“I came to help out a friend, and how could I pass up the opportunity to put Mr. Swoony Tuney in his place? You have to admit, my ideas are always worth it.” His smile is infectious, and I can’t even stay fake angry for long.
The late summer air has cooled, allowing us to forget the heat of the day. Maybe it will return my sanity. I pull away from Cash, and this time he lets me go. It was just an act. Being this close to him is playing with my head. Not that it wasn’t worth it to see him take Tanner down a notch or two, but now I’m just too comfortable in his arms.
“So what’s next in your post breakup strategy?” I might as well surrender to Cash’s plans. They haven’t steered me wrong yet.
“All right. In times like these, it’s best to do what we do best in the south: find a set of stairs and watch the world go by.”
We wander up Peachtree Street until we find a place to sit. Cash pulls the glasses out of his pockets and takes a seat.
“So how long did you date Tanner?”
“Whoa, heavy questions right out of the gate. Please, I need more alcohol first.”
“That request I can accommodate. I also find it’s best to just rip the band aid off.” He pops the cork to the champagne.
I can’t help but smile. Everything feels so easy with him. The last time things were this easy the bottom fell out from under me. But if tonight proves anything, Cash will be there to catch me.
“Too long,” I say, taking a swig from the bottle he’s given me. I’m glad that if we’re going to do this, I have alcohol close at hand. “Six months, actually, and they were the best six months of my life, until…”
“Until?”
Say it, Savannah. Just get it out there. Telling it to a bartender is like going to confession: it’s private and will help the sting of rejection.
“Until I found out he was married.”
Cash lets out a long whistle. A group of women look up from their table on the outdoor patio of a nearby restaurant. No ladies, he is not whistling at you. Now turn around and eat your dessert.
“What sort of ass does that to someone like you?” he asks, an edge to his voice.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but—”
He places a warm hand on my shoulder, and I feel the heat everywhere. I’m afraid to meet his gaze, afraid he’ll see the growing desire behind my blush. “Savannah, this is not your fault.”
I shake my head bitterly. “I’m the other woman. I don’t get to take the high moral ground. I slept with, and fell in love with, a married man. We were both at fault.” I take another swig of the champagne, but Cash pulls the bottle gently away.
“How could you be? You didn’t know. That’s why you keep punishing yourself with all these ‘dates,’ if that word can even be applied to the men you’ve been throwing yourself at. Isn’t it?”
“No. I’m not punishing myself—”
Now Cash takes a drink. A long one. “Yeah, you are. You think that because you slept with a married man you don’t deserve happiness. So you pick guys who will never make you happy just to punish yourself. That’s Psychology 101, Savy.”
“Right. That’s really insightful for someone who’s on a constant rotation of women.”
“It’s not always a bad thing,” he says defensively. “But this isn’t about me. Don’t force yourself into something you’re not ready for. He broke your heart; don’t let him fuck with your mind, too. Because you deserve better. So much better.”
I feel my eyes welling up and I have to look away. I’m done crying over Tanner Jakes.
“But on the other hand, sometimes you have to throw caution to the wind and just do something that makes you happy. Or at the very least, something that makes you come.” His eyes meet mine as his tongue peeks out and licks a stray drop of sparkling wine off his lower lip. “I’m always willing to help in that department.” He grabs the bottle and pours a proper drink.
As if I could forget the offer he made me. Cash oozes sex appeal. And Cassie’s been obsessed with it ever since Cash practically announced it during that game night. She doesn’t want me to end up as Cash’s flavor of the week, because I deserve better. Can’t argue with her there, but I’m definitely open to hearing Cash’s argument for a quick fuck. Or two.
There’s a part of me that desperately wants to find out what has all the women coming back for more.
To be the one on the other end of that devastating grin. That hot-as-hell kiss…
“Where’d you get your PhD in psych?” I joke, getting back on steady ground.
He shrugs. “School of Hard Knocks, with a specialty in tending bar.”
“I thought you were a mixologist,” I tease.
“That would be my other degree.”
“Whoa, multiple degrees. Are you trying to tell me Cash Gardner has layers beyond the notches in his bed post?”
“You are really hung up about how many women I sleep with, aren’t you?”
“It’s not a secret.”