“Gee, thanks.”
Her curiosity piqued. “I want to hear the story.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“Don’t bat your eyelashes at me like that. That move might work on other guys, but—oh, Jesus, are you crying? Damn it. Fine, I’ll tell you. Just stop crying.”
She blinked rapidly to clear the moisture in her eyes and offered a broad smile. “Great, can’t wait to hear it.”
Cash looked betrayed. “Those were fake tears?”
“I can cry on command,” she confessed. “Used to work wonders when I was a kid, but once my family caught on, the trick ended up backfiring. Like when I was fourteen, I took gymnastics—yet another pointless activity I absolutely sucked at—and I broke my arm falling off the uneven bars during a meet. My parents saw the tears and thought I was faking. It took thirty minutes, while I was in excruciating pain, mind you, to convince them I was truly injured.”
Cash threw his head back and laughed. “I’m not sure I even feel bad for you. It’s not cool, manipulating people like that.”
“Duh. That’s why I don’t do it anymore.”
“You just did,” he shot back.
Crap, right. “Because you were being difficult,” she said defensively. “I want to know about your name.”
“Fine, but no passive-aggressive commentary.”
“Deal.”
He leaned on his elbows and tipped his head up to the sky. The pose was casual, but hot as hell. His biceps bulged in the most delectable way. The tilt of his head revealed the strong tendons of his throat and the stubble shadowing his square jaw. Why hadn’t she noticed he had a tiny cleft in his chin? Gosh, she wanted to lick that spot with her tongue. And then lick the masculine curve of his jaw. And that hard chest and mouthwatering six-pack. And—okay, she pretty much wanted to lick every inch of Cash McCoy’s body.
Dragging her mind out of the gutter, she mimicked his pose and fell back on her elbows. “I’m waiting…”
He shifted his gaze to her face. “Short version? My parents found out they won the lottery five minutes before my mom was about to have an abortion.”
Jen’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”
“Yep.” A self-deprecating smile lifted his mouth. “Fetus-me was gonna be aborted, even though my parents constantly assure me that they loved me and were devastated that they couldn’t keep me.”
“Why couldn’t they?”
“Mom was sixteen, Dad was two years older. They both came from bad homes, ran away together, and were living in a rundown trailer outside of Phoenix when my mother got pregnant. They had about ten dollars in the bank, Dad just lost his job flipping burgers at some fast food place, and Mom dropped out of high school to help pay the bills.”
“Sounds tough,” Jen said sympathetically.
“They were in no position to have a kid. Even carrying the baby and giving it up for adoption would’ve been hard. They had no money to pay for food, let alone doctor bills. So yeah, they decided on abortion.”
She studied his chiseled profile, but he didn’t look upset about the decision his parents had made, and his tone of voice didn’t convey bitterness either.
“Anyway, once my dad turned eighteen, he started buying lottery tickets. He figured their situation couldn’t get any worse than it already was, so he shelled out two bucks a week, and every week, they didn’t win a damn thing.” He grinned. “So they’re sitting there in the waiting room of the abortion clinic and the TV’s on. The news is replaying the winning numbers from the night before, and Dad realizes he forgot to check his ticket. So he pulls it out and what do you know—he’s won the jackpot.”
She stared at him in amazement. “You’re joking.”
“Dead serious. They won ten million dollars.”
“Holy shit.”
“Mom decided it was a sign from God telling them to keep me. She says God knew they needed cash and so he graciously gave them some. That’s why they named me Cash.”
“Wow. I can’t believe that’s a true story. It sounds like the plot of one of those feel-good movies.”
He rolled his eyes. “Your turn. Why’d your parents name you Jennifer?”
“It’s my mom’s middle name.”
“That’s it? That’s the story?”
“Gee, Cash, I’m sorry the origins of my name aren’t to your liking.”
A familiar female voice interrupted before he could respond. “Jen!”
Squinting, Jen looked up and spotted Annabelle Holmes waving at her from a third-floor balcony.
“Stay there. We’re coming down,” Annabelle called before disappearing from view.
Cash looked surprised for a moment. “You know Annabelle?” He quickly answered his own question. “Wait, of course you do. You probably know her better than I do, huh? Evans, too.”
She nodded. “Annabelle’s awesome. But I don’t know Ryan as well as some of the others. I’m probably closest with Garrett and Will since they’re my brother’s BFFs. Do you know them? Neither of them is active duty anymore, but I’m sure you’ve at least heard of them.”
“Will was one of my instructors during BUD/S training,” he answered. “And Garrett hosts poker night every now and then, but we’re not close.”
“You’re missing out. He’s hot.”
