again, that charming smile looking hotter, more intense. Like he’s stripping me naked with his eyes. I shiver. If he touches me, I’ll give in. What would be so wrong with a quickie, especially if I’m in the hands of a master? Tomorrow we could both pretend it never happened. Right? He gently brushes the inside of my wrist, which is still damp from where I licked it. The feel of his fingertips on my body shoots a very sexy signal straight down to my center. I lean in, my skin prickling with anticipation. I can see his eyes on my lips, drifting lower… Then he pulls away. Dammit. “Customers,” he gestures vaguely, and even though there’s nobody waiting at the bar, I take it as a sign. Off limits. Never going to happen. I shake my head to clear the dirty thoughts away and stand, which is remarkably more difficult than it should be. “I should go.” “Take care,” he says, and he’s got that right: but I’m going to be the one taking care of myself tonight.

CHAPTER FOUR

Cash Thursday night, we close the bar. Private business only. We have three other spots around the city, so one night off the clock isn’t going to break the bank. Besides, we’ve got plans to discuss: location number five, our most ambitious project yet. Katie offered to come over after her late class for a ‘study session’, but I’d put her off. There’s nothing like working out a few kinks with a friend. And trust me, Katie and I have worked through plenty. Her O-Chem homework, my latest cocktail mix, but I’m not sure even the lure of the Katie’s smooth thighs clenched around my head can tempt me tonight. Maybe I’m losing it. Nah. It’s just the new bar. Things get hectic, and we all work ourselves to the bone before a big opening. I’m surprised Cassie hasn’t invaded and forced us all to take a break. It may be the night off for our employees, but until The Library opens, it’s all hands on deck. Tables have been pushed together, and the plans for The Library have been spread out, waiting for us to make them perfect. Located in Virginia Highland, we’re going to take The Library to a new level. If Altitude was about going back to our roots — Atlanta in all her glory through the years—The Library is intended to be a throwback to old-fashioned clubs. Lots of hardwoods, luxurious fabrics, and nooks with grouped seating, but still plenty of what our customers have come to expect from our clubs: a real fucking good time. “Pizza’s on its way,” Parker says, taking a seat at the bar across from me. He’s as casual as he ever gets in a button up and slacks. It’s just one more reason why I’m glad I never followed my father into the investment world. I like jeans too much. “The drinks are almost ready,” I say, loading up the bar with several tumblers. I’ve been working on the new cocktail list. We’ll always have the staples, but we’ve got to give the crowd something new, something they can only get at The Library. Tonight’s all business: Jackson’s going over the final renovations and set up, and I’ve got a new line of drinks. I’ve been going old school on the cocktail menu: whiskey and bourbon. It’s something I always associate with books and writers. Sure, the whole concept is based around a library, but naming drinks after book titles or literary people seems too logical, too obvious, too expected. “What’s on the menu?” Parker asks, picking up the card, I’ve been using to work out the recipes. “351.3—The Librarian.” “I hope she’s hot.” “She is well stacked,” I joke. Parker laughs, “My first crush was a librarian, she had the whole sexy good girl thing going on. We should get the waitresses to wear those cute spectacles and tight little cardigans.” I snort. “Good luck with that. The girls would blow their lid.” Parker sighs. “That’s what we get for letting them run the show. You’re no fun since Cassie,” he calls over to Ryder. Ryder looks up from where he’s studying the plans with Jackson. “Haven’t gone home alone in the last week, what do you say to that?” Ryder shoots back with a smirk and a toast with his beer. He and Jackson abandon the plans and join us at the bar.

“I say you’re two steps past whipped.” Parker says, but there’s no bitterness in his voice. It’s all good fun. Ryder glances down at the menu that’s still in my hands. “351.3?” “It’s a library call number,” Parker says. “Cash wants us to be classy.” Jackson chuckles and shakes his head. “And we’re going to take advice about being classy from Cash Gardner? The man who lives above a bar?” There are plenty of guys in Atlanta who do class—I went to high school with most of them. They’ll take you out to fancy dinners and woo you with roses. You want class, give them a call. “In my experience, class satisfies no one in the bedroom,” I drawl. “Never met a woman who said I was classy in bed—or out of it, for that matter—and yet I’ve never had a complaint.” “Cash could afford a penthouse in Buckhead if he really wanted it,” Ryder says. My hand slips on the neck of a beer bottle and it falls back into the ice chest. Ryder knows the elite of this city—they all turn out for his fight nights. Does he know about my past? “Earth to Cash,” Ryder says, tapping his beer bottle against the bar. “What, sorry?” Get back in the game, I tell myself. Ryder looks at me like I’m one of his fighters. Nothing gets past him. He takes care of what’s his. His girl. His friends. His business. “I was just saying you’re a rich man, what with the tips you make and the profits from the bars. You could easily move out of the studio.” Parker and Jackson nod along to Ryder’s words. “Don’t forget what we each earn from investments from the clubs,” Parker asks. Always the money guy, that one. “But out of curiosity, what does he make in tips?” Jackson asks. “Ryder, don’t —” “Usually he cashes out at four hundred at the end of his shift,” Ryder says with a smirk. Jackson slams his glass onto the bar and Parker lets out a whistle. We all make a good fucking living in the business, but clearly they’re not expecting that kind of money. “On a good night,” I add. Got to put it in some context for them. “Hell, put me behind the bar,” Jackson says. “I’ll give up designing the building and sling drinks myself for cash like that. Not to mention the ladies.” I give each drink a final stir and top them off with orange peels. “May I present, 351.3.” I stand back and watch as they try the new libation. “Damn, that’s good,” Jackson says. Parker nods, still drinking. Ryder salutes me with his glass. “You’re welcome,” I say, with a laugh. *** The game hums in the background, but we’re still gathered around the plans for The Library. The building’s got great bones, especially with all of the shelves. Jackson’s done a number of adjustments that’ll take it from former bookstore to the hottest new nightspot in ATL. And this ain’t the kind of bar you went to in college, either. It’s the sort of place that brings back the nostalgia of old-world libraries and mixes it with the modern feel of the current club scene. “Where the hell is Knox?” Jackson asks as we’re winding down. We’re setting up an opening date and still have more than half the game left to enjoy. “Cassie could take Knox’s vote,” Ryder suggests. There’s a grumble around the table. “Are you kidding?” I ask. There’s really only one rule to

board meetings: no girlfriends. It was never a problem when we were all making the list of most eligible bachelors in Atlanta, but with the addition of Cassie, we had to lay down ground rules. It’s not that we don’t like Cassie, plus she’s the one keeping our books straight—but this is our time. We started this place together, and we want to keep it ours. “In all seriousness,” I say tapping the plans on the table to get everyone refocused. “The final plans look great. I’m all in for opening next month.” “So am I, obviously. It’s my design, but we’re still missing Knox’s vote,” Jackson says. “Wasn’t it your responsibility to get him on a plane?” I say to Parker. Before Parker moved back to the great 30326 zip code, he and Knox lived it up in New York. Parker played the stock market, and Knox played ball—literally. As a starter for the Yankees, he’s the All-American boy making a name for himself as a Park Avenue Playboy. When we opened our first bar—it was sports themed and most of our startup capital came from Knox—we knew we had it right. He still holds a majority share, even if he chooses to never exercise it. But by our bylaws, we need his vote to make decisions. Parker holds up his hands. “I told him about it, not my fault if the man can’t get to his computer or get his ass on a plane.” “He’s in…Thailand?” Ryder says. “Back in Florida,” I say. “Training there.” “There’s internet there, right?” That’s Jackson for you, brilliant but practical. “Without Knox—or his vote—we can’t carry out any new business,” Jackson says. “We need new bylaws,” Parkers says. It was years ago when we drafted a stupid business plan. Back then we all ran on Ryder’s one rule: we’re family. We’re in this together. We may each have our issues with family, but the one thing we can always count on is each other. I’d bleed for these guys. The rules have been mostly forgotten, but now that we’re running on a serious cash flow, we have to have some standards and act legit. “Find us a new lawyer,” Ryder replies with a grunt. “Look, he’s probably fine with it. Let’s just set the date and send him a postcard,” I say. “All in favor?” All hands go up. There, done. Next? The doors to Altitude fly open, and in walks Cassie and the rest of the girls, holding our pizza hostage. “This is a closed party—” Jackson starts, looking directly at his younger sister, Shelby. “Shove it, bro. We’re here for the game, and seeing as you ordered this most excellent pizza, we’ll take a cut of that, too. Go on, continue your Boy Scout meeting.” Shelby dumps the pizza on the bar and heads for our alcohol. “We’re also here for your beer and your seventy inch TV,” Avery adds. She brushes her dark hair behind her ears as she rolls up Jackson’s plans. “Because size really does matter,” Ruby agrees, taking a beer from Shelby. Together they’ve done as much for the club as we have. The law of the nightclub business is pretty simple: get pretty girls to show up, and guys who buy them drinks will follow. Men flock to Shelby’s dark hair and biker sense of style, and when they can’t get her, Ruby’s right there to show them the truth about redheads. Shelby and Ruby are professionals at promotion by now. “Don’t listen to them. They’re just hangry,” Cassie says, draping herself around Ryder. “I’m here for something tastier than pizza and beer.” She gives him a long kiss. I can’t help but roll my eyes and look away.

Scanning the bar, I stop on a rare specimen of a grade-A ass bent over my bar. Encased in a pair of blue, skinny jeans that would look great on my apartment floor, is the tightest, sexiest ass I’ve ever seen. Who in the hell has Shelby found to torture me with now? A head with blond curls comes up, her hands full of beer bottles. That ass belongs to Savannah Sunday. Fuck me. Especially if your name is Savannah. She needs to get out of her business suits and date night dresses more often. Her Harvard t-shirt is tight across her chest and misses meeting her jeans by inches. If she dressed like that after hours, she’d have men tripping over each other to ask her out. She’d probably collect more numbers than I do in a single night. Hell, I’d give her my number and definitely try to talk her upstairs and out of those jeans. She gives Cassie and Ryder a playful shove as she passes. “Get a room and stop making us single people hate you.” Her curls bounce around her heart shaped face as she takes a seat across from me and holds out a beer for me. “Yeah, we don’t want to see any of that here. This is a classy establishment,” I add, hastily giving my mouth something to do besides think about what it would feel like getting Savannah off. I take a swig of beer and lean back in my chair, balancing it on two legs. “Interested in some tales from the trenches?” Savannah asks, forcing me to break my concentration. The other girls are still over by the bar pouring drinks, so we’re pretty much alone here in the corner. “Lay it on me.” “I met this guy at a bar—he had me doing a bunch of tequila shots, even made me an indecent proposal.” I flash her a smile. “Yeah? What’s this one called?” “Let’s call him Mr. Fuckable,” she says, staring me directly in the eye. Whoa there. “I’m with you on the name.” I say, trying to figure her out. I thought we were just playing the other night, but she’s looking at me with a new glint in her eyes. Sexy as hell. “Mr. Fuckable’s tall, blond, and muscular,” she continues. “He’s got this tattoo that just barely winks at me and I really want to find out where it goes…” I don’t know what’s gotten into her tonight, but this feels like a challenge I’m not backing down from. “So what will it take, Savy?” “Hmm.” She pretends to think hard. “Well, the thing is, I think he is a big talker. I’m not sure his moves can live up to his mouth.” “Just wait ‘til you feel what this mouth can do, especially when applied liberally and vigorously.” “So sure of himself.” She tips her beer back, wrapping her lips around the top of the bottle, provocatively. “But it’s the talkers that are often the biggest disappointments.” “Really? I think it just proves their tongues are nimble.” I give her a wink, and she looks away. Don’t worry, Savy, I promise to leave you screaming for more . I can already feel her thighs lock around my head as I lick her to climax. I’m not sure if we’re still playing, but I figure I’ll leave my cards on the table while I still have the chance. I get up, and rest a hand on her shoulder as I pass. I lean in, close enough to get a lungful of her perfume, something spicy and fresh. “Just so you know, the offer still stands,” I murmur in her ear. “You let me know if you ever feel the need to explore.” “Explore what?” Shelby interrupts us, coming over. She looks between us. “How exactly are you

putting Cash’s mind to work? It’s really only good for one thing. Also, does using Cash have anything to do with Mr. Fuckable?” Shelby leans forward, innocent smile in place. Busted. Savannah looks away, letting her curls fall over her face to hide the rising color in her cheeks. Shelby’s involvement tips off the rest of my makeshift family to drop in on our conversation. They all crowd over. “Cash, I can’t believe you let some guy do that to Savannah at your bar,” Cassie says, jumping to Savannah’s defense. “You should have kicked his ass.” Yes, please keep thinking it was someone else. I don’t want to expose who we are really talking about here. “It was just an offer, no need to panic,” Savannah says. “I can handle myself. I’m a grown woman.” “Nope, you’re not escaping that easy,” Shelby says. I glare at her. She may not be my sister, but I will not hesitate to bust her balls about this. “Cash, did you make an indecent offer to our girl Savannah? An offer like that sounds exactly like your MO.” “Who’s being offered up?” Ruby asks. She’s come back for chips. The girl could snack for days and she’d still never gain a pound. “And to whom are we offering them? And for what?” “Nothing,” Savannah and I both say. “I have one word for you, Cash,” Cassie says from the comfort and protection of Ryder’s lap. “What’s that, darlin’?” I ask, turning up the charm. “You finally realize you took up with the wrong partner? I promise, you will hate my apartment, but enjoy everything else.” Savannah kicks me under the table. Was she kicking me because I was offering something to her off-the-market friend, or because she considers me hers? “No,” Cassie says. “What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, feigning innocence. “Exactly what you think it means: stay away from my best friend.” Cassie knows. She’s too sharp for her own good sometimes. “The best friend is right here,” Savannah says, rolling her eyes. “And my reply hasn’t exactly changed in the last twelve hours.” “You did proposition Savannah!” Ruby exclaims, putting two and two together for anyone who hadn’t done the math. No point in trying to put the cat back in the bag now. “It only seemed polite,” I shrug. “And how did this get to be everyone else’s business anyway?”. “Exactly!” Savannah cries. “Before you get all defensive, Cassie, I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.” “Are you sure? ‘Cause if this guy bothers you –” Ryder points to me, and I throw my hands up. “Your concern is appreciated but not needed,” Savannah grinds out. “If I want to screw your bartender, Ryder, I will, and it will be none of your concern.” BOOM. With that little bomb, Savannah has successfully shut up everyone in the room. “Savannah—” Cassie starts. “Cassie, it’s my life, and if I ask Cash to fuck me senseless that is my business.” She looks me dead in the eye and all at once I’m more certain than ever that she’s not playing anymore. I’m gonna need a stronger drink.

CHAPTER FIVE

Savannah Tonight is it. I’m either going to clinch the head of my department or I’m going to end up staying put for another year. Or two. Hell, I’ll probably be the same associate until I retire if I don’t land this. The ballroom at the Intercontinental is full of the best entertainment Atlanta has to offer. Plenty of small time actors about to make it big, and the music scene goes on for days. I take a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and casually survey my chances of landing a big, new client tonight. For once, my evening is looking up. “There you are,” Thomas says, parting the crowd to find me, an imposing figure with his slick cut suits. His skin is dark brown, and he’s just as likely to bandage your scrapes as he is to take you down over a contract. Thomas Briggs is the good half of where I work, and if it were up to him I’d be made partner. But he’s got to contend with Meyers, and Meyers would prefer that women stay home, barefoot and pregnant. The only reason I’m still at the firm is because Briggs insists on it. “Where have you been?” he chides me, not unkindly. “Maxwell has been here for an hour, wooing potential clients. You need to sign someone tonight—and someone big.” “Don’t you worry. I’ve got it covered.” I smile, hoping I sound confident. As long as Rob’s intel is correct, tonight is already in the bag, and I trust Rob with my life. “Are you sure?” Thomas prods gently. I mock-glare at Briggs over the rim of my glass. It’s nice that he’s worried about me, and I know he wants me to succeed, but it’s a little annoying that he’d never be this worried over, say, Maxwell. Briggs, Meyers, and Associates has been hit pretty hard by female clients leaving because of Meyers and his condescending attitude and leering gaze. I’m the logical choice to bring them back, but Meyers refuses to see it that way. If I can land a new client, it’s one step closer to proving Briggs’s point. “I’m sure. And thank you. But I really do have it under control,” I finally say. Briggs nods. “I believe it. Is there anything I can do to help you?” I hand him my empty flute. “Watch me work. And possibly get me another drink. I’m off to find Mathias and conclude our deal.” “That’s what I like to hear. Give ‘em hell.” He gives me a genuine smile. Oh, I plan to do just that. Mathias from Triton Entertainment is by the stage. His dark hair and olive complexion make him look like some sort of Greek god. We’ve talked on the phone, and sometimes it felt like we were going in circles, but I’d been told by other colleagues in the industry that he just needs to be handled right. And if there’s anything I know how to do, it’s handle difficult people. But speaking of which, right now I need to call in a favor from Mathias—the favor that could clinch my career trajectory. Triton Entertainment reps mostly music acts—country music, specifically. And Meyers loves country music. “Mathias, Savannah Sunday.” “So good to meet you, finally.” He gives me a light hug. “Yes, well, it’s been my pleasure to work with you on this. I hope you got the bourbon?”

He smiles. “I did, thank you. It was much enjoyed. You have great taste.” I send up a silent prayer of thanks to Cash for helping me pick exactly the right bourbon to get me on Mathias’s good side. “You said you have someone special for me to meet tonight? Someone who’s going to knock my socks off?” “Absolutely. I think you’re really going to love him.” He leans in conspiratorially. “It’s probably best that you didn’t wear socks.” “He’s that good?” “He’ll be bigger than Tim McGraw, and he’s got all the appeal of Luke Bryan.” Now this I have to see. “I can’t wait to meet him.” “I was just about to introduce him, actually. We’re showcasing him tonight. He’s in the market for an attorney, as you know. He wants a real fighter.” Mathias adds a wink, and I work hard to suppress an eye roll. “You’ll have the best view from right where you’re standing. I’ll just say, his first song has been topping the charts and I think we’re going to have a lot to talk about after he’s finished up there.” A flashy smile, and Mathias disappears into the crowd only to reappear moments later on the stage. The back-up band comes on behind him and starts setting up while Mathias announces the performer. My heart’s in my throat. This is it. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming out tonight. It is my pleasure to announce our newest artist, Tanner Jakes, and his hit song: “Old Dirt Roads.” ” The smile drops off my face. No. It’s just a big long scream inside my head. No. Not possible. Fate cannot be that cruel. Then Tanner Jakes steps out of the wings and saunters to the mic, the slow roll of his hips accentuated by low-slung, worn-in, sexy as hell button-fly jeans. All six feet three of cowboy bootwearing, Stetson-topped perfection. He is the poster child for country music, and my own personal nightmare. He leans into the mic, and it squeals. His dimples appear as he makes an apology to the crowd. They’re charmed. They’re going to love him. I know this because I once loved him. Fate, you fickle bitch. The music starts, and Mathias catches my eye from the wings, flashing me a thumbs up. No. No thumbs up. Suddenly there is not enough air in the room. But I’m stuck at the front of the stage. Tanner looks right at me and I can’t move. Everything that I have put between this man and me evaporates, and the raw wounds he left on my heart start bleeding again. “I been out on the road so long, On these old dirt roads, Just thinkin’ bout the girl I left at home…” he croons, in that soulful twang of his. My eyes are stinging, and I look away. I hate that he’s affecting me like this. Dopey love songs are a staple for country music, just like the love of God and the USA. They’re a dime a dozen. He probably has a million of them. But hearing him sing still hurts. This is not just some regular run of the mill nightmare; this is a Dante’s lowest layer of hell nightmare. The room shrinks, and I can’t escape the panic that’s clawing at my stomach. I can get through this, I tell myself. This means nothing. How long can one song be? Not long enough to kill me—that’s about the only good news I have. But Tanner sings the chorus directly to me. “She always felt like coming home.”

He used that line. On me. He said being with me felt like coming home. And now he’s singing it, in this room full of people. Bastard. I can’t be in the same room with him. I can’t meet his baby blue eyes and not feel what I did. If I am going to make it through the rest of this night, I can’t listen to this song. Not when I know exactly where it comes from. I push through the mesmerized crowd. Yes, it’s quite possible that Tanner Jakes will be the next big thing in country music, but I won’t be the one going over his contracts. People give me nasty looks when I bump them aside. I don’t care. It’s self-preservation. Either I get through, or they are going to witness my complete breakdown. I’m going to be sick all over this floor if I don’t get out of here right now. “It’s so romantic,” a redheaded on my left sighs. I want to slug her. It’s not romantic if you know he wrote it about a woman with whom he cheated on his wife. Then it’s just disgusting. And then I realize I can’t leave right now, because then I’d be locked into my job until I quit. I need this promotion, and sneaking out of this event would be my one-way ticket straight into a permanent career slump. Instead of feeling like some traumatized Cinderella, I decide to act like an adult and lock myself in the bathroom. I’m going to get through this. I lean against the door and will my stomach back under control. Screw everything. Twice. His voice leaks through the door, and I give in to what’s been plaguing my dreams and hanging around during all my waking hours. It was the best time of my life—or so I thought. I’d been seeing Tanner for six months or so. We’d met when I took a business trip to Nashville. He was the new kid on the block, just signed an agent— hadn’t even met Mathias or Triton yet. He built his audience all over the South, and when he couldn’t be in Atlanta with me, we’d spend long hours on emotional phone calls that made me ache just thinking about them. The trip was his idea. Spur of the moment, which was always his way. His world was controlled chaos and I was happy to get swept up in it. The moments we had were brief and we made the most of them. That weekend, Tanner had found a house on the Georgia coast. It was steps away from the beach, not that we made it out there much. He surprised me at work with a bag, whisking me away before I could even protest. It was a work-free weekend. A chance to throw caution to the wind. Rob had been in on the whole plan, since he thought I could do with a bit of excitement in my life. Me, miss straight-laced and tightly-planned, running off for a spontaneous romantic weekend. The long days blended into nights with seamless ease. He played me songs on his guitar, working through the kinks in his latest track. It was going to be his big hit. The one that would send him straight to the top of the charts and dominate the airwaves, making him a household name. I’d curled up on the bed, in one of his discarded t-shirts, content to bask in his exuberance. But this song was giving him trouble. “Speeding down that old dirt road out running….driving straight…” he’d stopped. Tried, and failed again. “Driving down these old dirt roads always felt like coming home,” I suggested, draping my arms around him and breathing in the clean, citrus and cedar scent from his shower gel. “I like that,” he said with a slow nod. “I can work with that.” And just like that, it became the center of the song. The heart of our relationship. Spontaneity. It’s what defined us. Surprise trips. Long nights. I’d open the door and there he’d be.

I decided one day to try it myself. Be the one to knock on his door and tell him all about the crazy plans I had for us. So I flew to Nashville with stars in my eyes and a plan to play tourist hooky all weekend. His house was old fashioned, with a garden that had blooms packed into every nook and cranny. At the time, I’d thought he just had a good gardener on staff. Then I knocked on the door and a woman answered. She was beautiful. Blond. Blue eyed. The sort of girl next door you expect a country singer to end up with. “Can I help you?” she asked sweetly. Like an idiot, I said, “I’m, um, looking for Tanner…” Her pose went from casual to defensive in two seconds flat. She crossed her arms, fully displaying the heavy ring on her left hand. “Well, maybe I can help you. I am, after all, his wife.” It was all I could do to get out of there. I switched my ticket, paid through the nose just to get out of town as fast as I could. Fights I could have handled. Screaming matches to the stars would have been right up my alley, but instead I was gutted. I’d never felt so betrayed. I threw myself into work, because if I couldn’t have that happily ever after with that garden and picket fence, then I would be the best damn lawyer this side of the Mason Dixon Line. Desperate to clear the memory, I brace myself on the sink and take a deep breath. Months of throwing myself into my job has left me defenseless in my personal life. It’s going to be okay, I tell myself. But one look in the mirror and I know it’s not. I look like I’ve been run over by a truck that backed up and ran me over again for good measure. Fumbling inside my clutch, I fish out my phone. I dial the only number I trust to get me out of situations like this. You’ve reached Cassie— Damn. Shit. Fuck. I hit end. Do not panic. Cassie’s probably at the bar like she is most nights. Probably can’t even hear her cell phone ringing in her bag. I dial the bar and hope someone picks up. Cassie’s back on this side of the Atlantic, it means I don’t have to face this alone. “Altitude, Cash speaking—” “Is Cassie there?” I ask quietly. I take a deep breath. Don’t cry — do not cry. The tears don’t fall, but they aren’t far away. “Savy? What’s wrong?” Do I sound that bad? I clear my throat and try to modulate my voice. “Can you just find Cassie and tell her I’m at the Intercontinental and I need an exit plan? Can you just tell her that?” “Talk to me, Savy, are you okay? Do I need to bring my first aid kit?” I let out a short, forced laugh. “No, but some brass knuckles wouldn’t hurt. Just please tell Cassie it’s an emergency, all right? I owe you.” “I tend to collect on these things. You sure you want to owe me something?” “Cash,” I hiss. His playful comments are not what I need right now. “Right. Collect later, move now.” That’s when the tears pile up and the first one slips down my face. Then comes another. How can I go back out there and face a room full of people supporting Tanner Jakes? He’s got the world eating out of the palm of his hand because he wrote a song about us. Too bad only one of us ended up with a broken heart. “It’s gonna be all right, Savy. Sit tight.” I hang up. That’s right, I tell myself. It didn’t kill me when I found out about his wife, and it’s not

going to kill me now. All right, Savannah, get yourself together. You’ve had your moment. Time to put your big girl panties on and go back out there and show them just what sort of lawyer you are. I do not run from fights. Tanner Jakes can write a million songs about our romance if he wants, but I don’t have to let it affect me. A few quick dabs with a tissue, and my eyeliner is back to rights and no longer threatening to run down my face. Thank God for waterproof mascara. Another coat of lipstick, and I am ready to face the world. All I have to do is survive for the next ten minutes, and if I can pass the bar and grab a cocktail, even better. Then I’ll go home and crawl into a hot bath with a large glass of wine and try to forget this night ever happened. Calm, cool, and professional, I enter the ballroom again. Briggs looks over me and his glance asks one question: am I okay? Of course I am, because I want to keep my job and take over my department. I return his glance with a small wave and grab a drink from the nearest waiter. A little liquid courage never hurt anyone. I skim through the small groups in the room, making small talk, dropping business cards. Networking at its finest. I can’t help but check my phone every chance I get, trying to gauge how much longer it’s going to be until my best friend arrives. Eight minutes down and I am almost home free, but there’s no stopping Mathias and his fellow Triton execs from heading my way. Curses. There is going to be no escaping this. I’ve put too much into this relationship to just blow it off at the last second. “Savannah,” Mathias says, “there you are. I was afraid you’d run out on us. What do you think of our latest investment? Fantastic, right?” There are so many words I would use to describe Tanner Jakes right now, and fantastic is not even at the very bottom of that list. “He’s something, all right. I’m sure all the ladies really love him,” I say, fixing a smile on my face. Make the deal and get out. Two minutes until rescue. Breathe. “They should be careful. He’s married,” Mathias chuckles. I can feel the blood drain from my face for an instant. Just a joke I remind myself. Laugh. I barely manage to get the laugh out in time and when I do, it rings false in my ears. “Thank you for the warning, I’ll be sure to pass it along to my colleagues. Mathias, you’re a delight, but if you’ll excuse me I have to go.” “Now give us just one second of your time—Tanner wants to meet you. He’s heard so much about Briggs, Meyers, and Associates that he practically forced us to arrange a face-to-face meeting. We’re ready to sign.” This is it. He took your heart; do not let him take your future too. “Of course,” I hear myself say. For the job, for the job, for the promotion. “I’d love to, but I am on a bit of a time crunch myself. Perhaps instead of face time, we could arrange—” Mathias interrupts me. “Don’t tell me you’re off to woo another client.” I try to laugh it off. “You know how it is. No rest for us lawyers.” Suddenly the flock parts, and there he is. Tanner Jakes in the flesh. The one person I would have moved heaven and earth for—too bad I missed one very important accessory. “Well there you are, Savannah Sunday.” He takes my hand like it’s the easiest thing in the world, his familiar blue eyes locking on mine. I feel like I’m falling. All I want to do is pull away from him. Or maybe slap him. Yes, if he doesn’t let me go in the next five seconds I’m going to slap him. Rage boils. “It’s been too long,” he drawls. I pull my hand back and barely stop myself from wiping it clean on my dress.

“Mr. Jakes—” “Tanner, please. I like to be on a first name basis with people who handle my…work.” My cheeks go hot. “Tanner, listen, I think we could do great things together—” “I’m sure we could.” Do not kill him. You need him. I clear my throat. “I’m sure my firm’s reputation precedes us, but what more do you need to know about Briggs, Meyers, and Associates? What can I say to convince you to let us help you make lots of money?” Tanner looks deep into my eyes again, and I do not back down. He will not rule me here. This is my future and I am in control. “Savy.” I hear a voice, and Cash’s nickname has me turning with equal amounts of hope and terror. He wouldn’t—oh yes he would. Leave it to him to listen to only half of the message. Cash parts the group with ease, despite the fact he’s grossly underdressed for this party. Still in his classic deep v-tee, jeans, and boots. His only exception is that he somehow acquired a jacket. Accompanied by his dimpled smile and classic features he almost looks like he might belong here. “Whiskey on the rocks, please,” Cash says easily to Tanner, handing him a twenty. There went that deal. “Cash—” I say, surprised, but before I can say more, I’m cut off by a kiss that I feel all the way down to my toes. Cash kisses me slow and deep, until my head is spinning. God, this man wasn’t lying about his skilled tongue. Finally, he comes up for air. “Sorry I’m late,” he says, still ignoring the flock of clients around me. Say something, my brains yells. You’re a powerful lawyer, wipe that shit eating grin off your face now. But my brain is still stuck in low gear after that kiss. “I... I…. What are you doing here?” This was not the rescue I requested, but damn if it is not the one I needed. Cash looks up at Tanner again, still standing there his jaw about to grind those pearly whites to fairy dust. The look on Tanner’s face is priceless. I want to take a picture of it, frame it, and hang it over my mantel so I can give it the finger every day. “Did I stutter on the drink order?” Cash asks. I don’t believe for one fucking second that he doesn’t know who Tanner is, but it’s great to watch Cash put the man in his place. Tanner’s fingers curl into a fist. If this works out the way Tanner wants it to, he’ll have enough material for a whole new album. Not willing to let this drama fuel Tanner’s career any further, I reach for Cash. “Darling,” I say hoping I can pull off the semi-sweet tone I’ve heard Cassie use with Ryder. Trailing my hand down his chest, I try not to get lost in the idea of what his muscles would feel like without his shirt on. “I’d like you to meet my newest client—Tanner Jakes.” “Congrats, baby. So we can officially celebrate now?” He turns to Tanner. “She’s been wearing herself out working on this contract for you guys. I’m ready to not wake up to a computer if you catch my drift.” Mathias laughs. Cash’s natural charm seems to work even when he’s not behind a bar. “Very nice to meet you,” Mathias says, holding out his hand to Cash, adapting to the change without an issue. Cash gives Mathias a firm shake. It’s Tanner I’m still concerned about. One look at him and he’s gone from cowboy to raging bull. Trying to salvage what’s left of this deal, I put some distance between Cash and me. It seems to

pacify Tanner for a moment. He no longer looks like he’s going to spear Cash on the chandelier. “How did you meet Savannah?” Tanner asks. “Bent over a bar—I’m part owner of five clubs across the Atlanta area. She walked in and I couldn’t let her leave alone. But she made me work for it, because no one walks over her.” Cash looks firmly at Tanner. Somehow, without me having to tell him, he’s been able to see that Tanner is the real problem here. He’s more than willing to jump into this fight.

