CHAPTER 29
Sweat dripped down between Cash’s shoulder blades as he worked to hammer shingles into place on the last of the cabins they were building for the first crew of veterans. His shirt stuck to him as the late April sun beat down hard. Next to him, Travis drew up, wiping his forehead. “We’ll have thunderstorms tonight. I’d bet money.”
Cash pulled off his damp shirt, tucking it into his back pocket. No sense in soaking it through. “Let’s get this roof finished then.”
They’d had thunderstorms every night he’d been back at the ranch. Without Kate, it had been rough, but he was managing. The first night, he’d helped himself to Travis’s couch, thoroughly unnerved by the thunder. But the next morning Travis had suggested he load a meditation app on his phone. Cash couldn’t say if it was the app, or just that he was used to the sound, now that they’d had eight days running of spring storms, but he wasn’t bracing for the thunder as much.
Too bad the app hadn’t done anything to ease the way his lungs felt like they were being ripped from his body when he thought about Kate. When he missed her late at night, when he contemplated a lonely future without her. He could only hope the fierce pain would pass in time, and pray that when she returned for the concert, he could convince her to stay.
Travis popped two nails between his teeth and went back to hammering shingles. “If I was a wagering man–”
“And you’re not.”
Travis huffed out a laugh as he hammered. “But if I were. I’d guess you’re at loose ends without the charming Kate Montgomery. There something you want to tell me?”
The space between Cash’s shoulders grew hot even though he hadn’t had his shirt off long enough to sustain a sunburn. He swallowed uncomfortably.
“I miss her.” He could admit that much to Travis.
They’d texted a few times, and he’d done his best to give her space, take his lead from her, but it was slowly killing him. Late the other night, he’d buckled and reached for the phone, dying to hear her sweet husky voice. But their hurried conversation hadn’t been enough. Not for him, at least.
The sound of a car nearing captured their attention.
“What in the hell?” Travis grumbled, turning to squint into the sun. “Who in the hell is driving a car out here?”
A navy jaguar slowly made its way down from the rise and the driver was doing a piss-poor job of maneuvering between the rocks. “Oh shit,” Cash cried out, sliding down the roof. “They’ll high center in a heartbeat.”
Travis followed him down, gently landing next to him as an older, very stylish woman removed herself from the car. Dressed in wool slacks, with a chiffon scarf covering her head, driving coat, and big round sunglasses, the woman picked her way through the mud and prairie grasses until she stopped a stick’s throw away. She looked like she was right out of an episode of Mad Men. “Which one of you is Cash?”
“Ma’am?” Cash stepped forward, offering a hand.
She refused with a brittle smile and obviously giving him a thorough once over. It was clear he was not to her liking. “So you are the young man who has convinced my daughter to sell everything and move west?”
Was this Helene Montgomery?
His interactions with her on assignment had been limited, and all bundled up it was hard to tell… but her voice, the over-articulated way she spoke… This didn’t make any sense. Why was she here? “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about… Ma’am,” he added, because she looked like she expected that level of deference.
“Come, come, Mr. Aiken. Don’t play coy with me. I know all about how you seduced my daughter into thinking she can run a record label.”
Travis snickered. “I assume you’re talking about Kate?”
“Kaycee,” she corrected.
That got Cash’s hackles up. Her damned name was Kate. “Kate picked up some recording equipment, if that’s what you mean. But no one here knows anything about a record label.”
She scowled, her red lipstick closing to a pucker. “My daughter has it in her head that she can move to the middle of nowhere and turn an abandoned barn into a recording studio.”
Was she off her rocker? What the fuck was she talking about? Kate hadn’t mentioned anything to him about a recording studio. In spite of his confusion, hope blossomed in his chest. Was there a place for him in whatever plans Kate had hatched?
Travis grinned slowly. “So Kate’s going to buy the old Klein place? That’s great.”
“Kaycee doesn’t know what’s best for her career,” Mrs. Montgomery snapped. “And when she returns for this little concert, I expect you to talk some sense into her.” She let her gaze rest on both men. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Outrage surged through him, protective instincts kicking in where Kate was concerned. No wonder she’d wanted some space to be herself. “Mrs. Montgomery, I believe Kate knows exactly what’s best for her. And in fact, I think a recording studio and record label are a great idea. And no one will run it better than Kate,” Cash bit out. “If you’re looking for us to stop her, you’ve come to the wrong place. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have to finish putting on this roof before sundown.” Without giving her another glance, he stalked back to the cabin, climbed the ladder and resumed hammering, hope pulsing more strongly in his chest with each strike.