Her curiosity piqued. “I want to hear the story.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“Don’t bat your eyelashes at me like that. That move might work on other guys, but—oh, Jesus, are you crying? Damn it. Fine, I’ll tell you. Just stop crying.”
She blinked rapidly to clear the moisture in her eyes and offered a broad smile. “Great, can’t wait to hear it.”
Cash looked betrayed. “Those were fake tears?”
“I can cry on command,” she confessed. “Used to work wonders when I was a kid, but once my family caught on, the trick ended up backfiring. Like when I was fourteen, I took gymnastics—yet another pointless activity I absolutely sucked at—and I broke my arm falling off the uneven bars during a meet. My parents saw the tears and thought I was faking. It took thirty minutes, while I was in excruciating pain, mind you, to convince them I was truly injured.”
Cash threw his head back and laughed. “I’m not sure I even feel bad for you. It’s not cool, manipulating people like that.”
“Duh. That’s why I don’t do it anymore.”
“You just did,” he shot back.
Crap, right. “Because you were being difficult,” she said defensively. “I want to know about your name.”
“Fine, but no passive-aggressive commentary.”
“Deal.”
He leaned on his elbows and tipped his head up to the sky. The pose was casual, but hot as hell. His biceps bulged in the most delectable way. The tilt of his head revealed the strong tendons of his throat and the stubble shadowing his square jaw. Why hadn’t she noticed he had a tiny cleft in his chin? Gosh, she wanted to lick that spot with her tongue. And then lick the masculine curve of his jaw. And that hard chest and mouthwatering six-pack. And—okay, she pretty much wanted to lick every inch of Cash McCoy’s body.
Dragging her mind out of the gutter, she mimicked his pose and fell back on her elbows. “I’m waiting…”
He shifted his gaze to her face. “Short version? My parents found out they won the lottery five minutes before my mom was about to have an abortion.”
Jen’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”
“Yep.” A self-deprecating smile lifted his mouth. “Fetus-me was gonna be aborted, even though my parents constantly assure me that they loved me and were devastated that they couldn’t keep me.”
“Why couldn’t they?”
“Mom was sixteen, Dad was two years older. They both came from bad homes, ran away together, and were living in a rundown trailer outside of Phoenix when my mother got pregnant. They had about ten dollars in the bank, Dad just lost his job flipping burgers at some fast food place, and Mom dropped out of high school to help pay the bills.”
“Sounds tough,” Jen said sympathetically.
“They were in no position to have a kid. Even carrying the baby and giving it up for adoption would’ve been hard. They had no money to pay for food, let alone doctor bills. So yeah, they decided on abortion.”
She studied his chiseled profile, but he didn’t look upset about the decision his parents had made, and his tone of voice didn’t convey bitterness either.
“Anyway, once my dad turned eighteen, he started buying lottery tickets. He figured their situation couldn’t get any worse than it already was, so he shelled out two bucks a week, and every week, they didn’t win a damn thing.” He grinned. “So they’re sitting there in the waiting room of the abortion clinic and the TV’s on. The news is replaying the winning numbers from the night before, and Dad realizes he forgot to check his ticket. So he pulls it out and what do you know—he’s won the jackpot.”
She stared at him in amazement. “You’re joking.”
“Dead serious. They won ten million dollars.”
“Holy shit.”
“Mom decided it was a sign from God telling them to keep me. She says God knew they needed cash and so he graciously gave them some. That’s why they named me Cash.”
“Wow. I can’t believe that’s a true story. It sounds like the plot of one of those feel-good movies.”
He rolled his eyes. “Your turn. Why’d your parents name you Jennifer?”
“It’s my mom’s middle name.”
“That’s it? That’s the story?”
“Gee, Cash, I’m sorry the origins of my name aren’t to your liking.”
A familiar female voice interrupted before he could respond. “Jen!”
Squinting, Jen looked up and spotted Annabelle Holmes waving at her from a third-floor balcony.
“Stay there. We’re coming down,” Annabelle called before disappearing from view.
Cash looked surprised for a moment. “You know Annabelle?” He quickly answered his own question. “Wait, of course you do. You probably know her better than I do, huh? Evans, too.”
She nodded. “Annabelle’s awesome. But I don’t know Ryan as well as some of the others. I’m probably closest with Garrett and Will since they’re my brother’s BFFs. Do you know them? Neither of them is active duty anymore, but I’m sure you’ve at least heard of them.”
“Will was one of my instructors during BUD/S training,” he answered. “And Garrett hosts poker night every now and then, but we’re not close.”
“You’re missing out. He’s hot.”
