Safe Heart (Dreamspun Desires Book 102) Read online

  “We’re not even a thing again!”

  “Six months?” Cash cocked his head. “Yeah, Gecko, O Mighty Lizard—I think we’re a fuckin’ thing.”

  Glen turned away from him and watched the tarmac whipping underneath the plane. God, he loved to fly. He was tired—and he’d probably sleep as soon as Damie hit cruising altitude, but as he sat here and listened to Damien and Spencer bitch at each other in their own rhythm, he thought wistfully that he’d rather crash in an airplane than sleep anywhere else in the world.

  The only place that felt more like home had been next to Cash the night before.

  Glen tried to scratch that thought out of his brain, but the wheels left the tarmac and he realized Cash had stopped playing with the amenities and was now gripping the armrest with white-knuckled tension.

  It was like his hand took on a life of its own, became an alien being, lifted up off his lap and laced his fingers with Cash’s to ease some of the desperation in that terrible grip.

  “This is leather, son,” he drawled. “Don’t poke holes in it.”

  Cash squeezed his hand. “I’ll leave your precious upholstery alone if you stop calling me things like ‘son.’”

  Glen breathed through his nose and tried to tug his hand free. “That’s not a good trade.”

  But Cash was having none of it. He kept Glen’s hand right where it was and raised Glen’s knuckles to his lips. “It’s ten years, Gecko. Not twenty. I’m not a teenager. I am literally a grown-assed man. You may think it’s going to help you keep your distance, doing that, but I’m telling you it’s only going to make you feel like a creepy old man when you cave.”

  “How do you know I’m going to cave?” Glen asked. “I’m usually pretty damned good at keeping my promises, and I promise you—”

  “Don’t say it,” Cash ordered. “That’s another thing that’ll make you feel like shit. It’s going to happen because you still care about me. And it has to happen because I don’t think I can care for another man like I care about you. So unless you want us to spill our guts right here on the plane in front of dogs and everybody, I suggest you stop writing checks with your mouth that your body can’t keep.”

  Glen couldn’t help it. Oh my God, the pun… it was right there… shiny and silver and beckoning to distract him from all the serious heartache this man was promising him.

  “And you’re gonna be the one to ‘Cash’ them?” he asked, practically giggling with the perfection of it.

  “You know, someday I’m gonna top,” Cash told him, his brown-eyed gaze absolutely unimpressed. “And I’ve never done it before, but I’m going to do it with you, and you are going to be at my mercy. Now ask yourself—how badly do you want to piss me off before then? Because you need to pick your battles.”

  Glen snorted. “You’re very cute—ah!” Cash turned Glen’s hand up and bit gently on the callused pad of Glen’s palm, letting his teeth scrape down the tender middle.

  Glen was suddenly, achingly, ferociously aroused, and this time when he tried to snatch his hand back, Cash let him.

  “You are a forward little shit, aren’t you?” he muttered.

  “I am not dicking around.” Cash’s eyes softened. “Now get some sleep, and maybe you won’t be such an asshole when you wake up.”

  Glen slid off his hooded sweatshirt, which would be necessary this time of year in Baja. He crumpled it and shoved it under his head, then folded his arms and leaned back in his seat.

  “I’m always an asshole,” he taunted, determined to have the last word. “Ask anybody else on this plane.”

  Cash didn’t say anything further, but his gentle laughter rumbled along Glen’s skin. Oh damn. Cash Harper did not fuck around when he set his mind to something. Glen needed to remember that, or he was going to be in a world of hurt.

  Crystal Beaches

  PEOPLE expected Baja to be hot all year round, but the truth was, in late January it was only a little warmer than San Francisco. Jeans and hooded sweaters were a good bet.

  They landed at a small private airport outside of La Paz, and a shuttle van was waiting for Damien to drive them to a hotel off the beach of the Sea of Cortez. Through the faint drizzle, Cash could see the crystal waters of the bay and had a pang of regret.

  “What?” Glen asked, and for a moment, the tight mask of discomfort he’d worn since they’d gotten off the plane and into this incredibly uncomfortable shuttle bus faded.

