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My heart was pounding thinking that it was Cheyenne asking me to come back. If it was, I didn’t think I had the self-restraint to say no. But when I pulled it out I saw that it was Billy.
I would question why he would be calling me on the first morning of his honeymoon in the Bahamas, but I knew why. He was checking on Cheyenne.
“How’s paradise?” I answered.
“Amazing. I just wanted to remind you about the delivery this morning.”
“On my way now.”
“Good. How’s Shadow? She seemed pretty out of it when we left. Did you make sure she got home safe?”
There it was the real reason he was calling. It didn’t surprise me that he knew that I’d taken Cheyenne home last night. Firefly gossip spread faster than a fire in dry brush doused with kerosene. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone had alerted him that my truck was still in her driveway this morning. Or hell, if he’d checked the security cameras and seen it for himself.
“She’s pretty hungover, but I think she’ll survive.”
The line was quiet. I knew that he had more to say, but before he could I heard Reagan in the background asking, “Who are you talking to?”
“Cash, I had to check on the delivery,” he answered.
“Cash can handle it. Goodbye, Cash.” Reagan’s voice got louder right before the line went dead.
I stared down at my phone and wished things were different. I wished that I didn’t have the feelings I had for Cheyenne or that I was good enough to act on them.
But like my dad used to say, “Wish in one hand, shit in the other and see which one fills up first.”
