The Closer You Get (Fidelity #1) Read online

  “I’m hungry,” Rye said.

  “Yup,” Cash replied.

  “Want some donuts?”

  “Yup.”

  “Do we have donuts?”

  “Nope.”

  “We should get some.”

  “Yup.”

  Rye changed the channel. A half hour later there were still no donuts and Rye was still hungry. “Let’s go out.”

  “Don’t feel like it,” Cash said.

  Rye turned and punched him in the arm. “Did you fail to get lucky last night? Are you feeling scorned? Alone? Well, join the fucking club. Now let’s go to that bakery where that hot blonde works and get something to eat.” He stood and grabbed Cash by the front of his t-shirt, hauling him to his feet and shoving him back toward the bedrooms.

  Rye went to his and put on jeans. Then he decided to take them off and shower because as miserable as he was, he knew for a fact that there was a hot blonde at the donut shop. After showering, shaving, and brushing his teeth, Rye dressed and went out to drag Cash out of his bedroom. But Cash was already dressed and waiting in the living room.

  “Walk or drive?” Rye asked.

  Cash shrugged. “No, preference.”

  “Walk, then.”

  As soon as he stepped outside he regretted it. The sun was brilliantly cheerful, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  “Goddamn,” Cash cursed, throwing his arm over his eyes. “This sucks.”

  “I hate daylight.”

  “I hate this town.”

  “This town sucks.”

  They grumbled until they made it to the alley they cut through to get to Main Street. Then they were in the shade and stopped griping. Rye knew they were being a couple of big babies, but he didn’t see any way around it. He’d had a sucky Friday night, and best he could tell, Cash had as well. “What happened with you and Adam last night?” Rye asked.

  “Fuck you.”

  Maybe after sugar and caffeine. They made their way to Ruby Hammond’s bakery and then stood just outside the door under the awning. The pink awning. There were hand-painted cupcakes on the window and pink facings on the display cabinets. True, the display cabinets displayed the very delectable pastries they’d come to partake of but was it worth enduring the overly feminine atmosphere?

  “I don’t think we can go in there,” Cash said.

  “Shit. I’m really hungry.”

  Just then, the cutest, perkiest blond Rye had ever seen waved at them from behind the counter. If that girl were a color, she would be pink. So that explained the decor. Suddenly, Rye didn’t care about the overly feminine atmosphere. He charged on in, matching Ruby Hammond’s smile, tooth for tooth. “Hey, boys, what can I do for you?” she asked.

  “What are you offering?” Rye asked without missing a beat. He ignored Cash’s groan.

  “Well,” Ruby said, “for a big, hungry fella like yourself, how about one of my famous sticky buns, hot out of the oven?”

  Rye opened his mouth to say something obscene, but Cash stepped him front of him. “Two. Please. And coffee.”

  “Sure thing,” Ruby said cheerfully and turned to the kitchen to fill their order.

  Rye turned to Cash and shoved him. “No cock blocking.”

  “If her food sucks, I’ll leave her to you. But if those hot buns of hers taste as good as they smell, then you keep your damn hands off her.”

  Rye rolled his eyes. “Too many restrictions on my love life.”

  “Love has nothing to do with your life.”

  They sat at a table by the window, and Ruby came out with the biggest, stickiest sticky buns Rye had ever seen. She poured them each a mug of coffee. “Anything else for you?” she asked.

  Rye opened his mouth again, just instinctually, to lay some innuendo on her. But Cash kicked him in the shin, and he ended up yelping instead. And then kicking Cash in the shin.

  “Thank you, Miss,” Cash said, “this is perfect.”

  “Great. You two enjoy. And my name’s Ruby, by the way.”

  She flitted back to her kitchen. Rye bit into the sticky bun and decided he wouldn’t be bedding Ruby any time soon. Her talent was better put to use making pastries.

  When the little bell above her door jingled, Ruby came back out. “Usual?” she asked the customer. Rye had his back to the door, so he couldn’t see who it was. As a courtesy, he always gave Cash the seat facing the door since Cash tended to get jumpy when stuff was happening behind him.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the customer replied in answer to Ruby’s inquiry. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and Rye knew he was being watched. He looked up at Cash, who was already glaring at the customer. Rye turned.

