“Jace told you?”
“Of course. He may want a motorcycle, but he’s our blood. Blood always comes first; you should have known better.”
“If you knew, then why did you come?” Cash stiffened in his seat. This could go really badly. He didn’t want to have to hurt any of the assholes to protect himself, but he sure as fuck couldn’t be with Rachel if he was six-feet under.
“Relax, Cash.” Dustin laughed, going to the refrigerator to get more beers, which he set on the table with a thump. Everyone reached out for a beer, the sound of the tops popping starting the negotiations.
“We’ve all come up with certain concessions before we give you our vote of approval to court Rachel,” Tate said, laying down his cards, literally and figuratively.
This didn’t sound good, but he was willing to see how far the bastards expected him to cave for Rachel.
“It’s just five simple rules. You should be able to live with them with no problems.”
“It depends on just what the five rules are, now, doesn’t it?” Cash said. Nothing was ever simple with the Porters.
“Yes, it does. Rule number one: no fucking around on Rachel. That means no women in town or those women you got stashed at that clubhouse of yours,” Tate began their demands.
“Rule number two: you can’t lay a hand on her when you’re mad. She can get a man’s temper riled, but you’re not allowed to ever hurt my sister.
“Rule number three: she gets to keep working with her plants and clients. They’re a pain in the ass—you can’t go to the fucking bathroom without having something disgusting growing on the shelf—but they’re important to her.
“Rule number four: you have to start going to church with her. We watched our parents fight about that for years. Rachel wants a man who will sit next to her in church on Christmas Eve.” Tate’s voice was much too chirpy when he voiced this rule. Everyone in town knew Cash’s feelings on attending church.
“Rule five, and it’s the most important to us: if you have kids, you have to let us be involved in their lives. I don’t give a fuck how much you hate us, but you won’t show our nieces or nephews that you do. We keep this personal bullshit between us. Deal?”
Cash didn’t hesitate. “Deal, but this doesn’t mean we have to become best friends, does it?”
“God, no,” Greer shuddered.
“I have a demand of my own. When Rachel and I get in a fight, you keep your noses out of it.”
Dustin looked at his brothers. “Agreed.”
“Unless you break any of our rules,” Greer clarified.
“I can live with that,” Cash agreed. “So, you already knew you were going to agree to me seeing Rachel before we started this morning?” He narrowed his eyes on their unrepentant expressions.
“Yep. We decided we were going to have some fun making you squirm, though. I don’t know which I enjoyed the most: you scaring off those foxes or throwing away that big-ass fish you caught.” Tate grinned.
“I do. Him letting me call him a bitch.” Greer slapped Cash on the shoulder, almost knocking his beer out of his hand.
“Jace, it’s bedtime. Cash, you got anything harder than beer?” Tate asked, picking the cards up again.
“Yes.”
“Then bring it out. Let’s play a few more hands, and this time, you can play like a man instead of a pussy.”
Cash looked around the table at the Porters. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 22
Rachel parked her car in front of Mag’s house. She had gone to the store after church to pick up a few things they needed. She was struggling to carry the three bags of groceries and the beer that Cash and Mag liked when Cash’s truck pulled into the driveway. She had the beer juggled on her hip as she tried to open the front door.
As Cash opened his truck door and got out, she was shocked at his exhausted appearance; even with the sunglasses on, he looked like shit. His jeans and t-shirt were rumpled, his long hair was tousled, and his face was white as a sheet.
“Need some help?” Cash’s jovial voice set her temper off.
“Yes, you can carry your own beer. From now own, you can get it your own self, too. It doesn’t seem like you have any trouble getting liquor.”
Cash reached out, taking the beer with one hand before opening the door with the other. “Mag home?”
“No, she’s next door.” Rachel nodded to where Mag was sitting on her neighbor’s porch, talking.
Rachel went in the house, packing the grocery bags and setting them down on the counter.
“I bought them, so you can put them up,” she snapped. “I’m going to get changed.” She turned around after setting the groceries down and barreled into Cash’s chest. She’d thought he had moved away after setting down the beer.
“Careful, Rachel,” Cash warned. “I’m not in the best mood. I just spent yesterday with your brothers and Jace, and I spent the night at my cabin with them trying to give me alcohol poisoning with that moonshine they’ve been making.”
“You went hunting and drinking with my brothers?” she asked, stunned.
“Yes,” Cash gritted out, his head about to explode.
“Are they still alive?”
Cash bit back his laughter at the worry in her voice. “For now. I’m not making any promises, though. It depends on if I have to go to the hospital to get my stomach pumped.”
“Why would you…?”
“You know why.” Cash glared at her, lifting his sunglasses to his head.
At his look, Rachel took a step toward her bedroom. Cash leaned a hand out, bracing it on the wall, and blocked her escape.
“N-No.”
“Because I happen to have their approval for us to date.”
Rachel shook her head. “No way. They wouldn’t—”
“They did. Call them if you don’t believe me.”
Rachel didn’t have to; she saw the truth on his face. “That doesn’t mean shit. I’m not going to go out with you.”
“You going back on your word?”
Rachel’s eyes widened in shock. “I was freaking mouthing off. You know that!”
“Well, your mouth is going to be plenty busy Friday night. You’ve got a week to get used to the idea, or I’ll spread it all over town that a Porter’s word isn’t worth shit.”
“You better go on to the hospital because obviously my brothers’ moonshine has done some brain damage.”
Cash dropped his hand, letting her pass. “Friday, Rachel.”
She pushed past him, going to her bedroom and slamming the door shut. Pacing angrily around the small room, she was so mad she was tempted to throw something. Instead, she jerked her phone out of her pocket, pushing down on the familiar number.
“Hello?” Tate’s cautious voice answered his phone.
“What the hell, Tate?” Furiously, she laid into him.
“Rach—”
“How could you?” she stormed, ignoring his interruption.
“Rach—”
“I can’t believe my brothers stabbed me in the back!”
“Rach—”
“You called me every name in the book when you found out I slept with him!” she screamed into the phone.
“Rachel!”
She went quiet, recognizing that tone of voice from her childhood.
“Listen to me for a minute. You’ve been mooning over him since you were a kid. You’re the one who slept with him and ran away when you couldn’t stand seeing him with other women.”
“I left town because you all humiliated me.”
“Rachel, we’ve embarrassed you your whole life; that was nothing new. You ran because you didn’t know how to deal. You still don’t.”
“I don’t want to go out with him,” Rachel said stubbornly.
Tate’s voice softened. “Then don’t. We gave him our permission to date you. You do have the option to say no. The choice is still yours.”
Rachel went silent. She was conflicted; she
couldn’t have her heart broken by Cash anymore.
“Sister, ask him about the rules.”
“What rules?”
“The rules he promised to keep if you started seeing each other. He agreed. He didn’t even put up a fuss. Have I ever not looked out for you?” he reasoned.
She remained silent.
“Rachel?”
“The night of the party… you really hurt me, Tate.”
“I know.” He didn’t apologize, but his voice was filled with remorse. “Give him another chance, Rachel. Give both of us another chance.”