CHAPTER SIX

Savannah “We should be going,” I say, before Tanner and Cash come to blows. Not that I’m worried about Cash, he can hold his own. Of that, I’m sure. The fear and the hurt slowly recede, and for the first time the shreds of my broken heart think they might like to mend. I’m going to make it through the next ten minutes. Hell, I might even make it through being Tanner’s lawyer. All because Cash Gardner had the gall to call me his girlfriend, and that put Tanner in his place better than I ever could. As if sensing the deal is done, Mathias gives Cash’s hand a good shake and promises to be in touch with me. Meanwhile, I am stuck wondering if my feet are still on earth. Whether they are or not, Cash keeps up the pretense of being my boyfriend. He sizes up the other execs as they trail behind Mathias, and then he focuses on Tanner. I want to pull him away—he’s come here, saved the day, and now it’s time to turn and run—but that has never been Cash’s style. He’s more the type that’s going to end this in blood or drinks. Or both. Just a normal night with Cash, I guess. “How long have you two been dating?” Tanner asks. Cash turns away from him and looks only at me. “You doing okay? You go from a long day at the office to an after hours thing.” “I’m fine,” I say. Cash gives my side a squeeze and trails his fingers until they settle on the small of my back. Protective, supportive, but still sending a clear signal: mine. “But I am looking forward to that massage you promised me.” Then, because I know I can only push Tanner so far, I turn to him and answer the question that Cash ignored. “Just a few weeks. But it feels like longer. We’ve known each other forever, so …” I look back into Cash’s eyes and place my hand on his chest, right over his heart. It’s beating strong and steady, unlike mine, which seems to be running a marathon. He’s drawing little circles on the small of my back, sending heat straight south. “Burn hot and fast, don’t you, Savy,” Tanner says. The anger in his voice hits me like a sucker punch to the gut. Ready to leave, I try to turn away and grab Cash. He refuses to back down, catching my hand on his chest and kissing the inside of my wrist. “She’s just being modest. It’s been, what? Three, four months, Savy?” He doesn’t even look at Tanner, his gaze completely focused on me. I can’t keep from blushing. “I know we weren’t official for a while there, but I always knew what I wanted.” “It’s Savannah,” Tanner corrects him. “She doesn’t like nicknames.” Cash’s eyes leave mine and I feel naked against the crowd, but it’s worth it to watch him face off against Tanner. “Maybe she just doesn’t like it when certain people use them. From me, I think she likes it just fine.” “Guys—” I start, but there’s no use trying to break them apart now. They’re squaring off against each other, like they’re toe to toe in one of Ryder’s rings. “And what do you do—I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Tanner sneers. “Cash Gardner, I’m a mixologist and—”

“Mixologist? Isn’t that just a fancy term for bartender? You gotta be careful when you’re slumming it, Savannah. You don’t know where they’ve been—make sure he’s had all his shots.” Cash tenses next to me, and his hands curl into fists. He may not be Ryder, but I’m sure he can dole out more than enough damage to Tanner’s country good looks. Personally, I’d prefer to rip Tanner’s eyes out, because this is my battle to fight. It was me who got involved with Tanner and it will be me who takes the consequences. And as much as I hate to admit it, I still need Tanner to ensure my promotion. So as much as it’s going to kill me, I have to retract the claws and do what any associate lawyer worth her salt would: plaster on a smile and prepare to take out the adversary. “We should go.” I pull on Cash’s arm. We’ve had our fun, but it’s time to leave before anything dire happens. Smiling at Tanner is tough, but I manage. “I promised Cash we’d go for—” “Now Savannah, the man is clearly in need of some clarification. Would you deny him a learning opportunity?” Cash grins. At this moment, yes. Tanner’s an idiot, and Cash can’t teach him a thing. “Enlighten me,” Tanner says with a smile, showing off his perfect set of white teeth. It’s the same smile that held the room earlier and always made me weak at the knees. I have to get out of here. Haven’t I suffered enough? When I called for a rescue I didn’t think I would have to call in backup for the backup. I open my mouth to say something, but snap it shut because I realize I’m about to scream. First at Tanner, then at Cash, and then at Tanner again. It’d probably be something along the lines of ‘just whip them out already and I’ll get the ruler.’ “That’s a very common mistake—mixologist and bartender—it’s sort of like calling a four star Michelin chef a short order cook. Sure, at one point he probably was a cook, but now he’s a chef. Or if you can’t wrap your thick head around that one, it’s like saying a karaoke singer could be a Grammy award winning artist. Can they both sing? With autotune, absolutely. Are they both artists…” Cash’s gaze sweeps Tanner up and down, clearly finding him lacking. It’s not hard to believe, because Tanner’s never had to work for anything. The only calluses on his fingers come from too many hours on the guitar. He was born rich and ate off the proverbial silver spoon. Cash looks Tanner dead in the eye and says, “Hell no.” Tanner’s ready to take Cash up on the fight, but Cash seems to have lost interest. One look at me, and my stomach meets the top of my shoes. Now I know how he talks all of those women up the stairs. He looks at them like they’re the only thing that matters. If he kissed me right now, I’d say yes to anything and everything. Gladly. “Now if you’ll excuse us, I want some alone time with my girlfriend, though it’s been very nice to meet you. Can’t say I’ll be buying your album—not a big country fan, much to my Mama’s displeasure.” With a wink and nod that’s gotten him out of more than one fight, Cash pulls me away from Tanner. Which is a good thing, because my legs are absolutely useless. “You okay, Savy?” I nod. I’m the furthest thing from okay. I’ve been through a hurricane of emotions tonight, and all I really want is to sort everything out. I run a hand through my hair, smoothing the curl back into its bun. Ever the gentlemen, Cash tucks a stray hair behind my ear, his fingers trailing down my chin, igniting a fire that I thought Tanner had put out for good. “Because if you continue to look like that I’ll be forced to kiss you until you can’t see straight.” His words strike through me, and the heat is a welcome distraction from the ache in my chest.

“That a promise?” I ask lightly. “Fuck yes.” Cash looks at me like I’m the only woman in the room – like he can’t wait to take me to bed. Something inside me melts a little; the shard of glass that’s been slicing me open since Tanner showed me I wasn’t good enough, not to be the only one for him. God, it feels good to be wanted again. Remember the last time you played with fire, my mind says. Right, I’m still recovering from that. No need to jump head long into another inferno. Once we’re a safe distance away, I tell Cash I have to speak with my boss before slinking out the back. I want to turn the clock back three hours and make all of this go away. Tanner, Cash, this whole night: just poof. Briggs is sad to see me leave so early, but Triton apparently has already agreed to talk terms, so my job here is done, my client for the evening seduced. Plus, one look at Cash and my boss seems to instantly understand why I’m leaving. I toast Meyers from across the room as I rejoin Cash. Meyers’ perpetual scowl deepens, making his wrinkles fold over each other. He’s probably thinking I’m about to drop being a lawyer to fulfill his grand expectations of womankind. Not on his life. Cash has found his way to the bar, examining a bottle of champagne on the table. “This isn’t a bad vintage.” “Bartender. Mixologist. And sommelier? Is there anything you don’t do?” “Threesomes.” I snort. “Somehow I find that hard to believe.” “Did you just snort?” “No, women don’t snort, we…chortle. At least, that’s what my mother always taught me.” “That is a twenty dollar word for snort,” He laughs, shaking his head. I take the bottle from him and put it back on the table. Whatever he’s got planned, I’m putting a stop to it. The last thing I need to do is steal from a company party. “To answer your question, I’m a one woman at a time sorta guy.” He flips champagne flutes around his fingers and sticks them in his back pockets. My mouth falls open. “You are not stealing champagne.” “Is there something else you’d like me to steal?” he asks, invading my personal space again. The scent of his soap and spicy cologne makes me dizzy. Suddenly, I want to take him up on his offer. He may be rough around the edges but then…no, that’s ridiculous. It would be quick, then over, and he’d be turning all of that charm over to someone else. I barely survived being Tanner’s plaything, and I don’t think I would survive watching Cash walk up those back stairs with another woman. “We are going to have some fun,” he says. “Yeah?” It’s all I can get out, because my body is still trying to convince my mind that getting tangled up in the sheets with Cash wouldn’t be so bad. Still too dazed to stop him, all I can do is watch. He has the bottle by the neck and is heading for the nearest waiter, who’s struggling under the weight of a dessert tray. This is bad, my mind says. But the part of me that has been on too many bad dates tells me to shut it and go along with the plan. “What do you think you’re doing?” I say, trying to block Cash’s actions from the rest of the room. A room full of my colleagues and clients. The last thing I want them to see is my “boyfriend” going all

sticky fingers on the champagne. “What?” He shoves the bottle of champagne at me and pulls a fifty from his wallet. He sticks it into the waiter’s hand. “Stop looking at me like that, I’m paying for the champagne,” he says with a wink. That signature Cash Gardner sexy wink. The one that gets ladies to drop their panties whenever he uses it. “Thanks, man.” Cash nods to the waiter and heads for the exit. I’m not following him. “Savy, come on. This is my proven bad breakup cure.” “I thought that was tequila shots.” “No, that’s for a bad date. Huge difference between a bad date and celebrating your liberation from an asshole. Clearly you need more tutelage, and that’s why I’m here.” “You’ve listened to one too many drunk girls.” He stops and holds up his hands. “Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll stop this. Just say the word.” I’m going to tell him that there was nothing between me and Tanner, but it’s already been a night of denial. Instead of answering, I cross my arms. Cash looks at me. “Go on, I’m waiting.” For once I want someone to know how this man ran my heart over and chains me still. “Not that I can hold you accountable for your actions right now, as you’re not willing to address the fact that you are, in fact, going through a breakup,” he says. I haven’t told anyone about Tanner, and here Cash is and already figured it out. All of the careful walls I’ve built. Gone. Cash Gardner has me eating out of the palm of his hand. “We are not talking about this tonight,” I say, trying to sound more like the confident woman Cash knows me as. I only come across sounding like a petulant child. “Say no more.” He taps my chin. “Chin up, Savy. We still have to make our grand exit. Live a little. You landed a huge account, your boss loves you, and the room thinks you’re about to run off and have crazy wild sex with me. If anything, they want to be the ones running away from this party. So let’s bail. Make them all insanely jealous.” “As long as you promise not to sit on those glasses in your pocket, because I don’t want to spend the rest of my night in the ER.” It’s his turn to snort. “Always so worried about me, Savy. Don’t worry, I keep the important parts of my anatomy protected. Always.” We don’t talk on the way down, but he is still holding my hand from the grand exit we just made. It’s not until we’re out of the hotel that the spell breaks. A woman walking in, eyes Cash with an open invitation. I want to cut her eyes out, but I can’t. He’s not mine. We’re out of the party now, and there’s no need for Cash to continue acting like my boyfriend. Five floors up, I would have been obligated to take the girl out, but here on the ground floor he’s a free agent. Cash doesn’t even seem to notice the girl as she makes a show of bending over to fix a strap on her heel, clearly putting all her assets on display. I try to take my hand out of his. A silent way to tell him to go on — chase it — be yourself, but he won’t let go. I try to pull away and he gives me a playful tug and side glance. Okay, maybe it’s just until we are away from the valet attendants. “You didn’t have to come,” I say, because I have to put this back in normal territory. The place where we’re just friends, and I’m not ten seconds from surrendering to my basest wants. “‘Thank you, Cash, for coming to my rescue. I’m so lucky to have you,’ is a more appropriate answer.”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but I asked you to find Cassie and have her come pick me up.” Yes, let’s argue over our verbal contract. That I can understand. That I can fight about, and it will distract me from what I really want. Cash only smirks down at me. “Do you have a problem with me saving you?” “What…no. It’s just that you have the bar and your job to take care of. It was…” “Family first,” Cash says. “I’m not your family.” Thank God, because then the dirty things I want to do to you would not only be a bad idea but also illegal. “Not that kind of family. The five of us guys are a family—Shelby, too, and Cassie’s now part of that, and you’re grandfathered in through Cassie.” “That’s not how grandfathering works.” “Never argue with a lawyer,” he sighs. “Damn straight.” “I came to help out a friend, and how could I pass up the opportunity to put Mr. Swoony Tuney in his place? You have to admit, my ideas are always worth it.” His smile is infectious, and I can’t even stay fake angry for long. The late summer air has cooled, allowing us to forget the heat of the day. Maybe it will return my sanity. I pull away from Cash, and this time he lets me go. It was just an act. Being this close to him is playing with my head. Not that it wasn’t worth it to see him take Tanner down a notch or two, but now I’m just too comfortable in his arms. “So what’s next in your post breakup strategy?” I might as well surrender to Cash’s plans. They haven’t steered me wrong yet. “All right. In times like these, it’s best to do what we do best in the south: find a set of stairs and watch the world go by.” We wander up Peachtree Street until we find a place to sit. Cash pulls the glasses out of his pockets and takes a seat. “So how long did you date Tanner?” “Whoa, heavy questions right out of the gate. Please, I need more alcohol first.” “That request I can accommodate. I also find it’s best to just rip the band aid off.” He pops the cork to the champagne. I can’t help but smile. Everything feels so easy with him. The last time things were this easy the bottom fell out from under me. But if tonight proves anything, Cash will be there to catch me. “Too long,” I say, taking a swig from the bottle he’s given me. I’m glad that if we’re going to do this, I have alcohol close at hand. “Six months, actually, and they were the best six months of my life, until…” “Until?” Say it, Savannah. Just get it out there. Telling it to a bartender is like going to confession: it’s private and will help the sting of rejection. “Until I found out he was married.” Cash lets out a long whistle. A group of women look up from their table on the outdoor patio of a nearby restaurant. No ladies, he is not whistling at you. Now turn around and eat your dessert. “What sort of ass does that to someone like you?” he asks, an edge to his voice. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but—” He places a warm hand on my shoulder, and I feel the heat everywhere. I’m afraid to meet his gaze, afraid he’ll see the growing desire behind my blush. “Savannah, this is not your fault.”

I shake my head bitterly. “I’m the other woman. I don’t get to take the high moral ground. I slept with, and fell in love with, a married man. We were both at fault.” I take another swig of the champagne, but Cash pulls the bottle gently away. “How could you be? You didn’t know. That’s why you keep punishing yourself with all these ‘dates,’ if that word can even be applied to the men you’ve been throwing yourself at. Isn’t it?” “No. I’m not punishing myself—” Now Cash takes a drink. A long one. “Yeah, you are. You think that because you slept with a married man you don’t deserve happiness. So you pick guys who will never make you happy just to punish yourself. That’s Psychology 101, Savy.” “Right. That’s really insightful for someone who’s on a constant rotation of women.” “It’s not always a bad thing,” he says defensively. “But this isn’t about me. Don’t force yourself into something you’re not ready for. He broke your heart; don’t let him fuck with your mind, too. Because you deserve better. So much better.” I feel my eyes welling up and I have to look away. I’m done crying over Tanner Jakes. “But on the other hand, sometimes you have to throw caution to the wind and just do something that makes you happy. Or at the very least, something that makes you come.” His eyes meet mine as his tongue peeks out and licks a stray drop of sparkling wine off his lower lip. “I’m always willing to help in that department.” He grabs the bottle and pours a proper drink. As if I could forget the offer he made me. Cash oozes sex appeal. And Cassie’s been obsessed with it ever since Cash practically announced it during that game night. She doesn’t want me to end up as Cash’s flavor of the week, because I deserve better. Can’t argue with her there, but I’m definitely open to hearing Cash’s argument for a quick fuck. Or two. There’s a part of me that desperately wants to find out what has all the women coming back for more. To be the one on the other end of that devastating grin. That hot-as-hell kiss… “Where’d you get your PhD in psych?” I joke, getting back on steady ground. He shrugs. “School of Hard Knocks, with a specialty in tending bar.” “I thought you were a mixologist,” I tease. “That would be my other degree.” “Whoa, multiple degrees. Are you trying to tell me Cash Gardner has layers beyond the notches in his bed post?” “You are really hung up about how many women I sleep with, aren’t you?” “It’s not a secret.” “No, but it always comes back to that with you, doesn’t it?” He’s smiling, but I can tell he’s only half kidding. Suddenly it hits me: Cash really cares what I think. About him. “Don’t you ever think about those girls? What if they’re in relationships? What are you breaking up? There’s no such thing as no strings attached, regardless of what you might—” “Clearly I’m gonna have to level with you,” he says. “First off, if they sleep with me, they know what they’re getting. I make it very clear up front that I am in it for a good time. Second, if they are cheating, then that’s on them. Am I supposed to have them fill out some questionnaire to see their dating history? Fuck that, Savy. Sometimes you just have to go for it. Love is messy, it’s not orderly, and you may get burned but you keep going—you appeal.” “Appeal?” “Isn’t that a lawyer term? I’m trying to speak your language.” That gets a laugh out of me. “Continue, counselor.”

Cash takes a drink from his own champagne flute before he goes on. “Here’s the thing: you don’t need to always have it go somewhere. Sometimes things are just fun —you need to be reminded that you are worth it. You are worth it, Savannah.” “Sustained. I see your point. And I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to judge.” “You don’t have to be sorry, just have some fun. Don’t let Tanner Jakes continue to ruin your life, or I’ll be forced to intervene on your pussy’s behalf.” I actually laugh this time. It’s been so long since I laughed with someone. Since I’ve felt remotely like the person I used to be, before Tanner Jakes walked into my life. Cash is certainly not Mr. Right, but hell if I don’t want him to be Mr. Right Now. That’s it. Throwing caution to the wind, I lean into him and kiss him right on the lips. He tastes like champagne and mint. It’s a quick kiss. I draw away much sooner than I would like, but it’s just as good the second time around. It clouds my head, and for the first time in forever I don’t care about my job or promotion. Staring into my eyes, he tucks my hair behind my ear and with both hands grasping my face kisses me harder, rougher. It’s a wake-up call for my body. Every nerve’s cell tunes in to see what his hands will do next. Logically, I should stop and thank Cash for the rescue and tell him this can’t go any further, but the pleasure pooling between my legs says keep this fucking going. I thread my fingers into his hair and pull him closer. Damn. Cash wasn’t lying. His mouth is magic. Until he pulls away. Again. I let out a noise of frustration and he chuckles. “Easy there, sweetheart.” “We were just getting to the good part,” I grab his shirt again, but he backs off. “Trust me, this isn’t the good part. But I’m saving that until you’re sober.” “I’m fine!” I protest, my blood still singing from the kiss. I want him. Now. Cash shakes his head. “Let me put it like this.” He traces a slow, burning path up the side of my bare arm, until I swear I’m panting. “If you fuck me tonight, it’ll be about him. And when I take you – because sweetheart, you best believe, I’m going to be the one doing the taking – I’m going to be the only one on your mind. Until you can’t manage a single thought, other than ‘yes, Cash. More, Cash.’ Understand?” Goddamn. I nod, slowly, because I don’t have a choice. Then Cash stands, and offers me his arm. Chivalrous, like he just didn’t promise to fuck my brains out. “Now, let’s get you home.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Cash I’m perfecting more drinks for The Library, and I have volunteered Ryder to be my tester for the day. It’s meant to be a flashy drink. It’s a mix of absinthe and whiskey with a little mint to help blend it all together. Ryder takes a huge hit from the glass. He coughs, and I can’t help but chuckle. “Damn, that’s good.” “Librarians often are wild in the sack, just like accountants.” “And how would you know anything about accountants?” Ryder asks. “Did one several years back—she definitely knew how to make it count.” But the details of that encounter are pushed aside by thoughts of what Savannah would look like while she came. Her body tight, squeezing me, pulling me deep. “And how was the date with Savannah last night?” “You know I don’t kiss and tell,” I say before I can stop myself. I close my eyes; shit, he found it out. Ryder’s smirking with a knowing look. “Welcome to the club.” “I want nothing to do with that club. Got that invitation a long time ago, and I sent back my RSVP with a big fucking NO checked. Now tell me, what do you think of the drink?” I ask, anything for a change in subject. The last thing I need to do is open up more about Savannah. What happens between us is our business. “It was good, but does it taste better than a lawyer?” Ryder shoots back, cocky bastard. When I find out—and I intend to—I’ll let him know. Last night was just a start. I’ve had a taste, and now I want the whole package. Savannah at my mercy; me finding every way to make her scream. My phone goes off, and I grab it. Small miracles. Ryder’s too good at getting secrets out of me. Unknown Number. I’ll take it. At this point, I would even talk to telemarketers in order to get out of this conversation with Ryder. “Hello?” “You’re not getting out of it that easy,” Ryder says. “Cassius, darling, don’t hang up, please.” My thumb hovers over the red button, but I can’t—it’s the sound of her voice. The strain that she doesn’t let show except when something’s bad, or she needs something. “Are you still there?” “Yeah, Mom,” I say eyeing Ryder. He raises an eyebrow. Just because I’ve never mentioned my family doesn’t mean I don’t have one. If I were smart, I would hang up and block the number, because this phone call will suck me back into the world I’ve tried so hard to leave behind. But she’s my mother, and as much as I want to ignore her, sometimes I just can’t. “Your father’s had a heart attack. He’s in the hospital. We don’t…they don’t know…Please come. We’re at Piedmont Hospital. He’s coming out of surgery soon, I’ll let the nurses know to direct you to his room when you get here.” There’s a level of panic in her voice that crosses the phone line and infects me. “Sure thing,” I reply. No matter our differences, Emmett Gardner is still my father. Even if he is a swindling bastard. I end the call, already sliding out from behind the bar, my pulse speeding. I grab my jacket from

the counter and head for the door. It’ll be just a quick in and out. I’ll go see my father and be back in time to sling drinks tonight. I make it about four steps before I remember: keys. And when I turn back, I’m face to face with my friend. “I gotta go,” I say. There’s not much more I can tell him. Keys. Keys. I pat my pockets and then backtrack to the bar to grab them. “Your mom okay?” Ryder asks. Mentioning my mother was a mistake. Ryder may not have the school bought pedigree of Jackson or Parker, but the man connects the dots faster than anyone. Not to mention he hates liars, and lying’s all I seem to be doing about my family. “It’s nothing,” I say, trying to get past him. “I mean it’s serious — I gotta go.” There isn’t time to explain what’s happening or going on, because it’ll raise more questions. And more questions about my past is the last thing I need right now. “I’ll grab the car. You’re about as able to drive as a drunk at last call.” He gets up and grabs for his keys, finding them instantly. “No.” The last thing I need is for my friend to get involved with my parents. I’d have to explain everything, and I can’t stomach that. “I mean thanks, I just…” “Cash, man, whatever it is,” Ryder says, taking a seat again. He’s a better friend than I deserve right now. “You don’t have to go it alone.” If I stick around it’s not going to end well. I’ll spill everything, and then they’ll hate me when they find who I am and where I come from. Ryder’s confused by my fast exit, but doesn’t chase after me. When I get to the door, I know why. Jackson’s just come in. “Where’s the fire?” he asks. “Another girl,” I say, brushing past him. “You know the drill,” I lie. My parents poison everything good in my life. Now they have me keeping secrets from the guys who are supposed to be my family. We all worked our way up to something, and now, just like they always have, my parents show up to destroy it. “I’ll be back later,” I tell them, ignoring the concern on their face. “Don’t worry.” *** Peidmont is close to the bar, and it doesn’t take me long to get there. I hate hospitals, and even with all the money my family has it still isn’t enough to mask the smell of disinfectant and death. Mentally, I start to prepare myself for the one thing I’ve wanted and now can’t face: my father’s demise. He deserves it. As head of the investment company that screwed thousands of people out of their life savings, his karmic payback should be a good one. I was in college when it all went down: the collapse of my whole life, everything I took for granted my whole childhood: the fancy house, the cars, the vacations. One minute he was respected, a stock market genius, they said. The next, the company went under. Risky investments, bad loans, whatever you want to call it, one minute the money was there, the next, it disappeared into thin air. Not our money: theirs. We were protected, of course. Limited liability, legal loopholes, a million different ways for my family’s lawyers to say fuck you. Hard-working people lost everything, their pensions, their savings, even their homes, while my parents sailed through it all, unharmed. We kept

the big house, and the cars, and the vacation home by the lake. He never paid a dime in compensation either. Sure, they tried to press charges, but the court case collapsed on the second day of the trial. He walked, scot free. And I vowed I would never live another day off the dirty money from all those people’s despair. I cut them off, took out loans to finish college, and turned my back on the shame of my family’s greed. You would figure maybe that would make my father wake up to what he’d done, but you’d be wrong. He started a new company, raked in the money again, and a few years later, it was like nothing ever happened. I get those checks from the family trust every month, and I send them on, to the people who lost everything to him. It’s not enough to pay my family’s debt to them, but it’s all I can do. The waiting room’s empty, except for the fancy and uncomfortable chairs that wait for visitors. “Emmett Gardner, please?” I ask the no-nonsense nurse at the front desk. “2167.” I nod in appreciation and head in the direction she’s pointed. Outside room 2167, I stop and take a deep breath. This is it. Get in, make sure he’s not dead, and get out. I shove open the door and freeze. The room is large and spacious, my mother sitting by the bed. There’s dear old Dad, sitting up, reading the paper, eating—and complaining—about the lunch they’ve served him. No tubes. Barely an IV. What the hell? My panic fades – replaced with anger. If it weren’t for the paper-thin hospital gown he’s wearing, he could be lounging by the pool at the country club. Mom sits next to him, perfect in her sweater set and pearls. She spots me as I try to back out of the room without a word, and she rises, coming after me. I turn away but she grabs me and pulls me in for a bone thin hug. Whatever diet she’s mainlining this month isn’t doing her any favors. “Do not make a scene, Cassius. You will not embarrass us here,” she whispers. “You told me he was dying. He’s fine. I don’t need to be here.” “No, I told you he had a heart attack, and he did. I didn’t know what to do, Cassius.” “Mom —” “You think it’s just about you and him? My family is split apart. I worry about you night and day, and then your father just drops. I didn’t know if he’d make it. I needed you. Is it so wrong that I needed my son? To know that the two most important men in my life are safe?” “Do not play this crap with me. You could have picked up the phone anytime. I didn’t stop you. This is just your way to force my hand.” “The doctors say it could happen again. Do you want to go through the rest of your life hating yourself for not fixing this stupid rift? Let it go, Cassius.” “Stupid? Mom, people lost everything.” “And we did, too,” she sniffs. I clench my jaw and try to remain calm. “Last time I checked, your bank account was just fine.” But my comment rolls right off her. “You’ve never known pain until you’ve had someone you love walk out on you—and you miss the chance to make up with them. Someday you might, but I hope you never have to live with that regret. Talk to him before you miss your chance. It’s time to put the past behind us.” I have half a mind just to keep walking and never look back. That’s been my way of dealing with it since the beginning. Once I

realized what he was really like, I wanted to be nothing like my father. Nothing like the man who lost millions of other people’s money and then saved everything for himself. He ruined lives, and what’s worse, he has no remorse. My mother opens the door, returning to the room, and giving me a stern look that I remember well from my childhood. It’s the look she gave me when I got into my first fight. When I tried to quit baseball. When I wanted her to convince Dad to give those people back what was rightfully theirs. It was a look that said ‘do not disappoint me.’ Backing down is not an option. My father doesn’t look up from the paper when I sit in the chair beside his bed. He finishes going over the stock reports before he gives me his attention. All these years, and those reports are still more important to him than his kids. Than anything or anyone else. “Cassius.” “It’s just Cash, Dad.” “Ah. I see you’re still on that kick. Pour me some water.” I do, even though I’m gritting my teeth the entire time. Mom looks on approvingly. “Yep, still on that kick.” I pass him the plastic cup, and he drinks. Dad leans back and pauses. “And you’re still working as a bartender?” Are we really having this argument again? The muscles in my neck tighten. “Is there something wrong with earning an honest wage?” “Just because something is honest doesn’t mean you’re not meant for better things,” he says disdainfully. “You were top of your class at school, you have a good mind for business, and this fantasy you have about being ‘of the people’ is a waste of your talents and breeding.” His words disgust me, as usual. “You know, Dad, if you looked beyond the fact that, yes, I am a bartender, you might realize that I am also a business partner. I own not one, not two, but five successful, well-regarded bars in Atlanta. They’re packed every night, and at least it’s real work that I do with my own two hands. Can’t say that for everyone in this room.” My father rubs his chest. Maybe this heart attack finally reminded him where he could find his heart—no matter how small and shriveled it might be. “Don’t you talk to me like that. You have no idea what it’s like to take care of a family.” “And what about the people who had to take care of their families with nothing?” “Boys.” Mom cuts in, moving toward us. Dad silences her with a look. “Enough of this, talking about it—it’s aggravating my heart condition,” he rattles. I can’t help it. I roll my eyes. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me. Do you know how many nights your mother’s lost sleep worrying about you? How many times I’ve had to tell her that if something bad happened to you, we’d know? You can hate me, but think about your mother. Do you even care about her?” It’s like a bad soap opera, only I can’t change the channel. “Of course I care. But I think we’re remembering the wrong mom. Do you remember how many drinks she’d down at the club when I was a kid? Or the way she’d pass me or Tasha off to someone else—nannies, tutors, coaches? You only care about us when it’s convenient for you.” “And I guess those monthly checks from the trust are a nice benefit.” He says sharply. “They get cashed like clockwork, if I’m not mistaken.” “Yeah, by people who deserve the money. Not by me.” “I didn’t think your high and mighty morals would allow for it.”

“They don’t. I send that money to people who lost it. People you screwed in that deal, Dad. They get my trust checks because I know they got nothing from you.” There. I’ve said my piece. And he’s got nothing to say back to me. Fine. Good. “Good luck with your heart,” I grind out. It’s the nicest thing I can manage. A person I barely recognize is in the waiting area when I exit. Tasha’s flung in a chair, feet up on the one next to her, phone out. She’s older than I remember. She’s got to be what, nineteen, twenty? College age, I decide. Sure doesn’t look like the kid sister in braces and school uniforms that I remember. This girl has on too much make up and a look that she definitely learned from our mother. A look caught somewhere between boredom and sleep deprivation. “You make them angry again?” she asks without looking up. “A little. Keeps ‘em on their toes. How’s college?” Tasha glances up. “Like you care,” she sneers, going back to her phone. “I asked, didn’t I?” She gives me the finger. “Classy, Tasha.” “With a K.” She still won’t look at me. “Just go on home then, you’ve stirred the pot. Now hopefully they’ll go spend a week in Bermuda channeling their chakras or find an ashram again—that was great. Go back to your awesome life and leave me to clean the rest up.” “I’m here if you ever—” “Whatever.” “I mean it, Tash.” I scribble my number on a crumpled gas station receipt in my pocket and set it on the table beside her. “Call me if you need anything.” She ignores it and pulls out noise-canceling headphones. Even if I say something, she’s never going to listen. Wherever my kid sister went, I don’t think she’s coming back. Just another casualty of my father’s corruption. Except with Tasha, there doesn’t seem to be a way to save her. This isn’t about money, and I don’t know how to fix it. Tasha finally picks up the paper and just when I think she’ll rip it up, she inputs the digits into her phone. My parents may have screwed up the both of us, but we’re still siblings. I should have been there for her more. I was so busy running from my own personal hell my Dad created, I really didn’t think about her. I hold out my fist, and with a roll of her eyes she fist bumps me, just like when we were little. It warms me up a bit, but I know I probably won’t be hearing from her anytime soon. Leaving the hospital, I’m still in a funk. I’d go home, but that means facing the guys, and that’s not happening if I can help it. I pull out my phone. There’s a single text message from Savannah: Dinner? I can’t type back “yes” fast enough. A night with Savannah is just what I need. After what happened between us last time, it’s safe to say we have some unfinished business - and I need to make this day disappear. Last night, I saved her from her past, now it’s her turn to make me forget mine.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Cash Dating is a level of hell I prefer to ignore, but for Savannah, I can make the effort. Parker was my hook up for the restaurant—he pulled his New York strings, and suddenly I had a table at this hot new sushi place. All monochromatic colors and small bits of food served on little cubes of noori-wrapped rice. I don’t have the best track record with sushi, as everyone knows from my food poisoning incident a few years back. Part of me wonders if Parker did this as some kind of revenge. But I forget about all that when we’re shown to our table. “I can’t believe you got reservations here,” Savannah gushes, gazing around the lush interior. “I’ve been dying to come here.” Right away, I start to relax. Savannah can have that effect on a man. We’re seated beside each other in a secluded booth, in the back of the restaurant. She smiles over the rim of her wine glass. She wore dark red lipstick this evening, and on her pale skin it makes her lips stand out like lush berries, waiting to be tasted. “Do you take all your ladies here?” she asks, noticing my lingering gaze. “You’re my first,” I wink. “There is something Cash Gardner hasn’t done? I’m shocked.” She’s teasing. “I’m open to new experiences.” My gaze drops to her lips again, then lower. Her curves are on fine display tonight in a little black dress that’s begging to be tossed on my bedroom floor. That kiss from before was a tantalizing taste of what’s to come, but dammit, I don’t want to sit through the main course before I get to enjoy dessert. “So where do you usually take other girls?” Savannah asks. “On a little walk up a short flight of stairs. If you’re nice, I’ll show you my apartment sometime,” I add. “So no dating for Cash Gardner?” Savannah reaches for the edamame beans and teases one free from the skin. “Interested in my dating life?” She shrugs with a bashful grin. “You know all about mine.” This is probably why I’ve put off dating as long as I have, because at some point a girl like Savannah is going to start asking questions. I try to keep things light. “You think I have no standards.” “Standards… or direction,” she offers. And coming after a million other digs about my bachelor lifestyle, I can’t let this one go. “Always have to be heading somewhere, don’t you?” I ask. “So what is this, then? Dinner between friends? Dinner between more than friends? A date?” That stumps her. Savannah for once cannot find a quick comeback. She may play the prim and proper lawyer, but clut I’m sure she’s just as ready to cut loose as the rest of us. “What do you want it to be?” she asks. “That’s not up to me, is it? It takes two to make this work.” I fix my gaze on her, not letting her eyes fall away. “Sometimes you need to let go of what’s holding you back, dragging you down.” “And what do you think is holding me back?” she asks, her gaze turning cautious. I know she’s expecting me to bring up that asshole Tanner, but he’s not the problem right now.