  “I was just thinking I’d like to see Mexico with you when it’s warm and sunny and all we have to do is lie on the beach and swim.”

  Glen grunted. “You had your chance.”

  “Yeah, I did.” Cash leaned over and smoothed the deep line between Glen’s eyebrows. “Maybe we’ll get one again. Do you have any painkillers for your shoulder?”

  Glen nodded. “In the duffel, which is in the back of the van.”

  “Of course. Well, you can rest after we check in, right?”

  Glen opened his mouth, and the way he was scowling, Cash expected a negative response to that, but Damien intervened.

  “Yes, yes, you can. Because I’m not going dry-suit snorkeling with you unless I know your shoulder won’t give. I say we all rest, and tonight we hit you with the plan. The hotel’s great—Glen’s treat.”

  Glen’s eyes got big. “Our what? We’re doing what?”

  Damien let out an evil chuckle. “Hey, you told me to make the plans this morning. I wanted something good. And they take dogs.”

  Cash turned to Preston and smiled, because that should make him happy, but Preston didn’t smile back. Instead, he leveled a flat stare that made Cash shift uncomfortably in the already stiff and poky seat.

  When Cash had first met him, Preston had just broken his wrist and his collarbone, and he’d been out of his comfort zone for two days, which Preston did not deal with well. But he’d still managed a brief smile.

  It wasn’t Cash’s imagination.

  “Glen, why’s Preston pissed?”

  “I don’t know,” Glen said. He looked at his brother, a stocky blond family clone of Glen, with wide blue eyes and said, “Preston, why you pissed at Cash?”

  Preston didn’t look surprised, and he didn’t look put out. “He left you.”

  Well, that was a knife in the gut. Cash knew it—he knew he had a lot of making up to do, and Glen might still be too tough a nut to crack—but he hadn’t thought… hadn’t anticipated how the people in Glen’s life might take his return.

  Spencer had seemed supportive—but then, when a guy gave good advice, he wanted you to follow it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “I was sorry when I did it. I shouldn’t have left. I… I hope I’ve learned better now.”

  Preston blinked slowly—processing, Cash knew. Putting Cash’s expression and his voice together with what he’d been saying.

  He apparently didn’t like his own conclusions.

  “Words,” Preston snapped. “Too many fuckin’ words. If you’ve learned better, fuckin’ stay.”

  “I will,” Cash said softly, meeting Glen’s eyes.

  Glen shrugged and then winced.

  “Don’t kill yourself trying to convince me you don’t care,” Cash said, feeling petulant and angry.

  “Fuckin’ shoulder.” Glen took a deep breath, Lamaze style, and Cash wanted to beat him. Left his painkillers in the fucking rear of the car? Who did that?

  “I can massage your back in the hotel,” Cash said. He gave a brief smile. “I used to do it for the guys on tour—they said that’s what they’re looking forward to next year. My neck rubs.”

  Glen smiled tightly. “I wouldn’t mind,” he said, sounding tired. “But I don’t believe you about the guys. Your talent is pretty much what’s holding them together.”

  Cash thought about his bandmates happily. “That’s sweet. The guys all worked hard to get better, though. Caleb and Bryce went to LA and did backup for Outbreak Monkey, which was sort of awesome. I’m jealous. And Chambers took music le
ssons in the last few months, and he’s hoping he’ll be good enough to play the drums in our next album.”

  “Nice,” Glen said. “You just gotta keep writing them songs.”

  Cash let out a half-laugh. “I’ve written them all. That month I spent with my mother. You know, when I was in high school and junior college, I thought it was sacrilege to wake up before eleven. But a year and a half on a band tour and I realized how much we had to do before we considered our day started, and I went a little stir crazy. So besides trying to pin my mom down to talk to her, I actually did creative work, and believe me, nobody is more surprised.”

  “That’s good,” Glen said tiredly. “I… it’s good when we get second chances. Helps us learn the good things about ourselves.”

  “And helps us see our mistakes really clearly too,” Cash said. “Damien, how much longer to the hotel?”

  “Forty-five minutes,” Damien said. “Why?”

