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“No weeknights. The others have pitched in and will cover her weekend shifts. I only need the three evenings a week covered until she gets back.” Clay grinned at her and pressed his hands together in a steeple, playfully begging.
She barked a laugh and shook her head. Clay was a good man from what she’d heard from Danny. He paid his employees fair, and the bar was one of the most popular ones in town. Even people fromneighboring towns came over to have a little fun at the Hen House.
Cashea pondered it for all of a few seconds. This would work out. She would cover for Tess while she was out on maternity leave and then go back to working her one job. Cashea stuck out her hand to him. Clay’s grin widened even more. He slid his hand in hers and gave it a tight squeeze.
“When do I start?”
Chapter Eight
“Yo, Sarge, we’re striking up a card game tonight. You in?” a deep voice with a Southern drawl asked.
Draven turned to see Trent headed his way. Draven leaned against the corral fence and had been watching a few horses graze. He was done for the day and couldn’t bring himself to go home. There was nothing wrong with his house, it was beautiful and built how he wanted it. But the only thing was that it was meant for a family. It wasn’t for a single man who lived alone.
Draven didn’t know when he’d started feeling lonely. He would have thought he would enjoy the solitude of living alone, but he’d have to admit thatnight he’d spent with Cashea had him feeling as if he was missing out on something.
A woman to come home to.
Someone to share his life with. A loving partner who would make him feel needed and wanted. He shook his head. His father’s wish for him to settle down must be messing with him.
Trent came to stand by him. He’d been on the ranch for about six months. He and Draven were close in age, and both had served for about the same time. Trent had done multiple tours in the Army. He had recently retired and joined Silver Creek. He was an overall good guy. Draven didn’t mind him too much. He was a hard worker and had one hell of a way with horses.
“I told you not to call me that,” Draven murmured. He was retired. No longer did he need to go by his official title and rank from the Marines. Here he was just Draven Harvey. “I’m retired.”
“You were ranked higher than me.” Trent chuckled. He rested his forearms on the fence and joined Draven in gazing out at the animals.
“We are equal here.” Draven ran a hand along his face. A card game did sound good. He did have fond memories of the games the men and women in hisbattalion had played. He blew out a deep breath and bit back a smile. Those games were legendary. They may not have had much money to bid with, but everyone got creative on what they would wager with.
Draven had planned to head down to the Hen House. He figured he would switch up the days he would go. If he wanted to avoid Cashea, then he wouldn’t be able to go on Friday or Saturday nights any longer. Not that he had to avoid her. Heneededto avoid her. Everything about her had him wanting things that he didn’t deserve.
Like another night between her thighs.
“So you in or not?” Trent asked.
“Next time.” Draven shook his head. It was rare for him to go down to the bar on a Tuesday, but what the hell. Two of his favorite teams were playing tonight, so this would be one hell of a game to watch, and it would go good with a big thick burger and a nice glass of bourbon or whatever was on tap.
“Well, we’ll save a seat just in case you change your mind.” Trent gave him a slap on the back.
Draven stiffened. Trent must have recognized his reaction. His smile disappeared. A lot of the men and women who came to the ranch had issues they were dealing with. Some even sought therapy.One of the local social workers came out to the ranch once or twice a week to meet with a few of the ranch hands on their lunch. It was part of the ranch’s agenda to assist the veterans.
“My bad, man. It’s a habit.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Draven said. He pushed off the fence and tipped his head to Trent. His reaction was automatic. It was something he was going to have to deal with. Trent wasn’t a threat to him. Maybe over time that reaction would die down. “Next time.”
He pulled his brimmed hat down on his brow and headed toward his truck. He had already showered and changed his clothes. There was no way he would go out smelling of God only knows what. He got in his truck and took in Trent walking toward the housing for the hands who preferred to stay on the property. His father had ensured that they would have a place to stay if they wanted to be close to the ranch. He’d built a large house they shared.
Draven started his truck and threw it in gear. He drove down the road and passed the main house. He took in his father, Bee, and Buck sitting on the porch. He tapped on the horn and kept going. He didn’t want to stop and explain where he was going. If his father knew he was headed toward the bar inthe middle of the week, he was sure Andy would try to talk him out of it.
Once on the main road, he stepped a little harder on the gas. He rolled down the windows and allowed the air to flow through the cab. His phone chose that moment to ring. He glanced down at the screen and took in Ridge’s name flashing. Draven tapped on the hands-free button on the steering wheel to answer.
“Yeah,” he answered dryly.
“Well, hello to you, you old son of a bitch.” Ridge chuckled.
Draven relaxed at the sound of Ridge’s voice. His brother was younger than him by four years and was probably the only person he would let get away with talking to him like that. Draven was damn proud of him. Ridge’s practice was thriving. He was a brilliant vet and he had a long list of clients. He had brought in another vet who helped him handle the in-office visits so he could go out on ranch and farm calls in the community. Ridge loved what he did, and it showed.
“What the hell do you want?” Draven asked, his voice coming out a little more gruffthan he had planned.
Ridge just laughed it off. If anyone knew Draven, it would be Ridge.
