22

Britta

When it comes time for Elyse to open her gifts, a sense of dread overwhelms me. Did Cash take back the gifts we bought? He never was fully on board with buying her that choker. I probably pushed him too hard on that.

Well, that and in a hundred other ways.

So much regret fills me when I think of all the times I’ve pushed Cash’s buttons on purpose. All because my pride got slammed when he kissed, then ditched me. This whole time I’ve been thinking he’s some player who gets with so many women he could never remember them all, when really, he was nursing a broken heart.

The way Jules and A.J. put it, he wasn’t ready to date until now.

Until me.

That should count for something, right? Maybe he doesn’t remember our make out, but he knows me now. And likes me. Or at least…he did. Before I flat out ran from him.

I’m saved from further self-deprecation when Jules calls for everyone to gather round. Elyse’s bubbly laugh is infectious as she starts tearing away at her wrapped presents. I settle at the back of the room, far enough away from Cash that I won’t have to watch his expression when she opens the gift he recently purchased.

And from where I’m positioned behind him, he won’t have to see my disappointment when she doesn’t open the one we chose together.

I got her something small on my own, hoping it would compliment the choker Cash bought. Oh, well. I guess I can always go back and grab her another to complete the look.

After half the gifts are opened, Elyse reaches for a gift bag and pulls out a three-book fantasy series. “Thanks, Uncle Cash,” she says, laughing. “I had no idea you bought me this!” By her fake surprise, it’s obvious this was the thing he got for her while they were out today.

“That’s not all though,” Cash says. “Look down in the bag.”

Elyse’s brow furrows as she digs inside. She pulls out the candle first, and gives it a sniff, then the choker. My heart jolts with delight. “Oh my gosh,” she squeals. “This is gorgeous!” Holding it out for her mom to see, she beams. “Mom, isn’t this beautiful?”

“Wow, it really is.” Jules takes it from Elyse. “Want me to put it on you?”

“Yeah, please.”

As Jules claps the necklace behind Elyse’s neck, she directs her attention to her brother. “Did you snag this while she wasn’t looking or something?”

“Nah, I got that the night Britta and I went shopping together.” Cash turns, and once again, I feel swallowed by his dark gaze. “She helped me pick it out.”

Emotion clogs my throat, and I press a hand to my chest.

“Thank you so much, Britta!” Elyse chimes.

My barely audible you’re welcom e comes out scratchy, but I can’t help it. I’m touched he didn’t take the gift back.

She moves on to the next gift, but Cash’s gaze never leaves mine. And for once… I don’t want it to.

***

“I think it’s safe to say the party was a success,” Cash says, coming to stand beside me at the sink.

“Yeah.” I smile. “It was.” This is the closest we’ve been all night, aside from when our mutual friend group was hanging out in the kitchen earlier. I’m still not sure why I spoke up like I did to compliment him, but I don’t regret it. Not after overhearing what he said to A.J.

My heart splintered at the lingering pain in his voice when he said, I won’t be like my dad . Shock, guilt, and more than a little confusion have been warring inside me since, twisting my stomach into an excruciatingly tight knot. Especially after he said he’d been chasing after me.

I could groan in agony with how childish I’ve been behaving.

Cash swipes up the towel I’ve been using to dry the dishes and holds it out toward me. I send him a curious look.

“What?” he asks. “Never seen a man dry dishes before?”

“No one but my brothers.”

That has his mouth forming into a slow, dare I say, seductive smile. “How many brothers do you have?”

I stare at him a moment, trying to get a read on why he’s asking about my family. If he’s given up on chasing me like he told A.J., there’s no reason for him to delve deeper into my past or my life. Then again, maybe he’s just trying to make conversation.

His eyebrows lift, as if prodding me to respond, and I find myself wanting to.

I hand him a clean dish, then dip my hands back into the soapy water for another. “I have three brothers. I was the only girl.”