“That whip-smart brain of yours. You’re thinking too much,” I tell her. She laughs. “You prefer your women brainless?” “No, I’m saying, you overthink things, it’s what you do. You’re a lawyer, you’re used to making arguments, being logical. But some things aren’t about logic. They’re instinct. Heat. Chemistry.” I slide a hand under the table and find her bare knee. I stroke the soft skin gently. Savannah inhales in a rush, so damn sexy it’s hard to keep control. “You got your heart broken, so now you’re trying to play it safe. It’s why you’re so obsessed with this idea of finding something real, a stable relationship,” I tell her, still tracing slow circles on the inside of her knee. “But did you ever think that might be the last thing you need? Whatever happened to following your gut? Taking something because you want it. Because you need it.” My hand traces higher. Savannah’s eyes glaze. Her knees part, allowing my fingers to edge further up under her skirt. I can see her breath coming faster now. “What if I want something I shouldn’t have?” she whispers. “Shouldn’t?” I echo, still fighting to keep it together. Damn, the feel of this woman’s silky thighs has blood rushing straight to my cock. “Says who?” Savannah shrugs. “Cassie. Ryder. You.” Me? “You keep telling me, you don’t do relationships. You just like to fuck and run.” I grit my teeth. “I can promise you, Savannah, after I’ve fucked you the way you deserve to be fucked, both of us are going to be too spent to be running anywhere.” Her eyes flash. She bites her lip, and I can see the desire warring in her eyes. She’s on the edge, ready to leap. The least I can do is make it easy for her. Curling my fingertips higher between her thighs, I brush against the lace of her panties. Savannah jolts. I stroke again, and I see her lips part in a silent moan. Her panties are damp to the touch. Fuck, I need to be buried inside her sweet cunt – and soon. I grab my wallet and throw down two twenties. We haven’t even ordered yet, but I can’t wait any longer. “Come on,” I say, grabbing her hand. I almost yank her out of the booth and toward the door. “We’re leaving.” Savannah doesn’t argue, she follows me out of the restaurant, past the confused-looking hostess. Sorry, buddy, but if you knew how wet this girl was, you’d understand the need for speed. I’m parked down the block, but we don’t even make it that far. To my surprise – and joy – Savannah suddenly stops dead on the sidewalk, then yanks me into an alleyway. Before I can think twice, her soft limbs are wrapped around me, and that lush, wicked mouth is on mine. Fuck. Yes. I kiss her back, hard, and shove her up against the wall. Savannah moans, pressing into me, her breasts hot against my chest. I run my hands over that amazing body, grabbing her ass and driving her harder into me, against my aching, rock-hard cock. Savannah bites down on my lip. Yeah, I can play like that. I lift her, wrapping her legs around my waist as I shove her dress up around those sweet thighs and grind against her, loving the feel of her body, but needing her 100% more naked, and fast. She thrusts back, panting now. In the dark alley, her face is shadowed, but I can see the look in her

eyes and fuck if it doesn’t send me closer to the edge. She wants this. She wants me. I reach between us and push her panties aside. I stroke over her slick clit and then bury two fingers inside her. She groans into my mouth, bucking against my hand. Fuck, she can’t get enough. I thrust my fingers hard, grinding my palm against her clit. “Fuck,” Savannah gasps. “Cash.” Hearing my name like this is such a fucking turn on. She’s so wild, I knew she’d be like this. A hellcat, ready to fight. I pump faster, her slick channel so fucking tight, it makes me crazy. I’m going to fuck her all night. I’m going to show this girl things she’s never dreamed of. I dip my head to her breasts, nipping at her nipples through the fabric of her dress. Savannah clutches hold of my head, practically offering her breasts to me on a silver platter. Fuck yeah, baby. This is only the appetizer. She’s close, I can feel it. Suddenly, her climax rips through her, and I can’t hold back anymore. I reach for my zipper, and that’s when she pulls away, gasping. “What’s that sound?” she asks. “What?” The only sound I care about is the scream when my cock drills deep inside her. “Your phone,” Savannah says, flushed and panting. “Someone’s calling.” “Fuck them.” I growl. “Or to be precise, fuck you.” “Wait, Cash—” Savannah slips down from my embrace. She yanks her dress down, looking around. “What are we doing?” “Well, I was just making you come your brains out,” I say, impatient. I’ve got a hard on like you wouldn’t believe, and I haven’t even gotten started showing this girl what I can do. “But, here?” Savannah straightens up. “We could get arrested! You need to answer your phone, and we need to go someplace else.” I’m about to yell in frustration, when she gives me a sudden blinding smile. “Somewhere with a bed,” Savannah says. “And a locked door, and a supply of energy drinks.” I relax. Now she’s talking. “Consider it a deal.” I button my pants again, and pull my phone from my pocket. 3 missed calls. Tasha. Savannah crosses the street ahead of me to the car, and I call my sister back. “Hey Tasha, what’s up?” “Cash, can you come get me? Please?” I can hear the tears in her voice over the pounding music. Wherever she is, it’s not a place I want my baby sister to be. Shit. I will never, ever give Jackson a hard time about being overprotective of Shelby ever again. Ever. My lust disappears. “Where are you?” I demand. “Text me the address. I’m leaving now.” “Okay. Please hurry.” I hang up, and the address is almost instantly in my messages. I recognize the street— Tasha’s on Frat Row. There isn’t time to explain all of this mess to anyone. “What’s up?” Savannah asks, when I catch up with her. She’s looking so damn good in the streetlight, I hate myself for having to do this.. “I have to go,” I say. “It’s an emergency at the bar.” “Oh.” Her face falls. “OK, that’s fine.” “Savannah—”

“Cash.” Leaning in, she kisses my cheek. “It’s your job, I get it. You can drop me off on your way.” My phone beeps again. Tasha, only for you. Dammit. “Actually, I need to hurry, and you’re kind of out of the way.” I’m such a dick, and it shows on her face, but there’s no time. “Can you grab a cab?” Savannah blinks. “Sure.” “Look, there’s one now.” I flag it down, and hustle her inside before she can say a word. “I’ll call you tomorrow, OK?” “OK—” They’re gone before she’s done talking. I sprint to my car, and gun the engine. Tasha, you owe me for this. Students leak out of the frat house doing the drunken shuffle. The fine façade doesn’t dissuade me from the fact that my sister’s called me in for a 9-1-1. Inside, the music pounds and the drinks are poured so strong I can smell them from here. Along with a collection of smells I’d rather not identify. I check my phone again: First floor living room. Tasha promised to stay in that room until I got to her. I’d have preferred she find something more private—with a lock—but all of those rooms were taken, she said—and the bathroom was off limits. “You’re cute,” a college girl says, stumbling into me. She’s gone. If there’s one rule I have, it’s that I don’t fuck wasted girls. It’s not sexy when someone can’t remember their own name, let alone what happened when they wake up the next day. She leans in, and I almost get tipsy from her breath. Apparently, Tasha’s not the only one who needs saving tonight. “You’re drunk.” I take her glass and pour it out. She pouts and backs off. “Don’t touch me.” I hear Tasha over the music and crush of the crowd. Pushing my way through the pack, I find her seated on a couch in what I’m sure in her mind counted as a whole outfit, but I can only call a rag. Her movements are slow, but not so sluggish that she’s completely wasted. A boy has his hands down her skimpy dress and she’s trying to push him off. I see fucking red. “Hey,” I say, grabbing the kid by the back of his shirt and yanking him off. “She said stop.” “Who the fuck do you think you are?” I’m ready to smash his smug little face in, but Tasha pulls me back. “Please,” she begs, tearful. “I just want to go. Please?” I throw the guy down. Any other night, and he’d need stitches, but right now, I just want to get Tasha out. We head back outside and to my car. Tasha doesn’t say a word, she just curls up in the front seat. “Did he hurt you?” I demand. “No, I’m fine.” “You don’t look fine.” “Just leave it, OK?” Tasha demands. I try to calm down. She’s safe now, and it doesn’t look like that asshole hurt her. But there is no way she can go home like this. Mom would go ballistic, and Dad would lecture her for days. I’m surprised they haven’t tried to dry her out already. Or maybe it’s just easier to pretend that she doesn’t have this problem. Just like they could pretend they weren’t to blame for ruining other peoples’ lives.

“Burgers or tacos?” I ask. We’ll grab some food, she’ll relax and have some time for herself before she has to deal with mom and dad. “Just take me home.” She pulls her knees up to her chest and lays her head on top. There is no way I’m surrendering her to my parents’ care. “Hey,” I say, tousling her hair like I did when she was a kid. She bats at my hand, but for a split second I get a smile. I think there’s hope to finding the sister from my childhood. “You sure you have time?” Her voice says it all. Mom and Dad never had time for us as kids. It was always nannies and tutors. Them taking time for us was scheduled and perpetually canceled due to rounds of golf or luncheons. “Of course I do,” I say, “Pick your poison.” “Tacos,” she mutters. We stop at a drive through and grab food. I order a bunch of tacos and several bottles of water. There probably aren’t enough carbs to soak up the alcohol, but getting something in her will help. Once she’s at least semi-coherent, we’re going to have a talk, because I already know that no one else will be straight with her. Someone needs to give her the lecture of a century. If I hadn’t shown up when I did, what would have happened? We sit on the hood of my car, eating tacos and watching the people pass by us on the street. Many stare, because who sits on the hood of a BMW eating tacos? Go on and take a good look, people, because this bartender and his sister do. Tasha doesn’t say much, just sits and eats her food. In the years since I saw my sister, she’s grown into her looks. She is a beautiful girl, and that is a lethal combination when mixing too much booze and too many frat guys. If she is anything like my mother, she knows how to use those looks to her advantage. But as I watch her, there is a sadness to her that I can’t help but feel that I contributed to. When all the stuff went down with our folks, Tasha was just a young teenager and didn’t understand what was going on. Could she still go on her trips? What about shopping? It had been Tasha, Tasha, Tasha all the time. It would have taken the apocalypse to get her to call me for help. But the girl before me isn’t the girl I left behind, and it’s my fault I didn’t get to see who she became. All I can see, however, is that boy at the party and every horrible, despicable thing imaginable runs through my head. I will never rag on Jackson for getting on Shelby’s case again. In a span of an hour, I have come to learn that little sisters can tear your heart out. She’s halfway into her second taco when I lose the battle in my head. The older, overly protective brother breaks out in me. I just can’t not say something to her about going to that party. “Can I ask you a question?” “Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back for the tacos.” She crumples up her wrapper and grabs another one out of the bag. “Don’t worry, I’m not that hard up for cash.” “Not with your trust fund.” I decide to let that one go, because what I do with my funds is my business and I don’t owe her an explanation. Plus, would she even really understand why I do what I do? “Tasha, what made you want to go to that party?” I try to keep my voice calm, but it slides toward anger. I’m not angry at her, I’m just angry that she put herself in that situation. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Tasha doesn’t say anything. Just another bite of her taco, and a sip of water. Even if I take her home, no one’s going to talk to her about this. How can they, when they’re probably gone half the time anyway? I’m not a pro at trying to get information out of her, but I know from watching Jackson try and

lecture Shelby that it’s just a matter of finding the right button to push. Keep digging, and eventually even the most relaxed person will let out their secrets. “I mean, look, I get it, frat parties are a rite of passage, but don’t go to them alone. What would have happened if you hadn’t called me?” Still no answer, but the anger in her eyes tells me I’m about to hit the right button. “I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. I walked in and saw that guy— you’re my sister, I was ready to kill him. You have no idea how much red I saw.” She swallows her taco. “What are you doing?” Her voice is flat. Nothing I’ve said has even seemed to faze her. “I know Mom and Dad aren’t winning parents of the year anytime soon, but I think you have to think about the choices you’re making. You’re smarter than this, I know it.” “You give me a ride, buy me a taco, and suddenly you have parental rights? Is that how you think this works? That we had one moment in a hospital and you do me a solid and you can just walk back into my life like nothing’s wrong? Fuck you.” “Tash, I’m worried about you. Mom and Dad and I may not be each other’s biggest fans, but I am always on your team.” “Cash, what were you thinking when you walked out on us? Oh wait, I forgot, holier-than-thou Cassius Ryan Gardner only leaves people he can’t stand to morally be around. Sometimes people fuck up, but you can’t hold that over them forever, especially when you bail first.” Her words have my head spinning. “What are you even talking about?” “You like to pretend that you walked out on our parents. You left me, Cash. You walked out the door and you didn’t look back. No card. No email. No phone call. You just left. You think you were the first person I called to help me out tonight? No. You were the last. Half of my friends were too busy to come grab me, and the others were already so smashed it wasn’t like they’d be any help anyway. So I had to hope that the brother who told me that he would be there for me, actually would be there.” “Tash…” She crumples the taco wrapper and chucks it into the bag. Proving she’s sober, she hops off the hood and walks around to the passenger side door. “Just take me home.” I climb in the car and start her up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…I had to do something for myself. To save myself.” “Well, congrats. I hope you were worth it.” “I’m trying to apologize here.” “Whatever.” “You’re right. I did leave, and I’m sorry that I hurt you. When I left, it was because I had to get out of a bad situation. Tasha, I guess…I guess I didn’t think about that hurting you, too. You, aside from your partying choices, are still my favorite little sister.” She gives me a look. “I’m your only sister.” “Yeah, well, you beat out the competition in utero.” She laughs, and I have to hope that I’m on my way to getting her back. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past few years, it’s that family is important. I’m finally in a place where I can help Tasha. I had to go it alone, but there’s no reason Tasha has to do all of this by herself. “If you need me any time, day or night, you call. I don’t care what you’re doing or what you’ve done. Whether you need a ride somewhere or you just want to hang out for the day. You call me.” “Promise you’ll be there from now on?

“Promise,” I say, slinging an arm around her shoulders. She leans against me, and we’re back on the road to being family again. “Will you get me into your club?” “When you’re twenty-one, you can be on the list every night.” “You suck,” she groans, but her smile says she’s joking. “Someone has to be responsible. Let’s get you home.” It’s weird driving down West Paces Ferry. I try my best to avoid this section of Atlanta at all costs. I haven’t been back to this side of the wealth divide since I left. While Atlanta has grown and changed around me, this place stays eerily similar. Houses get bigger, gardens turn over new leaves, but this neighborhood is frozen in some sort of weird cryogenic sleep. Even the people who live here are plastic, and more concerned with their personas and public faces than what really matters. “Turn here,” Tasha says, pointing to a small access road. I ruffle her hair. Of course I know where to turn. “Hey, not the hair.” I poke her side and she stifles a giggle. All these years and she’s still ticklish. Sometimes it’s not so bad when things stay the same. Stopping the car under a pecan tree, I stare through the wrought iron gate toward the mansion that looms in the distance. The access road was meant for servants and gardeners, so that they could come and go without ever being seen. What Emmett and Martha didn’t anticipate was that their children would use it to sneak in and out of the house. We were too perfect for that. For once, their stupidity was our gain. It was how I stayed sane under their demand of perfection. During the summer when I was home from boarding school, I’d steal out the back, escape, and explore Atlanta. While the pocket money I had could get me in anywhere, I found myself searching out the unexpected. The bars and eateries off the beaten path. It’s how I realized the effect of my parents’ decisions, because unlike my parents, who lived isolated in the mansion surrounded by a moat of wealthy, self-involved clones, I knew people who depended on a weekly paycheck. “When did you learn this route out of Palace Gardner?” I ask. Never in my life did I show this to anyone, not even Tasha. She’d been molded into a mini-Martha from an early age. Money, vacations, and decadence were Tasha’s bread and butter. It was always the best and then better with her, and never once did I think she’d want to break out of her ivory tower. “Since you started using it. I was young, not blind. I noticed everything.” “You good to get inside?” “We’re going to have to talk about you going parental on me all the time.” I throw up my hands. “I’m backing off. Go get some sleep.” “Thanks.” “No problem. Call me anytime. I’ll tell you about the way out, through—” “The tennis courts,” she cuts me off, “but exiting through the old barn is better, there’s more coverage.” I stare at her. “There’s an exit there?” She smiles. “So much to learn big brother, so much to learn.” She holds out her hand and I fist bump her. “You take care,” I tell her. “And call me, OK? Whenever you need, no questions asked. I’ll always be there.” Tasha gives me the ghost of a smile. “Thanks.” She gets out and I watch her find the removal post in the fence and sneak back inside.

CHAPTER NINE

Savannah It’s a good thing the date ended early—at least that’s what I’m going to tell myself. Otherwise I might have screwed his brains out in the alley where anyone could have seen. I’m guessing that’s against not just the law, but the code of ethics for lawyers too. I would have risked disbarment, but hell, it would have been worth it. If Cash can make me feel like that with one hand, imagine what he could do with both of them. Or his cock. I wish we’d been able to take it to the bedroom and keep the night going. On the other hand, the bar is his thing and would I want Cash getting upset if I had to run out to help a client? No way. Things work both ways. Though it doesn’t make going to bed alone any easier. I take the cab home and change into my PJs, then I pour myself a glass of wine and take a long sip. Now that the lust is fading from my system, I’m realizing just how close I came to losing my head. Improvising and spontaneity had gotten me in trouble with Tanner. But then, I had stars in my eyes, thinking it was the real deal. At least with Cash, I know exactly where I stand. How did he put it? Chemistry. Instinct. It’s a classy way of referring to a quick fuck, but now I think, Cash wouldn’t take it fast. No, he’d make me moan all night long. I pour more wine. The last guy that made me come like that was Tanner…. I curl up on my couch and turn on the TV, trying to push thoughts of Tanner out of my mind. I went in blind with him—should I do the same with Cash? Even if he is just a Mr. Right Now? At least I know he’s not hiding any secrets: Cash is about as obvious as they come. Or is he? My computer glares at me from the coffee table. The inner lawyer wants to know all of the facts. A few quick searches on the old Google and I could satisfy a lot of my curiosity about Cash. Did he have old girlfriend pics on social media? Were there babies I should know about? A former wife? Would it hurt less if I knew going in? I shake my head, trying to dislodge those thoughts. Not everyone is Tanner. Some guys are good. If my best friend can find love in an ex-bare knuckle fighter, I have to believe it’s out there for me, too. No computer, no background check. Just me, my wine, and the trashy joys of a Real Housewives marathon. “I been out on the road so long, on these old dirt roads, just thinkin’ bout the girl I left at home…” The music breaks through the sound of the TV. What fresh hell is this? I figure it’s just a passing car stereo, but the music gets louder. Closer. My windows face the street and I look out—and there he is in the flesh. Standing on the sidewalk. Guitar, boots, plaid shirt and jeans. Tanner Jakes. My very own cowboy. Too bad I just want him to eat dirt right now “Savannah!” he calls. “I’m not leaving, and I will sing all night.” He starts up again. A loud, off key rendition of his hit song. Cash was right; he does need autotune. I back away from the window as if it burned me. He wouldn’t dare. He has a wife. A house. A

white picket fence. All he’s missing from the All American Dream is the two point five kids. There is an entire life waiting for him somewhere else. He can’t come tear mine apart every time he feels like it. I jump at a knock on my door. Tanner is still downstairs, because no one’s let him in yet. And they’re not going to. For now, I’m safe. Pausing the movie, I stumble to the door. On the other side is my neighbor from across the hall, little old Mrs. Carson. She’s been in the building since the love of her life passed away—and she’ll tell you the story every chance she gets. Mrs. Carson is the type to bake you cookies and watch who enters your apartment through the peep hole, a southern gossip through and through. Her grey hair is wrapped in tight curlers, held in place by a bright pink scarf. Clinging to her quilted robe, she looks me dead in the eye. “Dear, please do us all a favor and invite him up. Some of us need our beauty rest.” “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Carson.” She gives me an affectionate pat. “Oh, bless your heart,” she says, which in southern is akin to ‘you poor, stupid thing.’ “If I was you, I might put on something different first, but…” she shrugs. I walk past her, heading for the front door of the apartment. The day I change for Tanner is the day the devil sells snow cones to the Pope. “Go home, Tanner,” I say from the doorway. He will not come up—I promise myself. He will not march back into my life. “I’ll call the cops.” Bless your heart, my ass. This girl is made of steel. “I’m not leaving, Savannah, until you let me up. Or is that ‘boyfriend’ of yours staying over? Send him out; I’ll deal with him. Either way I’mjust thinkin’ bout the girl I left at home…” he sings, strumming the guitar loudly again. “You’re my home, Savannah.” I can hear more doors open, and when I look back, many of my neighbors are sticking their heads out of their apartments that I realize I’ve suddenly become the new side show. If this doesn’t get me in trouble with my apartment manager, I don’t know what will. “Stop, Tanner.” He plays a few more chords, and I cringe. “Not until you let me in.” Ugh. “You promise to shut up if I let you in?” “My honor as a musician.” Which is probably as good as your honor as a married man, I think to myself, but let’s just hope it lasts for a fraction of the time. “Fine. Get inside. Now.” I stand aside, letting him enter. Tanner stops right in front of me, invading my space with such casualness I want to smack him. But he just tips his hat to me. I glare. He cannot buy his way back into my good graces with his southern charm. I lead the way up the stairs to my apartment, and doors silently click shut. I’m sure Mrs. Carson will have plenty to tell her friends in the morning about the crazy girl who lives across the hall and her midnight visitor. Inside my apartment, he seems larger than life. It’s like he sucks up all the space around him, leaving so little for me. This was going to be my life. How many times had I pictured him here with me? Making love. Helping me cook. Writing songs. A life planned out in my head and smashed by his lies. I fold my arms and lift my chin. “What do you want? I’m in the middle of something.” He comes closer, eliminating the gap between us, leaning a hand against the wall so that he can box me in. “Just you.” He comes in for a kiss and I move a fraction of an inch, letting him stumble for

balance when he hits the wall. “You sure your wife would be okay with that?” I put a hand on his chest and push him back. Not again. That is a dead end road to heartbreak. “Don’t be like that, Savannah.” He cups my face and forces me to look back at him. “You’re perfect to me. You’re the one I want.” “Let me go, Tanner.” I brush off his advances and go back to my kitchen. Although there might be too many sharp objects in there. Maybe that’s why I choose it as my retreat. “Anyway, I came here to talk about my contract.” I snort. “You could have called my office during normal business hours. I can get you my card if you need it.” “I wanted to talk it through with you now. I know you need me on this, Savy.” I bristle at the nickname. He has no right to that name. “We could be great again. You and me, straight to the top.” “I have other clients.” “But not ones with number one songs. I want to help you, Savannah. After Tennessee, I was miserable. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.” “Then why lie to me?” “Because it came out of nowhere. You stepped into my life, and everything made sense in a way that it hadn’t for a long time.” He walks around my island and comes to stand next to me. Taking my hand in his, he holds it up. “I want you to know I left her. We’re done.” I look up at him. What? Lacing our fingers together he plants a soft kiss on our joined hands. “Baby, I’m here to make it up to you. I came to Atlanta to tell you that I left my wife, that I choose you. I want you.” He left his wife, he chose me. This was what I waited for, wasn’t it? So why don’t I feel good? He wraps his arms around me and I remember for a moment why I fell so fast. Every dream I had after he broke my heart had him coming to my apartment, holding me, telling me I was the only one for him. Tanner is here in my apartment saying everything I ever wanted him to say. And maybe, if it was six months ago, and I hadn’t started to put back together the pieces of my broken heart, maybe this would be more than the band-aid I always dreamed of. He’s single, he chose me. But he’s also a liar who cheated on his wife and made a fool of me. Cash was right—I deserve more than this. “You’re serious?” I ask. He doesn’t hear the incredulity in my voice. Or at least he’s pretending not to. He thinks because he’s finally here, saying everything I ever wanted him to say and more—he left his wife, he wants me, I was worth it, what we had was real—that I’ll want him, too. “I’ve missed you. After everything that happened, it was just never the same. You are my muse. Together, me and you, we’ll be so good. I’ll be back writing up a storm, and when my next song hits number one you will be right by my side..” The air freezes in my lung. Muse. Music. “Muse?” Fuck that shit. “Every singer’s got one.” Tanner looks down at me, “The person who inspires them. Without you in my life, I’ve been completely blocked. I can’t write without you, Savannah. I need you to do this. Triton, they’re great, but they—they want a new album— a full one. With songs like the one I wrote

with you. Together, we can build this dream. I need you.” I need you. Not I love you. Not I want to be with you forever come rain or shine and all that jazz. Not I’m so sorry, I was wrong, I fucked up, how can I make it up to you. No, of course not. It’s I need you. Words mean a lot to me as a lawyer. What might seem to be a simple word substitution can entirely change a contract. Need isn’t love, and no matter what you do to it, it never will be. Tanner Jakes only revolves around one fucking thing: himself. “Is that why you left your wife? She’s not your muse?” “No.” He shakes his head. “I left her because I need you. I don’t need her.” That’s the difference between need and love. Something you need can easily be replaced with something else that fills your need, but love, that’s not replaceable. It’s something you fight for. He leans in for the kiss and this time, I push him away. No more. How could I possibly walk back into that? All he cares about is himself. I’m just his meal ticket to the Grammys. “I’ve heard your proposal, and I think it would be best if we discussed this further at my office.” When I push, he backs away, stunned. “Savannah, I don’t—” “I’m happy to represent you in legal matters, but we’re done, Tanner. We’ve been done for a long time.” “Savannah—or do you prefer Savy now?” “Get out.” “You think you’re gonna be happy with that two-bit bartender? Not even here tonight to keep you company. I tell you, I’d never leave you alone if you were mine.” “He has to handle business issues tonight. Unlike some people, he doesn’t need me to help him make his fucking living.” “Don’t be like this, Savannah.” Tanner pleads. “Let me make it up to you.” “Too late,” I tell him, bitter. “Leave. Now. And don’t come back.” I stand, staring him down. Slowly, recognition dawns on his face. The cool demeanor drops. He believes me. “Sure, I’ll go. And I’ll take my business elsewhere,” Tanner sneers. “Is that what you want?” There is that ugly side, the one I’ve been waiting for. When he doesn’t get his way he’ll just intimidate everyone, or bluff his way out of it. But this time I refuse to back down. “Fine, then.” It will hurt and I will lose my chance at a promotion, but I will not break myself again to be his puppet. I am worth more than that. “Sav—” That’s the last straw. “Get out or I will call the cops and I will file a restraining order and it will not look good for you. Have fun explaining that one to the papers.” He tries again, but I’m over it. “You really want to do this? What about everything we had? Those long nights—I remember just how you like it.” Without waiting, I pull out my cell phone and start dialing a number. “Fine, fine,” he says holding up his hands in surrender. I still hold the phone to my ear, listening to it ring. He marches past and stops to look back at me. “You really want your bartender that badly?” “Hello,” I say to a ringtone. “I need an officer to come to my apartment.” Tanner leaves before I say another word. “You’ve reached Cash Gardner…” I disconnect when I reach his voice mail, but hearing his voice is a reminder. I want more dates like tonight. I want to feel wanted like I did in the alley with

him. I want Cash Gardner. And if there’s one thing he better be aware of it’s this: I get what I want.

CHAPTER TEN

Cash The Warehouse was originally planned to be one of our clubs, but once Ryder’s fight club outgrew their old space, we knew it’d be perfect. A little dirty, a lot of square footage, and with that underground feel that suits our not-so-legal fighting ring. Ryder is in charge, pure and simple. It’s his empire, and as far as I’m concerned, he can have it. He’s edgy and focused, much like what I imagine he was back when he was giving opponents the old one-two punch. I focus on keeping the bar stocked in the back and the liquor flowing. The crowds get bigger every month, and so do the profits. Tonight, we’re packed to max capacity. It’s crazy back here, but a flash of blond curls at the end of the bar catches my attention all the same. Savannah. Right away, my night gets better. “Whiskey rocks,” I say, sliding the drink over to her. “Hello there,” she says, with a suggestive smile. “I was wondering when I’d see you.” “How about later?” I tell her. “Maybe…” she lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I might be meeting this guy. You could say, he left me all wound up the last time I saw him.” “Really? Because I thought you got exactly what you needed. I was the one left with blue balls.” She smirks. “Not everything I needed. I can think of one more thing…” Her gaze goes to my pants. Damn. “Cash!” the yell comes from across the bar. “We’re in the weeds over here.” I sigh. “Hold that thought,” I tell her, and go to keep the drinks moving. When I get back, there’s some tatted up douchebag leaning in close, trying to pick her up. “How about another drink?” he leans in, sliding a hand over her waist. I want to toss him in the ring for a one-on-one fight, but I’m saved from that mistake. “Excuse me,” Shelby says, cutting in. “I love the feel of your shirt, is that silk?” She presses up against the guy and drags him off, giving us a wink over her shoulder. Total party girl that one, but hell if she doesn’t know how to save a friend from a cock-block. “Do we have to tip her for that service?” Savannah asks, watching Shelby expertly ditch the man, leaving him in a group of women. “If we did, we’d never make any money.” “Too true.” She sips the whiskey “Need anything stronger?” I ask. Stronger, or deeper. She smiles. “As a matter of fact, yes.” The bell suddenly sounds. Time for the next fight. Shelby returns, and links her arm through Savy’s. “Come on, I don’t want to miss this one.” “Little Miss Shelby, hungry for blood,” Savannah laughs. “More like hungry to get a look at these fine fighters,” Shelby winks. “Coming, Cash?” Not soon enough. “Right behind you,” I say, and enjoy the view as Savannah walks ahead. Let the rest of the crew handle the bar tonight, I have more pressing priorities. We all gather ringside. I find a spot beside Savannah, and slide my arm around her waist, drawing

looks from the others. Fuck it. I’m not some kid sneaking around, and like Savannah said, it’s her business who she fucks. Mine too, if I’m lucky. Ryder gives me a look. “How’s the bar doing?” “Fine without me,” I glare back. “Cash was just explaining how the fight is mostly fake,” Savannah teases. Ryder grins. “You want fake, watch the TV crap. This is the real deal.” “How was the sushi joint?” Parker asks. “It’s great right?” I’m going to murder Parker. “ Great,” Savannah smiles. “Until Cash had to run out for some bar emergency.” Ryder shoots me a look. “What emergency?” “How’s your new client doing?” I ask, trying to cover. “That country guy. He still around? Or did he get jealous that you had a really hot boyfriend?” “New client?” Cassie asks. “Country guy?” “Tanner Jakes,” Savannah grumbles into her drink “He’s your client? Oh my God, he is awesome! His song is everywhere!” Cassie crows. “You should invite him to the club, it’d be—” “I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Savannah says. She holds up her bottle. “Look, I’m empty. Who wants another round? No one? Be right back.” I let her go, and watch her slip through the crowd. I fully intend to hunt her down as fast as I can. She doesn’t deserve to be haunted by that prick Tanner Jakes. “You break her heart and I’ll break your balls,” Cassie says. I glance at Ryder, who clearly is staying out of this. “I mean it.” “I don’t intend to,” I say over my shoulder as I follow Savannah’s path. She’s not heading toward the bar—she’s heading toward the exit. This time I’m not letting her slip through my fingers. “Wait up,” I try to catch her. “I just need some air.” “Then why didn’t you just say so?” I take her hand and pull her through the crowd. Some people grunt and shoot us the evil eye, angry that we’re messing with their view of the match. I lead her up a set of stairs that hug the side of the warehouse. Opening the door at the top, I step back and let her step out onto the roof first. Atlanta’s silhouette glows in the darkness, enticing anyone to come play on her streets. Only the brightest stars puncture the lights of the city. It’s Atlanta just the way I like her: a wink and a nod and a good time to be had. The warehouse roof provides us a front porch to her secrets. It’s one of my favorite places in any of our bars. Savannah walks over to a set of lounge chairs. We’ve been toying with the idea of turning this into separate party area, but now I’m glad we have the place to ourselves. I need us to be alone for everything I want to do with her tonight, and I’ve got a feeling it won’t wait. Still, there’s something wrong, so I hold back, watching her for some sign of where her head is at. She takes a deep breath, pressing her breast tight against the deep v in her dress. “Tanner came by my apartment last night.” All rational thought stops, and all I want to do is pound my fists on Tanner’s face. “Did he hurt you?” I go sit by her and rest a hand on her arm. It won’t matter how many bodyguards he has or how much money his stupid songs have made him, I will put him in a body bag myself if he laid a hand on Savannah.

