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She hated to admit it, but what he’d said about her publicity strategy—or lack of one—made sense, even for as small a town as Serendipity. She intended to target several surrounding towns. As Cash had mentioned, people would come in from out of town once they heard she was selling Kickfire products. She’d recently created a website for the store so folks in the tri-county region and beyond could peruse weekly specials and feel compelled to visit her store. She was even looking into the prospect of shipping products directly to consumers.
That would majorly change the focus of her little shop and held the possibility of creating a substantial second stream of income. Her biggest concern was that once Cash fulfilled his obligation, she would once again be working the store alone. No matter how desperately Emerson’s needed a boost in income, she didn’t want to bite off more than she’d be able to chew.
At this point she wasn’t planning to ship beyond the local area, but who knew what the future held?
One thing was certain—having a handsome cowboy hawking the goods—one who’d successfully sponsored other products in the past—would be a definite plus, especially for the Western wear.
But only if she could trust him.
And that was a big if right now.
If Cash was willing to lay it all out on the line and tell her the truth, and if he truly intended to strive to make up for his wrongdoings, she might be able to overlook the predicaments that got him into trouble in the first place.
Even if she had to put up with Martin’s annoying interference and his own ideas for what a publicity campaign should entail, not to mention Pete’s camera flashing.
Everyone deserved a second chance, didn’t they? Even a man like Cash, who’d fallen from grace in the rodeo world and was now struggling just to survive.
Maybe especially a man like Cash.
But only if he came clean now—literally and figuratively.
She waited, her breath catching in her lungs as Cash gathered his thoughts. He dropped his gaze and stared at the picnic blanket.
Was he going to explain what had really happened to him, or was he preparing to put on that false cowboy charm of his and try to find a way to gloss it over?
She suspected he was wearing a mask, and it was up to him to remove it and let Alyssa see what he looked like underneath the facade.
“Yeah. Okay.” He paused and pursed his lips. “You deserve the truth if we’re going to work together.”
She nodded, encouraging him to continue.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard. Why don’t you tell me, and then I’ll tell you how it really went down?”
“The drinking,” she prompted, saying the first thing that came to mind. She might as well give it to him straight and hope he did the same with her.
“Yes.” He didn’t say another word, just caught her gaze and held it firm.
That was it?
Yes?
There had to be more to it than that.
“You did drink? You still do? I suppose what you do on your own time is your business, but I can’t have you under the influence of alcohol while you’re working at my store, especially with the renovations going on. It could be dangerous.”
“I understand. And to answer your question, at one point I drank a lot, but now I don’t.”
“At all?”
“At all. Look. When I first entered the rodeo scene, I partied as much as the next cowboy, but once I lost Aaron, I lost my moral compass completely. I floundered, not only in my private life, but out in the arena. Alcohol was a way to dull my senses.”
“I’m going to be forthright with you. After everything I heard about you, I half expected you to show up drunk today at the auction.”
He frowned. “I won’t ever do that to you. I promise I’m dry and will do everything in my power to remain that way. But I think it’s only fair to tell you it’s only been three days since my last drink. At this point I’m still going through physical withdrawal, not to mention emotional issues. It’s not easy, but I’m detemined.”
She pinched her lips. “I see.”
She didn’t understand the struggles he was facing. Not really. She’d never even tasted alcohol, much less been tipsy, nor had she ever spent any time around an alcoholic before, so she had nothing to gauge what Cash was pledging to her.
Could he really stop drinking cold turkey, and all on his own, as Martin had insisted?
“Is that a deal breaker?” He tilted his head and met her gaze. Like her, he didn’t couch his question in sweet terms.
She considered his words for a moment, chewing the corner of her lip. After a long pause, she shook her head.
“No. Not necessarily. But know this. If you show up drunk on the job one time, I will kick you out the door faster than any bareback bronc ever did. You have exactly one opportunity to prove yourself. Do we understand each other?”
She knew she was being tough on him, and her demands wouldn’t be easy for him to follow, but she wasn’t about to start pulling punches now. She had her store to think of, before anything else, even her own emotions.