  “’Cause idiot here left his painkillers in the luggage.”

  “Goddammit!” Glen swore, even while Damien cackled.

  “Well played. Hang on a minute.” Damien pulled off to the side of the winding cliffside road, and Cash made Glen stay sitting while he got him his painkillers. When he got back into the van, he presented Glen with the pills and some water, his expression tight and irritated.

  “What?” Glen asked sourly.

  “You make me crazy,” Cash told him bluntly. “It’s a good thing I’m in it for the long haul. Hero bullshit makes me nuts.”

  “Why’s that?” Glen asked, tossing the pills back and swigging water.

  “Because pain is telling you to stop!” Cash snapped. “And I don’t get why guys like you and Damien don’t hear that.”

  Glen patted him on the head before tilting his seat back and closing his eyes.

  He didn’t say another word all the way to the hotel.

  THE hotel was lovely, actually. Two banks of rooms—a top floor and a bottom floor—looked out across a beach of white sand.

  “Think we’ll see whales?” Cash asked as he and Glen checked into their room.

  “Hopefully,” Glen answered, and he wasn’t smiling or condescending, and Cash sort of forgave him for being a dick in the van. “I’ve seen a couple out here, and they’re… they’re really something.”

  “Yeah.” Cash let out a happy sigh and then sobered. “Brielle used to be nuts about whales and conservation. We pinky promised to go to Alaska one year and see the whales during their migration. The idea that they’re here too means maybe she saw them.” He let out another breath. “Maybe she can remember who she is because of those things she used to love so much.”

  “Mm. Yeah—good thinking,” Glen praised, then he frowned.

  “Thanks. What’s wrong?” The room had dark blue carpet and white sheets and comforters, the kind with the superfine thread count.

  “A king-size bed? Did you ask for this, or is it Damien’s idea of a joke?”

  Cash’s heart fell a little. “No, I didn’t ask,” he said. It had been true—he didn’t want to put Damien in the position of either refusing to help or playing cupid. “But, you know, big mattress. You can sleep on one side and pretend I’m dead on the other.”

  “I don’t want you dead,” Glen said so immediately, with such venom, Cash knew it was true and took heart. “I just…. God, this could make things complicated.”

  “Things are already complicated,” Cash told him. “Maybe it could make us close.”

  Glen let out a hurt sound, and for the first time in his life, Cash understood the meaning of “backing off.”

  “Look, undress and I’ll get some towels and some lotion. Don’t worry—no sex on the table here. You’re in pain, and we need to loosen you up before you do anything tricky with your back. I promise, your virtue is safe with me.”

  “Virtue? Oh my God!” Glen started to laugh, deep and loud, and Cash shook his head in disgust and stalked to the bathroom for towels. Smartass.

  He got back to the room in time for Glen to have dropped his shirt, and he was in the middle of kicking off his shoes. Cash dodged behind him to lay some towels on the bed and put a hand on his chest when he attempted to lie down without taking off his jeans.

  “Underwear,” Cash said, unequivocally.

  “We’re not—”

  “I know we’re not. But jeans aren’t comfortable, and you’ll spend all your time shifting on the bed trying to get that big seam out of your balls, and that won’t help. Don’t fight me on this.”

  “Don’t fight you on this?” Glen asked dryly.

  “That’s what I said. I’m not going to take advantage of you, Glen!”

  “I never said you were!” Glen tried to laugh.

  “And don’t act like it could never happen, because we both know that’s what happened the first time,” Cash said, the shame deep in his chest.

  “I knew what I was getting into,” Glen muttered. “It takes two objects to collide, Cash. I’m not stupid.”

  Cash swallowed, suddenly too vulnerable, and the urge to run out of the room and break his six-month celibacy streak was strong. But even as the urge hit, he knew what would happen. He’d come to, tainted by some other guy, and realize that this man—this man—would be lost to him forever.

  “No,” Cash said, letting his voice break. “I am. Or I was then. I’m trying not to be now. Just… just lie down on your stomach or side if that’s comfortable. I promise I’m good at this. It’s not bullshit. I really want you not to hurt anymore.”