“Oof,” Cash says, taking care to dry off the dish and neatly stack it on the counter. I have to admit the man has nice taste in dinner plates. “So were you… spoiled ?” The look he gives me says he already knows the answer to that, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“I suppose that’s a possibility,” I say, attempting an innocent smile. He chuckles, and I let out a sigh of mock exasperation. “It’s also possible that my brothers dubbed me with the nickname Britta the Brat growing up.”

“Ouch.” Cash smiles wide at that.

“My brothers are good guys, though, even if they did pick on me quite a bit.”

“What are their names?” When Cash reaches for another dish, I place it in his hands and don’t miss the way our skin brushes. I retract hastily.

“Hunter is the brother I’m closest to…we like to call him Hunt. We’re two years apart, and as kids, we were either getting into mischief together or fighting with each other like it was our job.”

Cash nods, that same smile still on his face, giving me hope he’s actually interested in learning this information. “And what does he do?”

“He’s a performer, actually, like me. I mean… like I was .” There’s only a slight twitch of pain now when I mention my past life as a dancer. I shake off the feeling and continue. “Don’t know if you’ve ever heard of sword swallowing?”

Cash’s hands still, and he blinks at me. “ Sword swallowing ?”

A giggle slips out. “Yeah. He does that and other sword play acts when he’s not working at his local nursing home.”

“So,” Cash drawls. “Working at the nursing home is his…side job?”

I lift a shoulder as I swipe the sponge over another dirty dish. “He would consider it that way, yes. Especially since his social media following has skyrocketed in the last few months. He just told me that he was offered a permanent position with a traveling Renaissance Faire, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to take it.”

Cash cocks his head at me, and I wonder if he thinks my brother’s passion is weird. If he does, he doesn’t say it aloud.

“You think that’s odd, don’t you,” I prod.

“Not at all. I’m actually kind of jealous.” When I chuckle, he adds, “I’m serious. I wish I had the guts to swallow a sword.”

I think back to all the times Hunt has pushed past what others perceive as normal boundaries and smile. “He is sort of a dare devil.” I’ve always loved that about him, though.

“Would he make good money traveling with the fair?”

“From what I understand, it would pay pretty well. But swordplay isn’t always lucrative, so it’s good to have a fallback plan. And he enjoys working at the nursing home. He’s invested in the older people’s lives there and loves to help others. He’s always been sort of a caretaker at heart like that.”

“That’s commendable,” Cash says. “What does his wife think about his…sword play?”

A little laugh shudders through me. “Well, he’s never been married. But he does have a daughter. My niece, Daphne. She’s five and the cutest thing ever. Wish I got to see her more.” Cash remains silent, giving me room to explain. “Hunt was a bit…reckless, I guess you could say. But having Daphne changed him for the better.”

“I see,” he says without a hint of judgement. “And the others?”

“Wolf is the youngest. Always the fun one,” I say, feeling a grin stretch across my face. “He’s five years younger than me and a total goofball. Teaches high school English and coaches the football team back home. Oh, and he plays the guitar in a local band.”

“Sounds like a cool guy.” Cash takes another dish from me and dries it off.

“Of course you’d think so, Mr. I’m so cool because I play the drums and ride a motorcycle .”

Cash laughs at the fake man voice I use to mock him. “What can I say, I have some excellent hobbies.” His humor dies down as he dries off another dish. “And what about the last brother?”

“Bodin? He’s the oldest. The responsible one. Joined the military at twenty and made it a career.”

“So did my dad.”

I pause, a flicker of warmth swelling in my chest. “Really?”

“Mmhm. He loved serving his country.”

I don’t know much about Cash’s dad, other than that he was a good one, but it’s nice to know that he and my brother share a commonality. For whatever reason, it gives me hope that maybe Cash and I can find common ground as well. Even if I did completely destroy any chance of there being something romantic between us.

