Page 7 of Cautious Love

Shiloh

“ThanksBear!I’llseeyou tomorrow,” I holler through the back door before letting it slam shut behind me.

I need to shower and change before I head over to the Wooden Cowboy for my shift. It’s the only job I like because I get to experiment with whiskey. I’ve developed quite an interest in it over the years. I distilled my own once, but Grey ruined that too.

Slipping into my car, I pull out my wad of tips and hope it’s enough to cover another night at the inn. I count the bills, and it totals sixty bucks — I’m twenty short.

I groan, leaning against the headrest, on the edge of tears and wanting to put a hole through the wall. We were slow today. I shouldn’t be surprised because the rodeo is in town.

My heart sinks at the thought of dipping into more of my savings. I’ve been working so hard to save that money. Last night I decided I’d use it for the first month’s rent, and then expenses. I should probably leave Paxton, but I’ve always loved it here. I was raised here, and I’ll be damned if Grey Kensington runs me out of town, or worse.

Wait. My coffee cup.

I turn on my car and it sputters for a second. “No, no, no, please, please,” I say to my beater. It’s held strong for me for a while. Grey fixed a couple of things on it, but I know it’s struggling. “Come on, baby, don’t give up on me now,” I say and try it again.

It turns over, and I puff out a breath. “Thanks, ole’ girl,” I tell it, and back out, headed to the last place I want to be.

Of all the things to leave behind, I forgot one of my favorites. My dad gave me a coffee cup years ago when he moved down to Arizona. He said he was tired of the cold and wanted somewhere warmer to work before he retired.

It says Arizona on it, and it’s silly; it’s worthless to anyone else, but to me, it’s the accomplishment of my dad’s dream. He always wanted to move down south. He wanted to do it when I was a kid, but we never had the money, and he had a stable job here in Paxton. For all our struggles, he didn’t want to shake my world. Which is why I’m still not going to tell him what happened.

I gun it down the country road to Grey’s house. Hopefully, he’s not home. I still have my key, so I’ll just in, grab my cup and slip out. He won’t even know I was there.

The other reason it’s worth going back for my coffee cup is the three hundred dollars stashed in there. It’s all the way in the back of the cabinet Grey never opens. He doesn’t cook. I did. If he was hungry and I wasn’t there to cook for him, then he ate some kind of frozen dinner or something you make from a box. I didn’t mind cooking for us. But I guess it’s another sign that when he never once offered to help or thought to makemedinner, it should have been a sign.But someone made dinner that night.

No, Shy, no. Don’t think that way. Focus on what’s in front of you.

I turn onto our street —his— street and my shoulders drop. His truck isn’t here. Parking on the road, I leave my car runningand pull my keys out. Hurrying up the steps, I pause before I put the key in the lock. Maybe I should knock. I don’t think he’s home, but if he is, maybe we can keep this civil.

Before I have the chance to decide, the door swings open. Grey is dressed in his matching pants and button-up shirt for work.

“Where’s your truck?” I ask him.

He frowns. “Not here. What are you doing here?” he asks.

I lift my chin and hope I don’t pass out from the anger and betrayal filling my heart, making it beat funny. “I forgot something and wanted to grab it. It’ll take a second.”

He pushes the door open all the way and steps to the side, letting me in.

“What did you forget?” he asks.

Okay, this can be civil.

“The coffee cup my dad got me,” I tell him, and open the cabinet door he never touches.

I’m short, so I have to stand on my tiptoes and reach all the way into the back of the cabinet to get it. The tips of my fingers reach the handle and I pull it out, keeping it straight up so Grey doesn’t see the money folded in there.

But when I pull it down, there’s nothing in it. My heart sinks and tears well in my eyes.

I look up at him, and there’s a disgusting, triumphant smile on his face.

“Why?” I rasp.

“Why, what, Shiloh?” he asks.

“Why did you take my money? It wasn’t yours to take.”

He huffs. “My house, my money. I let you keep it there.”