She shakes her head. “I’m fine. It’s over. I’m glad, in a way,” she adds, and my jealous streak burns before she adds, “I think I needed it – to hear him say everything I ever wanted him to say. So I could slam the fucking door in his face.” I grin, relieved. That’s my girl. She doesn’t seem cut up about it, not anymore. “You should have called me to come kick his ass,” I say, not even kidding. “I handled it.” She gives me a wicked grin, and her eyes drop to my lap – my cock straining against my jeans. “I’m good at handling things.” Fuck. “And what sort of things do you handle?” I let my fingers trail down her arm. She gives a little shiver, and I see her nipples pebble hard beneath the thin fabric of her dress. Her hand slides over my thigh, teasing against my denim-clad cock. “I think I can handle you.” Now damn, if that isn’t an invitation. Still, something keeps me from shoving up that dress and fucking her right now. I want to savor every taste of her – I’ve sure waited long enough. Sneaking a hand around her hip, I pull Savannah flush against me. She lets out a breath and it comes out as a moan. My kiss is hot and demanding. Our tongues meet, and neither of us seems to want to surrender first. I want to bury myself in her and never come up for air. All those years of experience, and I’m about to lose myself like a teen in the back of a car. I pull back with a groan, just to look at her. The faraway street lights casts a halo over her skin and reflects the passion in her eyes. Damn, she’s beautiful, but more than that, she’s Savannah. She deserves more than a quick screw on the warehouse roof. “Why’d you stop?” she asks, breathless. Her lips are swollen from the kiss, and she looks like she could take more. Nine inches more. I clench a fist to keep from grabbing her again. “Last call,” I warn her. “No going back now.” “I don’t want to stop,” Savannah insists, and her eyes are determined. “I want you, Cash. Just you.” A good southern gentleman never turns down an invitation, and I’m sure not going to deny her now. I tug the tie on her wrap-around dress, and slowly pull apart the top so I can let my eyes wander over her breasts, her pink nipples pebbling in the cool air. Fuck, Savy’s tits are perfect. She grabs the front of my shirt, ready to pull me down, and I close my hand over hers. This is my territory now. And I will go as fast or slow as I want. “Patience,” I murmur. I trail my fingers lazily over her chest, pausing to tweak her nipples. She moves into my hand, offering me more, so I dip my head and take one of her nipples in my mouth. I nip it playfully. She moans, and I give it another suck. “The word is please, Savy.” “Fucking please.” Well, at least we cleared that up. There’s the foul-mouthed lawyer I’ve come to know. Wouldn’t have it any other way. I peel open the bottom part of her dress and my fingertips brush against bare skin. What? As I look down, I notice she’s gone commando for the night. Damn, this just gets better. Savannah sports a landing strip, as if I needed any direction. Every instinct in my body is drawing me directly to that sweet spot between her thighs. And this time, I’m not stopping for anything.

I spread her legs wider, baring her to me. Other girls start blushing right about now, so exposed, but Savannah just meets my eyes with a challenging smile. “You’ve been making a lot of big promises,” she coos. “I’d say now it’s time to deliver.” “My pleasure.” As I slide a hand down and stroke her clit. I slide two fingers deep inside her. She moans again, bucking against my hand. Savannah grips my face, her expression a mix of amusement and pure frustration. “Quit fucking around and make me come, goddammit, or let me fuck you right now.” Tempting, but not yet. In one motion, I push her back so she’s laying horizontal on the lounge chair. Then I part her legs wider, and settle myself down between her soft thighs, also known as my favorite place in the world right now. “Don’t make a sound,” I order her. “And baby, you’re going to want to scream for this.” I lick her hard and fast, closing my mouth on her clit as my fingers keep working inside her tight pussy. Savannah writhes against me, but I don’t let up, I don’t quit the pressure for a second, lapping up every last drop of her juices until she’s whimpering. Begging. Coming like crazy over my tongue. I sit up, watching her climax roll through her. Damn, now that’s a sight. Finally, Savy sits up. Her hair’s a mess, and her skin is flushed, but that’s just the start of it. She’s going to look well-fucked by the time I’m done with her. She meets my eyes with a satisfied smile. “Maybe your reputation is deserved,” she says. “You don’t even know, baby.” I undo my belt and zipper, my cock already killing me with how fucking hard I am right now. “I can take a hint.” She reaches over and frees me, sliding her hot little hand around my cock. Fuck me, her hands feel like heaven, a vice grip ready to make me come right now. She teases me, pumping gently. She leans in close, her bare breasts against my chest, and whispers softly in my ear. “Now, what exactly do I need to say to get you to fuck me like the manwhore I know you are?” My balls are just about ready to explode. “I think you’ve said enough.” I grab a condom from my pocket before she can completely get rid of my pants. “Why Mr. Gardner, it seems like you thought you’d get lucky tonight.” “For you, Ms. Sunday, I’ll always be prepared.” She keeps stroking me, taking the condom and sliding it down over my dick. Just the feel of her touch like this is making me feel like a horny teenager, ready to blow my wad. We’re oblivious to the sound of the street below. It’s just her and me and the lights wink at us sharing in our secret. I push her back on the lounge chair, and pin her hands above her head. Savannah pants in anticipation. “God, I need your cock,” she says. Right there with you, baby. And now you won’t need to wait another second. Gripping her hips, I find her slick, tight entrance and thrust. Goddamn, that feels good. Savannah whimpers beneath me as I drive all the way in, until my cock is sheathed to the hilt in her tight pussy, and there’s nothing else in the entire fucking universe. Fuck. I pull back, then drive into her again, deeper than fucking ever. She clenches in answer, her pussy gripping my cock from the inside out.

Yeah, baby. Like that. There is nothing more important tonight than her pussy swallowing my cock, her wrists trapped beneath my hands, her body grinding eagerly against mine. I release her hands now, needing to touch her more, but Savy takes the chance to sit up, pushing me back so she’s in my lap now, grinding against my cock. Fucking hell. Her head is thrown back, her bare tits bounce as she thrusts up against me, giving as good as she gets. Every new thrust takes me closer to the edge, fuck, she feels so good, but I’m not about to let her take the lead on this, not when I’ve been fantasizing for days about giving it to her good. I shove her down again, and push her legs up around her ears. Now, I’m plunging even deeper, and yeah, she can feel that all the way to her G-spot. Her eyes roll back, and her moans turn frenzied. Desperate. “Oh God, Cash,” she whimpers. “Right there. Don’t stop. Please, right there.” My fucking pleasure. I thrust fast, and fucking relentless. The universe contracts to the tight grip of her pussy, and the sexy whimpers slipping from her lips. I pound her deep and hard, the way she needs it. The way she’s begging with every moan. Then her pupils dilate, her whole body contracts around me, and then suddenly she explodes in a frenzy of wild convulsions. Her pussy clenches around me, driving me way past control. I could come right now, deep in her heat, but something primal takes me over. She’s mine, dammit, and I want to brand her. I pull out and yank off the condom, fisting my cock in a sharp jerk. It doesn’t take much, just the sight of her still panting her climax is enough to make me lose my mind. I come, spurting in a hot arc over her glorious tits and belly, until she’s covered in my cum. Marked. Mine.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Savannah Letting Cash into my apartment is one of the scariest things I’ve ever done. My apartment has always been my space, my refuge against the world. But as I fumble with the keys, feeling Cash behind me, I can’t help feeling nervous. I find the right key and jam it in the lock. Hopefully, Mrs. Carson doesn’t have a heart attack. A new man two nights in a row—the horror. Placing a hand on the small of my back, Cash guides me into my apartment. The roof top is catching up with me. What did I just do? And is it bad that I want to do it again? “Well, this is it.” I drop my keys on the side board, not even bothering to retrieve them when they fall to the floor. I’ve just had the best fucking orgasm of my life, and all I want right now is round two. Touching a finger to my forehead, he smooths out the creases I wasn’t even aware were there. “You have that look that says you’re preparing to run away, I should warn you, when I catch you, I bite.” He kisses me, and my brain stops running over the millions of questions in my mind. His tongue traces my lips, and I open my mouth and just give in. This is happening because I want it to happen. He tastes like mint and whiskey, and if I had to taste one thing for the rest of my life I wouldn’t mind this at all. I’m not prepared for him to pull away. When he does, I lean toward him, searching for more. Wanting more. “Still thinking too much?” he asks. “Maybe a little?” If it gets me more kisses like those, then yes, I am absolutely over thinking. The truth is, however, there’s not a thought beyond Cash running through my brain. That, and the quickest way to get him naked and horizontal. He rains down kisses on my cheeks. “Stop planning.” His lips press briefly against my lips, but move on before I can stop him for more. “Stop worrying.” He sucks gently on my pulse in my neck, and I’m wet all over again. “Just come with me.” “Didn’t we already do that?” He chuckles low in his throat and lets my hands wander down his back. His muscles are taut under my fingers, and I want nothing more than to peel his shirt off and investigate for myself. Catching my hands before they can find his fine piece of ass, he holds me still. “I’m all yours.” He leans and kisses me slowly, tracing my lower lip with his tongue. He deepens the kiss, claiming my mouth with his tongue. It’s just me, and if there’s one thing I know about Cash he’s true to his word. I nibble on his bottom lip and he releases my hands. I give his ass a good grab. Most definitely need to get him out of his pants. I can’t let him know how much he has me. “The question is, can you repeat yourself?” “Oh, I think I can even outdo myself,” he says with an evil grin. I’ll be the judge of that, and I may need to be shown those moves more than once. I back up, drawing him down the hallway to my bedroom. Cash steps behind me and pushes my curls to the side. He plants a kiss between my shoulder blades. This dress needed to be off long ago. I grab the tie and peel the dress off my cum-slicked skin. Cash pushes it off my shoulders, and it pools behind me.

He grabs my breasts, kneading my tender flesh, making my nipples harden. I sigh in bliss, already feeling my pussy getting wet again. He bends his head and pulls my breast to his mouth. Fisting my hands in his hair, I hold on for dear life. I’ve had my fair share of lovers, but he’s the first who demands everything and gives just as much. His hand travels down and finds my pussy. Circling my entrance, I whimper and buck my hips against him. That is not what I want. I reach for his belt, feeling the stiff length of his cock beneath. Now that is what I am looking for. His hand grabs mine, stopping my progress just as he sinks two fingers deep inside me. I inhale sharply and can’t help but thrust my breasts out ready for more. He’s right: he is an expert with his mouth. As he teases my clit, he sucks my nipple with just the right amount of pressure. “Hmmmm, your technique could use some work.” I try to sound convincing when all I want is for him to continue. He blows on my wet nipple and I arch into his face. Slowly, he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks my juices off them. Then he kisses me, and it drives me wild. I can taste myself mixed with whiskey. “My technique could use some work? Are you lying, Savannah Sunday? It’s bad to tell lies. Tsk, tsk.” He clicks his tongue at me. “Are you being a bad girl?” I tilt my pelvis toward him, pressing myself against his erect cock. Time to show him just how bad we can be together. “Around you? All the time.” He pushes me down onto the bed and lifts my legs up around his neck. The rough stubble on his chin scrapes against the sensitive skin of my thighs. “Keep them there,” he says. “Or what?” I can’t help but challenge him in this. “Oh Savy, you don’t want to find out. You think I was teasing your clit back on the rooftop? If that’s how you want to play it, you haven’t seen teasing yet.” “Ok Cash. I will play by your rules for now.” Fuck, I am ready for him. “Pinch your nipples for me.” He guides my hands to my breasts and leaves me to toy with myself. His tongue pierces my pussy and I want to scream. He sucks on my lips, and then finds my clit, sucking it into his mouth. I see stars. I stop teasing my breasts, trying to catch up with the sensations pooling within me. But his tongue stops. I look down my body at him and he arches an eyebrow. Right, how foolish of me to stop. Slowly, I pluck at my nipples and his tongue repeats the process. A moan escapes my lips and his tongue misses a beat. So he does have a weakness. Just as I’m ready to be pushed over the edge, he stops again. Cash is going to drive me mad before the night is through. Cash gets up, leaving me wet and wanting on the bed, and quickly loses his jeans. After rolling a condom on, he slides into bed next to me and pulls me back against him. His cock presses into the crack of my ass. His hand runs down my leg, cupping my knee and pulling it up. I suck in a breath as I’m spread. His cock teases my opening and I try to press back against him, wanting more. But in this position Cash holds all the cards, and he’s an excellent player. After what feels like a lifetime, he slides into me in one smooth thrust. It fills me completely, stretching me in ways I wasn’t sure was possible. I twist just enough to take his mouth, his tongue strong and demanding against my own. Cash does

nothing half-way. He bites my bottom lip as he pulls back only to thrust back into me. Held open, I can’t do anything but let him do all the work. Hard and fast, each stroke going deeper than the last. I try to wiggle around. Cash gives my ass a smack, forcing himself deeper into me. I groan, my world completely focused on the steady rhythm of our bodies. “Next time I should tie you down,” he says, nipping at my ear. “Would you like that?” I clinch my pussy tighter—sounds like a plan to me. Snaking an arm around his neck, I pull him closer. The move only forces us further together. He moans in my ear and pulls me down and holds me there, his free hand finding my clit, sending all systems haywire. We both come at the same time. “Savy.” Perhaps I should report Cash to the some sort of UFO trackers, because I’m definitely having an out of body experience. I haven’t been this relaxed in months. It’s like the weight that’s been crushing me has suddenly lifted. He was right; all I needed was to let off some steam—not that I’ll ever tell him that. I’d never live it down. Cash dozes next to me; I place a hand on his heart. Underneath my palm, the beat is strong and steady. Cash may be a whirlwind, and I may be caught up in his wake, but there’s no place I’d rather make my home. It’s going to be impossible to give him up. His hand comes up to grab mine and he holds me to him, and that’s when I realize. I’m done for.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Savannah &nbps; “Fuck a cuntwaffle,” I say. And for good measure, I add a few more swears that would make even Cash blush. Balancing against the wall, I tug on my heel. It’s eight fifteen in the morning and I’m late. On any other day I would already be out the door. But on most days I’m not waking up from mindblowing sex. Cash is slung across my bed as casually as a pair of well-worn jeans. His blond hair falls into his eyes as he studies his phone. I lean against the doorway, and my eyes scroll down his body— toned arms, a strong chest, and his abs march straight down to my favorite part of his anatomy. The man knows he’s sex on a stick and he’s definitely not wrong. He looks up at me and grins lazily, a cat just waiting to be fed. It looks like he wants me to be the main course. Beep. I curse my phone and the job I’m in an abusive relationship with. I should probably turn my regular green tea latte into a triple shot latte, but I enjoy the languid feel in my muscles and the sluggish way my mind doesn’t want to think too hard about anything. Cash was right: sex was just what I needed. No, sex with Cash was just what I needed. I’m barely dressed and am not going to leave this apartment for at least another half hour. I’ve texted Rob already that we’ll need to go over the issues with Tanner. That’s still going to be a big mess of a situation. One I’m not particularly looking forward to. Running a hand through my hair, I wince and can already feel my curls starting to rebel. I’m going to need more hairpins today. Cash looks up from his phone and cracks a smile “I’ve got a great view,” he says. “Enjoying my ass?” I ask and don’t resist giving him a shake. “Maybe. But I like it better naked.” I hear the duvet slip to the ground and he comes up behind me. He’s naked and still warm from sleep, and on any other day I would want to crawl back in bed with him and forget the list of tasks I have for the day. But I want this promotion, and crawling back in bed and letting Cash wipe my mind clean again isn’t going to help me get to the top of my department. His arm wraps around me, his fingers already toying with the row of buttons barely keeping my shirt together. He’s warm, and all thoughts go straight to my groin. Department? What’s that? Law—not a real thing. All that mattered at the moment was the man behind me and where his fingers were headed. “Do you have to go?” “That what you say to all your girls?” I tease as his fingers toy with the red bow on my panties. “I’m working on some new material. How am I doing? Asking a girl to stay the morning after is definitely not something that EVER comes out of my mouth.” His lips connect with my neck, and my pulse jams into overdrive. I twist in his grasp, running my fingers through his hair. I pull him up and nip at his lip. His eyes burn into me. He’s ready for round two, three, and beyond. Another kiss, and I ease myself out of his hold. “Hmm, I think I need to hear more of this ‘material’ you’re talking about before I make a ruling.” “Come back to bed.” “Hmm, not a Cash Gardner original. Try harder.”

He makes an advance toward me again, and I grab a skirt from my closet and slip out of his reach. Not so fast, mister. I’d hate for him to think he can treat me like any other girl he pulls out of the bargoing crowd. In the bathroom, I take the skirt off the hanger, waiting to put it on to torture the man in the doorway just a bit more. Both arms braced on the doorframe, he stares me down, blue eyes pinning me to the spot. I pop a come-get-me smile in the mirror and dare him to put up a fight for this. It’s what he needs in his life. Girls willingly drape themselves at his feet in the club. It’s time he put in the effort. For added effect, I leave the skirt off a little longer and lean into the mirror so he has a perfect view of my ass as I carefully apply another layer of lipstick. His eyes darken, going for midnight blue. Take the bait, I will him. I could spare a few hours away from work. I should treat myself—and teasing my reward is just part of the package. “Play hooky with me today.” My tube of lipstick clatters to the sink. That was not the answer I expected. Enticements for more sex—absolutely. Maybe even another one-night stand—sure. But this… I turn to face him, hip cocked. “Give me one good reason why.” But I don’t need his reason, because I already have five or six or a dozen of my own. When it comes to Cash Gardner, I’m a complete goner. “Because I asked you.” He stalks toward me and I hold my ground. Not that easily intimidated. We stand toe to toe, and it’s all I can do not to lean in and jump him. He takes my wrist in his hand and kisses the inside of it. Every part of my body yells at my brain to just fucking give him what he wants. Not yet. I’m playing for keeps here. “Because there are a million things I’d like to do to you and I asked nicely.” I snort. “The hell you did.” Cash looks up at me, trying his best impression of innocent. On him, it’s just mischievous and deadly for my sex drive. “Please.” “And would we be going out or staying in for that fun?” “Going out,” he says, “Most definitely going out.” I’m a little bit disappointed. “I’ll have to make a call.” Rob might lose his head and I’m sure I’ll hear about it from Briggs, but I look once more at Cash—this is going to be worth it. After calling into the office and feigning an illness, a quickie with me riding Cash on my sofa, a few secretive phone calls by Cash and instruction that I cannot wear a suit, he pulls into an almost empty parking lot of Atlanta Motor Speedway. My stomach instantly drops. Not exactly the date—day —I had in mind. “What exactly are we doing here?” I ask, confused. For real, though, what are we doing here? He shoots me a winning smile. “You’re just gonna have to wait and see.” I’ve never liked being on the receiving end of those words. He hops out of the car and has my door open before I can do it myself. We cross the parking lot and he takes my hand. For today, we can pretend. “Just a hint?”

“Exhibit A is: four wheels, goes fast, and needs a strong hand to guide. How’s that?” “Objection, evidence needs to be material.” “That’s all I got, counselor. Sue me.” “You’re a terrible lawyer.” “I have nothing worth getting.” He leans in to whisper in my ear. “But if I did, it’s a good thing I have you, isn’t it?” We enter the raceway and, to my surprise, it’s empty. Thousands of seats, and it’s just us and the pit crew on the speedway. Two cars shine in the sun, and a man leans against one. “Cash, my man.” “Luke it’s been ages. Thanks for coming out.” “Don’t think for a second that I did it for you—I wanted to see the girl who snagged the professed bachelor Cash Gardner’s heart,” Luke says, focusing just on me. “It’s taken some work, let me tell you.” “Over dinner?” Luke offers. “Thank you dickhead,” Cash says, slapping him a little harder on the shoulder than probably needed be. Way to make it more awkward, Cash. “I’ll remember that next time you need a favor. Luke was a bartender while he tried to get his racing career off the ground.” “And clearly it did. So if you’re ever looking to trade up…” His hair is brown and thick hanging over his grey eyes, giving him a rakish look. If Cash is a manwhore, this man would be a step above. I’m halfway surprised there isn’t a line of ladies waiting to drop their panties for him. “Ignore my friend there, I’m Luke Stein. Race car driver. Millionaire. Available.” He says with a wink There’s a wild side to him that makes me think he’s more dangerous than Cash. I could survive with Cash, but Luke, no way. The stories these two probably have to tell would make a sailor blush. “Dude, I am right fucking here,” Cash laughs with a hint of warning. “Savannah,” I say, taking Luke’s outstretched hand. “Anything else with that?” “Nothing you need to know.” Luke holds his hands to his heart like I’ve mortally wounded him. Right, because that’s likely to happen. “So are we here to race or just shoot the breeze?” I ask. “Feisty. I like a girl who can cut to the chase, but are you sure you can handle a car by yourself?” Luke asks. “Because I will be more than happy to ride with you.” “Not happening, Luke,” Cash interjects. “I think you both are insane if you think I’m not driving,” I say, hopefully with enough conviction they both know I am serious. I walk down the steps, leaving both boys stunned. “Well, are you two coming or are you just going to stand there?” After about an hour of me getting lessons on safety and watching Cash and Luke race all around the track, I’m all suited up and buckled in. One of Luke’s crew goes over the final overview of the car. “You’re going down,” I say to Cash through our opened window. “All ready did that this morning, Savy,” Cash says with a wink, then slides his helmet on. I can’t help but smile. He is turning out to be the best break up cure ever.

“What are you guys laying down for this race?” Luke asks. When neither of us answers, he goes on. “Can’t have a race without a bet. Since both of you seem incapable, I’ll handle it. Cash, you lose and I get a kiss from your girl here.” “What?” Cash and I both say at the same time. “This is what happens when neither of you step up to the plate.” “I win, you come home with me tonight,” Cash says casually looking at me. “I lose and you spend the night alone.” “What sort of a bet is that?” “One I want to win,” Cash says, and hits the gas. He peels out, leaving a trail of smoke behind him. I slide my visor down and chase after him. Luke stands in my rearview mirror just shaking his head with laughter. The first curve, and I’m right on Cash’s tail. His car hugs the inside of the track, and I gladly take the outside, climbing the steep incline. As we come out of the curve, it’s me who has the advantage. Using gravity, my car speeds ahead of his. I give him a finger wave and take the lead. But Cash isn’t an idiot, and at the second curve he steals my idea and I only just manage to keep my lead. As we head down the home stretch, I can’t help but wonder if I want to win this race. Losing means more time with Cash, but it’s not in me to toss a competition. No matter what. So as we approach Luke, with checkered flag in hand, I hit the gas and shift gears. Zooming past Luke and taking the win. “You’ve driven before,” Luke says as I climb out of the car. “My dad taught me how to drive a stick on the back roads. He always liked the idea of driving in a race, but never took the chance.” Cash pulls to a stop and jerks his helmet off. If looks could kill, I’d be twice in the ground already. I hand my fire suit back to the guy and head back to Cash, who’s just crawling out of his car. “I demand a rematch,” he says, landing on his feet as he crawls out of the car. “Sore loser?” I tease. He stalks up to me and traps me between his car and his body. Caught between the heat of the car and the heat Cash brings to my body, I’m sure that I’m going to burn up and not mind one bit. “Only if you’ll kiss it to make it better.” “And where does it hurt?” He taps his lips and I stand up on my toes and give him a long kiss. When I pull back, the other guys on the track are cheering like we’ve just won a major award. “I’m a very sore loser,” Luke calls. I can feel the color stain my face, but Cash just smiles genially and shoots them all the finger. “Sorry about them.” I just smile and give him another long kiss. This is what you’re going to be missing, I think. There’s more hollering behind us and this time, I give them a finger. Lounging in the stands, Cash and I watch as the cars are packed up. “I can’t believe you have never been to a race,” Cash says. He assumed that I was a big NASCAR fan given my driving abilities. “Not exactly in my repertoire. My parents we didn’t really…” How to say this? My family wasn’t poor, but there were definite limits to our budget. Tickets to events like this was never on the agenda when I was a kid. “Let me guess, you were the type who grew up here.”

“Wasn’t exactly my repertoire, either.” My phone goes off before I can push the subject further. I glance at the screen out of habit. Being a lawyer means I’m always on call. When the client calls, I always have to answer. “Sorry, I have to take this.” I step away from Cash and press a finger into my ear so I can hear what Rob is trying to tell me. “We have a problem,” my assistant says, and my stomach drops. It’s the only sign of fear I allow myself. Just once I take time for myself and work falls apart. “Let me guess—” “No time. Richard The Dick is making his move today. You’re going to need a bigger fish, boss.” I put a hand to my head. I’ve got a lot of clients, and they all bring in good business for the firm. But now that I’m kicking Tanner Jakes to the curb, it’s gonna have to be bigger than big. “Tanner is out of the picture,” I say. Not even a promotion could entice me to make that son of a bitch another dime. Back to the drawing board. We’ll find someone bigger, someone who would make everyone forget about Tanner fucking Jakes. “And The Dick’s got something bigger on the line, my sources say. To counter him, we need at least one brand new client who we do a full work up for. Lots of billable hours.” “Okay, who do we have in our pipeline?” I have friends all over the city who are looking to hook their artist up with our firm. Finding one new client shouldn’t be that hard. “Been sorting through our records all morning. I have a few ideas, I’ll send over their demos.” “We’ve got this, Rob. Buy me as much time as you can.” I look back at Cash. What I really want is more time with Cash. Relaxed against the railing, he’s a sex god draped in sunlight. Buy me a few more days, Rob, just a few more days to wash this outta my system. “Already on it, boss.” That is why I pay Rob the big bucks. Without him, my life would go up in smoke. Scrolling through a list of contacts, I’m looking for anything that might jump out at me. Being an entertainment lawyer is part talent scout and part having the balls to bet big. Rob’s sent me a list a mile long of demos for me to listen to. New people who just need to be put in contact with the right people. I hit download on a couple. Like hell I was going to let The Dick run my department. I’m knee deep in demos when I notice Cash has come up next to me. “Planning world domination?” “That’s what I do on the weekends, this is much bigger.” Another quick go around with my iPhone and my inbox and I try to figure out some sort of game plan. “Top secret, I take it?” Cash tries to look at my phone, and I pull it back out of instinct. In my job, you don’t share information unless you want to watch Richard the Dick steal your clients. “Sorry.” I turn off my cell phone and slide it back into my back pocket. It’s always been my problem—at least that’s what Tanner would say. This is supposed to be our day. All I wanted this morning was more time with him, before we both went our separate ways. No phones allowed—should have made that rule when we first started out. I should have anticipated that this would happen. When I first started out at Briggs, Meyers, & Associates, my mother would confiscate my cell phone the moment I was ever with her or my family. Cash gives a casual shrug and matches my stance at the rail. He’s close enough that I want to lean on him. Tug his sculpted arms around me and forget that I have a job to do. “You love what you do?” “I do.” To keep my hands to myself, I pull my cap further down on my head. It was something that Tanner could never understand—I love my job. Sure, he could write songs all the time or stage our

dates at whatever bar he was playing, but one look at a work email, much less a call, and he’d be upset for the rest of the evening. “Hey,” Cash says, hooking an arm around me he pulls me close tucking me under his chin. It’s the first time in a long time that I feel safe to just let go. A million memories from last night play on through my head and I want to try a million more things. I take a deep breath, inhaling the clean scent of his shirt and the sharp tang of his aftershave. He tips my hat back so he can look into my face. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it’s damn sexy.” “Just wait until you hear my contract negotiation skills.” He laughs and drops a quick kiss onto my lips. I want it to go on, but he pulls away just as fast. All of my nerves are finely tuned to him. I wonder if he feels the same way. “I draw some hard lines. Beware, counselor.” “Hmmm, you’re outta your league my friend.” “Oh, really?” “Absolutely.” “Thank you,” I say. “For what?” “Not making a big deal about my work.” “Not saying I’m not gonna make you pay for it.” “Really.” “Yup you’re gonna come with me tonight.” Knowing Cash it won’t be just once, either. Not complaining. “Somewhere special?” “Special to me.” “Okay.” “Plus, I’d be a certifiable asshole if I said you couldn’t answer your phone after I ran out on you for that work emergency.” “It’s your baby. You love it.” Cash shrugs and looks out at the track. “Something up? Anything you want to talk about?” Maybe that’s stepping over a line, but we’re friends—we’re going out again tonight. Cash can open up to me if he wants. “Stupid stuff, always happens around the opening of a new club.” “What sort of stupid stuff?” He doesn’t answer, and I give him a playful shove. He takes it with a smile. I shift my position so that I’m leaning back against the railing. “Come on, what sort of stupid stuff.” “Doesn’t matter. Ryder, Jackson and them—they gotta look to the future and The Library.” “So, what are your plans for the future?” That was about as smooth as sandpaper. Well done, Savannah. Cash gives me one of his patented shrugs. This time I refuse to let him off the hook. He doesn’t have to tell me about his fights with his friends, but I need something. I’m skipping work. I’m putting everything on the line here. One thing could give me hope that he wants more than just a couple of quickies when he feels like it. “Come on, what does Cash Gardner want to do with his life?” “Make drinks, a shit ton of money, and have a great time doing it,” he says with so much bravado that I believe him even if I want to smack him upside the head. He leans in and gives me a lingering kiss. “Be happy.” The kiss lingers, and I bring my hand up to hold him in place. It’s a trick to lull him into a false sense of security. Make him think he’s got the upper hand.

And when I let him go, I strike. “That’s not what I meant. Your team all has goals, plans, dreams. Jackson makes buildings like they’re the Sistine Chapel and he’s Michelangelo. Ryder rules his bare-knuckle fight empire like Julius Caesar. Don’t even get me started on the wiz kid who continually whips Wall Street into submission.” “No cute historical reference for Parker—he’ll be hurt.” “So…” “So…” Cash parrots back to me. He leans casually against the bars of the walkway, completely relaxed. He doesn’t understand what I’m asking. All right. I’ll lead the horse a little more. “Okay. What’s your five year plan?” My mother was all about the plan when I was a kid. It’s how I got into the University of Texas and eventually Harvard. Form a plan and then work the plan, that’s what my Mama would always say. “Who needs a five year plan?” “I have one.” “Of course you do, and how’s that worked out for you?” He looks down his nose at me like I might be stupid for even thinking about having a plan. My plan has worked out very well, I want to snap back. But this isn’t about me. So I take a deep breath and start in on my plan speech. “Aside from the personal life stuff, really well. I’m an associate at my law firm and under consideration for promotion to be the head of my department.” “Hold on. You have a personal five year plan?” “Yes.” “That’s ridiculous. You can’t plan your personal life like it’s some sort of checklist. What, you want to be married in two years and have a baby in three?” “Is there a problem with that?” Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy having a new man at every turn as much as Cash enjoys walking women up those stairs of his, but at some point I just want it to end. Not now, but in the next five years—who knows? Just as the fight looms on the horizon, Cash sets us on a different course, trapping me between the bar and his body. I lean back so that I can still look him in the eye. My body may respond positively to his advances but I’m not done with this discussion yet. “See, this is also how you end up in dating hell. Love isn’t about planning. You can’t network your way into love. Love is always, always about the here.” He trails kisses across my cheek and casually nibbles on my ear while his hands burrow their way under my shirt. I suck in a breath. “The now. Got me?” Uh-huh. Loud and clear.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Cash I pull into the drive of Jackson’s restored craftsman—it matches the battle between classic and modern just like my friend. By the cars in the drive, the guys and Shelby and her crew are already here. If the meeting at the bar was bad, this was going to be worse. “Everyone’s here,” Savannah says. Her eyes sweep over the house a dubious expression locked in place. At least we’re on the same page. It’s one thing when we were just getting shit-faced at the bar together, now we’re fucking. She disappears back into her phone. It’s been an on again off again relationship with that thing since we left the speedway. We stopped briefly back at her place so she could grab her red swimsuit. It winks at me through her mostly sheer cover up. “Everyone.” “Oh,” she says, more to her phone than to me. She gives the house another look like at any moment it might jump out and bite her. As soon as the look starts it vanishes. Nervous, are you now? Can’t lie, I’d rather strip her naked in the car and go down her until she forgot the party. And more importantly, the phone. I can’t get the taste of her out of my head, and I’m convinced I need just one more to make sure I’ve memorized it. “You okay with that?” We’ve all hung out together. She’s been to Jackson’s house before, but that was before we decided to fuck each other. “We don’t have to tell them,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual. “Of course not,” she winces and backtracks. “I mean, the last time they just thought we were making out and look where it ended up. We don’t need that kind of hell.” “That’s so not us.” “Absolutely not.” We both smile at each other. The last thing I need is getting into commitment issues. This is too good to ruin with plans for the future. And that future includes me untying the laces of her bikini and making her scream my name at least twice. All I need is more, more, more. “Let’s go before they catch us.” She laughs, and I drink in every detail. The way her eyes sparkle with mischief and the small blond curls escape their rubber band and blow about her face. I want to pull out her ponytail, and run my fingers through the curls while I kiss my way down her neck, while I tug the ties of her bikini loose. But I have a feeling she may bite my fingers off. After the tense moments at the track, we’re back in the easy flow of us. No talk about the future or families. Just the two of us enjoying the here and now—just like we should. The party was by order of Cassie and that meant for once she made the rules. Today’s only order of business was that there was to be no discussion of a certain new club. I could live with that; I had other ideas to occupy my time with. “Does work ever stop with you?” I ask, playfully. Today was supposed to be about relaxing, and she’s failing my number one rule. Savannah looks up from her phone and I give in to my evil intents and pluck the annoying object from her hands and slid it into the waistband of my board shorts. “If you want something, all you have to do is ask,” she says coyly, eyeing my lap. Shit her gaze has magic powers. “No need to take my fucking phone.” “I didn’t know they made phones especially for that.”