“Bodin loves it too,” I say, pulling the plug in the drain now that all the dishes are washed. “Says it’s all he ever wants to do. He’s an Air Force chaplain.”

“A chaplain?”

I chuckle. “Surprised that I’d be related to someone who dedicated their life to God?”

He shakes his head, but his growing smile gives him away. “It’s not that, it’s just…you don’t hear of people wanting to serve in that way too often. It’s noble. I bet you’re proud of him.”

I think back to all the talks Bodin and I have shared. Long nights spent sitting on the roof back home, sharing a bag of chocolate-covered almonds—his favorite. Those memories make me miss him terribly. “I am. Even if I haven’t always made him proud…I still think he’s awesome.”

Cash’s expression softens as his warm eyes flit over my features. “I have no doubt that you make him proud every day.”

Without really meaning to, I allow Cash’s compliment to sink in. Maybe it’s because my life has taken innumerable hits I didn’t see coming, or maybe it’s because I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I’m nearing my mid-thirties, single, and no closer to knowing how my life is going to turn out…but I’ve lost some of my self-confidence.

I want to believe that I’ll make the right choice concerning my career—whether it’s choosing to stay in design or making the shift to being a dance teacher. I want to hope there’s a fighter left inside me who still deserves to be loved.

I want to believe Cash is right.

“Thank you,” I say, fidgeting under his attention, knowing I can’t hang around his place all night. Though I’d love to continue listening to him say more nice things about me. “I’d, uh, better get going.”

And I should. I really, really should.

But now that it’s just the two of us, alone in his house, all the attraction I felt for him when we first met rises to the surface. And knowing that, at least for a while, he wanted me… It’s as if fire is zinging through my blood, pulsing with the need to be near him…to touch him, to trace each of the many tattoos along his arms…

“I was actually wondering if you’d like have your first lesson.” Cash asks, and almost immediately, his cheeks deepen a shade. “On the drums, I mean.”

A slow smile pulls at my cheeks before I can stop it. “You were serious about that?”

“Of course.” He crosses his arms, biceps straining against the soft fabric of his dark gray T-shirt, and leans back against the kitchen counter. “If you were serious about wanting to learn, I’d be happy to teach you.”

I bite my lip as I think this over. On one hand, I really would like to learn how to play, simply for the fun factor. On the other hand, being alone with Cash is a bad idea with how my body wants me to jump straight into his arms.

That attraction grows by the second the more I stare at him.

“I would like to learn, but—”

“All right, then.” He claps his hands together like it’s settled. “Let’s go.”

And me being the sucker for the hot, wrong-for-me type of guy that I am, I clench my mouth shut and follow him into his basement studio.

***

“I’m not sure what I was expecting down here, but this wasn’t it,” I say, staring at the state-of-the-art recording studio, complete with the soundproof room his drums are set up in. “Do you like actually record music down here?”

He chuckles. “Why else would I have all this equipment?”

I spin toward Cash as fast as I can in my clunky boot, suddenly seeing him in a new light. “And do people get to listen to this music you record?”

He scratches his beard with a shrug. “Not really. It’s mostly just for me.”

There are so many questions I want to ask, so many thoughts filling my brain. But the only thing that pops out of my mouth is, “Okay, teacher. Let’s get this lesson started.”

His perfect lips form a smirk. “Promise to be a good student? No…” Dark eyes skate down my body and I suppress the urge to cross my arms. “Sass?”

“Oh, there will most definitely be sass.”

He hums, a deep rumbly sound that sends warmth straight to my belly. “I was hoping you’d say that.” A small zing of victory flies through me as Cash brushes past me and opens the door to the soundproof room.

“I knew you secretly enjoyed my sass.”

He chuckles as I step past him, then he closes the door and grabs a rolling stool positioned at the keyboard along the far wall. “I’ve never been good at keeping secrets.”

If that’s true, how can I be mad at him for forgetting our make out? If Cash is anything, it’s forthright and honest. If he’d known I was the same girl, of course he would’ve said something…right?