She understood herself well enough to know that if she worked with him, she would become entangled in his battle. She didn’t have the strength, nor the good sense, to hold him at arm’s length, especially if she saw him struggling. So the rules were as much for her as they were for him.
“Understood.” His voice sounded like gravel, as if his throat was lined with sandpaper. “What else?”
She paused, opening and closing her mouth twice, about to speak and then stopping herself.
He tensed, and his gaze narrowed.
“Spit it out. Let’s get everything out in the open now. Like you said. No surprises.”
There was one other thing, but it was a touchy issue, perhaps even more so than his drinking. And Alyssa suspected Cash already knew what she was about to say.
“I heard there was a woman.”
He exhaled and dropped his gaze to his hands, no longer willing or able to meet her eyes.
“Yes. I figured you would have heard about Sharee. She was all over the news with her smear campaign.”
“Is that what it was?”
Alyssa thought she wanted the truth from him. But did she really want to hear it?
What if what Sharee had said was true? What if he had “knocked her up”—Sharee’s words, not hers, and a phrase Alyssa found especially repugnant—and then refused to acknowledge his baby?
“A smear campaign?” He shrugged. “Yes and no.”
“Cash?” she said, when he didn’t continue.
“Yes, she is pregnant with my child. I willingly admit that I’m the father, and I take full responsibility for my actions, both then and now. But not one word of anything else she has blurted to the press is true.
“She’s cast me in a very bad light, making it appear that I abandoned her when she told me I was going to be a father. The truth is, she didn’t even bother to inform me she was pregnant. I had to hear that from the evening news.”
He picked off his hat and tunneled his fingers through his thick black hair.
“Yeah, I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Alyssa. But I didn’t walk out on her, because we never had a relationship. She was a buckle bunny and I was a rodeo cowboy too big for his britches. Which I guess makes me a jerk, so maybe she has that right. She pursued me, not the other way around. Not that I’m making excuses.
“We connected one time, and I was so drunk I barely remember.”
She was trying not to judge Cash. But what kind of man got a girl pregnant like that?
Alyssa felt for the woman, buckle bunny or not. That Cash had a one-night stand with her only made the situation worse.
“And?” she pressed. “What now?”
“Are you asking me about my intentions?”
“I am.”
He could tell her it was none of her business and he would probably be right. But if he did, she would send him on his way, auction or no auction.
“Believe me, I’ve tried to do right by her,” he said, his voice cracking. “And my baby. As soon as I heard she was pregnant, I contacted her. There is no question in my mind that I’m going to pay child support, but it’s more than that. I don’t want my child to grow up without a father. I know I’m a mess right now and not the kind of man who would be a positive influence on a child. But I’d like to share custody after I get my life back together. Being a father is a huge motivation. Except Sharee has made it crystal clear she wants nothing to do with me, nor does she want me to have any part of our child’s life.”
His gaze dropped. “And who can blame her? Look at me. I’m hardly in any position to be a father, to take care of a baby. I’m a wreck.
“I have every intention of doing all I can for my baby—giving my financial support, at least, even if Sharee won’t let me into my child’s life in any other way.” He groaned. “If I can’t really be a father to him or her in the ways that really matter.”
“But if it is your baby—”
“It is. I can’t prove it right now, but I feel it in my gut, and the timing is right.”
“Yes, but then don’t you think...”
“Believe me, that’s all I’ve been thinking about,” he cut in. “I need to be a better man. Not just for the rodeo’s sake, although there is that, since that’s the only way I know how to provide for my baby. But the adjustments I intend to make in the way I live? In a few months my baby will be born. Talk about life changing. Suddenly it isn’t all about me. My baby will be born soon.”
His mouth curved up and a spark fired in his eyes at the mention of his baby’s upcoming birth, but then he frowned and shook his head. “I only saw the ultrasound of the little bean because Sharee shared it on the news. She announced that she had just finished her first—trimester. Is that the right word? Trimester? I don’t know much about pregnancy, and Sharee won’t tell me anything.”