She leans across the console of the car and I try to keep my eyes trained on her face, but they wander to the excellent view of her breast in her swimsuit. She runs her hand up my thigh until it connects with her phone. “They make things for everything these days,” she purrs. She catches my lower lip with her teeth and gives it a gentle pull. I follow her lead as she leans back into her seat, wanting more of what she’s promised. The door swings open and she steps out, phone in hand, leaving me frustrated and hard in the front seat. She leans down and looks at me with the devil in her eye. “Are you coming?” She holds up the phone. I relax back in my seat, trying to calm the erection straining my board shorts. This woman is going to be the end of me. Actually, strike that: she’s going to resurrect me every time she wants sex. “Not yet,” I say. Focus, I remind myself. This is just a thing. It might be the first thing I want to repeat, but this is it. “Maybe if you’re good, you’ll get what you want.” With that, I get out of the car. Savy’s back on her phone, her fingers flying. “So what is so important on that magic box of yours?” “Misty Singh.” “She’s fantastic.” “You like her.” “Do I lose manly points if I say yes?” “No.” “I like her music, but personally I prefer blondes—with curls,” I say tugging playfully on Savannah’s curls in her ponytail. “My agent friend sent her to me.” We climb the steps to the small front porch, and Shelby already has the door thrown open. Beer in hand, she’s arguing with Jackson, ready to storm out of the house in a flashy exit. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business, Jackson, and if you say one more thing about who I date, I’m leaving.” The moment she sees us the mood shifts. Shelby’s face morphs into a brilliant smile. “You’re my sister, and who you date is my fucking business,” Jackson says, loud. “Savannah, finally some sanity,” Shelby says, throwing herself at Savannah. I have half a mind to step between them—I want to keep Savannah to myself. But the girls are such good friends, and no one denies Shelby and gets away with it. Jackson nods at me as the girls disappear around the house. Jackson glares after his sister and takes a long pull from his beer. “Never have siblings— especially younger sisters.” “Too late,” I say before I can stop myself. I never talk about my family, but Jackson doesn’t make a big deal. “Is she dating yet?” The thought hits me like sunlight during a hangover. Tasha will not date. Not now—preferably not ever. Not even when she’s married. Strike that, she’s never getting married. “She’s just twenty,” I say. Too young to date, that sister of mine. Jackson laughs. “You want to keep it that way, trust me.” “At least my sister stays out of my dating life,” I tell him. “You don’t want to tell her about Savannah?” “We’re not—” I mean to say we’re not dating, but it doesn’t come out. Today could be counted as

a date. We were getting sideways and having a good time doing it, too. Dating complicates things. If I’ve learned anything from watching Ryder and Cassie these past few months, it’s that just as hot as they could burn, they could go through some bitter fights. I prefer to skip those. No matter how good make-up sex is supposed to be. I can get great sex anywhere without the hassle of a fight. Jackson slings an arm over my shoulders. “You, my friend, need a drink.” Best idea Jackson’s had all fucking day. Jackson and I walk through the house, and we stop in the kitchen only long enough for me to grab a drink before we head out back to what can only be described as heaven on earth. Jackson’s pool area is the only reason I would ever want to own a home and settle down. The pool and the bar he had installed come straight outta this century’s Guide to Making a Man Cave. It was also the reason we always end up at his place. We planned Altitude over a long weekend when the heat made us all sluggish and we needed to remind ourselves why we loved ATL. Watching Savannah sit on the lip of the pool, her legs dangling in the water, fruity cocktail in hand, I really want to invest in a house with a pool now. There are a million things to do in a pool, and I want to explore every one of them with her. Cassie and Ryder are playing Parker and Ruby in a game of chicken. Ruby’s a good match with Parker—at least this time the redhead can’t flash him and lose the game. It’s been a known downfall for us in more than one game. You’d think by now we’d be immune to it, but there’s always some way they sneak it in. Avery referees poolside, a large hat covering her brown hair, protecting her fair skin from the sun. “You think Savannah wants to play?” Jackson asks. “Not with you,” I say. Even though I can see the bait Jackson’s laying, I step into the trap. “What if I ask her?” “Not a chance in hell,” I say and shove him into the pool. Avery calls foul as water rains down on her, while Ruby and Cassie both promise sweet revenge. Before Jackson can retaliate, I peel off my shirt and jump in after him. We wrestle around, dunking each other and acting like five year olds. Jackson finally tires and goes to grab another beer leaving me alone in the pool. I swim up to Savannah who’s still sitting composed on the lip of the pool. She holds up her arms and tries to lean back. I grab her wrist, ready to pull her in. “Don’t--” she says, her balance completely thrown off. I steady her with my other hand, tracing a path down her ribs to her hip. “Don’t you trust me?” “Not after this drink,” she says with a wrinkle of her nose. Can’t have that when I’m around. I take it as a personal offense when people make faces at their drinks in my presence. How dare I let them suffer when I’m here to make their dreams come true? “Something wrong with your drink?” I ask. She offers it, and I pull myself up on the pool to take a sip. Her eyes trail a path over my chest—yet another reason to invest in a pool. The drink, however, makes me cough. That is not a drink; it’s leftover fruit puke. Like hell we’re gonna have drinks like that on my watch. I hoist myself the rest of the way out of the pool and grab whatever swill someone wanted to call a margarita and chuck it onto the flowers. “Watch the landscaping,” Shelby says. “Jackson, where’s your liquor?” “Where it always is,” he replies. “Good. I’m taking it home, you’re abusing it.” I head for the den. He keeps the okay stuff in the

kitchen for whatever reason—cooking, he says. In the den, I take out several bottles of liquor, tequila, triple sec. Things I’m going to need if we’re going to get this party started. Heading back into the kitchen with my spoils, I find the culprit behind the terrible drinks in the freezer. Someone used those artificial ice pack freeze and serve drink mixes to make the margaritas. How could they, when Jackson’s stocked fresh limes and all the ingredients to make a perfect margarita? It’s a crime, and when I find the one responsible for these freezer bags they better hope I’m in a forgiving mood. Making do without a shaker, I start fresh, chucking the store bought shit straight into the drain where it belongs. Savannah comes in wearing a pair of cut offs and her bikini top. I pause in the middle of squeezing limes. What was I doing again? She leans on the counter, and I can’t help myself. I steal a glimpse of her in her bikini. How can there still be acres of skin I want to explore? It’s like every time I see her there’s somewhere else I want to kiss, suck, mark. “Need a taste tester?” she offers. “If it’s you, absolutely. If not, no.” I hold up the squeezed limes. “Wanna salt the rims of the glasses?” She takes the lime from me, her fingers lingering on mine. Carefully, she runs the lime over the lip of the glass before dunking it in a tray of salt. “How is it that you and I always end up around a tequila bottle?” “Some of us are just blessed,” I say with a wink. Savannah follows me back outside with a tray of glassware. “Now that we’ve gotten rid of your nasty drinks—which if you ever bring back to our family dinner, I will take it as a personal insult and leave—now, let the party begin!” “Blame Shelby,” Jackson says. “She was in charge of the drinks.” “I was busy, sue me.” “And this is why you can’t date—” “Savy, we need to discuss suing Shelby.” I say, snagging a glass and pouring her the first drink. And to shut down the fight between Shelby and Jackson. We couldn’t put these two in a room without them arguing about the color of a white wall. When it came to Shelby’s dating life, Jackson thinks he has control of it and Shelby thinks Jackson eats shit for breakfast. Savannah takes a sip from it before taking it from me. Shelby chucks a beach ball at my head, which I duck. Years of living with Tasha made my reflexes lighting fast. The two of them would probably be fast friends, and Jackson and I would live to regret the days we introduced them. “I’m not a trial lawyer, but I think we could set something up.” Savannah sits down on the bench next to me and props her feet up on my lap. “Ugh, gag me,” Shelby says. “You two are starting to get as bad as those two.” She motions to Ryder and Cassie, who’s seated in his lap. Cassie and Ryder don’t have time to respond because they’re too caught up in each other. “What is that supposed to mean?” I say. Savannah and I are most certainly not like that. We’re still individuals. “We haven’t morphed into a four armed, four legged face mauling animal yet.” “Screw you,” Ryder says, getting in on the action. “Besides, you gonna hide the fact that you two came together?” “Ain’t fun unless someone’s coming,” I say. Savannah laughs, but the group is a little stunned by

the commentary “Let’s just eat.” I lean in to Savannah. “As long as you’re on the menu.” She smiles. “Depends who’s serving.” Dinner is just as loud and chaotic as a night at Altitude. There’s plenty of food, and now that we got rid of those freezer bags drinks, everybody is having a good time. This is what it’s all about. Ryder and I get stuck with cleaning up after dinner, taking plates back into the kitchen, scrubbing down utensils—doing the grunt work that Parker and Jackson hate. It’s never been a problem for Ryder or me, we’re always the pickup guys at the bar and Jackson and Parker are the set up. It’s how we work best. Mostly. Right now, we're barely talking. And it’s mostly my fault. I’ve been a dick these last weeks as Emmett and Martha try one last time to reel me back in, and it’s time to swallow my pride and get this over with. “You good?” I ask Ryder. Ryder straightens up and crosses his arms over his massive chest. He could still pound me flat if he wanted to, though I would give him a good fight. “Didn’t think you ever needed help getting started.” “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?” “Not a bit. I have your back. You should know that, but lately you’ve been latched tighter than a lightweight trapped against the ropes. What is going on?” “I promise, it’s over. Can we just forget it? It was a thing with my family, my Dad—he did some bad shit.” I expect to have to explain more, but Ryder cuts me off. “Cash, we’re like brothers. You don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want to say. Just tell me this: do you need anything?” “I’m good.” “If you do…” “You’ll be the first person I call.” He offers me his hand and I take it. “So about The Library cocktails,” Ryder starts. “Did I hear the word Library?” Cassie asks, coming out of nowhere. She must have a sixth sense when it comes to detecting business discussions. “No,” Ryder gives me the death stare. The one men share that says ‘you agree with what I’m saying because otherwise I am fucked.’ I smile. This I can play along with. It’s like we’ve fallen back into friendlier times. “Absolutely not,” I agree with him. “We’d never do that on a day like today.” “Good, because I would hate for someone to break a certain rule and miss out on certain privileges.” Yeah, man, I am going to be no help to you on that front. “We were actually just talking about…” Ryder says looking at me for help. “Knox,” I say the first thing that comes to mind. Cassie narrows her eyes and points her finger at both of us. The girl’s too smart; she’s going to see right through us both. “This one time,” she says, grabbing dessert from the counter. “But if I hear the name of that bar

again.” She draws her finger across her throat. Ryder follows her out of the kitchen and I trail behind them. Cassie and Ryder break off, heading for a more secluded spot of their own. I stay close to the door watching Savannah chat with the girls. In the evening air, their voices carry. Shelby’s on a lounge chair, her feet propped up in Ruby’s lap. Avery’s sitting on the ground next to them, and Savannah is on her stomach on the next lounge chair. Propped up on her elbows. From this angle, I have a whole new appreciation for her ass. It’s perfectly framed in her swimsuit. “You can’t keep holding out on us,” Shelby whines. “Don’t tell me none of you have ever tried Cash,” Savannah says. “Honestly, it’d be like dating a sibling,” Ruby says, wrinkling her nose. “He’s one of the dime a dozen guys, right? I mean, every bar has a manwhore.” “Maybe that should be their next bar name,” Avery pipes in. “Details,” Shelby says. “We’re living vicariously through you and your orgasms with the sex maestro.” “Sorry ladies, I don’t kiss and tell.” They’re laughing. If she was nervous at the beginning of this party, Savannah finally seems to have relaxed. She looks over her shoulder and meets my eye with a smile. It may have taken a bit, but she’s finally realizing she belongs here, too. This is home. As if summoned by my thoughts, Savannah breaks off from the group and comes to find me. “Hey stranger,” she says, walking straight past me back into the house. She pauses to give me a hug and leans close to my ear. “I’m just going to change.” Before I can demand more, she slips out of my hold, throwing a come-and-get-me grin over her shoulder. I knock on the door to the bathroom, trying to be the gentleman my Mama raised me to be. Around Savannah, it seems to be getting harder and harder. “Just a second,” Savannah calls through the door. I test the knob and find it unlocked. I’ve been good up until this point. I shove the door open and close it quickly behind me. “I was wondering what took you so long.” “You just think you can keep me running around?” I grin. She’s got half of her suit off, just those little red bottoms left on, and she holds her t-shirt on her finger and lets it drop to the floor. “Maybe.” “Hmm,” I say, moving to stand behind her. My hands run over her ribs to cup her breasts. My blood’s already beating down certain doors. “People are downstairs,” she reminds me as I kiss my way up her neck. She’s holding on to me like I’m her life preserver. Sometimes, you have to just drown. “And there was a whole city at the warehouse,” I say. “What’s your point?” She tries to take control of the situation again. I turn her around, trapping her between the sink and my body. This way she can’t just use her hands on me as a distraction. There’s no other place for her to look than directly into the mirror. She tries to turn around. “You need to learn to keep your hands to yourself,” I say, giving her a warning smack on her ass. She arches back against me, trying to distract me by using her body. I comply for the moment, letting one hand trace small circles around her breasts, plucking her nipple. She turns her head and catches my ear, giving me a quick nip. “I thought you liked my hands.” All the better for me. While she’s busy, I tug the ties of her bikini bottoms loose and the string slips free. She reaches behind to grab it. I grip her wrists, wrapping the string around them. I tie it off.

“What the fuck?” she asks, pulling playfully against the string. It’s loose enough that she could slip free if she really wanted to. I want this tonight. “We talked about you using manners. If you ask nicely…” I trail my hand lazily down her stomach and bury my fingers in her pussy. She’s soaking. “Does this turn you on?” I run circles around her clit, my thumb teasing that small bundle of nerves. She bites her lip to keep from screaming. “Yes.” Her eyes drift close. “No. Keep your eyes open,” I say, pushing my fingers deeper into her. Her eyes find mine in the mirror, her blue eyes clear. “Please fuck me, Cash.” There’s the girl I know. “Not sure you deserve it, ordering me around like that.” I bury my head in her neck and suck. Her pulse flutters under my tongue, matching the pace of her pussy as it clenches around my fingers. I take my time looking Savannah over in the mirror. Holding up my fingers, I show her how wet she is. Her eyes darken. She leans over, trying to brace herself on something. Wrapping one arm around her front, I trace the other down her back, stopping at the top of her fine, fuckable ass. I strum her nipples. She keeps her eyes on mine as I trace a finger around her asshole. I rub her slit to gather her juices, and then I press my finger into her and the tight ring of muscles slowly accepts me. She bites her lip and I pull back. “It’s fine,” she says, breathless. Still, there’ll be plenty of time for that later. I slowly trail my hands up her sides and palm both her breasts, rolling her nipples through my fingers. Their dark, rosy tips turn rock hard under my attentions. Her breath hitches, and I can feel her struggle against her bonds, her fingers reaching for anything that might distract me. Too bad. I have found something I like, and I plan on enjoying it. “Please,” she breathes. “Please what?” “Please fuck me.” I take my cock out of my board shorts, and nudge her legs apart with my feet. Thank God we had the condom conversation earlier and got that all sorted out. I am not a bareback type of guy, I always wrap my shit up tight. But with Savy, all I want is to feel her delicious pussy with no barriers. She spreads eagerly. In one smooth move I slide into her. A hand on her hip and one on her neck, tangling in her curls, I thrust. There is nothing I want more than to continue experimenting with Savannah. “Fuck, you feel so good,” I groan She grinds back against me, not letting her bonds get in the way of giving as much as she receives. I drink in every moan that escapes her lips. This is fucking perfect. In the mirror, I watch as her mind loses the fight and gives over to her body. She doesn’t take her eyes off mine but it’s clear I’m in charge now. That’s my girl. Upping the pace of my thrusts, I press into her over and over, chasing the drug that she’s become. It’s one that I’ll happily be addicted to. Her pussy clenches like a silk noose around me, and I can feel it tighten one last time as her orgasm rocks her body. Her eyes fixed on the mirror watching exactly what I do to her. Not long after that, her pussy milks me to one of the best orgasms I have ever had. I untie the knot and ease Savannah’s arms out from behind her back. I wrap my arms around her, burying my face in her curls. “You okay?” I ask. “Hm-mmm,” she says, her eyes closed. “Thank you.” I could get lost in this. Mine. The thought

comes out of nowhere, and I don’t know what to do with it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Cash My time having Savannah all to myself comes to an end all too quickly. It’s another work thing, and this one couldn’t fit in my waistband. A trip—a quick one, she promises—but it’s still taking her halfway across the country. It’s a surprise trip, something to do with a promotion at work. It came out of nowhere. I know because I was there when she got the call early one morning, and I distracted her while she packed before driving her to the airport. I tried to tell myself this was exactly what we needed to help slow things down. Ease us out of this wild frenzy. Doesn’t matter if I can still feel her thighs squeeze my head while I lick her to orgasm—we need a break. I need time to think, but watching her walk into the airport, head buried in her phone made me want to screw being friends—even ones who fit together so well under the sheets. She could meet someone in Los Angeles and the stars above know she’s got some crazy five year personal plan. I was just about ready to charge after her, when she turned at the last second and flashed me a smile. It was worth the pissed off cop to see the way she looked at me. The bar is busy, but Katie is picking things up like a natural. She’ll be more than capable of taking over Altitude when we open The Library. Ryder and I are keeping our understood peace treaty. There haven’t been any more almost brawls. Jackson and Parker are taking this as the opportunity to shove a few more details at us. Final plan sort of things. Liquor orders. What the opening would be like. Guest lists. It goes on and on and on. Jackson is becoming more of a workaholic than Savannah. When this is over, we’ll all need a long weekend by Jackson’s pool. *** With Savannah out for the week, we’ve started exchanging text messages. Pretty easy, nothing real committal, just casual—at least, that’s what I tell myself. Me: How’s the weather? Savannah: I think I like California—so many shirtless men. So little time. Me: Careful Savy, I don’t like sharing. Savannah: And what are you going to do to me when I’m all the way out here? Me: When you come home you’ll find out. Savannah: That a promise? Me: Abso-fucking-lutely.

Savannah: And what if I decide to stay out here with the surfers? Me: I’ll fly out there and drag you back. I stop at that text. It’s meant to be a joke, but the idea that Savannah is off finding other men makes me want to get on a plane. What sort of business trip is this if she has that much time to go to the beach and scope out hot guys? Relax I tell myself, it’s a joke. I just happen to not find it very fucking funny. The next night, I’m overseeing Katie running the bar at Altitude when my phone goes off. I grab for it. Savannah: I’m coming back early. Me: Surfers didn’t do it for you? Savannah: I have a date with Mr. Fuckable. It better be worth giving up my surfers. I smile at the phone. “Cash,” Katie yells, “You mind mixing seven margaritas?” I get to action not giving our ‘date’ any more thought. Although I have to admit, I’m suddenly looking forward to the weekend. Fuck this break. It’s time to be balls deep in my girl. My apartment has never been what I would call spacious, but it works for me. Shuffling through more bills, I come up with another post card from Knox—this time Florida. We keep him updated on what we’re doing with his money—not that much of it is his money at this point. The four of us could buy him out, but he’s family, and opening a new club wouldn’t be the same without him. He comes back every other year and stays less than twelve hours before he’s on a plane again. Whatever’s chasing him, we don’t ask. If it ever follows him home, we’ll deal with it. He’s our major investor and has never made any pretenses about wanting to spend time tending the day to day. He’s the silent partner, and for whatever reasons he wants it to stay that way. We’ve all got secrets. If he doesn’t push to find out mine, I’m okay letting him keep his. I run a towel through my damp hair and my phone goes off. I answer it without screening the call, hoping it’s Savannah. It’s my mother. “Cassius.” My mother’s voice is all honey and Southern charm on the phone. I tense. The last thing I need right now is my mother interfering with her perceived problems. “We’re having a family dinner tomorrow night.” She says it like it’s a reminder. Like I come every week. Not a demand. “That’s great. I hope you enjoy it.” I grab some clothes out of the pile of clean clothes and start to get dressed. If I hurry this up, I’ll still have at least an hour to work on the new cocktails before I have to start going over stuff with Katie. “Seven on the dot, don’t be late. And if you would wear a tie—” Stop the train right there and return it to the station. No. No family dinner—at least, not one with my real family.

“Mom, I have to work tomorrow night.” “Cassius Ryan Gardner, is it too much to ask for you to come and see your family? After everything that’s happened, who knows how much time we have left with each other?” That card is never going to get old for her. Never mind that dad wasn’t in mortal danger. Never mind that she hasn’t been interested for the last five years. Never mind that I might have a life outside of whatever resemblance of a life they have. The only reason I’m not going to hang up is because of Tasha. My sister still regularly puts up with them. She still lives with them. And I am trying to do right by her. “Thank you for the invite, but I have responsibilities to people. I can’t just abandon them when something comes up.” And not right before a big opening. Jogging down my stairs, I pause at the bottom to lock my door and walk down the hallway toward the bar, the phone still to my ear. “Cassius.” She puts on her stern mother voice. Too bad it barely worked when I was a kid, and since I left the house it has no effect on me. Katie and Jackson are at the bar. Katie’s prepping for the night and Jackson’s going over some last minute plans. I hunch my shoulders as if I can keep this call under wraps. “My hands are tied, Mom. I’m sorry.” There’s a rustle on the other end of the phone, and a welcome voice comes down the phone. “Cash,” Tasha says. “The thing about this dinner-” “Love you, gotta go, bye.” I hang up the phone with only the slightest twinge of regret. I promised to be there for Tasha, but going to family dinner is pushing it. I slip my phone into my back pocket. My mother has never worked a day in her life. Being responsible to her means showing up for a luncheon on time, or at least fashionably late. Much like my father, there’s little thought given to how their actions impact others. Katie looks up from where she’s stacking glasses. She’s been coming in early to train, because someone’s got to take care of Altitude. Jackson’s still grinning like a fool, and Ryder seems to have ventured out of the back office for this sideshow as well. “Did you just say the words, I love you?” she asks, staring at me like I’m growing horns or decided to have small stars tattooed all over my face. “Although this may shock you, I do know those words.” “Savannah?” She says with an arched brow. The response makes me miss a step and I catch myself on the bar. What in the world would make Katie say something like that? I like Savannah, and if she did find someone else out in sunny Southern California it would piss me off, but love? That meant things like putting up with chick flicks and brunch. People have sisters for that, not fuck buddies. “No,” I say way too quickly. That’s insanity. We’re just normal friends who fuck. That’s it. Katie holds up her arms, surrendering to my verbal gun splatter. That was not supposed to come out like that. I take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of my nose. Back track time. Let’s try this again, without a mention of Savannah. “It was my sister.” “You have a sister?” Katie is just being curious, friendly even, but talking about my family isn’t something I want to do with anyone. As if on cue, my phone goes off again. I screen the call this time, and it’s Tasha. I did just hang up on her. If I don’t take this then I really am breaking my promise to her. “Natasha, how long has it been since we talked?” I try to ignore Katie and Jackson’s shared faces

of mock shock. I cover my phone. “It’s my sister. Please address your shock to my ass.” Heading back to my apartment, because I have zero interest in giving Katie and Jackson any more ammo on my family, I ask Tasha about school. “Classes are great. It’s the other things I need help with.” “Like what? Cause I ain’t helping you hook up with any boy.” She’s my sister and I love her. Knowing what I was like in high school means that no boy will be allowed within fifty feet of her. I’ve been calling her to check in and slowly we are making our way back to each other. “Double standard much? From everything I hear, you’re with a different girl every night.” “Younger sister, you don’t get to have sex. Even after you’re married.” “I’m glad to see you taking your sibling duty serious, because you owe me and I’m calling in the favor.” “Where do I pick you up?” “2323 Bluebird Lane.” I stop in the middle of the stairs, caught between my home and my work. It’s an easier limbo than walking back into that house on Bluebird Lane. I’m not going home, not again. I’d do a lot of things for Tasha, but I can’t sit through another family dinner. Leaning against the wall, I slowly bang my head against it. Maybe it’ll finally shake some sense loose. “Cash…Cash…” Tasha’s voice breaks through the buzz in my head. Focus, Gardner, your sister is on the phone. No need to fuck it up twice. “I already told Mom—” “I am not sitting through this alone. You are coming. I’ve been through five years of her ‘family’ dinners solo. You don’t get to cut and run again. You owe me this.” I do, and there is no way around that. While I got to escape Tasha was fed to the wolves, forced to survive in a world that none of us could comprehend. “I’m not wearing a tie.” “I will have one waiting for you.” “Tash.” “Cas. See, I can do stupid nicknames too. Six forty-five. If you’re late, you won’t like the consequences.” “Like what?” “I will plaster your high school year book photo all over your next bar.” That photo could undo the carefree bartender image I’d worked so hard to create. One look at that slick and shiny goodietwo-shoes photo and no one would let me sling a drink again. “You wouldn’t.” “Oh, I would.” “Only because you’re my sister.” “Save the family ties stuff for the ‘rents.” She pauses and then adds. “Thanks, Cash.” We’re in this together. She may have been my parent’s biggest fan when the shit hit the fan, but now we’re rooting for the same team. It’s the two of us against the world of our parents, and I’m not abandoning her again. “I said anytime, and I meant it.” Katie and Jackson both wait at the bar looking interested. Katie’s got her head propped up on her fists, clearly ready to hang on every word, and Jackson’s drumming his fingers on the bar top. “Can I help you two?” “Cash has a family,” Katie says. Ryder looks at me as if judging my reaction to the news. Normally I’d walk away from all of this.

“A sister? And a mother? Will the wonders never cease?” Katie says, with too many stars in her eyes. I’m going to need to shut that one down fast. No one needs to go sniffing around my family. “Next thing you know, you’re going to be dating someone.” “Isn’t he already dating Savannah?” Ryder asks. “I can’t work tomorrow. I have a thing,” I say, ignoring the question. “Is your family okay? You can take more than tomorrow off if you need it.” “I just need tomorrow.” My voice is warning him just to stay out of it. “All right, I’ll see what we can do. It would have been nice to have some more warning, but it’s family,” Ryder says, taking most of it in stride. I breathe a sigh of relief. If only dinner would go as smooth as talking to Ryder. Not all families are created equal. The house is big, but it’s always been big. Expensive, massive, a building that lords over us all. I drive through the gates and pull at the tie around my neck. The last thing I want to do is let my sister pick out my clothing. Knowing Tasha, she’d pick something that came straight out of the worst ties of the 1980s. Then I’d really never hear the end of it from Mom, and Dad would probably try to disown me, or at least cut off my trust. They’re having drinks in the den when a servant lets me in. I have to pause outside the door to take a deep breath. I can do this. How many dinners did I suck down as a kid? I just have to remind myself not to engage with my father and his past. Still, I can’t help but compare this family meal to the one I had just a few days ago with my friends. There’s a tightness in my chest when I realize that Savannah isn’t going to sit next to me and drop her feet into my lap. As much as I want to keep Savannah to myself, I wish she were here with me. “That you, Cassius?” Dad says, coming to the doorway. Looking at him now, I’d never guess that he was in the hospital just a few weeks ago. “Cassius darling, come on in. It’s rude to lurk in doorways,” Mom calls. They’re all arranged like a painting. Dad in his suit stands framed in the doorway. Mom’s perched on the couch, but springs to her feet the moment I enter. Tasha looks out of place. She’s foregone a proper dress for leggings and what might be called a dress, but on my sister I call it a shirt. “Dad,” I say. Mom joins him and gives me a big hug. “I was hoping Natasha wasn’t playing one of her little jokes. Here you are.” Mom’s arms dig into me, and I can barely breathe through the cloud of Chanel No. 5. She holds me at arm’s length and her eyes shine with tears. I’m not completely fooled by the show. Mom’s always been good at shifting her emotions; it’s how she gets us to do things. “My family, together again.” Tasha salutes me with her glass from across the room. She motions a straight line up and down her front and gives me thumbs up. Mom beams like its Christmas morning. She threads her arm through mine and steers me toward the dining room. It’s like she’s holding me prisoner, afraid I might run away again. If only she knew how true that statement was, she’d shackle me to the dining room table. The dining room is just as cold and desolate as I remember it. Even the floral arrangements feel like they just came out of the deep freeze. “Now Cassius, please tell me you’ve found someone to settle down with and start giving me grandbabies.” I want to spit out my drink, but that would give away too much. No way am I letting my mother

sink her talons into Savannah. Although the image does cross my mind of Savannah with a baby on her hip. Blond curls and tiny —no. I stop the thought before I get too attached. Who am I turning into? “Can’t say that I have.” “Shame. You know the other day, I was just having lunch with Janice at the club. You remember Janice, don’t you?” No, and I try to remember very little from my time spent at her club. “Janice Dockson? You went to school with their daughter Morgan—lovely girl. I ran into her mother the other day and we started chatting. Did you know Morgan isn’t seeing anyone as well?” “I’m not going on a date with Morgan Dockson.” I wouldn’t even consider it, especially not now. “No of course not, but it would be a step in the right direction. Maybe just drinks. You could invite her to the grand opening of your new club. It would be so nice to have you associating with your peers again.” My hands are on the table ready to push myself back when Tasha’s shoe connects with my shin. Her look across the table says not on your life. “I actually have seen Morgan recently. She came to my club the other night celebrating a bachelorette party.” “Aurelia Bishop’s—tacky as hell. If I was her mother, I would not have attended.” “Mom,” Tasha says. “It was a nice wedding.” “Oh it was nice, but really Cassius, promise me when you get married you’ll let me help. We could hold it at the club, or here on the property. Flowers that are subtle and but dignified. And not a single sequin on your bride’s dress. Pearls, and lace…” Her words go on, but I just can’t force myself to listen. Torn between images of Savannah in a wedding dress—or better yet, Savannah on our wedding night. Jesus Christ, where are these thoughts coming from? My parents act as if everything is normal. I guess, for them, it is. They do this every weeknight— Mom always made sure of it. Lives have fallen apart around them, and they just don’t seem to care. It’s like nothing ever happened. “He’s not dating anyone mom, try not to shove him down the aisle because you have bride fever. Isn’t that right, Cash?” Another foot to the shin and I have to pay attention. “Absolutely, Tash,” I say. She toasts me with her glass only to find it empty. “Cash, would you be a wonderful brother and possibly make me a drink?” “Did you become twenty-one in the last five minutes?” “Mom.” Tasha tries to appeal my decision. “It’s just here, Cassius—what’s the harm in letting her have a drink. Be a dear and go make her a fresh drink, please.” “Yes, and he can show off his wasted talent,” my father adds. That’s just what I need to push me over the edge. I push myself back from the table and motion for Tasha to follow me. My parents will never change, and so I head back into the den where they keep the good liquor. It’s been this way since I used to steal bottles back in school. I grab the bourbon and shaker and start going to work. “I figured we both needed a break,” Tasha says, dropping onto a couch and pulling out her phone. “What are the chances that we could make a break for it?” “You’d have to agree to go on a date with Morgan Dockson in order to be let back into the house.”

“I can’t date Morgan,” I say. That was the wrong thing to say around Tasha. Her back straightens and she turns towards me with a predatory look in her eye. “Cash, are you seeing someone?” “No.” “Too fast, brother dear. Who is she?” I finish the drink and hand it to her. Tasha takes a huge gulp and nearly chokes at the straight bourbon tamed with a bit of mint and sugar. “Are you trying to kill me?” Tasha demands, holding the drink out like it’s a miniature axe murderer. “Mint Juleps are a sipping drink.” “You are no fun.” “Let’s get out of here.” I hike a thumb toward the door and freedom. Maybe I should sweeten the deal with the promise of burgers, but I don’t. “Oh, no,” Tasha says, sipping her drink and trying not to gag. “For this, we are definitely staying for the rest of dinner.” “Did anyone ever tell you you’re very cruel?” “Who do you think I learned it from?” I swing an arm around Tasha, and she drags me back to the dining room for the rest of dinner in hell. By the end, I can’t get out of there fast enough. Mom reminds me of a time next week and Dad doesn’t say a thing. Tasha just smiles and gloats from the sidelines. We’re now stuck in this together. I think I’ll need a brillo pad to help me get clean again. Needing to escape my family, I climb into my car and peel out of the drive. I glance at the clock. It’s almost nine here, which means it’s just six in Los Angeles. Means Savannah is probably done with work for the day. Dialing her number, I head back toward the bar. Just a quick chat and it’ll help me feel centered again. “Hey, I was just gonna call you,” Savannah says. “Can’t get me out of your mind? I’m sure your harem of surfer dudes are very disappointed.” “You have no idea. But actually, I caught an early flight back. We finished negotiations.” She goes on but I’m still stuck on flight back. There is nothing I want more than to be with Savannah tonight. My family is something that just stains me to my very core, and only Savannah can wash me clean. “I can be there in ten minutes.” “It’ll be worth your while if you make it in five.” I hang up and hit the gas. Let no one ever say that Cash Gardner turns down a bet from a sexy woman. Savannah opens the door in a silk nightie, and I don’t think she’s ever looked sexier. She backs up to let me in and I take her in my arms, kicking the door shut behind me. The kiss is rough and demanding. I don’t have time for sweet and comforting I need this right now. I need her. Shoving up the nightie, I find she’s not wearing underwear. “Do you have a thing against underwear?” I ask. “Only when you’re around.” She threads her fingers through my hair. Giving one nipple a slight pinch, she moans and it’s all I can do to not come right there. Satisfied, I trail kisses down her stomach, but she wraps her fingers around my tie and pulls me back up. “Like it?”

