We had a week.
We didn’t have a day to blow.
But I’d blow it for Casey. I owed him that. I owed him everything.
“Tonight, need you to make yourself scarce,” he declared, lifting the phone out of its cradle.
Oh no.
I was giving him his night, he didn’t get the room.
“No way,” I replied, turning to face him fully.
His still angry eyes came to me. “What?”
“No way,” I said. “You had the room last night. Not again. I was sitting in a bar for three hours and then I was out in the cold. You need a visit with your hot one, you get creative but I get the room.”
He put the phone back in the cradle and returned, “I can hardly bang her in the car. She’s a class piece.”
Right. She was a class piece.
I didn’t believe that for a second.
My brother nailed his fair share of pieces and none of them had been class.
“Then, like I said, get creative,” I replied.
“That is uncool,” he bit out.
“What?” I asked. “We should not be staying an extra day and you know it. You want to have a little fun, laugh a little, enjoy her company, you got it. I gave in. We can’t afford it but it’s yours. You also got the hotel room last night. Tonight, it’s mine. I know you can be creative, Casey. So be creative.”
He scowled at me.
I let him.
I gave in a lot, most of the time I let him walk all over me. I owed him so I gave it to him.
But I wasn’t going to sit in that bar, not tonight, not when Gray could walk in. A Gray who knew what Casey was, what I was. No way. No stinking way.
Casey waited, hoping I’d melt. I did this a lot so he had a lot of hope.
I held his scowl and didn’t melt.
“Fuck,” he hissed, snatched the phone out of the receiver, dug into his back pocket and took out a wisp of paper. Then he looked at it and started punching buttons.
“I’ll give you a second to talk to your girl,” I muttered and his eyes cut to me.
“Thanks, big of you,” he said sarcastically.
I sighed.
Then his eyes went to his feet and his face split in a grin. “Hey beautiful, it’s Casey,” he said into the phone.
I got out of there.
Chapter Four
Never Been Kissed
“Kitchen still open?” I asked the bartender.
I was back at the bar. It was a stupid place to be. It was the last place I should be. The last place I wanted to be. But there I was.
And I knew why.
Because I was lying to myself.
It wasn’t the last place I wanted to be. It was the only place I knew he might be.
Stupid.
She was the same bartender. Lots of thick, dark hair that flowed over her shoulders and down her back, nearly as long as mine. Even though it was January, she was wearing a skintight tank and skintight jeans. Better tips that way, I’d guess. She was long and strangely very trim, no meat on her yet she had large breasts. They didn’t appear fake though obviously I wouldn’t know. Either someone did a phenomenal job or God liked her a whole lot.
I figured God liked her a whole lot. Up close and closely inspecting, she wasn’t five years older than Gray, seven to ten years older than me. She was ten years older than Gray but wore it well. Didn’t hide it well. Wore it well.
Comfortable in her skin. Comfortable in her place.
She either owned the bar or was sleeping with the person who owned it. It was her space and she liked to be there.
“Five minutes, hon,” she told me on a genuine welcoming grin. “You’re in luck.”
I nodded and grinned back, mine probably not genuine or welcoming but I wanted it to be.
“Then can I have a cold one, bottle, and whatever is easiest for them seeing as I’m not picky and they’ll be closing the kitchen after making it?”
Her grin turned to a smile. “Pulled pork sandwich,” she replied. “I don’t know whether it’s easiest or not but you can’t leave Mustang without eating one of The Rambler’s pulled pork sandwiches. And we got those curly fries, can’t be beat.”
My grin got bigger too and I nodded again. “Sounds perfect.”
She tipped her head to the side, “No preference, like last night?”
Yep. Her tips were huge. She paid attention. It was mid-week but there were two bars in this burg and only this one in walking distance or close to the courthouse square and residential areas so I had no doubt there were nights and even days when it got busy. In fact, it was on the courthouse square. The other bar was where Casey and I were going to do our business. Still in the town limits but removed. When we’d made our first pass, I’d told Casey I was not going to work in The Rambler. The other bar was seedier, not as welcoming, not nearly as nice and the people in it were the same way. I didn’t mind taking that money. Anyone who came into The Rambler, though, different story.