Cash's Fight(43)

If she wouldn’t talk to Knox, then Rachel would.

“Why did you stop by?”

Rachel told her of Pastor Patterson’s request.

“I told him no because Brooke hates my cakes. She tells me so all the time. Give him the bakery in Jamestown’s number.”

Rachel sighed. “It’s an anniversary cake. I think he’s planning a surprise party. Her favorite is chocolate.”

Willa sighed. “Have him text me the size and how he wants it.”

“Okay.” Rachel felt guilty for getting her to change her mind, but she knew she would have been the one he asked to drive to Jamestown to pick it up. She was slowly becoming their errand girl.

She stayed and had dinner with Willa, worried Lewis would come back.

She was tired when she finally let herself into Mag’s house. Taking a quick shower, she fell into bed exhausted, promising to let herself sleep late in the morning. Lily’s day was tomorrow.

Rachel stretched out on the soft mattress, letting her mind go back through her day. She reminded herself to stop by and talk to Knox about Lewis. She didn’t trust Lewis around Willa. She underestimated her attractiveness, and he had been one of the worst bullies in town. If Willa couldn’t get his ass under control, Rachel would see that someone else did.





Chapter 15



Rachel padded barefoot into the kitchen. Yawning, she started the coffee, surprised Mag hadn’t already. She pulled a cup from the cabinet.

“Grab one for me.” Cash slowly walked into the room.

Rachel screamed, nearly dropping her cup. “What are you doing here?”

“This is my grandmother’s house, remember?”

Rachel gritted her teeth at his smartass reply. “I mean, why aren’t you at the clubhouse?”

“I’ve been away from Mag for so long I thought I would stay with her for a few days. I don’t know how long I’m going to last on that broken down mattress, though.”#p#分页标题#e#

Rachel poured her coffee. “I believe it was one of her flea market finds.”

Cash grimaced, carefully folding his sore body into a chair at the kitchen table. “Did you forget about mine?”

Stifling the urge to tell him to get it for himself, she got another cup and poured his coffee before setting the cup down in front of him.

She picked her cup up and turned to leave the room.

“You’re not going to stay and keep me company?”

“No. Where’s Mag?”

“She had a doctor’s appointment this morning. Her neighbor took her.”

“Oh, she didn’t mention it yesterday.”

“I guess she forgot.”

Rachel left the room, going to the back room of Mag’s house that had been given to her to take care of the new clippings she had collected. It didn’t have as many windows as the greenhouse at her brothers’ house, but it had the advantage of not being at their house.

“Wow, how many plants do you have in here?”

Rachel began watering her plants, rotating from the ones she’d watered yesterday. “Over one hundred twenty-six.”

Cash walked farther into the room. “Any weed?” he joked.

“No. If you want that, you’ll have to go see Greer.”

“No, thanks. He would probably lace it with cyanide,” Cash said mockingly.

“No, he wouldn’t. He would just lace it with cat shit.”

Cash’s mouth dropped open. Rachel had to choke back her laughter. She would take a bet The Last Riders would be finding another source for their weed. It would hurt, too, because her brothers might be assholes, but they produced the best-tasting weed in the state.

He reached out a finger to touch a fragile plant. “What’s this?”

“Pipewort.”

“If you’re so interested in plants, how come you didn’t go on to college?”

“I did, for two semesters. I didn’t like it. I’m taking a few classes online now, though.” Rachel didn’t tell him how far she had actually progressed with her degree; it wasn’t any of his business. She wasn’t about to fawn all over him just because he showed a sudden interest in an important part of her life.

She had been gradually moving down the row, watering the plants until she came to him. Rachel looked at his lean body without a shirt, with loose-fitting jeans, and felt absolutely nothing. She lifted her clear eyes, staring him in the face steadily until he moved back, burying his hands in his pockets, so she could continue watering her plants. If he’d thought she was going to see his body and melt in a puddle at his feet, she had just proved him wrong.

She didn’t try to make conversation with him, although she did answer his questions with monosyllabic replies.