  The guy was a stranger to him. Big and tough-looking with a few days worth of stubble. The guy glanced their direction, his lips quirking up in an almost-smile. “You got a problem?” Rye asked.

  The guy angled and took a few steps toward them. “Are you Rye Holcomb?”

  Rye and Cash stood in unison, licked the sticky off their fingers, and then folded their arms over their chests. “Who’s asking?”

  The guy gave a quick, nervous smile. “Uh, my name’s Marshall.” He extended his hand, and when Rye refused to shake, he withdrew it and shoved it into the pocket of his leather aviator jacket. “Cash…right?” Marshall said to Cash.

  Rye glanced back to see Cash lift his chin in acknowledgment.

  “Um, you might like to know that Davis Acton from over in Henderson…he’s my cousin.”

  Rye and Cash dropped their arms and stepped forward, fully prepared to fight. Rye would have preferred to handle it himself, but he knew Cash would never back down.

  But Marshall did. He held up his hands and shuffled backward. “Whoa, there,” he said. “Take it easy.”

  “What do you want?” Rye asked.

  “I just heard you guys had moved to town and…and recognized you just now. I just wanted to let you know Davis has relatives around here.”

  “And what? You gonna try and take me on, son? You got some misguided idea about revenge going on in your head?” Rye asked.

  Marshall’s eyebrows went up, and there was a hint of amusement in his expression. “No. No, sir. Davis ain’t nothing to me. But we all grew up together, my brothers and cousins. They’re all pretty close, and when that whole thing in Henderson went down, they was all pretty riled up.”

  “Are you trying to threaten us?”

  “You’re not hearing me. I’m trying to give you a heads-up. I do my best to keep Les and Eddie busy with work, but I can’t babysit them always. If they meet you two and catch on to who you are, you could have trouble.”

  “Les and Eddie Dunigan?” Cash asked. “Yeah, we’ve already run into them.”

  “They didn’t indicate they had any beef with us,” Rye said.

  “Then they don’t know who you are,” Marshall replied.

  Ruby came out with a white paper bag folded closed. Marshall moved to the register and paid. “Listen, I didn’t mean to piss you guys off,” Marshall said, as he collected his change and his breakfast and moved toward the door. “I just saw you and thought maybe you’d like a little information. Just ask around about me. I don’t make trouble, and I don’t want trouble. Okay?”

  Rye and Cash gave him grudging nods. Marshall nodded back and left. Rye and Cash watched him walk before sitting back down and resuming their breakfast. “Nice guy,” Rye said.

  Cash shrugged. “Not feeling great about this town.”

  “This is Arkansas, little brother. Everybody’s related to everybody. You remember I fucked that chick over in Bixy who ended up being cousins with Beth.”

  “Dude, watch your language.” Cash jerked his head toward the kitchen where the pretty young blond was bustling around, humming and smiling, oblivious to the fact that the world was a shitty place.

  Rye ignored the rebuke. “If you want anonymity and a fresh fucking start, the only option we have is a city like St. Louis or Chicago. Maybe even fu
rther.”

  “Mom and Candace…it’d be awful if we couldn’t watch those kids grow up.”

  “You’re too sentimental. There’s the internet. Not to mention that I could earn a lot more money in a bigger city, buy you plane tickets anytime you got the itch to go home.”

  “I’m not a city guy. Neither are you.”

  Rye just shrugged. They’d had this conversation a hundred times already. He happened to think he’d make a fine city guy. But it didn’t matter. Cash had roots, and there was no breaking him away. “So what happened last night?”

  Cash’s shoulders slumped. The sugar had made him more amenable to conversation, but not by much. “I don’t know. I freaked out.”

  Rye sat back, his brows furrowing. “Really? How?”

  Cash just shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not like I haven’t had sex in three years. This was just…different somehow. Usually I go to a bar, hook up with a guy, and we set the terms right there and then go out to an alley or a cheap hotel and fuck. I don’t remember the names of any of the guys I’ve done in the past three years. I should have done that with Adam.”

