Cora just clings to me harder, leaning into my legs and putting more distance between the two of them.
But Cash doesn’t seem offended. He laughs softly, tipping his hat to Cora as well. “You know what, that’s fair. I’m a stranger. But hopefully a nice one who’s gonna help get you and your—” He glances up at me, like he wants me to fill in the blank.
“Aunt,” I say.
Cash nods. “I’m gonna help get you and your aunt back on the road.” He stands back up and starts walking to his truck. “Make sure you grab everything,” he says. “Not a lot of people come this way, but that means no one’s really looking when people do.”
I get his point, and I grab my purse and everything out of the car, making sure there’s nothing left behind anyone could snatch. Then I take Cora’s hand, and we follow Cash to his truck. He opens the back seat of the cab, and I lift Cora up into it, murmuring soothing things to her as I get her buckled in.
Cash waits off to the side, his eyes averted politely as he waits for me to get settled in the passenger seat. He closes the door with a snap and then comes around to get behind the wheel.
My heart is hammering away in my chest as he starts the truck up and pulls us back onto the road. “This your first time in these parts?” he asks, glancing over at me briefly.
I nod. “Yeah. I didn’t even know this town existed.”
He laughs at that. “Most people don’t. Unless you’re a local or you know a local, it’s just a blip on the map on your way to somewhere else. I’m sure you were heading somewhere more exciting.”
“Sounds like I’d have to be,” I say back, giving nothing away.
And he doesn’t push, thank fuck. He just taps his fingers on the steering wheel to the music playing lowly from his radio.
Every so often he glances in the rearview mirror, like he’s checking on Cora, and I don’t know how to feel about that.
“How you doing back there, little miss?” he asks.
Cora doesn’t respond. He keeps her eyes on the back of his seat, and it’s almost like she didn’t hear him.
“Fair enough,” he says, laughing a little.
We turn onto a road that’s more dirt and gravel than anything else, and I look around at the wide open pastures on either side of it. There’s fences separating it from the road, and green, green grass spreading out as far as I can see.
In the distance I can see animals, horses or cows, and as we crest a hill, there’s a little pocket of horses all together under a tree.
“Look at that,” he says, still talking to Cora. “Those are Mr. Compton’s horses. Do you like horses?”
Cora just holds on to the elephant, but she does turn her head a little to look. That’s—something.
Something in my chest aches at the sight of this powerful and handsome Alpha being tender with my mute niece, and I have to look out the window to get myself together.
Cora hasn’t spoken, not a single word, since the night I pulled her away from the hospital after her mother died. She’s been silent, and I’ve finally learned to interpret her facial expressions and hand gestures to give her what she wants and needs, but seeing strangers try to connect with her always makes my chest tight.
What do they think when they see us together? It’s clear we’re not mother and daughter, and sometimes I wonder if they’re judging me for the fact that Cora is so quiet.
Cash doesn’t give any indication that he is, at least. He points out cows and a wide, rippling pond in the distance, chattering to Cora like he would anyone else.
His scent fills the cab of the truck the longer we’re in it, and it’s unignorable. Sweet apple, something warm and spicy like brandy, and the sweet, earthy smell of fresh hay. It’s fitting for who he seems to be, and I find myself breathing it in deeper, despite my better judgement.
Something about it calms me down, even as it sets me on edge.
Cash is attractive, I’ll give him that.
He’s the kind of ruggedly handsome that probably has Omegas lining up for a chance to be with him. He has that small town charm to go with it, easy with his smiles and his slow drawl accent.
But I’ve learned the hard way that attractive Alphas are usually the most dangerous ones. They’re used to getting what they want, used to not being told no.
A few minutes later, we pass a weather worn sign that welcomes us to Silver Falls in peeling letters. I sit up, looking around at this little town that has managed to produce someone like Cash.
It’s quaint. We rumble down the road, passing a general store and a gas station that seems like it might be attached. There’s a feed store, with a cluster of men dressed like Cash in dark jeans and t-shirts standing outside. Someone comes out and starts loading heavy bags of something into the open bed of a truck, and Cash lifts his hand to wave as we pass.