Page 51 of Cherry Tree Ranch

I do a double-take. He’s standing near the counter with an order ticket in his hand. What is he doing here? Instinctively, I release Wyatt’s hand, acting like I have an itch on my other arm. The hostess speaks to Wyatt, and I mindlessly follow them to a booth in the back. All sound seems to have escaped the restaurant apart from the sticky squeak of my sandals across the checkerboard floor. She tells us she’ll get waters and puts a paper menu in front of each of us. Wyatt starts chattering to me about his favourite arcade games, but I’m barely listening.

I pretend to study the menu as my eyes dart around the kitchen for Cash. He’s reaching for fresh glasses, and when he looks up, he sees Wyatt and glares. Then his eyes track across the table to me. His expression slackens in surprise, and he rapidly turns away. I frown, reminding myself what happened after his rodeo practice.

“Dahl?” Wyatt says. “You OK?”

I really should tell him I don’t like that name. Even Dahli would be better – it reminds me of Dolly Parton. An icon, to say the least.

I drag my eyes from Cash. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine!” I smile and bend the corner on my menu.

Wyatt’s foot finds mine under the table. I instantly distract myself with all the pizza accoutrements, shakers of grated parmesan, red chili flakes and salt and pepper. There’s also a squeeze bottle of honey.

“I thought only Happy Crust had honey for their pizza.” I hold it up, admiring its deep amber glow.

“Apparently not… You ready to order?”

I glance towards the kitchen, but Cash is nowhere in sight. Obviously, he isn’t close enough with me to share that he works at the pizzeria. I had no idea. Even more reason to embrace hanging out with someone who’s available, even if Wyatt does live in a different town.

Then my stomach flips when the side door to the kitchen swings open – and Cash heads straight for our table with a pencil and pad in his hand.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The hostess comes to Cash’s side and slides glasses of water on to the table. She gives Cash a playful smile and walks away, swinging her hips. If I were a different girl, it would bother me that Wyatt watches her go, but all I can truly notice is that Cash keeps his eyes on mine.

“I didn’t know you worked here.” I smile, but it’s forced.

“Yeah.” He frowns and looks sideways at Wyatt. “I do, sometimes. Can I take your order?”

I furrow my brow at him. He’s acting cold – far from a guy who supposedly wanted to talk to me so badly.

“Oh, hey, man. We met at the market, right?” Wyatt asks cheerfully.

But Cash is all bite. “Yep.” He stares at his notepad. “What can I get you?”

“How long have you worked here?” I try, still bemused, and curious how he’s managed it alongside helping me. He said his mom was pushing for him to get a job outside of rodeo, but he was so laissez-faire about it all.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you.” He lets out a quick sigh. “I used to work here and still pick up shifts occasionally. Took one tonight since we aren’t picking.”

Wyatt’s gaze darts between me and Cash, suddenly interested in the conversation between us.

“Right,” I say.

“Would you like to order now?” Cash raises his eyes expectantly, like I’m annoying him to the ends of the earth. The look makes my heart sink. This is not the Cash who stood against me, half dressed, in the barn the other night, or even the one who was desperate to chase after me and explain.

Wyatt chimes in, “One large pepperoni pizza.” He tips his head to me. “You good with that?”

I nod. I’ll take pepperoni any day, but I prefer Hawaiian with fresh jalapeños and honey.

“And two Sprites,” Wyatt finishes.

Cash scratches our order down on his pad and walks away.

Before Wyatt can ask anything about Cash, I turn to him and ask, “So, are you still in touch with any of the old track team?”

Wyatt and I talk about mutual acquaintances and where they’re going to school for a few minutes, but the conversation fizzles out quickly. I’m too distracted. I tuck my hands under my thighs, and the slick plastic finish squeaks as I shift my weight. I look around for Cash. When I don’t see him, I succumb to my curiosity and excuse myself to the restroom.

I make my way to the opposite side of the restaurant, where the restrooms are in the same hallway as the kitchen. I peek round the corner and spot Cash standing by a large wood-fired oven, talking to a cook. He catches me spying. I tuck into the hall and hear him tell the cook he’ll talk to him later.

“What’s up?” He folds his arms in front of him and leans against the doorframe. “Coming to check on your order?”