  “So…is it fear of commitment?”

  “I don’t think so. I was kissing him for the first time. And that’s all, just kissing. And then I just started shaking like crazy, and my heart started racing. Half of me wanted to run; the other half wanted to fuck him as fast as possible just to get past whatever that panic was.”

  Rye was no shrink, but it sounded like PTSD to him. And as much as he hated Adam, right now, on account of what he’d said to Cora, he still wanted Cash to be happy. Rye studied his brother, whose head hung in shame, and his heart broke a little for him. “You, um…probably need to talk to him.”

  Shame vanished, replaced by anger. “What, about Henderson? It’s none of his goddamn business.”

  “Then you need to break it off. You’re the one decided Adam was worth more than a one night stand.”

  “He don’t need to know that shit about me.”

  “It’s a relationship, Cash. Why the fuck you think I avoid them, huh? You gotta talk about your feelings. Adam strikes me as a sensitive guy—” even if he is a fucking asshole, “—just give him a chance.”

  “I get sick just thinking of telling him.”

  “So ease into it. Let him know you’re working up to it, but for now, you need to have as much control as possible. You said with all those bar guys you’ve been with you lay out the terms before you leave the bar. Have you laid everything out for Adam? What you’re willing to do and what you’re not?”

  Cash shrugged. “No, not really. Adam’s got a romantic streak. I don’t want him to think I’m just using him.”

  Rye fought back more bad thoughts about Adam. “It’s called communicating. It’s not mercenary to tell him what you need and want. If he doesn’t like your terms, you can compromise. If you can’t compromise, you end it. Those are your options, as far as I can see.”

  Cash nodded and took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  “My favorite words.”

  “Yeah, smartass? What happened with you last night? Sneaking in with your tail tucked between your legs?”

  With a sigh, Rye said, “I somehow doubt I’d get much sympathy over what happened to me last night.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m not even gonna ask her name. You know how hard it is for me to look your conquests in the eyes after you’re done with them?”

  Rye had no comment and thankfully, Cash didn’t pursue the subject. It would be best all around if no one knew about his botched evening with Cora.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE MONTHLY MEETING of the Women In Christian Service always occurred at three o’clock on the second Sunday of the month. Cora went because her mother insisted on it and like her father before her, she tended to cater to Noreen McKay’s wishes. This meeting would be different, however, because instead of going in her hand-me-down church clothes that she always wore to semi-formal events, she intended to wear one of her new dresses.

  As she attempted to apply a modest amount of makeup, words from her childhood spun around in her head. Can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear—Get Cora the cheaper shoes, she doesn’t need anything fancy—Don’t bother with Cora’s hair, work on Ginger’s, at least she has a chance at landing a man. Cora had taken the criticism without anger. It had been there since her earliest memories, and she’d accepted it as though it was true. But then Rye had touched her cheek. Rye had flirted with her. Rye had made out with her, and she knew that even if she wasn’t a great beauty, she at least had the ability to attract a man’s attention.

  That wasn’t what today was about, though. Today was about proving that she wasn’t a sow’s ear. She was short, maybe scrawny. She didn’t shine as brightly as her sisters. But she was worth nice dresses and fine haircuts and makeup and attention. She was worth more than what her mother and sisters had allowed her.

  The only cloud over her moment was her concern over Rye. She’d come to the conclusion that she’d wronged him. When things had gone further than she’d wanted, she’d said stop, and he’d stopped. If he were really a bad guy, he would have kept going. Instead, he had been polite and concerned for her. Until, of course, she’d insulted him a little too deeply.

  She owed him an apology. Tomorrow.

  Today, she had to deal with her mother.

  She dressed in one of her pretty, new dresses—a baby blue, sleeveless number with a full skirt that hung to her knees. She wore the necklace Adam had bought her, as well as the matching shoes. In her whole life, Cora had never had more than three pairs of shoes at a time. Running shoes, work shoes, and sensible, black flats. Now her closet was full of shoes in all styles and colors. If she hadn’t had Adam with her when she went shopping, it wouldn’t have occurred to her to make sure she had shoes to match all the dresses.