She wrinkles her nose and removes it swiftly. “I want something else first,” she says, kissing me. Distracting me while her other hand encircles my cock. I grab her mischievous hand and pin it to the wall. I look down at her, eyes glassy, lips puffy. This is what I’ve missed since she’s been gone. I lean in, our bodies lining up perfectly. She hooks a leg around me, and I shift to pick her up. She shoves at my shirt, ripping at the buttons. Good, I never liked these clothes anyway. Using the wall for leverage, she presses against me, and my cock feels like it’s about to explode. I grab the edges of her nightie and pull it over her head. She bucks against me, and I can feel the heat of her pussy. Her trip may have just been a few days, but I feel like I’ve been wandering in the desert for months. Savannah is cool, clear water, and all I want to do is dive in and never come out. Her fingers fumble with my dress pants, and when she pulls my cock free I hiss out a long breath. Teasing my length she lines me up and, using her legs, fully seats herself on me. Sucking her nipple into my mouth, I try to lose everything in her. Gripping her hips, I thrust again and again. She bows under me, complying with my every wish. Everything I demand she gives back, not fighting, not protesting, just giving. “Cash,” she say breathless. It’s going to be harsh and insane. She’s so tight and ready for release and I ride her over the edge. I don’t know how we made it back to her bedroom, but we end up in bed. Cradled in the warmth of Savannah’s body, I finally find ease. I look up at her, resting my chin on her chest. She runs her fingers through my hair. “Hi,” I say. “Miss me?” There’s laughter in her eyes. Her other hand traces the design of my tattoo. I grin and kiss each finger. There is nothing that she can’t fix. “You have no idea.” I lay my face flat against her. I want to freeze this moment and stay here forever. The outside world filled with parents and problems doesn’t need to exist. I can feel myself getting hard again.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Savannah Rob hands me a triple shot latte when I get into the office. I’m grateful he hasn’t asked why I want the change in my morning caffeine intake. The last thing I want to do is try and explain my sex life to my assistant. He can know about the dating catastrophes, but I’d like some privacy when it comes to the pleasure. At least he accepts me as I am. Even after a few quick sips, the lethargy in my bones starts to lift. Since I got back from LA, Cash has basically been living at my apartment. It’s all late night and early mornings for me—not that I’m going to complain. I haven’t had orgasms like these since…ever. Cash may work until two am, but he also doesn’t have to be at work until late afternoon. He gets to sleep in while I still have to get up and go to work. The sight of him naked in my bed every morning is something I look forward to, and the sex is beyond great. We are getting so close, but I can’t help but feel that something isn’t right. He keeps telling me it’s the new bar, and the old bar. But he’s holding back on me. Its excuse after excuse, but whenever I try to push him to open up he becomes a steel trap, boxing himself in better than Richard The Dick when he tries to be smart. We don’t talk about much. Since the racetrack, I’ve tried to stick with Cash’s plan for just the here and now, but I think his here and now is falling apart. Over what I can’t say, but there’s something that’s killing him, and he won’t let me in. Rob follows me into the office and starts our normal run through for the day. I chuck my bag onto a chair with more force than I had planned. Rob stops in his tracks, pen held above his morning checklist. I haven’t been this out of sorts since Tanner and the no good, very bad break up. Even then, it was just throwing myself into work. “And,” Rob says coming to the close of his spiel, “I set up the event just like you wanted. Her agent was happy to help—thinks we’re getting her some great exposure—and even loaned me his assistant to help out. Also, I added something extra to tonight’s event.” I raise an eyebrow. What were we talking about again? I’d trust Rob with my life and then some, but usually he still runs things by me first. “For the gig tonight, for Misty Singh—I’ve got everything pretty much laid out,” he says, effortlessly filling me in without making me feel like a fool. “But I thought it was only fitting that we invite the whole office to the review. You know, let them see what they’re getting. Take that, Richard the Dick.” It puts a smile back on my face. Los Angeles was a way for me to fix the Tanner Jakes debacle as well as set up our newest client with vital contacts. Looking at the contracts on my desk, we’ve got several offers from top labels. This is going to be big. Fuck you, Tanner Jakes. Who says I need you to make my career? “Also, I thought—and please if this is too much I apologize—but I set aside two tickets for you and your special man friend.” I snort—it can’t be helped. Thinking of Cash as my special man friend makes him sound like some sort of hired lover. “Is that what we’re calling him these days?” I ask focusing entirely on my work. We’re not discussing this, we are not discussing this.

“I could work on a couple of names,” Rob says. “Thank you, Rob.” “Anytime, ma’am,” Rob says with laughter in his eyes. There’s an intense urge to stick my tongue out at my assistant, but I don’t. This was always the plan, anyway. Getting Cash out of the bedroom and into different parts of my life. Maybe he’ll finally feel comfortable telling whatever is really slowly killing him. Toasting him with my coffee, I relax back in my chair. The LA trip was all about getting Misty up on her feet. Now there are just a few loose ends to tie up. I stop Rob as he leaves the office. “Can you get me Mathias?” I ask. “Sure thing, ma’am.” Less than a minute later the phone on my desk beeps and I pick it up. “Mathias, so good to talk to you. Sorry I missed your call. I was in LA all week.” “Well, well, well, you stupid bitch.” Not Mathias, definitely not Mathias. “Tanner, such varied word choice.” “You think you’re too good for me?” “Since we’re not being professional in this conversation. Yes. I do, you fucking prick.” “You ruined my life—my marriage. I can’t write a damn thing.” “I’m sorry to hear that. Now be a good boy and put Mathias on the phone.” “Why should I?” “Because we’re through. You are no longer my problem, so go dip your prick in toxic waste for all I care. Just make sure to lose my number and forget my name when you do.” With that I hang up the phone. Tanner Jakes is done. He’s out of my life. Rob comes back in and places an envelope on my desk and backs out of the room. Slicing open the envelope, I pull out the two tickets. This is the big play. Cash and I are far enough along to spend the night, but is it time for him to meet my work friends? Technically he already has, but that was not planned. Now we’re somewhere between orgasm and ‘I do.’ There’s no canceling now. Not if the whole office is on board. Whatever apprehensions I have about where Cash and I sit, tonight is going to shove us off the dock. We’ll either sink or swim. It may kill the mood and it may end the whole thing, but that’s just the risk I’m going to take. I give myself another once over in the mirror while I’m waiting for Cash to come over. Cassie’s been telling me about his separation anxiety over giving his bar to a new head bartender. Her texts about his over protectiveness have had me in stitches while I’m getting ready. Tonight, we’re going out, and if this is our third public outing I want it to be different than the first two. So I went with skinny jeans and a lace top that I can pair with a leather jacket. We’re all in the business of us tonight. Whatever we decide “us” is going to be. Cash knocks on the door and I open it and step out into the hall ready to go. I’m not going to give him any time to trap me in the bedroom or talk me out of going tonight. If we start there’s going to be no stopping, and I can’t afford to miss this party—not when I planned it. I wouldn’t get the promotion, and Rob might abandon me for ruining his big party planning success. I tuck a curl back into place while Cash’s eyes sweep me up and down. I can feel my cheeks burn and I pull on my jacket just to give me something to do with my hands that doesn’t involve grabbing Cash by the collar and hauling him off to bed.

“Interested in giving Mrs. Carson a show?” he asks, an eyebrow arching up in a dare. I smile and pull him close. He smells like soap and spices, and mint—always mint. I met Mrs. Carson in the lobby the other day and she wouldn’t even look at me. Something tells me I’ve finally pushed my neighbor over the edge. “No, but we are going to a show.” “Oh really? Didn’t know you liked to swing that way.” It’s always like that with him. A quick joke. A move back to safe territory. Anytime it seems like we might be approaching a deeper topic than what I did with my day and am I ready for sex, he makes a joke. If I counted all the facts I know about Cash Gardner, I wouldn’t even have a full hand. As much as I want him, I don’t know him. I needle his ribs with my elbow. “For that, you don’t get to go to hear Miss Misty Singh.” “Whoa, now, let’s not talk crazy here, my friend.” My heart hits my kneecaps. I swear, everyone in a five-mile radius can hear the sound. Only years of training not to make faces before clients keeps the smile on my face. Friend. Is that where we are? Friends? I refuse to believe it—it was just a joke, I tell myself. Nothing to worry about. It doesn’t help the growing knot of worry in my stomach. Am I taking my lover to meet my colleagues as my friend? “Oh no, you seem to think we’re headed for something tawdry and that I will not have,” I say. “How can I make it up to you?” “You will have to be on your best behavior.” “Scout’s honor.” “You were never a Boy Scout.” He gives me a quick kiss that promises everything and pulls away before I can pull him back. “So much to learn about me.” That’s right. Now just let me in, you stupid, stubborn man. The small club is packed with fans and people from work. It’s everything I wanted and more to help launch Misty as a new musical force to be reckoned with. Even Mathias has come out of the woodwork to see the new talent I’ve dug up. He toasts me with his glass when Cash and I enter. Well, maybe I’ll be getting another possible contract from Triton Entertainment. Rob is going to get a raise. If this doesn’t impress LA then I’m not sure what will. They loved her music, but to sweeten the deals we were making, I wanted to make sure they knew she could pack a room. I think we have a winner. Cash lets his hand rest on the small of my back and it eases the worry that’s settled in my stomach. “Are we going to end this night by stealing more champagne?” Cash whispers in my ear. “Not an open bar.” “Since when has that ever stopped us?” Rob gives me a two finger wave from the side of the room where he’s nose deep in his iPhone. Sometimes I wonder if that boy ever unplugs. Then there’s Briggs, and to my surprise Meyers is with him. “The two men approaching us are the name partners at my firm,” I tell Cash. He gives my hip a squeeze as if to say he understands. “Ms. Sunday,” Meyers says, coming over a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. If there ever was a person to look out of place in a nightclub it is Meyers. Still in his perfect business suit, he looks like

he belongs in court. Even Briggs has gone more casual for the evening out. “Mr. Meyers.” I can feel Cash beside me giving me courage I’ve never felt around Meyers. Briggs studies him like he might need to step in and be surrogate parent. “Can I introduce you to Cash Gardner, my…” what is the word we’re using for us? “My friend.” I settle with the friend term and wait for any reaction from Cash. There isn’t any. We are friends. Just hold it together. “You wouldn’t by any chance be the Gardner involved—” Cash jolts next to me like someone just touched him with electrodes. “In the group that owns all the bars and nightclubs, would you?” Cash doesn’t say anything. I squeeze his arm willing him to say something to Meyers. But his mouth just opens and closes like he’s trying to capture words. What is it that has him running scared? “That is…I…uh.” “Cash can be tongue tied sometimes, but yes, he is a partner in Altitude and a few others here in Atlanta. Their newest one’s called The Library, which opens in a few weeks.” Meyers beams like he’s just been given a puppy. I’m immediately on guard: this is not the Meyers I know. His attitude turns on its head, and he’s much nicer than I have ever seen him. If I had a nickel for every time he smiled at me, I wouldn’t have two nickels to rub together. “I knew your group managed several bars in the area, but I had no idea that you were opening a new one.” “It’s going to be our best one yet. You should check it out sometime,” Cash says, finally finding his words again, his fingers finding their way under the edge of my jacket and shirt to play with the skin on my hip. I lean into him and can feel his heart thundering against his chest. Open up to me, I will him silently. “Well, Savannah here is a fantastic entertainment lawyer, but if you ever need another eye for business our law firm is a full service.” “She’s told me all about Briggs, Meyers & Associates, and I know the boys and I have been looking for a good law firm. I assure you, discussing your firm is on the agenda for our next board meeting.” “If you need any further information, Savannah has all of my contact numbers. I’d be happy to set something up—” Meyers says. “I’ll make sure Cash gets the information,” I say, grabbing Cash’s hand before it can roam any further. Meyers smiles in thanks. He makes his excuses, and Briggs gives me a glowing look. “I think it’s safe to say you just cinched your promotion,” Briggs says. Relief floods through me. I did it. No more worrying about Richard The Dick. “Very nice to meet you, Mr. Gardner, although I think we’ve technically already met.” “Yes, sorry for cutting out early last time—I…we…” Cash looks at me for help. This is your mess, big man. It’s your turn to get out of it. “It was a rough week for both of us.” “I hope things have lightened up and you two can properly celebrate Savannah’s promotion.” “It’s definitely going to be a celebration for the books.” “Save that for when she makes partner,” Briggs jokes. “Enjoy your evening. Savannah, I’ll see you in the office on Monday, and we can talk about the direction you want to take the department.” Briggs gives me a hug and he whispers, “He seems to be a good fit for you, Savannah. Keep him on his toes.” With one more toast to me, Briggs departs to find his own people. I can hardly believe the words I just heard. I got the promotion. All of this hard work, and I can now breathe easily. Rob pounces as soon as the name partners leave. He plays it cool and introduces himself to Cash. I’m still floating on cloud nine, but Cash charms Rob as smoothly as he does his customers at the bar. When Cash excuses himself to get me another drink, Rob wastes no time.

“He’s a good catch.” “Hm-mmm.” I track Cash as he goes to the bar and easily laughs with the bartender. He fits in no matter where he goes. It’s easy to just be with him. There’s no tension or worry like there was with Tanner. I can just be with Cash and it’s the most wonderful state of being. “You want me to cancel Dog-Man?” Rob’s question brings me straight back down to earth. Dog-Man? Who the hell is Dog-Man? “What?” “You set it up a while ago. Drinks with a dog walker you met…” I give him a blank stare. What the hell is he even talking about. “Okay, that look says enough. Consider it canceled.” “You’re a fucking god send, Rob.” “Thank you ma’—” He cuts himself off. It is, after all, a night to toast to me. The least he can do is cut the ma’am crap. Well done, Rob. There is hope for you yet. “So what are we calling your lovely date?” “Oh he’s not…” I mean to say he’s not my date, but the word dies on my tongue, because I want him to be my date. He gets another round of laughs from my colleagues, and I realize this isn’t just a onetime thing. It’s also a little too late for the whole one time idea. I want something more from Cash. Even if he has secrets that he refuses to share, as long as they’re not a kid in the closet I can survive it. He’s worth it. “I vote Shaker Boy.” “No.” “He’s a bartender, right? Or did I get my wires crossed. Is he Dog-Man?” “Rob, have I ever told you that I’m glad you use that brain of yours for good and not evil.” “I’ll figure something out with Shaker Boy.” “You are not calling Cash Shaker Boy.” “Shaken and Stirred?” Rob offers and I glare at him. There is no nickname for my…for my Cash. “Oh wait, I know. Dirty Martini?” “You’re now just naming drinks. And let me repeat myself only once more: you are to not give Cash a nickname.” Anyway, I think to myself, he already has one. Cassie, Shelby, Avery, Ruby and I named the guys of Altitude Sexy Bastards one time, and it definitely fits them. “So he is sticking around.” “Hell yes,” I say, catching Cash’s eye. He has half the paralegal department ready to form a harem. Back off, ladies. The man is mine. “Go find him before he charms the pants off the nearest female.” I find Cash and I pull him away, wanting just a little time between us. “Come on, there’s a great spot over here.” “Why Savannah Sunday, are you trying to lure me into a dark corner?” “You know it.” I trail a kiss over his cheek and standing on my toes I whisper, “Want to get out of here? I’ll make it worth your while.” His hand slips into mine, and we can’t get out the door fast enough. I feel like I’m a teenager again, sneaking around under my parents’ noses. We’re almost to the door and freedom, when a woman does a double take at Cash. I try to ignore it. Lots of women would do this. I mean, I’ve done it. Plus we’re still not anything so I don’t have any grounds to get mad about her open invitation. “Cash?” the woman says. She’s striking. Blond hair, the right proportions. Dress is a little on the boring side, but definitely someone Cash would charm out of her clothes.

“Morgan,” Cash says like he just woke up from a nightmare. He knows her name. Okay. Okay. It’s not the end of the world. I knew this was a possibility—and more likely a probability. Still, the whole exchange hits me like a punch to the stomach. “I thought that was you.” She gets up from her seat, and I get the full picture of this Morgan. She’s beautiful in that country club polished sort of way. Not the person I would have thought Cash would be into—maybe his tastes have varied more than I originally thought. “I’m so glad I ran into you again after—” “We were just leaving,” Cash cuts her off. His grip on my hand tightens and before I can so much as get out a hello, he yanks me toward the door. Whoever she is, I’ll never know. He’s silent on the ride back to my place. I try asking a few questions and he just turns on the radio. By the time I get to my apartment, I’m not surprised when he just parks out front. Still I can’t help but ask, “Are you coming up?” This sort of thing is going to happen, right? I mean, he’s been with so many women, we’re bound to run into them when we’re out. If he closes down every time this happens then we’re never going to get anywhere. So come on Cash, let’s just go upstairs. “Not tonight.” He scrubs his face with his hands. “Okay.” I nod, trying to go along with this, but I can’t make myself get out of the car. If I want this, it’s time to take a stand. “Is this what’s going to happen every time we run into someone from your past? Because if I’ve done the math right, we’re never going to be able to go out at this rate.” “I don’t want to do this tonight.” “When do you want to do it? Because I’m here, and I don’t care if we run into your exes. I knew that would happen. Neither of us was exactly virginal when we met.” “Savannah—” “I don’t care about the women you’ve slept with, because right now, I’m in your bed. Just talk to me.” “I’ve got stuff I have to do at Altitude.” He focuses squarely on the steering wheel. For once, Cash Gardner is not there with a quick come back and a knock out attitude. His past has him hiding. Fuck it if he thinks I’m just going to roll over and let him hide. Do not shut down on me. “Cash--” “I’ll call you later.” And just like that, he cuts me off. “Call me when you fucking grow a pair,” I say, getting out of the car and slamming it shut. One minute we’re sneaking out to go have crazy, wild sex, and the next he’s dropping me off. He stays until I’m inside but peels out before the door is even shut behind me. Dear Morgan, go fuck yourself. Actually, Cash, go fuck yourself, too.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Savannah The morning after my disastrous date with Cash, all I want to do is wallow in bed with a cup of tea and my favorite film. Luckily, it’s the weekend, and while there’s still plenty of work to do I can put it all off. I get up once to make some tea and crawl onto my couch. Going back to bed will just remind me of Cash. I flip on my favorite movie and settle in for a good ‘poor me’ session. I shouldn’t let this get to me, I chastise myself. I knew this would happen. He doesn’t want something long term. Isn’t that why he’s always so much more interested in the ‘here and now’? No room to grow into something more. I check my phone hoping for something, anything from Cash, but find a text from Cassie instead. She must know something I don’t: all I get is an order that she’ll be picking me up at ten for a girl’s day. The clock on the wall already says nine. Knowing Cassie, if I try to evade she’ll just bust in and steal me away. Might as well get up and get ready to face my abduction. In truth, I could probably do with a bit of saving from myself. Hopefully, she won’t ask anything about Cash, because that’s a subject I’m putting under lock and key and I don’t think even her skills will crack me. When Cassie picks me up, I’m almost certain that I can get through this day without talking about Cash. In the hour I had to prepare, I’ve rationalized our entire relationship. It’s been great sex, and that’s all it needs to be. Just really good sex. But I can’t help wanting more. Knowing me too well, Cassie’s bribed me with a green tea latte and idle chatter about Ryder, the club, her job, anything to lull me into a false sense of security. I need the detox. It’ll help me with the feelings of rejection that are growing stronger every minute. Last night was the first time since Cash and I started this crazy dance that he didn’t spend the night. I take a sip of my tea and try to prep a strategy for dealing with Cassie. Up to now, I’ve been able to avoid the awkward questions about Tanner and Cash by just avoiding being alone with my best friend. But now, with Cash throwing me onto an emotional roller coaster, the only way out of this whole thing is to completely move on and act like nothing ever happened. If only I could work up the courage to tell her, she might be able to piece together the remains of my shattered heart. But Cassie doesn’t need my emotional baggage. She has more than enough from her ex-husband, the last thing she needs is to know about Tanner the asshole. We stop at the Village Flea Market and grab food before we wander through the stalls. It’s pleasantly crowded this morning as we dig into the melee. “All right, game plan,” I say, fully embracing the day. I am not going to sit around thinking about Cash Gardner and the number of women he’s had around Atlanta. After the abrupt end to our date last night, I stayed up late, too confused about the number of about faces we seem to do. We’d have a great time on a ‘maybe date’ and then something would trip Cash up and suddenly we’d be off kilter. Then it was a round of blow my mind sex and we’d slide back into casual company. Before I’d cross some line, Cash would shut down and start the cycle over again. “Well, I’m here to get furniture. You’re here because you’re my haggling expert of a friend and to celebrate the fact that you got a promotion.”

In the aftershocks of Cash and me, I’d completely forgotten I’d achieved the one thing I’ve been working toward for months. “It’s not that big of a deal.” “Nope, nope, you don’t get to down play this card. You’re head of your department—you apparently won even your awful boss, Meanie.” “Meyers,” I correct her more out of habit. Although I’d like to just agree with her. Meyers has never been considered nice. “And how did you find out?” “Jackson was on the phone with Ryder last night—they were going over plans for The Library and apparently Cash told Jackson and Jackson told—whatever, the point is I know and I am very angry that you didn’t tell me yourself.” I wince. Cassie should have been one of the first people I called. Although to be fair, my own parents don’t even know yet. “I’m sorry, Cas,” I say. “I will forgive you on one condition,” Cassie says, throwing an arm around my shoulders. We plow through the crowd together and I wait for my sentence. Cassie’s grinning like a fool doing her best to lift my sagging spirits. “I throw myself on your mercy.” “Oh, I plan to put your haggling skills to good use.” “I didn’t rack up all that student debt for nothing.” Ah the life of a lawyer, constantly being dragged around for my skills. “If you wanted that, you should have grabbed me a straight espresso instead of this.” “Since when do you shoot straight espresso?” I mumble something into my cup and take another hit, hoping to find its normal reassuring affects. No such luck. If I wanted to avoid what was bothering me, it would have been wise to ignore my switch in caffeine. Cassie may be caught up in her new love affair, but she’s still my best friend. I am toast. Fuck my life. “Savannah…” Cassie says, her voice tinged with warning. I have about three seconds to build a defense before she goes full on best friend mode and ferrets out what’s wrong with me. “So is this for your house or Ryder’s condo?” I walk over to the closest booth with furniture. There is literally nothing in the booth I would consider recommending to Cassie, but it’s a new subject. Silently, I send a prayer that Cassie won’t let me get away. I’m so tired of fighting and if I’m going to go up in flames, I want to trust Cassie to control the burn. She narrows her eyes at me. “You are allowed this one diversion,” she warns. “And yes, it’s for Ryder’s condo.” If there was one person I could trust with this whole debacle it would be Cassie. She would understand more than anyone else in the world. But I just can’t make myself tell her. It would put a damper on our whole day. “Hmmm, so something more feminine? Is his place super modern?” “Well, he’s certainly not French country.” I crack a laugh. It can’t be helped. “Yeah, classic lines I think, but with a fresh take. Something you wouldn’t think would work—” “But does?” I finish for her. We relax back into casual conversation. This ease between us lasts most of the morning. We cruise through the flea market, laughing over trinkets and seriously considering a few pieces. Cassie falls for a coffee table made of crates that had been mounted on industrial casters. It was something she was dead set on getting, but not willing to spend the nine hundred dollars the seller wanted.

“Are you sure you couldn’t do four fifty?” Cassie asks. “That’s almost half off.” In fact, I add silently, it is half off. Easy prey. “Cassie, come on, it’s not worth it—not at that price at least,” I say, linking arms with her. “Plus, there’s a table at the end of this row you have to see.” Rule number one when haggling: it’s best to let the opposition know that you have no problem walking away. “It’s a gem. Trust me, Ryder will absolutely love it.” Rule number two, remind the seller there are literally a million other options better than the one they have. I pull Cassie away. When she doesn’t show any sign of leaving, I pull harder. Come on, work with me here. “What are you doing? I really want that table,” she whispers. I really do love my best friend, but sometimes I wonder why she doesn’t follow my lead more. It was her idea to bring me along for my haggling skills. “When he stops us, look real sad, but let me do the talking. Got it?” A wicked smile spreads across her face and I know I’ve been forgiven for separating her from her treasure. “This is why I brought you.” She throws her arms around me, wrapping me in a hug I’m not prepared for. The sudden contact shatters any shield I have against her. If she asked me about Cash right now, I’d tell her everything, starting with Tanner and ending with last night’s disaster. “All right, all right, I can drop it down to five hundred. Just for you, though,” the seller says before we can take another step. We stop and I turn around. Time for the real work to begin. “I dunno, this other table is perfect. Great lines, and I think Ryder would really go for it.” Cassie puts on one heck of a show, going all pouty face. The seller wavers. Time to go in for the kill. “And it’s getting late in the day.” “I like this one,” Cassie adds again, running a hand lovingly over the table. Don’t over play it, girl. I scrutinize the table again. “You could make this for fifty bucks. Three hundred.” Inwardly I cringe. That might have been too low ball. The trick is to go lower than you’re willing to pay but not so low as to insult them. “Five.” “The other one is four and willing to negotiate. Three seventy five.” “Four.” “Done,” I say with a self-satisfied smile. I may not be able to have a handle on my love life, but this, I can do this until the cows come home. “Cassie, pay the man.” As Cassie signs the paper and makes arrangements to have the table delivered to Ryder’s condo, I wander over to the other booths. Not really looking for anything, just avoiding the inevitable. We’ve accomplished most of what we came here to do. When Cassie comes back to me, I know that my reprieve is over. The moment of truth has come. I pick up a set of tea cups and hold them up for her approval. She stares at them as if to say, seriously? Yes, it was a stupid shield, but can you blame me? “Which one first old boy or current one?” Cassie asks. Always direct, that best friend of mine. Having had the morning to mull over my feelings, it’s easier to let them out now. “Current,” I say setting aside the pointless trinkets. Cassie takes my arm and we walk up the aisle, no longer pretending to look at the wares laid out. “Someday when you want to talk about it, you can talk to me about the old boy. You know that,

right?” I nod my head. Of course I know that Cassie would listen; she’d probably understand more than anyone else about the scars Tanner Jakes left on my heart, but I just don’t want to talk about it. “But you want to talk about Cash? Just a friendly reminder, I reserve the right to kick him when he’s down if he hurts you.” Cassie takes her duty to me very seriously. Ever since the horrible incident with her ex, she’s ready to beat anyone who threatens any of her friends. Even if it pits her against another friend and, possibly, her lover. “Duly noted.” “So…” She leads, and when I don’t answer she goes a step further. “What’s the hang up? Please tell me he’s having issues in bed.” “That’s the one place we are perfectly in sync.” I chuck my empty latte cup and let out the feeling I’ve been bottling up since Cash Gardner first stepped into my love life. “Look, I’m not stupid. I knew what I was getting into when I signed up for this crazy ride. I wanted to go into this with open eyes— and I did. It’s not like I thought….” How do I say this? Just rip the band aid off as Cash would say. The truth will always come out at some point, might as well just get the pain out of the way. “I know Cash has…a past with women.” “You mean the fact that he’s a manwhore.” “Okay, that’s a little unfair, don’t you think?” “I believe that was your word, my friend.” “I know. And I knew that going in, right? I can do the math, even if he only had two girls a week, on a minimum of five years, then he’s been with at least five hundred and twenty women—five hundred and twenty-one if you include me. And that’s just the bare minimum.” It turned my stomach, but I knew that—I never let him forget it. Then it comes out of me before I can stop it. “I guess if we’re sticking to past precedent, he doesn’t do long term relationships. And I knew that, but… I don’t just want to be the fucking five hundred and twenty-first.” Cassie stops in her tracks. Yes, I’m sorry my friend, but I did just say I wanted something long term with Cash Gardner, the notorious womanizer. It takes Cassie about five seconds to get herself back together and catch up with me. “Can I ask you something?” Cassie says casually. I motion for her to go on. “Okay here it is. The serious question. Do you like him as more than just a hook up buddy?” I couldn’t say it out loud. It had been the thing I’ve been trying to stop since that first night. Because if I could deny it enough times, maybe I’d finally get it out of my head. Maybe that traitorous heart of mine would finally see reason and I’d not shatter into a million pieces when he moved on to girl 522. The thought makes my fingers curl into a fist. “Yes, but it wasn’t supposed to happen like that.” It was supposed to be a quick fling. Something to rub off the tarnish Tanner Jakes left on me. This thing with Cash was never supposed to be more than that. “I know.” Cassie wraps an arm around me and steers us down another aisle. This one is filled mostly with jewelry and smaller decorative items. She lets us just wander for a few moments. She finds a pair of gold dangly earrings and asks if they fit her new look. They’re perfect for her. “You should wear them to The Library’s opening,” I say. Her eyes go wide, like it’s the first time she’s thought of it. “I did just get this little black dress and these would be perfect.” “You’re so fucking getting them,” I order. Cassie pays for her newest piece of jewelry and then

turns back to me. I knew I wasn’t lucky enough to get out of the rest of the issue. “Have you talked to Cash about this at all?” “And say what? ‘You know how we’ve been hooking up—I think I’d like to make it permanent’? He can’t think beyond what is right in front of him. How am I supposed to trust someone who can’t stand to talk about the future or the past?” “From everything I got out of Ryder—I’m your best friend, I’m allowed to look into your boyfriend’s past—Cash may be a little thick-headed and sometimes gets a wild hair that makes him unpredictable. But he’s a good guy. When it comes to his friends and family, Cash would go to the mat for them.” “Am I the only person who thinks Cash has been acting strange?” “Strange how?” I tell her the whole sordid tale of our possible relationship. The dates he just ends without warning. Phone calls that pull him completely out of the moment. We’re great in bed and I can’t get him out of my head, but that doesn’t mean he’s shooting completely straight with me. He knows all of my secrets, but I can’t get past his surface facade. “He seems normal to me, but I don’t know Cash very well. I know Ryder’s vouched for him, but…” Her voice trails off. There’s nothing more I would love to do than to believe Ryder’s opinion. Cash is a good guy, but there is something he’s keeping from me. The problem with his here and now philosophy is that we don’t live just in the now, we’re the product of the past. If that Morgan girl can throw him off that much, maybe they were more than just one-night stands. He still loves her—maybe? I don’t know, and it’s driving me crazy here. “We just met this girl last night and it’s like they have a history. Like, a real one, and I can’t understand why he might lie to me like that. Especially when he knows about Tanner.” Cassie trails her hand over a large silver plate. “I’m gonna wager a guess here. The boy we do not speak of, he lied to you, didn’t he? Like big time, it fucked your relationship completely sort of lie.” I take a deep breath and take the plunge. “Yes.” If I knew then that Tanner Jakes would continue to screw with my love life, I would have walked away long before he could stitch himself into my heart. Now it’s too late, and my wounds haven’t completely healed. “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.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

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.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

