Chance climbed into the truck, knowing he was a coward. He glanced at the house where Boots stood in the doorway watching him. The best thing he could do was leave. Get out of Cassie’s life. Do what he had to do. And then head to Vegas for a two-week binge of wild women, strong drink and lots of gambling. Except never seeing Cass again tore at his heart. The thought of touching another woman held no appeal. That left booze and poker, and he wasn’t a big fan of either.
“I’m sorry, Cassidy Morgan. I’m sorry I’m not the man you deserve.”
Ten
“No.” Cass glared at the man sitting across from her in the booth at Nadine’s diner.
“You aren’t thinkin’ this through, sugar.”
“No, Boots. I can’t take your money.”
“Honey, your daddy was my best friend. He was more like my family than my own blood. And so are you. Family helps family.”
Cass refused to look at his earnest face. Her untouched breakfast cooled on the plate as she drew desultory designs on the table from the condensation ring left by her ice water glass. “Sandra agreed to box up the stuff I want to keep and ship it, and then have a tag sale to dump the rest. I gave notice so I should get my apartment deposit back and the utility deposits will pay off the final bills I owe up there.”
“You aren’t going back to Chicago?”
She hated the hope she heard in his voice. She’d done a lot of thinking in the few days since her firing. She loved Chicago. Loved her job and her dinky apartment and the wind whistling off the lake so cold it could cut. She hated the heat and the dust and smells of living on the ranch. The dirty, back-breaking work. Didn’t she?
“I can’t afford it right now, Uncle Boots. Not until I get things settled here.” She glanced up. “No. I’m still not going to take your money. You need it. Daddy wanted you to be comfortable. So do I.”
“Honey, I don’t need much. You’re just as stubborn as Ben. Always gotta do it your own way.”
She shrugged and dropped her gaze to the water doodles she’d made.
“What? My cookin’ not good enough for you, Miz Cassidy Anne?” Nadine had appeared, coffeepot in hand, and her voice held not a lick of chiding. “You look like you lost your best friend, hon. You wanna tell ol’ Auntie Nadine about it?”
Try as she might not to, she felt compelled to look up at the woman. Concern radiated in Nadine’s expression even as the skin around her eyes crinkled from her friendly smile.
“Everything looks better with a full stomach and a cup of hot coffee.”
“I don’t think buttermilk pancakes will solve my problems, Nadine.”
The woman shooed her over and plopped down on the booth’s bench beside her. “But sometimes, talkin’ things over with friends does. Boots told me a bit of what’s goin’ on. I’m sure sorry for your troubles. I know your daddy didn’t figure on this crap happenin’. He was a planner, Ben Morgan was. Always one step ahead of life in his thoughts. We just need to do the same.”
For a moment, anger welled up. How dare Boots discuss her business with a stranger! But then she saw the expression on his face, and things cleared up. Nadine wasn’t a stranger. Not to Boots. He was sweet on the woman. And Nadine returned those feelings.