“Ready when you are, Britt.” His words shouldn’t fill me with so much warm anticipation, but they do anyway. Even more so when he sits down behind the large, fancy-looking drum set.

“Do I get to see you in action first?” I ask. “So I get an idea of what I’ll be doing?”

Cash nods as he picks up the drumsticks, spinning one deftly between his fingers. “Do you want ear plugs first, or—”

“No, I’m good.” I wave him off. “I’m actually looking forward to having a front row seat.”

His smirk is back as he runs a hand through his long, undone hair and seems to settle in. “All right. This is something I came up with a while back.” That’s all the warning I get before he starts banging away on the drums in a perfectly timed rhythm, creating a beat that’s both invigorating and soothing.

Crisp. Clear. Direct. Just like him.

It lasts all of a couple minutes, and as soon as he’s done, I wish for more.

He leans back and tucks his dark hair behind his ears. “So there you go. Just like that.”

I shake my head, smiling like an idiot. “Just like that.”

In one quick motion, he hooks his foot under the other rolling stool and skates it toward him, pointing to the seat with a drumstick. “Sit.”

Now knowing he enjoys my brand of sass, I mock salute him. “Yes, sir.”

That earns me another deep chuckle. But all the fun and games fade away when I lower myself down onto the seat directly in front of him. Knowing he’s behind me, looking over my shoulder, makes me more self-conscious than I have any right to be.

“Okay, we’ll start slow,” he croons in that deep rasp I can’t help but love to listen to. “What I want you to remember is that a lot of what makes music so special is that everyone has their own unique rhythm. Just like with dancing. Try and tap into that once you start.”

A scoff-like laugh leaves me. “You say that like there’s some deeply hidden musical ability lurking somewhere inside me”

Cash’s stool creaks as he moves closer, the heat of his body pulsing toward me. “Everyone has rhythm, Britta, even you. Especially you. I’ve seen the way your body moves to music.”

Heat rushes through me, forcing me to bite my lip to keep a ridiculous smile from creeping to my face.

“All right. Take these.” Two drumsticks appear in front of me, and I grab them.

“Like this?”

“Yep, that’s perfect. Tap this and get a feel for the sound.” He points to the drum to my right, and I do as he says. “Good. Now this.” He points to another. I tap it with the stick and smile at the sound it makes. “Now this.” He directs me to the brass cymbal piece, and I do the same thing. “Now tap your foot on this.” He points to the pedal at my feet. When I press into it, it creates a loud boom.

“Good. Now we’re going to find the beat,” he says. “It might take a few tries, and that’s okay.”

I awkwardly hover the sticks above the drums, not quite sure which to hit first.

He scoots even closer and take my wrists. “Here. Like this.” His rough palms rest against my arms, crossing them and directing them downward in short, jerky movements.

Bum bum, tap. Bum, bum, tap. Bum, bum, tap.

“Like that?” I ask, leaning into him, pretending to ignore the way his chest bumps against my back each time he moves.

“Just like that. Feel it?”

“Kind of.” I bring my hands to a halt, earning his disapproving hum.

“You can’t stop yet; you’re just getting started.” Again, his hands come around my wrists. “Keep these loose.” He wiggles them, and I snort out an unladylike giggle. “Okay, this time I’ll get you started and then I’m going to let go. You’ve got the beat down; just close your eyes and feel the rhythm of it, okay? It won’t feel awkward once you get the hang of it. Pretend like I’m not here and it’s just you and drums.”

I drag my eyes heavenward and pray for strength. If this man thinks I’ll be able to pretend he’s invisible while he’s touching me like this, he’s not as smart as I thought.

Positioning my arms like before, he guides them, and we’re tap , tap , tapping on the drums again.

“Are you closing your eyes?” he asks above the noise.

I wasn’t but I do now, trying my best to focus on the beat like he instructed. Bum, bum, tap. Bum, bum, tap.