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. Disentangling myself from him, he grumbles and tries to grab me again, but I slip out of his grasp. The kitchen is smaller than the one in my first apartment, and judging from that I’m not expecting much in terms of fixings. Cash mumbles something that amounts to a grunt and a sigh before he rolls over, throwing an arm over his eyes. There is exactly nothing in his fridge but a couple of takeout cartons I wouldn’t touch with rubber gloves on, and a few bottles of cold beer. Not exactly the ingredients for a breakfast of champions. If I want something edible that won’t put me in the hospital, it’s time to go foraging. Sliding into one of his shirts and a pair of sweats, I head down into the bar. There’s bound to be something down here. Even if it’s just peanuts, at least it will be something I know has been checked for freshness in the last sixty days. It’s different being in the bar when it’s closed. The exit lights glow, and when I hit the overhead lights, Altitude loses its otherworldly appearance. It’s just another big empty room. Going behind the bar, I wade through Cash’s domain. I open a mini fridge and hit the jackpot: eggs. Probably from the egg whites they use for drinks. I sneak back upstairs and peek in on Cash. Still passed out. I can’t help but smile like a schoolgirl. The plan aside, this is exactly what I want out of life. Okay, maybe a bigger apartment and a fridge that has actual food in it, but me and Cash, I want this. Even though he has next to no food, the kitchen is well stocked with pans and utensils. I grab a pan and start prepping an omelet. It’s going to be more of a scrambled egg in the end, but it’ll still be protein. The eggs start to sizzle, and I think about how I can talk to Cash about the next step. It’s different here in his space, and I want to know all about it. Like the post cards on the fridge. Who sends them, and what do they mean to Cash? While the eggs cook, I pull one off and flip it over. It’s just a few

hasty lines scratched on the back and a quick signature. Knox. The name means nothing to me, but from the abundance of postcards I’m guessing Knox is someone important to Cash. A brother maybe? The black sheep of his family that he just won’t talk about? Is he afraid I can’t handle my fair share of dark family secrets? Because I can. There’s very little I can’t handle as long as he’s up front with me. I’m a lawyer. I’ve looked into the darkness of the world and come out with my soul still intact. Mostly. I mean, I almost signed Tanner Jakes as a client. It’s time we actually decide what we’re doing here, because I don’t think we can call this just a hook up anymore. It hasn’t been a one-night stand in a long time—but are we dating? “Cash,” I whisper to myself, trying to figure out the words to say. What I wouldn’t do for a legal pad to sort my thoughts out on. Plot my case as carefully as I did in law school. “Are you having fun?” No. Do not start it out in ‘fun’ that makes it sound like we’re just going to continue on being ‘fun.’ I don’t want fun. I want more than fun. I want nights at the bar where I only remember flashes of him, I want nights of ecstasy that I can barely stand, I want quiet lazy afternoons where all we do is watch old movies and cuddle. It’s not just about fun or sex—it’s more. The eggs start to char, and I flip off the burner still no closer to how I’m going to approach him. “What are we?” I ask the kitchen. Is simple the best? Just get it out there? Let it go. “Because I want more.” That’s the follow up to everything, isn’t it? It’s not just that we need to talk about what we are. It’s that I want to be more. I dump the eggs onto a plate and take a fork full. And I almost spit it out when I hear—BANG BANG BANG—reverberating up the stairs. Carefully, I set down my fork and walk to the door. Maybe they’ll just go away. I freeze and listen for any sign that they’re leaving. BANG. BANG. BANG. The smart thing to do would be to call the police, or at the very least wake Cash up. I walk down a few stairs, still searching for any sound that they’re leaving. Making up my mind to go get Cash, I head back up the stairs, but freeze when a voice takes over for the banging. “Cash Gardner, you open this door right now and face me like a man.” It’s a woman’s voice. Yelling for Cash. My Cash. BANG. BANG. BANG. I grab the handle and jerk it open, startling the woman on the other side. The woman seems just as surprised to find me here as I am to see her. She’s young, probably around my age. Her blond hair has been strung up in a ponytail. Her watery blue eyes spit fire. She’s just a person looking for a target. And I stepped up to the fucking plate. What really makes my stomach hit the cement is the toddler on her hip. Three—maybe four—his hair bright blond and his crystal blue eyes that say more about Cash than I want to let myself believe. No, I tell myself. Don’t jump to conclusions. Cash isn’t Tanner. This isn’t happening again. “Can I help you?” I ask. “Where is he?” the woman demands. “I’m sorry, who are you looking for?” Stupid question, since she’s been yelling his name at the top of her lungs for the past five minutes. “Cash Gardner. You know him?” She leans past me, trying to yell into the club. “And I know he lives here, because this is where that hush money comes from.” Her constant yelling makes the toddler scream and break out in tears. “So you tell him to get his ass down here now and face his

fucking responsibilities.” She bounces the kid on her hip, trying to cajole him, but the kid’s face has gone beet red and his screams are worse than his mama’s yelling. My heart drops, but I try to stay cool. Please don’t let this be what I think it is. “What business do you have with Mr. Gardner?” “You his secretary or something?” She hushes the kid. “Billy, please, it’ll be okay. Just give mama five more minutes.” Billy sniffles and still cries, but at the very least he’s gone down a few octaves. “Well, you can tell Mr. High and Mighty that Marissa Stamretz is here. Better yet, you can tell Mr. Gardner for me that I don’t want his money.” She pulls a check from her back pocket and shoves it at me. “His father ruined my family, and the only thing that could possibly help is for him to go to jail. He can’t buy forgiveness for what’s happened.” She adjusts the toddler on her hip and looks at me with compassion. “Look, you clearly don’t know anything about what’s going on.” She’s right. I look at the check she holds out and it says Gardner Trust and there are a lot of zeros on that check. What is she talking about? Cash doesn’t have that kind of money. And a trust? “I’m sorry,” I say not knowing what else I could do. “It’s not your fault. It’s what happens when you trust lousy businessmen. They take your money and run, and no, some loser’s kid can’t make up for that.” “Savy?” Cash walks down the stairs, a pair of jeans thrown on hastily, his hair still messy from sleep. “What’s going on?” I turn, holding out the check. “You tell me.” This was what I wanted, but the truth is I have no idea who I’ve been sleeping with. A man who can keep secrets like this Marissa woman and her son. His face freezes in confusion. His eyes go back and forth between me and Marissa, like he’s trying to put it all together. “This woman came here with her child to return a check,” I say flatly. Cash pales. That’s right, you asshole, you got caught. “Savy—let me explain,” he says, taking a step toward me and I instinctually back up. I don’t know what he’s going to tell me, I just know, there’s a whole part of his life he’s kept hidden from me. Just like Tanner did. God, I’m so fucking dumb. “You finally have the nerve to show your face,” Marissa says, advancing on him. “You think some sort of hush money will make up for what your father did or keep us quiet? Because we don’t want this.” The look on Cash’s face confirms what I’ve been fearing since the beginning. He’s been keeping something from me, and it finally followed him home. And I run for the stairs.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Cash Savannah rushes back up the stairs and there’s no way to catch her without completely abandoning the woman in front of me. She’s shoving a check into my face. One that I wrote over to her and her family. Marissa Stamretz. No way in this lifetime was this how I wanted Savannah to find out about my father—about what he did. I don’t know what’s worse, the woman standing in front of me with a check or the blank, vacant look that took over Savannah. “You can take your money and shove it.” The woman presses a check into my hands and starts to walk away. No no no. She can’t not take the money. This is supposed to make it better—supposed to make up for everything that my father did. If she doesn’t take it, then what am I doing? “This is for you, I can’t—I don’t want it and I don’t need it.” “Well isn’t that nice for you, poor little rich boy.” “I can’t change what my father did. This is the only way I can think of to make it right.” “My parents lost everything after what your father did. Their retirement, their home—but we survived. This check, do you know what it brings up for us? Horrible memories. We got through everything by the skin of our teeth while we watched you Gardners have it all.” “That’s why I’m giving—” “I wasn’t done, so you listen here,” the woman goes on. The boy on her hip has found something amusing and starts clapping for his mother. “My mama got sick—real sick. There are medical bills, and there’s not health insurance anymore.” “So use the money I’m giving you to help get your family into a better place.” I argue helplessly, still thinking about the look on Savy’s face. “I’m not saying it’ll be perfect, but it’s better than nothing. If I could change what my father did, I would…but I can’t.” I hold the check out to her. This has to work. It’s the only thing that’s keeping me from absolutely hating my family. The idea that some part of my father’s fortune can pay a semblance of restitution. “I came down here because I wanted to be a decent human being. So that I could look you in the eye and say what I’m about to say to your face—” “Before you tell me to go to hell again. I’m not going to spend this money. I can’t take it, not when I know where it comes from. It broke my family, don’t let it be the end of yours.” She looks long and hard at the check in my hand. Come on, I will her, take it. Just take it. It looks like she’ll reach for it, but in the end she just grabs her son’s hand and disentangles it from her ponytail. “Money can’t break a family, it’s just a wedge that splits the crack open. We’ll get through this without any help from you Gardners.” She doesn’t even look at the check just turns and walks away. I close the door on my father’s past and all I want to do is yell. This wasn’t supposed to be how it worked out. A sound from my apartment tells me there’s still one way I might be able to save today. Savannah is still here. It douses me like cold water slamming me right back down to earth. She knows. But what does she know, and what she must think about it? I sprint for the door to the club and take the stairs to my apartment two at a time. I barely make it in time to stop her from walking out the door.

“Get out of my way.” She’s shoving things into her bag and doing her best not to look at me. But she can’t hide the tears from me. Fuck. Shit. This is all my fault. I was waiting for the right time, I thought after last night that I would let her in, and then that woman had to go and show up. “Please,” I say, trying to catch my breath. “Please just let me explain. Don’t think like that. Don’t put me on the same level as him.” If she’ll just listen to what I have to say, I’ll explain it to her. I’ll tell her things I should have told her from the beginning. I know this now. “You don’t know what I’m thinking right now.” Standing in front of her, I block the hallway. “You think this is Tanner all over again. That I’ve lied to you and that the woman downstairs is one of the girls I’ve slept with and that the check is some sort of child support.” Savannah crosses her arms and just shakes her head at me. “Wrong, now excuse me.” She tries to push past me and I grab her arms, pinning her to the spot, because she has to listen to me. There has to be some way to make her understand what I did, what I’m still trying to do. “I promise—” “No, don’t even start. This is Tanner all over again. You’re a fucking asshole, Cash Gardner, and I hope your balls burn in hell.” “Let me explain. Please just hear me out.” I look in to her eyes and will Savannah to relent, to let me at least try and make her see what I’ve been trying to do. She crosses her arms and pulls out her phone. “Give me one good reason.” “I promise you that is not my kid and I have never—ever—met that woman before today.” I stare her down. She has to believe me on this. I just need to explain it to her. She’ll understand, I know she will. She’s smart. “You have two minutes.” She looks at her phone and stares at me expectantly. I don’t know where to begin, so I just start at the beginning. The words come slowly at first but they pick up pace, and I just keep going emptying my life’s story on her. My parents and their house and boarding school. That’s how I know Morgan Dockson—the woman we met at the club. Then the crash and all those people and how my parents got off scot free. I’m not some poor bartender at the end of his rope, I have a trust fund with over seven figures in it and I plan on giving that money all away to my father’s victims. She just stands there blown away by the avalanche of my story. “Please believe me.” “Why now? Why tell me now. You could have told me at any point, but you choose to tell me now.” “Because I don’t want to lose yo—” “No,” she says quietly. There’s no anger to her voice. She’s not yelling, she’s eerily calm about this, and this frightens me more. “You are telling me this now because you got caught.” She jabs a finger into my chest, pinning me to the wall of the stair well. “When would you have decided I could know about this?” “I didn’t want you to be burdened with it. My family—they’ve done horrible things and you— you’re the best thing in my life. I can’t let them get to you.” This isn’t going the way I planned. Everything I say only makes her angrier. “So you would have never told me about any of this?” “It’s not like that. It’s not that simple. You don’t know my family—” “And now I never will.”

“They screw people up. All I wanted to do was protect you.” “I don’t need to be protected. I need someone I can trust. Someone I can lean on when I have a bad day. Someone who knows that they can lean on me. I thought we might be headed somewhere. You don’t get to play around with me just because you feel it would be fucking best for me.” “Is that what you think we’ve been doing? Playing around. Just fucking.” “Wasn’t that you’re idea? Just fuck someone, you said. It was more important that I get laid in your mind than anything else. Then I made the stupid mistake and I trusted you. I let you in. I thought this might be more than just some fling, but clearly I was wrong.” She tries to push past me again, and I have to stop her. Nothing rational is coming out of her right now. She’ll believe me if I can just find the right words. “Of course this was more than a fling. I haven’t been with one person this long in years.” “So it’s an extended fling because we’re not on the same playing field. You played me just like Tanner, telling me exactly what you thought I wanted to hear.” “I never broke that trust. I didn’t lie to you.” “You broke it the second you decided to lie to me about your family. I asked you time and time again to let me in, but you never did. It’s too late, Cash. You should have trusted in me. Like I trusted in you.” It takes everything in me to let her go. She shoves past me, heading down the stairs. I am not able to hold her here, but I follow her down the stairs. This is not going to end. I refuse to let this happen. “Do not compare me to Tanner.” “You both keep secrets, you both play around with my emotions. You play me like a fiddle because this whole thing is all about you.” She ticks each point off on her fingers. With each strike I can feel her temper rising. “In the end, both of you want me to listen to your reasons for leaving me in the dark. Well, I’m done listening.” “So you just pack up and leave, because it’s not worth fighting for? That how you do things? Isn’t that how this went with Tanner?” “You don’t get to say something like that to me.” I give in to the anger and pain that’s been yanking on me since this whole conversation started. One of these days, I’m going to slug my father for this. It’s his fault all of this is happening. If only he’d been a better human being. “See, here’s the thing, I’m not sure what I’m fighting for, because the only thing I know about you is a lie, and I don’t date liars. Have a nice life, which I’m sure you will. There’s a bar full of pretty women just waiting for you every night.” She slams the door on the way out. It bangs open giving me the perfect view of her retreat. I sit on the stairs and for the first time, I want out of this bar. I can’t make myself go back up to the room where Savannah just was. I’m fucked, and for the first time in my life I hate it.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Savannah I had half a mind to go back to my apartment when I got out of Cash’s, but the thought of going back to a place where we’d spent so much time turns my stomach. Instead, I end up banging on my best friend’s door early in the morning. Cassie answers a little bleary eyed, but once she sees me she opens the door and ushers me in. I’d been so careful about sharing my problems with her because of her past, but right now I just want my best friend. “All right, coffee or booze?” she asks. “Coffee.” The alcohol will have me making bad decisions, like running back to Cash and listening to his crazy reasoning behind this decision. I bury my head in my hands and try to block out all of the horrible words I threw at him. Ryder hands me a cup and retreats out of the room. Probably for the best, because right now men are likely to get chewed up and spit out if they come within three feet of me. “You enjoy the coffee. I’m gonna make some plans,” Cassie says. I curl up on her couch and cocoon myself around the coffee. The table Cassie and I found at the flea market does look good in the apartment. Maybe I should move. Or at the very least, redecorate. Starting with a whole new bed. After what feels like millennia, Cassie comes in a stack of clothing under her arm. “Get dressed, we’re going to spoil ourselves rotten.” Essentials Spa could not be a more perfect place for wallowing. It’s a well-oiled machine meant to take in the tense and pore-clogged looking women and turn out beauties ready to make the men of the world bow down to them. I treated myself to every one of their specialties after Tanner. Perhaps I should just buy stock if this is going to become a ritual. Cassie signs us in and comes back with a list of appointments. “I’ve got facials, massages, mani/pedi, and a whole lot of cursing men in general. Where would you like to start?” “How exactly are you supposed to curse men? You’re in a happy relationship.” Cassie purses her lips. “That’s why I brought reinforcements.” She tilts her head toward the open doorway that leads to the spa proper. Shelby, Ruby, and Avery spill out—and bless them, they’ve got alcohol. Shelby, dressed in her trademark white shirt and biker jacket, hands out champagne. Ruby is as chipper as ever. She’s got enough enthusiasm to buoy even my downed spirits. Avery, who has always been more reserved than either Ruby or Shelby, gives me a hug and offers to help me hide the body should I need it. “Brothers? Boyfriends? Men we use for sex? Who do we hate today?” Shelby asks, her trademark smirk twerking at the corners of her mouth and making her green eyes sparkle. Knowing Shelby, she could rant and rave about any one of those subjects. The girl never had a loss for words and never failed to charm the pants off anyone she set her sights on. It’s what made her a shark in the PR world. “Men we fuck,” I say, getting into the spirit of the day. Ruby coughs on her champagne but regains her composure, giving me thumbs up. A little dose of liquid courage, and I start in on the words that have been building up inside me since this morning. “Cash Gardner—if that’s even his name. Who knew with a name like Cash, it’d all come down to money.”

I don’t miss the look that they all share. Most of them have known Cash longer than me, and in the grand scheme of things I’d probably think I was crazy too. There’s no reason for them to tip toe around me. I can handle this. I can. It’s not like I’ve never had my heart broken before. I survived Tanner by myself, thank you very much. If I can get through that, I can get through this. Ruby is the first to a raise her glass. “To stomping on men’s balls.” “In five inch heels,” Shelby says, accepting the challenge. The rest of us raise our glasses. Hours later, I’ve been pampered to within an inch of happiness. Cash could waltz up to me and I don’t think I would even blink an eye. I’m too busy floating in a river of calm. The five of us have reconvened for a mani/pedi in a private room in the spa. Glasses of fruitlaced water and wine have been set out. “You all are so lucky you don’t have brothers,” Shelby says. “Um,” Cassie chimes in. “Older brothers, I should say. Jackson has decided to interrogate every man who comes within five feet of me.” “Just let him walk in on you having sex, it’ll stunt his curiosity real fast,” Ruby says. “That’s so gross it just might work.” “Okay, so humor me,” Avery says, taking a huge sip of wine—the champagne was only the start of the day. I’ve managed to avoid direct scrutiny all day. The girls have been cool with letting me lead the boy trashing discussion, but I have a feeling this is the end of that trend. “What did the sexy bastard do now?” I’m still picking out colors, wine in hand. I take a big gulp of wine. Up to this point, I had been stingy with the details and heavy on the men evisceration. “It’s therapeutic to let it out,” Ruby says when I waver, ready to tell him about that toddler with blond hair and blue eyes who looked so much like Cash. “He’s giving money away to people,” I say, unable to go for the full truth. “Like his tips?” Cassie asks. “Try from his trust fund.” I take a big gulp of wine and continue. “It’s well over eight figures.” I know this because before my facial, I looked up Cash on a few databases Briggs, Meyers, & Associates use. He’s loaded, and his father’s loaded. And the money is about as legit as Tanner Jakes’ career. Ruby looks up from her manicure, “Care to run that by me again? The guys are all loaded, but if he’s holding out.” I pull out my phone and toss it to Shelby so she and Ruby can look at it. “Holy shit,” Shelby practically screams, startling the woman working on her toes. “Sorry. Are you kidding me? Well, that settles it. I will have to give him major hell for this. The boys have been worried about him in that apartment for years. All this time, and he’s the heir to a fucking fortune.” “Asshole in the making,” Ruby agrees. Cassie and Avery are more reserved. While Ruby and Shelby will burn hot in two seconds flat, the other two girls are willing to give the information more than a litmus test. “And did he ever make you pay for something? Because clearly this isn’t just about the size of his wallet.” “His wallet is fine,” I say. “That’s not what I—” Cassie starts a glare already aimed in my direction.

“There’s someone else,” I say, reliving that moment in the stairwell. I’ve done my best to put it behind me, but I can’t stop seeing that woman or that kid. One last time, rip the band aid off. The weight of the secret drags me down, not only because I still see how much the kid looks like Cash, but also the small nugget of hope that he’s innocent of all crimes. “Two someones, actually. He has a kid.” We could have been in a graveyard and the room wouldn’t have been this silent. Whatever the girls were expecting it wasn’t this. At least I’m not alone in this shocker. Cassie’s the first one to break. “I’m gonna fucking kill him.” “He has a what?” Ruby says. “Whatever is left when you’re done with him, Cassie, is mine.” “I’ve got plenty of ideas where to hide whatever’s left,” Shelby adds. Avery is the one to be more circumspect about the whole situation. She drums her freshly manicured nails against her wine glass. The others are already off planning abductions and murder, but I’m stuck on Avery. “As much as I’m ready to strangle the asshole—Cash isn’t stupid. A manwhore, definitely, but he goes the extra mile to make sure he doesn’t have kids.” “He fed me a stupid line about his father and a past. It was almost too good to be true.” “Cassie, what does Ryder say about Cash? And don’t be fickle here. I know you’ve asked Mr. Ryder Cole to tell you all about the guy your bestie is sleeping, with so spill.” Cassie takes a deep breath and looks at me. “Ryder’d stick by him through anything,” Cassie admits through gritted teeth. “And trust me, I grilled him about Cash, but he won’t divulge anything,” Cassie says. “Don’t you think I want to believe this isn’t true?” I say. Cassie’s my best friend, and her doubts have only cracked the hard knot of hate that’s keeping me together. “I know this may be sacrilegious today, but have you thought maybe he was telling you the truth?” Cassie says. “Whose side are you on?” Shelby says, “Look, you want to beat him silly, name a place and time. The baseball bats are on me.” “Where would I even start with him?” I confess, pulling my knees up and resting my head on them. I know I stepped in it with Cash. But everything came flooding back. All of the memories from Tanner just came right back to the front. After Tanner, I didn’t hope that I’d find someone else again, but I did. I thought Cash might have been the final hurdle in my dating life. Then he had to go and lie. It got between us. It’s a part of him that he didn’t think I could handle. “Can I ask you something?” Cassie asks. She sets her mostly full glass of wine aside. “Shoot, I’m just tipsy enough to answer anything you like.” “Have you thought about asking him for the truth?” Cassie says. “What if he lies to me again? What if he can’t tell it to me? He’s been living this lie since he met the boys, what makes me any different?” Had I ever been anything more than someone to get between the sheets with? “He told you more than he told my brother or the boys. Trust me, they know everything about each other. If he trusted you with that I think—and I can’t believe I’m going to say this today—you should hear him out. Cash may be thick-headed, but he’s definitely not a dick.” “Would you let Sebastian back into your life?” “That was below the belt,” Cassie says. She holds her hand up, staying out of this one. “The

difference between Cash and Sebastian is that Cash is actually a good person. He deserves to be heard.” Going through my stuff at home, I search high and low for the contracts for Misty Singh. I had them in my brief case last night... Last night. Shit. Fuck. Damn. This is not what I signed up for. Those are sensitive documents, and as much as I want to say I’ll just get Rob to make another copy, I can’t leave it unattended any longer in Cash’s apartment. I pick up my phone and dial Altitude. My finger hovers over the red dot ready to hang up if a certain bartender answers the phone. There will be no time to grovel, your asshole-ness. “Altitude, this Ryder.” Small victory. “Hey Ryder, it’s Savannah. I’m calling in my favor.” A few pointed and detailed questions later, I learn that Cash is not at the bar and won’t be for at least the next hour or so. I hang up the phone and grab my keys. It will be just a quick in and out. Get the briefcase and leave as fast as possible. Maybe I’ll stop off at the office on the way home, grab the newest set of contracts, and lock myself away for a couple of hours. The whole drive to the club, I’m making plans on how to get my life back on track. This won’t kill me. I won’t let it. Because if I dwell on it too much, I might just forget to get up again. Ryder opens the door for me and says he’ll keep watch while I go get my stuff. Climbing the stairs one last time, I turn the knob and open the door to Cash standing on the other side. He’s still in the sweats he threw on this morning. His blond hair hangs limply in his face, making his blue eyes look even more pathetic. I am not going to fall for his big-sad eye look. I refuse. Can I not catch a fucking break? Nope. Not gonna fucking do this. I turn around and head back for the exit. Ryder is going to get an earful and maybe an eyeful of my fist. He said it was safe, that I wouldn’t have to worry about this excellent specimen of man flesh in front of me. “Savy, wait. Please” “No.” He’ll talk his way back into my life, just like Tanner almost did. “My dad hurt people. A lot of people, and he never paid for any of it. But I saw everything. I ran from it because I couldn’t stand to watch my parents just go on like nothing had changed.” “If a fucking lie comes out of your mouth, I’m gone,” I say, walking past him into the apartment. It’s still just like it was this morning. “Deal.” “Not even going to try and negotiate?” I can’t help but fall back into our own personal joke. “I don’t joke about this.” He walks into the kitchen and opens a cupboard door, showing me a list of names written inside. “This is a list of everyone he screwed over. I know what I’m doing will never be enough. That woman who was here this morning—her parents, what my father did, destroyed her family.” I sink to the floor under the weight of his confession. I don’t want it to make sense, but the pain in his eyes shows the scarring on his heart. So I just let him go on, letting his words roll over me. When the words finally stop, I just stare at him. Cash looks so fragile, he might break if I touch him. Balling my hands into fists, I keep them to myself. If I touch him I’ll forgive him, and I’m not sure I can do that yet. “Say something,” he says when the silence becomes unbearable.

I struggle to find the words. What I want to tell him is I don’t care and that he’s just like Tanner. Nothing he’s doing could possibly make up for this betrayal of trust, but that would be to lay unfair blame on him. He’s not like Tanner. Tanner willingly cheated on his wife with me. Cash is just trying to make up for someone else’s sins. Tanner wouldn’t be that selfless if a catfish jumped out of the river and bit him on the balls. “Savy—” “You can’t keep this up.” Cash opens his mouth and I hold up a hand to silence him. This is my time. “This thing you’re doing, it’s not your peace to make.” “If I don’t, no one will. Besides, I can’t touch that money. It makes me sick.” He runs his hands through his hair. We are feet apart, but it feels like miles. Each of us lost in our own worlds of despair. I get up and move to sit by him, letting his warmth soothe the aches in my heart. “Hey, look at me.” I take his head in my hands. “This is not your responsibility.” “I can’t let them go on like this.” I purse my lips. Cash can’t continue to do this. It will kill him, and he will never be able to save all of the people his father hurt. “Do you remember that night when you told me I was punishing myself for Tanner by dating horrible guys?” “You here to tell me about some unfortunate date of yours? Just to rub it in.” “You’re doing the same thing. There are a million ways you could have handled this. If you really wanted to repay people and move on, the trust could have done this for you. Any third party could set up a payment plan. But you continue to receive the checks yourself and then dole out the payment to punish yourself. This isn’t your battle to fight.” “Someone has to take the blame.” “Yes, but guess what, that person can’t be you. You didn’t do anything wrong.” “My father won’t do anything.” “Have you tried talking to him? Explain it just like this. Force him to see the problems he’s created for his son.” “My dad doesn’t care, he’s lived like this for years. It’s all too important to him. The yachts, the houses, the vacations…he’ll never give it up.” “So make him see. But either way, you can’t keep paying for his sins. The sins of the father and all that.” “You got really philosophical there,” he says, the cockiness dropping back into his voice. Finally, we’re on the right path. I get up from the floor and rummage in his cabinets for the vodka I saw earlier. I find it tucked above the fridge and snag two glasses out of the sink. Coming back to him, I sit cross-legged in front of him and pour two generous shots. “To the future you deserve.” I hold up a glass to him. “This is, like, two and half shots.” “Good thing I have a day job.” “Don’t leave it, because you will never get behind my bar.” “No nepotism for your girlfriend?” I hold my breath hoping that he’ll accept it without worry. “None.” “Well, maybe I can get under your bar,” I say, tipping my glass back. “You deserve a future, Cash, and you can’t have that until you talk to your father about this.” “Would you come with me?”

The question nearly knocks me back as much as the shot. I’m ready to say no, until I remember something Cassie said earlier at the spa. Sometimes you have to go out on a limb for the good ones. I’d been mistaken when I thought Tanner was the one, but with Cash, I’m willing to walk ten miles in four-inch heels and still come out kicking. “Of course,” I say taking his hand. It doesn’t matter what happened yesterday or even the day before, because today in this moment we’re going to be stronger and make it through whatever life throws our way. He pulls me to my feet, and we fit together. This can be it. That improbable ‘it’ that people always reference when they talk about love. I don’t think it can get better, and then he kisses me. With Cash, I’m learning never be sure of the ground you stand on. Just know he’s there to catch you when you fall.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Cash Taking Savannah home is a bad mixed cocktail waiting to happen, but she’s right. I need to give my father one last chance. The drive is easy at first. I’ve never let someone this far into my life. Savannah looks at me, a smile playing along her lips. She fits into this world better than I do. With her flowy dress and designer bag, she looks like the sort of girl my mother might throw at me. Her blond curls are held at bay by a ribbon—my mother will fucking love her. Well, at least a third of my family will. She rests her hand on mine where I clutch the gear shift for dear life. It’s a silent reminder that she’s willing to trust me on this. No one knows we’re coming, not even Tasha, and I expect she’ll be pissed that I didn’t include her in the grand plan. But hell, I didn’t even want this. It was Savannah’s idea. If we were going to move forward, I had to deal with my past. No more running, she said, and I don’t plan on running from anything ever again. I worked through it last night, and then this morning we got in the car. I’m following the familiar path that leads to 2323 Bluebird Lane. I pull up the drive and turn off the car. We just sit there for a few moments, looking up at the house I grew up in. Savannah’s the first to open her door and she looks back at me. She looks perfect in her polka-dot sun dress and heels. Her curls corkscrew all over the place. This could ruin her. Ruin us. I’ve almost accomplished that by keeping this from her, I remind myself with a twinge. Letting her judge for herself seems like the only fair way to let her decide. Savannah reaches back into the car. Looking me dead in the eye, she says, “Cash get out of the car or you’re not having sex for a month.” Laughter bursts out of me before I even fully comprehend what she’s said. “You think I’m lying?” It’s her serious face, the one where she’s definitely been thinking about this too much. I get out of the car. She waits for me on the other side of the car. Silly move, Savy. Trapping her between the car and my body, I lean in and steal a kiss. It burns through me. She’s soft, with a backbone of steel—not the sort to be won over by a simple kiss. I pull back and look her in the eye. She’s short of breath, but there’s no hesitation in her. I’m losing my touch. “Come on,” Savannah says, lacing her fingers through mine. The door looms big and brassy in front of us. This is it my quaint childhood home. Just ring the bell. Savannah squeezes my hand, and I do it. The startled maid walks us through the house. My mother’s in the garden. I keep my head down, not wanting to see Savannah’s reaction to this place. The gardens spread out across the lawn, and my mother is bent over a bed, doing the closest thing to work that she ever does. “Just put lunch on the terrace, Suzette,” she says casually, not even looking up from her flowers. “Afraid I don’t have lunch, Mom.” Her back goes beanpole stiff. She turns to face me, and I think she about has a heart attack of her own when she sees Savannah. Her hand flies first to her hair, and then she remembers she’s wearing

gardening gloves. “Mrs. Gardner, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Savannah says. She doesn’t seem fazed by whatever my mother has to throw at her. Hopefully, Mom keeps her want of grandkids to herself. I don’t need anything else scaring off Savannah. “I wish I could say—I’m sorry…Cassius…” Savannah raises an eyebrow. So I didn’t tell her everything about my upbringing. Someday, I’ll get around to legally changing my name. “Mother, this is my girlfriend, Savannah Sunday.” Saying the word is a big step. There were lots of conversations after I confessed my past, and one of them was the ‘what are we’ one. I haven’t had that conversation since I walked out on my parents. Having it with Savannah, however, just felt right. “I see.” Mom runs a critical eye over Savy, taking in every detail from her designer bag to her heels. If Mom doesn’t approve, it’s going to be hard to get Savannah out the door with her claws coming out. “I’ve heard much about you from Cash. I’m so glad we finally get to meet.” Savannah sashays forward, completely at ease in the surrounding. She gives my startled mother a hug, and then turns back toward me, motioning me forward. The faster I get this done, the faster we can leave. “I’m afraid my son has put me at a disadvantage here. Would you like some tea?” Mother motions toward the terrace, where her lunch has already materialized. Crossing the small space, I meet up with them. Mother looks me up and down--there is hope for your grandbabies yet. If not, I’m happy to practice. I hear lots of practice makes perfect, and if there’s one thing Savannah deserves it’s perfection. “That’d be lovely,” Savannah says, pulling me after my mother, who moves at warp speed. Probably too afraid that she’ll blink and it will all be a dream. She holds onto Savannah like the last rays of the sun, refusing to give into the night. “Cassius, would you go talk to your father?” Mother calls over her shoulder, before turning her full attention back to Savannah. “Savannah and I here need a little girl time.” She threads her arm through Savannah’s and pulls her the rest of the way to the terrace. My stomach tightens. This is the moment I was worried about. Savannah gives me a small wave and calls over her shoulder, “Go get ‘em, Cassius.” “Savannah, how do you take your tea?” Mom asks, with a determined look at me. That would be my cue to leave. I’m not needed here. “Straight up,” Savannah says, giving me a wink. “And maybe with a twist…of lemon.” If my mother isn’t eating out of Savannah’s palm by the time we leave, there is no love in the world. “Now tell me, how do you feel about children?” My stomach hits the tops of my boots --she’s going to leave me over this, I think as I exit the garden. Savannah is going to spend an afternoon with my mother and then look at me and say, ha, you’re so not worth this. My father reclines in a chair in the library, reading The Prince by Machiavelli. Do not make a comment, I think when I see the title, but for him the end will always justify the means. It doesn’t matter who gets stepped on, as long as you get what you want in the end. “Isn’t this a surprise,” dad says, not looking up. “Come to read me a new riot act? Or are you just here to gloat on your moral superiority again?” I take a seat across from him. Before we left this morning Savannah briefed me on how to be a

good negotiator, but when she learned I was a complete mess as a student she gave me three simple rules to follow. I’ve always been a better teacher than I ever was student, but she wasn’t interested in my lessons at that point. Rule number one: get on their level. People like other people when they’re on the same playing field. It makes you feel like equals. “I was hoping we might talk.” Dad closes the book and looks at me expectantly. All right, so we’re talking—positive step forward. “Have you finally come to your senses and want to take up a real profession?” And just as quick we’re two steps back. “What I do is a real profession,” I bite out. The tendons in my neck tighten and I try to focus on not getting lost in his provocation. He wants me to take the bait so he can control the situation, but I’m not here to give into any of his demands. “Six thousand four hundred and twenty-three.” I can’t help but say it, because the number has been burned into every one of my cells. People who believed in my father, who trusted him with their futures and he let them down. Maybe I should include myself in that number. Maybe my father ruined six thousand four hundred and twenty-four lives—twenty-five, if Tasha can’t get her act together. Like hell I’ll let that happen. “Why pay accountants when I have a son who keeps those kinds of numbers in his head? What did I say about your wasted talent?” He opens the book again. Savannah’s second rule for good negotiation, make them hear that you understand their concerns. “I can’t make you feel remorse for what you did. You made a choice and clearly you can live with it easier than I could and while I may not agree with it—I have to live with your decision.” “I’m glad you finally see that now. If only you would see true reason and come join me. I promise you, there’s a better future in actuaries than any dive bar you and your friends might cobble together.” Just like that, my father bounces back to what I expect. The disappointment in my career. A lack of faith in my choices. My temper rises, but this time I put a chain on it. I’m here to fix this, and Savannah’s unwritten rule of negotiation is don’t check your emotion at the door, but don’t let it cloud your mind. “I know that’s what you’d like me to do, but I have to do what I think is in my best interest. Which means if you continue to act like this, and not take responsibility for your actions and help those you’ve hurt, then I’m not going to be a part of this family.” And just when they think they have you, cut them loose. Dad sits up, his color rising. Maybe it was too soon after the heart attack? But then I remember what he looked like in the room. He’s fine, just using the situation to his full advantage. This had to be done. Because I am done with my parents’ particular brand of bullshit. “Is that supposed to be a threat? You’re barely part of it as it is.” “That will end today if we don’t reach an agreement. I won’t stop by, I won’t call, I won’t answer when you or Mom call. There will be no leniency in me until you can come to terms with those you hurt.” “That’ll kill your mother. She’s barely kept it together since you decided to start this whole foolish endeavor.” Spit collects at the corners of his mouth and in a few moments I’m going to be treated to a yelling match from my youth. He holds it in to only come out with: “You’re my son. My only son.” And you raised me on Machiavelli—if this is how I get you to make amends, than those ends will justify my means.