  Glen swallowed and looked away. Without another word he shucked his jeans and placed himself carefully on the bed, his cheek against the pillow, the lovely clean lines of his back, his hips, his ass and thighs, there for Cash to see.

  Cash rubbed some hotel lotion between his hands to get it warm and tried hard not to wince at the surgery scars.

  “Not pretty,” Glen muttered.

  “Says you.” Cash wasn’t trained, but he knew he wasn’t bad either. He smoothed the lotion in and began to work, his mind heavily on his task.

  Glen hurt—inside and out—but right here, right now, Cash could concentrate on the out. He worked at the knots in Glen’s neck, in his shoulder and back, until they gave. He was going to nudge Glen to turn over, so he could work on the pectorals and biceps, but by then Glen had fallen asleep.

  Any ordinary time, Cash would’ve been mad or hurt; here he was doing his best to touch this guy gallantly, to give him comfort, and his reward was a snoring pilot?

  Except that wasn’t what the massage had been about. Cash had wanted to give comfort, to relieve pain—and Glen’s quiet breathing told him that he had.

  The room was chilly, so he toweled off the extra lotion and pulled the covers over Glen’s shoulders, and as he was wondering about food, he heard a quiet knock on the door.

  He answered, and Preston stood there, glaring.

  “What?” Oh God. Cash liked Preston. “He’s sleeping. I worked the knots out of his shoulder, so I hope he can get some rest tonight.”

  Preston nodded. “I’m going to go fetch food for everybody. Come with me.”

  Oh. Well. They were going to do this now. “Sure. Let me get my wallet and my jacket.” Still chilly outside, especially with the breeze off the Sea of Cortez.

  “I’ll wait.”

  Preston stayed there in the doorway, Preacher at his side, while Cash found what he needed in the room. Braving that terrible blue-eyed, lantern-jawed scowl, he bent down by Glen’s ear.

  “I’m going to get some food, okay?”

  “Mmnot hungry,” Glen mumbled.

  “I’ll get you tacos, and you’ll love it,” Cash told him. “Sleep until I get back.”

  “Fine.”

  “I promise I’m coming back.”

  “Believe that when you get here.” And with that, Glen turned his head away from the edge of the bed, and Cash sighed.

  “Sure.”

  He got up and pocketed one of the hotel keys,
leaving the other on the TV stand, before exiting the room with a disapproving Preston.

  “You promised you’d come back,” Preston said, voice uncompromising. Together they clattered down the steps to the concrete apron that extended over the beach. Cash paused for a moment to look at the ocean in the twilight and let some of the peace of wind and wave wash through him. This was hard, he thought randomly. This was hard, and he was doing it. And Preston had a right to be pissed. Cash had hurt someone he cared about. But Cash had done all sorts of things nobody thought he could. Being in the band—that was a big deal to him, and he rocked it. Being a faithful friend to Brielle? He’d tracked her down not once but twice, and he wasn’t giving up.

  Confronting his mother about letting him run wild in the discos and the drug dens and the excesses of people who were too young with too much money had sucked. Walking away when he realized she could never give him the support he’d needed so badly once, but had learned to live without…

  That had been hard.

  And coming back to Glen Echo, someone he had hurt before but still cared about?

  This was by far the hardest thing he’d ever done—but it was also the most he’d ever wronged someone. It was right that it was hard. Glen wouldn’t believe Cash meant it if everyone made it easy.

  If Cash could have the conversation he’d just finished with Glen, surely he could talk to Glen’s brutally honest brother. He might have wounds to lick when he was done, but he wasn’t a scared kid anymore.

  “I did,” he said into the here and now. “I did promise.”

  “You can’t break that.” They took a few more steps, Preston’s hand never leaving Preacher’s head, before Cash realized that was it. As far as Preston was concerned, that was the end of the conversation.

  “I never promised before,” Cash said. “About the only promise I ever made was to run away.”

  Preston grunted. “That’s a shitty promise.”

  “I know. I don’t want to make that one anymore.”

  “My brother’s an asshole.”