“Good. Keep going.”

Feeling emboldened by his encouragement, I let the rhythm take over and lean into my instincts. I never envisioned how amazing it would feel to experience this, but the longer I do it, the more right it feels. Minutes pass while I play, loving this feeling of control.

Vaguely, I’m aware of Cash and the fact that he’s nudged closer. Then his hand slips around my waist, and it’s as if he’s holding me against him. The logical part of my brain says to stop, thank him for the quick lesson, and leave. But the affection-starved part of me doesn’t listen to logic. No, that hopeless romantic burrows closer to the man behind me, letting him envelop me in an almost embrace.

“You’re good at this.” Cash’s voice sounds near my ear, and I tip my head back toward him.

“You think so?”

“I do.”

Something about his gravelly rasp has me halting the sticks in midair. The hand Cash has on my waist edges over my stomach, and I stop it with my own.

“Cash.” Indecision wars within me. If I let him touch me like this, he’ll get the wrong idea. But…I want him to touch me like this. Desperately . It’s all I’ve wanted since I’ve known him.

Warm breath skitters over my neck and shoulders as his murmur rumbles behind me. Close. So close . “Do you want me stop?”

I inhale a shaky breath, squeezing my eyes shut. Do I? No. Just like I never wanted to stop kissing him the night we met. Like I never wanted to stop fantasizing about him after that night in hopes that someday we’d meet again. But he’s still never acknowledged that it happened. And I refuse to let my heart take another hit by falling for someone who isn’t good for me.

Cash is a good person, there’s no doubt about that. But skirting around the truth isn’t good for me .

“Britta.” His low voice trips me out of my thoughts, as does the way his chin rests against my temple. “I asked you a question.”

“No,” I say on an exhale. “I don’t want you to stop, but—”

Gently tilting my chin toward him, his half-lidded, hazy gaze connects with mine. “What is it? Why do you keep putting up the stop sign every time our attraction takes over?” He searches my face, skimming his thumb along my jaw. “Don’t lie to me and tell me you don’t feel this.”

I open my mouth to speak, but he stops me again. “And don’t say something snarky.”

That brings a smile to my face. But it falls the instant I realize that I need to be totally and completely honest with him before this goes any further. Now is the time to tell him the truth.

“I won’t let myself give in to you again. Because being ghosted by you…being forgotten.” I give my head a tiny shake. “It was the worst.”

His eyes narrow for a split second. “What are you talking about?”

I so badly want to scoff in his face, to lay into him. But how can I if he really doesn’t remember me? It’s embarrassing to have to address this, but if I don’t clear the air now, I’ll regret it forever.

“I’m talking about the night we met. After the concert. When we…” I swallow. “We kissed.” There’s a raw edge to my voice that I wish wasn’t there. But exposing my hurt has never been easy.

“After the concert…” His voice trails off as his gaze lands on the drums and darts back and forth. “ After the concert .” His face contorts into a wince, and his hand goes to rub his forehead.

“Cash? Are you okay?”

His dark eyes blink open, then slowly lift to my face. For a second, he just stares as if he’s seeing me for the first time. And then— “Blackberries.”

“Huh?”

“For weeks, I couldn’t—” He abruptly cuts himself off. “Can I just try something?”

“Um…I guess—” Before the words even leave my mouth, Cash’s lips are slanting over mine.

Both of his calloused hands grip my face before sliding into my hair, loosening my ponytail. I’m instantly breathless, fighting for air, willing my lungs to start working again, when suddenly he pulls back.

“It’s you.”

I blink, stunned. “It’s me?”

Cash nods, resting his forehead against mine. “It’s you, Britta. You’re the girl from my dreams.”

I swallow down any last reservations I might’ve had and twist to face him more fully. “If you mean that, you’d better kiss me again.” And when he does, I’m no longer wondering if being alone with him is a good idea. I’m convinced it was the best worst idea I’ve ever had.