“Yes, I am. If you want a relationship with me, then I suggest you look into your heart and find some way to make it right with those you hurt. Because I can’t be around you or this family until you do.” Check and mate. Where’s my celebratory cocktail? There, I’ve said my piece. I stand and my father’s eyes track me as I rise. In all the years we’ve fought, I’ve never threatened to cut them off. I just ran. Always holding out hope for a reconciliation, I only look back once. He’s picked up his book again. Some things never change, but that doesn’t mean I have to remain stationary. A door closing catches my eye in the hall—Tasha. I walk down the hall and open the door. Her room’s a mess of art supplies and the contents of her closet. “Oh, it’s you. Come to cut us all off again?” I lean against the doorjamb. I was hoping to run into Tasha before I left. There hadn’t been any time to prep for this visit but I wanted her to know that just because Emmett and Martha were out of my life, didn’t mean I was getting rid of her. “Only the dead weight,” I say. “Just wanted to stop in and see if you wanted to come to the opening of my new bar?” Tasha stops and looks up at me. “You’re inviting me?” “No, your evil twin. Have you seen her?” “What about what you said to Dad?” “You’ve got to stop listening to things not meant for you. I promised you, Tash, no matter how I feel about mom and dad, we’re in this together.” I hold my fist out and she gives me a precursory bump. “You gonna tell me about the girl downstairs?” “Maybe.” “Scared I might frighten her off?” “I left her to handle Mom. Whatever you can dish, Savannah will serve it back to you. But you can come to dinner sometime.” “Really? You’d introduce me to your friends?” “I mean you’ve had all your shots…” She slugs me in the arm and I fake an injury. She gives me a hug and I hold onto her. I pause on the terrace and nod to Savannah. She escapes my mother’s claws without issue and joins me. “That good, huh?” she asks, reading me like a book. I shove my hands into my pockets. “Yup.” I always knew it would probably come to this, but in all the years I just couldn’t walk away. Savannah threads her arm through mine and leans on my shoulder. “Come on, I have a way to cheer you up.” She tugs me out of the house, and for once I’m looking at the future.

Epilogue A few weeks later... I’m not officially on for the evening, because a partner can’t always be down in the trenches. But I can’t resist taking at least one turn around the bar. The Library is officially open for business, and the crowds have never been better. People love the old bookstore and can’t get enough of the cocktails. I round the corner and see Savannah sitting at the bar, holding up a small sign that says ‘reserved.’ Her curls fly every which way, a product of our little tryst in the car before we came in. There may not be a corner for her at this bar, but there’s always a spot just for her. I have to stop and look at her. For a long time, I wasn’t sure I was up for the ‘more,’ business, but as long as that ‘more’ is coming from Savannah it doesn’t seem too bad. “What’ll it be?” I ask, grabbing a glass and tossing a bottle behind my back, only to catch it and flip it upside down to pour her some whiskey. “My boyfriend. He’s about six foot two, blond, maybe you’ve seen him around? Sometimes goes by the name Mr. Fuckable. I’d like him dirty with a twist,” she says. I laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.” She downs her whiskey in a gulp and gets up. “Don’t keep me waiting.” She threads her way back through the crowd, her red dress sticking out against the darkness of the club. The guys and Cassie, Ruby, and Avery have gathered in one of our private spaces. The champagne is flowing and bottle service is continual. Savannah talks with Tasha. I was worried the complications with my parents would split Tasha and me again, but we’ve hung out plenty since I parted ways with Emmett and Martha. My father still professes no wrong, and I still send checks to the people he hurt. Spotting me, Savannah leaves Tasha to the other girls. If there’s one thing that makes my stomach drop, it’s the thought that Tasha’s learning anything from these girls. I don’t want to have to pull anyone unsavory out of her bed. “Well, look what I found,” Savannah says, standing toe to toe with me. Wrapping her arms around me, Savannah pulls me in for a kiss. I plant a hand on her ass and pull her tight against me, trapping her roving hand. No matter how many times I take her, I can’t get enough. I didn’t think I’d ever be the one to find a single person, but Savannah makes my mind blister with possibility. “Welcome to the club,” Ryder says, clapping a hand on my back. “What club?” I shoot back. “The off the market club.” Savannah bites my ear–if this what it means to be in this club, very well. I accept. “To the last three amigos,” Parker says from across the room, raising his beer. Jackson joins him in the toast, with a silent toast to Knox. “May we never forget the value of a good time and a fast woman.” Shelby chooses that moment to come in, tugging her normally perfect ponytail back into place. “Where have you been?” Jackson asks. “Brother dear, that is none of your damn business,” she says, before looking Savannah and I up and down. “We’re not here to watch you maul each other. Between you two and those two, who needs porn?”

“Spare me, Shelbs. I don’t want to think about my sister watching porn.” “Then might I suggest you find a new sister?” Their bickering’s only gotten worse over the last few weeks, especially now that Shelby’s made it plain that she’s going to be dating pretty regularly. The guys may be keeping their single cards, but the girls are lining up to lose them. Fast. “Getting a little crowded in here,” Savannah purrs in my ear. “Too bad I don’t live above this bar.” “Dark corners aren’t a bad place.” She arches an eyebrow at me, picking up on exactly what I’m thinking about. I smile, because I’ve never been this happy. “Get a room, you two,” Cassie says. I lean down to kiss Savannah. I’m ready to flip off my friends, but Savannah beats me to it. We’re together. Screw the world. THE END Another Sexy Bastard is on his way! Look for Knox’s story December 2015 Connect with me and stay up to date with all the Sexy Bastard releases! Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/evejaggerbooks?fref=ts Twitter: https://twitter.com/evejwrites @evewrites Sign Up For My Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bj0iTj

Discover the Sexy Bastard series: five friends, one bar, and a whole lot of trouble. From Eve Jagger – out now!

HARD RYDER

CH. 1 There are two smells in the world I love more than any others: a woman right before sex and this warehouse right before a fight. They’re different, of course. There’s nothing like a naked, wet, waiting woman, the scent of her skin salty with sweat but sweet at the same time, like swimming through an ocean of roses. The warehouse’s odor is far less pleasurable, phantoms of last round’s knocked-out teeth, bruised faces, and aching bones making the air heavy, grimy, stifling, like the smell of fresh dirt. But both are thrilling and unpredictable and make me want to explode. Even when it was me in the ring a few years ago, my ribs about to get punched, my knuckles about to crash into someone’s cheekbone, the smell of this place would intoxicate me. Facing off with a guy whose sole intention for the next several minutes is to pummel you into submission is as terrifying as it sounds. And as exhilarating. The policy of bare-knuckles brawls is no shirt, no shoes, big problem standing right across from you. But all I had to do to calm myself was take a big inhale of this warehouse air, let the molecules seep into my lungs, into my bloodstream, and I won every match. I always win. So tonight, after Crutcher beats Miller in an upset, a big win for me for sure, when Tyler tells me that some kid is in for $10,000 and has disappeared, I tell him he’s got to have it wrong. “I would never have let Jamie McEntire run up that kind of tab,” I say. “I’ve seen him around. I wouldn’t give him ten dollars, let alone ten thousand.” When I took over running fight night two years ago, I did a little cleanup from the mess my predecessor left. No five- or six- figure debts to people we don’t know, no credit to anyone who’s welched more than once. We may be an underground operation, but there are standards. There’s also a dress code: women in heels, men in collared shirts, and our crowd is the type who likes to drop a lot of money on both. We have security guards. The bartender will call you a cab if you get too drunk. I run a tight ship. Even the police think so. That’s why they don’t hassle me. Sometimes they even take a try in the ring. Tyler shrugs. “It’s been gradual. Losses on a couple fights, loans to cover him,” he says. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news. But I double checked the ledger, and it adds up.” “Fuck me,” I say, and a blond woman in high heels and a dress so tight she must not have exhaled all night turns toward us. She raises an eyebrow at me, smiles like she might take me up on the offer. And with the way she wraps her mouth around the neck of that beer bottle, keeping her eyes locked on mine as she takes a drink, I might just let her. Tyler’s voice yanks me back to the problem at hand. “So what do you want to do?” he says. “He’s offered his house as collateral.” I shake my head. “This isn’t a swap meet.” Sometimes people think that just because I run an illegal fighting circuit and betting ring, I must be dishonest or inattentive to keeping the books, or maybe just dumb. So they try to take advantage of me occasionally. They think I won’t notice or care if they siphon a little cash or don’t pay in full or don’t pay at all, that I’m just a guy who made his money beating the shit out of strangers while debutantes and their dates made their bets. All brawn and no brains. But they’re wrong. In the ring, I didn’t mind being underestimated. It helped me win. Some spectators think when you look like me, tall, muscular, broad-shouldered, you won’t be agile enough to dodge a right hook. So they bet against you. They don’t realize those muscles aren’t just for showing off to the female members of the crowd—not that I minded when they noticed. Those hard biceps mean you’re strong, and those washboard abs make you quick, and it all adds up to making my bank account big. But as the boss outside the ring, I can’t have people not take me seriously. The Armani suits I

wear on fight nights look damn good on me but they don’t come cheap, so when I loan money I expect to get it back when the handshake said I would. It’s only fair. I’ve got a reputation to protect, not to mention a legitimate business career to support, owning two of Atlanta’s most popular nightclubs, a cocktail lounge, and Altitude, a bar some buddies and I run together. I got to the top flying like a butterfly in the ring, but I stay there because I sting like a bee outside it. And Jamie McEntire’s about to feel what I mean. “You know where this kid’s house is?” I say, clapping Tyler on the shoulder. He nods. “Good,” I say. “You’re driving then. Grab Valero and let him know that as soon as this crowd clears, we’re making a visit.” Tyler leaves, and the woman in the tight dress with the lucky beer bottle approaches. The dip of her neckline is as low as her skirt is short. “Someone should wash your mouth out,” she says. “Sorry if I offended your delicate sensibilities,” I say, smiling. We’re at an underground bareknuckles fight. Fuck is hardly the most offensive thing she’s been exposed to tonight. “Not at all,” she says. “I like a man who talks dirty.” She takes a sip from the bottle, tipping it toward me. “Want some?” I don’t think she just means the beer. Over her shoulder, behind her in the crowd, I see a guy in a decent-looking grey suit. He’s standing with a few other people but his attention is clearly fixed on her, watching. I tilt the bottle back toward her with my index finger. “Who are you here with?” “No one special,” she says, taking a step toward me. “Unless you want some company.” Women. They smell good, they look good, they taste good, but they can be so bad for you. I’ve been Grey Suit back there. Even in the shadows of the warehouse I can read the look on his face, the narrowed eyes, slightly turned down mouth. He’s a guy who knows that just because he’s the one who’s taking this girl out tonight it doesn’t mean he’s going home with her. Back when I was fighting, my girlfriend at the time used the hours I was knocking guys’ blocks off to get her rocks off. She even slept with some of my opponents, who I beat anyway, but still—I don’t know if she was just bored or mean, didn’t love me or herself or both, but when we broke up two years ago, I swore off relationships. My motto is get in and get out, in all ways possible. So Tight Dress standing in front of me, just the right size to straddle my lap in the front seat of my Audi, would usually be the perfect ending to a night. But I can’t abide dishonesty, not even from a one-night stand. Like I said: there are standards. “Your date’s not doing it for you?” I say, nodding at Grey Suit who’s now standing by the door where people are starting to exit. It must be after two a.m. by now and a weeknight, which means most of these people are six hours away from clocking in at the office tomorrow. Thrill seekers by night, executive decision makers by day, that’s a lot of our audience, and even though I’ve never been able to tolerate living that kind of rigid, conventional lifestyle for myself, their money’s just as good as anyone else’s. They may even have a greater appreciation for the brawls, since bare-knuckles fighting is a far cry from whatever uptight Fortune 500 company or corporate law firm they work at. She glances at Grey Suit, then turns back to me. “He’s okay,” she says. That pretty mouth of hers widens. Despite the darkness of the warehouse, her teeth gleam like white stones. “But you’re Ryder Cole.” She runs her hand lightly over my arm. “And I’m willing.” My bicep belies my intention to be behave, contracting instinctively as her fingers linger on my suit sleeve. “To do what?” “Anything you want.” I lean close to her. “I want you to go home with the guy that brought you and fuck his brains out

like a good girl,” I say. “But you can think about me while you’re doing it.” I cross to where Tyler waits by the door. Security will close up. We’ve got business to attend to. Discover Ryder and Cassie’s story. HARD is available now!

Discover the sex and secrets of Hollywood in the hot new novel by J.D Hawkins – available now!

BOOTYCALL: PART ONE

Chapter 1 Dylan Movie reviews are bullshit, but I like to think the one that said I have the 'eyes of a man before the kill and the smile of one who enjoys it' got it right. At least tonight, anyway. I’ve spent almost the entire day working out, and though there’s a dull ache flowing through my body, there’s also that tingle of electricity I get whenever I stand still for too long. A twinge in my muscles that makes me want to move, to find some action. Luckily I know all the right places to find it. I step out of the shower and towel myself off as I walk into the bedroom, grabbing the beer I left on the desk and downing all of it. It’ll take a lot more than beer to cool off the energy that’s gathering momentum inside of me though. There’s a song with a slow beat and a growling guitar playing, and the dusty light of a dying LA sun highlighting parts of my room through the blinds. I grab my phone as I settle on the edge of the bed and spin through the contacts. I pause before hitting dial on a friend. I could dress sharp and head out to the bars of Los Angeles, get plenty drunk, and see where my instincts lead me – most likely my place or hers – but that’s not what I want tonight. I love the thrill of the chase, but I’m ready for action right now. Then there’s ‘Hot Ass,’ ‘Kinky Blonde,’ ‘Finger Sucker,’ ‘Leggy Redhead,’ and all the other girls with talents memorable enough to give them a special place in my contacts, but even that won’t cut it. Tonight I want something dirty. Something new. Something a little dangerous. My body’s thirsting for a new taste. I walk through the long hallway and down the staircase that runs to the gigantic den of the mansion, big and empty but for the expensive toys and random beer bottles lying around. I open the BootyCall app on my phone and it presents me with a big green button, the word ‘chat’ written across it like a big understatement. I swipe it with my thumb and hold the phone to my ear. “Hey,” comes a dark, husky voice on the other end. Now this is more like it. I pour myself some of the whiskey I keep on the coffee table and stretch out on the couch. “Hello there.” “So. What you looking for?” she says, making it clear what she’s looking for herself. “I’m not sure. But I’ll know when I find it.” She laughs, and it sounds like she’s making love to the phone. “I like your accent,” she says. “Where you from?” “I’m Irish.” “Ooh,” she coos appreciatively. “You got money?” It’s not my favorite question, but hey, this is Hollywood after all. If I didn’t fuck girls who said stuff like this I’d be a monk here. “Yeah,” I say, smiling, “I’m fucking loaded. You got a nice rack? Since we’re asking personal questions and all.” “Thirty-four double-dees. As good as money can buy.” Again, it’s a weird turn of phrase, but I’ve heard worse. “So what are you offering?” I ask. She laughs a little, and I can hear her tongue rolling around her lips as she does so. The

combination of a husky voice and my imagination is pretty cock-pulling, and I’m pressing the cold whiskey glass against my boxers to keep my dick from bursting out like something in a monster movie. “I’m offering a whole night of the dirtiest, nastiest stuff you could ever imagine,” she says, breathing into each word like her body’s so hot even she can’t handle it. My imagination is running wild. “We can do it slow…or we can do it fast…I’ll be like hot chocolate in your mouth…” “How can I refuse…” “…for only three grand.” A cold shower could not have crippled my hard-on more. “What?! Are you fucking kidding me?” Her voice is all innocence now. “What’s the matter, honey?” “I thought this was a hook-up app, not a hooker app.” That’s one thing I don’t do. She giggles. “It’s worth it, sugar. If I like you, I’ll even give you a discount.” “Yeah, thanks, but no thanks. Paying for sex kinda kills it for me, you know? Good luck.” I cancel the call and let it show me the big ‘chat’ button again. I take a healthy swig of the whiskey in my glass and decide to give it one more go. I push the big button, bringing the phone to my ear. Someone picks up on the other end, but for a few moments all I hear is silence. “Hello?” I say. Another quiet beat. I’m about to hang up when— “Um…hello?” The voice sounds quiet, feminine, definitely over the age of consent, and too nervous to be a hooker. So far so good. “Well hello there.” It’s not my best line, but her hesitation tells me she’s new at using the app, which means I’ll have to take it slow so she doesn’t hang up before the fun even gets started. “Hi,” she finally replies back. There’s an awkward silence. Wow, we’re off to a great start. “So…” I say, trying to sound friendly. “What’s your sign?” She laughs, and it sounds nice. Genuine, soft, real – the kind of laugh that you don’t get in Hollywood too often. I laugh a bit too. “Truthfully?” she says. “I’m…a Scorpio.” “Oh really,” I reply, drawing out the word, insinuating this actually means something. “Why does everyone always say it like that? I don’t even know what it means! It’s the sign of revenge, right? And jealousy? But that’s not me at all.” “It’s also the sign of sex, death, and reinvention,” I tell her. “You know, like rising from the ashes. Big emphasis on the sex part, as it were.” “Oh.” She giggles nervously, and I can practically hear her blushing over the phone. “That explains a lot, I guess.” “Does it, now?” I’m intrigued. “Explain it to me. I’m all ears.” She huffs out a breath, exasperated. “That’s not what I meant! I meant, it explains why people assume things about me, not that I’m some kind of nympho or something. I mean, it’s garbage, right? Nobody really believes in this stuff.” She laughs again, and I can feel the warmth in it. Or maybe it’s the drink, because at this point I’ve lost track of how many in I am. “How very sensible of you,” I say. “I don’t know if I’m sensible. I mean, I’m talking to a stranger on a booty-call app.” “Booty-call app? I thought this was for ordering pizza.” She giggles again, letting her nerves out, and something about it makes me smile. “Sorry, this is my first time using this. Have you done this before?” she asks.

“What? Spoken to a woman with an incredibly cute laugh? Sure. Not that often, though.” “Haha! Very charming. But I meant used this app.” “A couple of times,” I say, figuring the white lie will help increase her comfort level. “You? Any internet dating, or—?” “Never. It’s not really my…thing. I guess you’d say. This is pretty out of character for me.” “Oh yeah?” There’s just something so undeniably appealing about breaking in an uninitiated new booty-caller, I’m happy to listen to her talk about her lack of experience. “Yeah. I just saw something about it on TV and figured I’d give it a shot.” “People still watch TV?” I tease. “Haha! Yeah…I dunno. It was kinda like…fate. The timing was just a little too…perfect.” She sighs. There’s clearly something upsetting her, and although normally I’d do a 180 at the first sign of baggage in a woman, right now it’s nice to know I’m not the only one having a rough time. “So signs are garbage, but fate is a thing?” “Haha, I know. I’m a mess.” She tries to laugh again, but I hear a tremor in her voice. “Maybe. Aren’t we all?” “I don’t know. You sound like you’ve got it all figured out.” “Believe me, I really don’t.” For some reason, being honest with her is coming to me easily. Partly it’s the whiskey, but she’s just shown me her vulnerability, too. Normally I’d put on my game face and flirt my way past anything heavy, but with the anonymity of this app I can actually just be… myself. “Oh yeah?” Her voice is genuinely curious, coaxing more out of me. And I realize: I want to tell her more. Some part of me needs this. “Yeah. Right now I’m all alone in a house that’s bigger than the neighborhood I grew up in, I’ve drunk an entire bottle of whiskey since I got up this morning, and if this booty-call app thing doesn’t work out, all that’s left for me to do is hit the gym for the sixth time today.” “You still sound better off than me,” she says. “My roommate just kicked me out and I had to move into a studio apartment that’s about the size of my parents’ bathroom, I’m drinking something that’s supposed to be alcohol but which I’m sure is some kind of tractor fuel, and I don’t even know if I’ll have a job to go in to tomorrow. So…yeah.” Her voice catches on this last line, and then I hear her sniffle and take a sip of something. “Sounds rough,” I say, meaning it. “But things could be worse.” “How?” “You could have been connected with somebody else, for one. Rather than this charming drunk Irishman with an absolutely out-of-this-world six pack that you’ll just have to take my word about, unless you’d care to see it for yourself.” She laughs, and I can hear a rustling as she adjusts herself. The nerves are gone. “Confident, aren’t you?” she says, a little sultriness entering her voice. “You’ve got to be, in my line of work.” “And what is that?” she asks. Shit. If I blow my cover, the fun is over. Sure, being a celebrity has its perks, but I want to keep my anonymity intact. I just want to be a regular guy talking to a regular girl – a girl who’s turned on by the person I am, not the person she thinks I’m supposed to be. “Um…animated chicken?” I blurt. “Ha! Right. Don’t ask, don’t tell.” I relax and don’t speak, letting the silence gather some weight. I listen to her breathing, until she

breaks it. “So you’re Irish, you said?” “Yeah.” “I thought this app was supposed to connect with local people?” “Well, I’m in LA. They haven’t banned us from America. Not yet, anyway.” She laughs again. “Sorry.” “I can do an American accent, if it makes you more comfortable.” “Ok. Sure.” I put on my worst Southern impression. “Gurns. Jayzus. Cowbuwoys.” “Enough!” she says, laughing. “Now I’m the one who’s offended.” “Welcome to my world.” This time she’s the one who leaves the silence, and the tension that rises in it is starting to get me going. I’ve been trying to have a proper conversation with people all day and ended up feeling like a chump for it, but this girl has me feeling like I could spend the whole night just listening to her laugh. My mind races trying to put a face to that voice. I don’t even realize it, but my hand is on my cock, massaging the increasing stiffness that’s responding to this girl’s voice even faster than my brain. “I…oh Christ…I probably shouldn’t say this…” she says, after a while. “Say it,” I say, softly. “I…just got out of a relationship. I don’t know what I’m doing…” “Why did you break up?” She pauses, debating whether to reveal the reason. “He cheated on me.” “Ouch.” “With my roommate, my best friend – well, ex-best friend.” Her breath hitches. “Fucking hell,” I say. “That’s cold.” “Hence the lavish new apartment with a dripping sink you can probably hear in the background.” “I thought that was you.” She’s silent. “Sorry, crass joke.” So much for trying to lighten the mood. “No. I liked it. I’m smiling.” “Good, ‘cause if that offends you then we may as well end the conversation now. It only gets dirtier.” “Does it now?” “It does if I have anything to do with it.” I set my empty glass on the table and exhale, slow and deep. The breathing on the phone gets louder. “Tell me what you look like,” I say, my voice low, as if I’m whispering into her ear. “What do you want to know?” she says, her words getting drawn out by her fluttering exhalations. I swallow. My hand goes to my crotch. I’m already way too hard to be wearing boxers still, but I wanna take this slow. And I don’t want to scare her off either. “What color are your eyes?” A pause. “Blue. My turn.” “Green,” I say. “And how tall are you?” “Five six. You?”

“Six two.” I listen to her breathe for a moment more and then take the plunge, keeping my voice strong and steady to keep her in the game. “Tell me what you’re wearing.” I’m not asking— this is a demand. But one that’s as respectful as I can make it sound. Because right now she can either hang up on this call or stay on the line and see just how far we can take each other. I wait. She’s got the phone so close to her mouth I can hear the gentle wetness of her lips as they part, the soft smack of her tongue in her mouth. I can almost visualize her red lips, open and round as she struggles to control her breathing. “I’m wearing…a pink tank top…” “How’s it fit?” I prompt her. “Um. It’s tight…” “Anything underneath?” “No bra.” “Good girl,” I say, and I hear her hiss a little. “Touch your tits, and tell me how they feel. Go easy.” “They’re…” She shifts the phone, and my mind goes crazy imagining what she’s doing to herself. “Big, but not too big. A little bigger than a handful…” “Slowly…” “The skin is real soft…smooth…just firm enough that they’ve got a good shape, just soft enough for you to have fun playing with them…” She stops to giggle nervously. “Am I doing this right?” “Shh. Touch your nipples…roll your finger around them…squeeze them…” I hear her inhale sharply. “Holy shit…” she murmurs. Her arousal is like a lightning bolt to my cock. “What else are you wearing?” I go on. “A pair of tight, black leggings.” “Good,” I growl with approval. “You lying down?” “Yeah.” I hear a rustling sound. “I am now.” “Put your hand down there.” Her response is immediate, a small gasp. “Fuck…I’m so…” “That’s a good thing. Just go with it. Now close your eyes…” “Ok…” “Squeeze your hand between your thighs…” “Yes…” “That’s where I wanna be. Smelling you. Tasting you. Devouring you,” I whisper, with just enough authority in my voice to let her know how much I mean it. My hand’s fully in my boxers now, releasing my cock, which is so stiff even the tightness of my designer underwear can’t strangle it. “Fuck…” she pants, and then I hear her gasping for air like she just ran a marathon. “Stop…stop. This is way too much, way too early for me.” Damn. Game over, and my dick is still hard enough to cut diamonds with. “Ok, yeah. We can take a break. What’s wrong?” “Nothing…nothing’s wrong. That’s kinda the problem.” “You’re gonna have to explain that to me.” “I don’t know anything about you. And here I am fucking…wet…just from the sound of your voice.”

I take a second to absorb her words, but they’re not adding up yet. “Ok? I still don’t see where the problem is.” I laugh, trying to put her at ease again. “I literally just got out of a relationship – like yesterday.” Though my hand’s still on my cock, even I can’t jerk it to relationship talk. She’s feeling guilty, that’s what it is. I can fix that. “Exactly. Yesterday – not today. Not now. Right now you’re a single woman who’s looking for some intimacy, and I’m a single man looking for a night of distraction. That’s it.” She pauses, and I hope she’s getting back in the zone. “Still, it’s…” “You’re rationalizing this, but I know for a fact your body’s telling you something different,” I soothe. “We’re both consenting adults, right? Come out and meet me.” I don’t want to push her too hard, but there’s something in her voice that’s practically begging me to take her out of her comfort zone and give her a night she’ll never forget. I tuck my cock back in my pants and get up from the couch. “I…” She hesitates, still breathing hard. “I want to, but I can’t…” “Take a shower and come and meet me at my place. I live in the hills. Trust me, you’re gonna love it. If not, you can turn around and go home. No harm, no foul.” She giggles a little, and I can still hear how her nerves are unsteady. “This is…so unlike me.” I start making my way around the den, picking up the empty bottles that I’ve left around there throughout the day. I’ve made up my mind: this is the girl I’m going to fuck tonight, even if I have to clean up to do it. “It’s pretty out of character for me too, which is why it’ll be perfect.” It’s partially true, at least. I’ve never had one of these booty-callers come directly to my house before. But for some reason I trust this girl. “This is crazy…” “Come on. If I can make you wet with my voice, just imagine what I can do with my hands. I can be gentle, too.” She laughs again. The anxiety falling away piece by piece. I know she’s not trying to play hard to get, but I have to admit I’m kind of enjoying the chase. “And what happens, exactly? We fuck, and then, bye?” “Put a little emphasis on the fucking part.” “That doesn’t sound like it would work. I’ve never done the whole one night stand thing.” I bring the bottles into the kitchen and make my way back to the den, where I settle on the couch again. “Call it a ‘greasy pancake fuck,’ then.” “A what?” “A ‘greasy pancake fuck.’ You’ve never heard of a ‘greasy pancake fuck’? Don’t tell me I have to explain what a ‘greasy pancake fuck’ is.” “Would you stop saying ‘greasy pancake fuck’?” “Sorry.” I let the silence hang in the air. “Ok,” she says, giving up. “What’s a ‘greasy pancake fuck’?” “I’m glad you asked,” I say, with a smile she can probably hear. “Well you’re single now, and soon enough you’ll be dating again; seeing what the world has to offer beyond that ex of yours – who sounds like a real scumbag by the way. You’ll be meeting guys, living life, and having sex. Well, if

you come over tonight, it’ll be the ‘greasy pancake.’” “The ‘greasy pancake,’” she repeats, unconvinced. “Right. The first pancake you make of a batch, the one that’s just there to soak up all the grease. You’re probably angry at your ex right now. Maybe depressed. Maybe lost. You could spend weeks getting over him. Flicking through the photographs, reliving the arguments in your head, throwing out the fluffy stuffed animal he bought you for your birthday that you thought was cute but was actually just a last-minute purchase at the gas station.” She laughs. “It was a keychain, actually. And some wilted flowers.” “Or, you can come over here, and just fuck all of that shit away. A big blow-out. Just let yourself loose, and cut yourself off from the past. Mentally, emotionally.” “Physically,” she adds. “Exactly.” She pauses, and I hear her inhaling deeply as she considers my argument. “You make it sound pretty easy.” “Because it is.” “I barely know you though. We’ve spoken for – what, twenty minutes?” I glance at my phone and realize, to my shock, it’s been almost forty. “What’s the difference if it’s twenty days? The only thing that happens when you wait too long is you miss out. You’re frustrated, I’m bored – the stars are aligned right now. And I like you.” “There you go with the astrology again.” “Like you said – it’s fate.” She sighs. “If you feel uncomfortable at any moment,” I say, “you have my permission to kick me in the balls and run away. Just don’t steal any of my stuff, please.” I wait for what feels like years until she answers again. “Ok. But I don’t even know what you look like.” “Believe me, you won’t be disappointed.” I give her directions to my house, and we break the call. I toss the phone onto the table and lie there for a few moments, staring up at the ceiling. Her voice is still echoing in my mind, that colorful laugh, and the stuttering gasps. I’ve been called a superficial bastard many times in my life, but if those people could see how turned on I am right now by nothing but a disembodied voice and a snappy wit they’d retract their statements. Ok, maybe it’s still true, and maybe I’m still hoping she’ll be a knockout, but frankly, even if she isn’t, I’m ready to put in a prize-winning bedroom performance on her. I get up and shake my limbs like a prize fighter getting ready for the fight of his life. My balls are aching from how fucking hard she got me, and it’s all I can do to save myself for when Miss Mysterious shows up. “Shit,” I mutter to myself, as I take out a bottle of nice wine and some glasses, “what if she doesn’t even show up?” I stamp the thought all the way into the back of my mind – like I do most things these days – and jog on up to the second floor to change. I get dressed, comb my hair, and go back downstairs. I put a little music on in the den, something slow, but edgy – none of that sugary shit. I like a little dirt in my music. Then I proceed to walk around the room, checking my watch as I pace like I’m scared of getting stood up in my own home. I stop as soon as I hear a sound, not sure if it’s real, and too involved in my own imagination to

hear it properly. Was that a car door slamming? I hear footsteps on my porch. And there goes the fucking doorbell. What happens next? Dylan and Gemma’s sexy adventure continues in BOOTYCALL: PART ONE Out now!

Acknowledgements Writing these acknowledgements were harder than writing a book. You don’t want to leave anyone out, nor do you want to sound like you are giving a speech at the Oscar’s. So this time around, I am going to keep it short and sweet and hope like hell I don’t forget anyone! To my son and daughter…thank you for still claiming me as your mother, even though I have been so engrossed with Cash and Hard that I haven’t been around. I promise you each a day off from school doing whatever you want with my undivided attention! To my husband...thank you for supporting this dream of mine. I am the luckiest girl in the world to have you. To Kylie with Give Me Books…even with book two under my belt, thank you for still holding my hand. I promise by book three I will be a pro at this! To Emily at Gossip Girls PR…thank you for all the advice you’ve given me and taking on Cash. Your friendship and support knows no bounds. To Kendra Needs…I might not always catch every post you do, but thank you from the bottom of my heart for supporting me and these Sexy Bastards. Hilary, Liz, and Samantha…thank you for your kind words, wisdom, knowledge and guidance. I appreciate it more than you will ever know. To Jenn Watson…to say I adore our friendship would be an understatement. I love you dearly, and I can’t imagine what my days would be like without hearing your cheery voice! To all the bloggers and reviewers who supported Hard and are so excited that #CashIsComing. I know I don’t ever say it enough, but thank you. We authors really would be nowhere without you. To all the authors I have met along the way…thank you for the advice and knowledge you have bestowed upon me. You have no idea how much it has helped. And lastly, to my circle of best friends…you know who you are. I would not be here right now without your support, well wishes, patience, and love. No one is as fortunate as I am to have each of you in my corner. Eve xx Uploaded by [RAL] [BЯ] center>