  The meeting was always held at her mother’s house in the glass room. The room wasn’t all glass. It was built off the back corner of the house so that two sides and a partial roof were all glass. The light was amazing. Mrs. Noreen McKay had filled the room with ferns, lilies, vines, and all kinds of other greenery. There were four round tables, each seating six, for serving company. Today, she had tea service set up at each of them: teapots filled with Darjeeling, trays of cucumber sandwiches, scones, ham rolls, and assorted fruit tarts.

  Cora arrived on time, but most of the WICS were already there. They would fill all of the tables today, it looked like. Cora spotted her mother, a tall, elegant woman who wore her age extremely well. Not a hint of gray in her gilded hair and that was without dye. She wore a lovely, cream-colored suit and a demure smile. Her eyes locked on Cora’s, and one brow lifted into an arch.

  Cora took a breath and held her head up. She approached her mother’s side.

  “Well look at you,” Noreen said. “A new dress? And you cut your hair.”

  Cora laughed nervously. Her sisters, Ella, Whinny, Dana, and Ginger, were headed toward them in tight formation. They were all at least six inches taller than Cora. They all had full, pouty lips, natural high coloring, and varying shades of golden hair. The hair was all Cora had managed to get hold of. Sometimes it seemed like she was made from spare parts. What she wouldn’t give for Ella’s wide, doe eyes. Or Whinny’s high cheekbones. Dana’s tiny waist. Ginger’s long, white neck.

  “Look at our little sister!” Ella squealed. “She’s finally figured out how to dress for tea.”

  “Only took her ten years,” Dana groused as she fidgeted with the cuticle of one nail.

  “I think you look lovely, dear,” said Whinny, the oldest and the only one of the four that Cora even remotely liked.

  “I heard,” said Ginger, in her high, grating voice, “from my friend Billi, that Cora, here, took a man home with her, Friday night.”

  Noreen’s eyes pierced into her soul.

  “I didn’t,” Cora stammered. “I mean, I did, but
it wasn’t like that. We’re just friends. Not even. He works for me.” She decided to stop before she said something really stupid.

  “Who?” Noreen asked.

  Cora felt her shoulders hunch in and her head lower. She cursed herself for it, but she’d been caught off guard and wasn’t sure she could recover. “Zachariah Holcomb.”

  “Never heard of him. Are his people from here?”

  “No.”

  “If you’re interested in him, I’ll have Kyle check up on him. Make sure he’s not the wrong sort, you know.”

  Kyle was the local Sheriff. Noreen fancied she had him under her thumb, but Cora was fairly certain he only appeased her to keep the peace. “That’s not necessary, Mother. I’m not interested in him.”

  Noreen shrugged. “Nevermind, then. If you’re ready for a husband, though, I’ll keep my ear to the ground. I hear Elspeth Tanner’s son is coming back to town. If you don’t mind dating a soldier.”

  “I don’t mind. I mean, no, Mother, I’m not ready for a husband. I’m not looking. Mr. Holcomb and I only wanted to discuss work related things. We had coffee and then he went home. Nothing more, truly.”

  Just then, Elspeth Tanner arrived and relieved Cora of the conversation altogether. The tea went about like usual. Cora had hoped that her appearance would make this event more comfortable. Instead, it only drew unwanted attention. She tried to remind herself that she’d done this for herself, not to please anyone else. But it was hard not to feel a little good about all the compliments, even though most of them were snide and backhanded.

  After tea, she helped clean up. Her mother would hire someone for the majority of the work, but she preferred to hand-wash her China dishes herself. Or for Cora to do it.

  “You’re different.”

  Cora jumped. She’d been standing at the sink in the kitchen washing out a delicate tea cup. “Mom, you startled me.”

  Her mother smiled. She settled onto a bar stool on the other side of the counter. “Darling, I’m your mother. I didn’t want to say so in front of your sisters, but you’re a terrible liar. Tell me about this young man.”

  Cora set the cup down and turned off the water. She dried her hands and turned to face her mother. “You wouldn’t like him. He’s the wrong sort.”