Alyssa didn’t much like the way this woman was treating Cash. Maybe he deserved it for how he’d treated her, but now there was a baby involved. They needed to put aside both their agendas for the child’s sake.
It sounded like Cash wanted to do what was right, but if what Cash said about Sharee was true, she was using her baby for her own gain. It made Alyssa sick just to think about it.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“Don’t be. It’s all my own doing. I dug this hole, and now it’s up to me to crawl out of it. I’m not anywhere close to being ready to be a father, but it’s up to me now to become a good daddy. I know what I have to do now—and that starts with cutting out the whiskey.”
“And that’s why you’ve stopped drinking.”
“I’m three days sober. That doesn’t sound like much, but to me it feels like I’m climbing up the side of a steep mountain. I don’t know if I’ll ever reach the summit, but I have to try.”
At least he was man enough to own up to his mistakes. But was that enough to keep him on the straight and narrow? Alyssa knew enough about alcoholism to know the path wasn’t simple, and she sent up a short, silent prayer that God would be with Cash throughout the struggles he would face.
“So now you know the truth, it’s up to you as to what you want to do with it. With me,” he amended. “Are you willing to help me, not only with my rodeo publicity, but in regaining my life and integrity? Or do I need to look elsewhere?”
Alyssa thought of his agent, Martin, who stood just out of earshot, his gaze zoned in on them and a frown lining his face. At least the photographer who’d taken pictures of Cash at the auction and when they’d first shared the picnic was nowhere to be seen.
But Pete would be back, hanging around Cash, and no doubt getting in the way. Her customers would be bumping into him every time they turned around, and that was to say nothing of how chaotic the renovation might be.
She pressed her palms against her eyes where a headache was forming. It was a lot to consider, and she wished she had more time to think about it, but Cash needed an answer now.
And Cash wasn’t the only one waiting for an answer. Even now, Martin was inching forward. Alyssa was certain he wouldn’t walk away until he got what he wanted.
Her stomach churned, and she prayed she wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of her life.
“Okay, I’ll help you,” she said. “But I’ll be watching you like a hawk. One mistake and you’re gone. Is that clear?”
He gave a curt nod.
“Understood. And thank you.” He tipped his hat at her.
“Don’t thank me yet,” she warned him. “This arrangement can end as quickly as it begins.”
“I get it. It’s all on me.”
“I’ll expect you to be at the store at 8:00 a.m. sharp Monday morning.”
He stood, gesturing toward Martin. “I’d better tell him I’m sticking around so he can make arrangements for Pete to stay in town.”
“Okay. And, Cash?”
“Yeah?” He turned, one dark eyebrow raised.
“Don’t be late.”
Chapter Three (#u2e883781-8dec-50f6-8dc7-4606072b5074)
Cash’s head was slamming harder than the nails he was pounding with his hammer. Every movement was excruciating, like an ice pick repeatedly striking his temple. Cold sweat clung to his brow.
He’d been working for Alyssa for nearly a week, which meant he was close to ten days sober. He’d presumed he would be past any physical withdrawal symptoms. Mostly that was the case, but there were moments, like this one, where he felt like he had on his first alcohol-free day.
It was as if his body had a peculiar, regressive muscle memory. A cold sweat covered his skin, his entire body ached, his hands shook with tremors and his head throbbed incessantly.
He wished he had someone to ask about what he was experiencing, someone who had been through withdrawal and who would know if what he was feeling was normal. But he was too ashamed to participate in a twelve-step program or have a sponsor and, anyway, there wasn’t a meeting within an hour’s drive. He didn’t have the time nor the inclination to make that much of a sacrifice.
No, he was going to conquer this all on his own. He’d used the internet to find out as much information on alcoholism as he could, facts he hoped would keep him from backsliding, but there were moments like this one that took every ounce of his willpower to battle.
He blew out an unsteady breath.
One sip and the shakes would go away. Two fingers in a tumbler and the black cloud that always covered his head would no longer threaten to rain on him.
But that was all an illusion, he reminded himself. Just because he numbed himself to the world didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
