“Yeah, fine.”
“And I’ll make it a point to be a regular downstairs until he shows up,” Vince said.
Duncan nodded. “That sounds wise. I can’t imagine anyone would take me seriously as a bouncer.” He turned to Casey. “Is Abilene on tonight?”
“Yeah, her last shift. I told her I could handle it by myself, but she’s desperate for the money.”
Vince rubbed his chin like he wasn’t happy about this plan, but held his tongue.
“You can try to talk her out of it, but I don’t recommend it,” Casey said. “Plus the poor girl’s basically in witness protection as of tomorrow morning. Three C’s roomy but it’d still feel like a prison if you weren’t allowed to leave.”
“Make sure Miah talks to all his ranch hands again—they’re in the bar often enough, and we don’t need one of them running into Ware and spilling the beans.”
Casey nodded.
“Right,” Vince said, standing. “I’m supposed to be at Petroch for a half day. See you fuckers later.”
Duncan inclined his head and Casey said, “Bye.” As Vince thumped down the steps, he asked Duncan, “What are you up to now?”
“I’m trying to have a late lunch with Raina before I open, so I thought I might get the delights of sweeping and mopping and toilet scrubbing out of the way now.”
“Glamorous. Guess I’ll be on my way, then.”
They headed downstairs together and Casey snagged Raina’s motorcycle helmet off the coatrack. “Tell your better half I’m stealing this. Just for the night.”
“I doubt she’ll notice. She’s got two more appointments after lunch. I daresay no joyriding will be happening today.”
Not for you, Casey thought. But he intended to give Abilene everything she had coming to her, on her final night of freedom.
Chapter 4
From down in the Churches’ den came Casey’s shout. “You about ready?”
Abilene checked the clock—twenty minutes of seven. Oops.
“Almost!”
Mercy was already fed and dozing in her car seat in the office where Christine was working, but Abilene herself was a mess. She dashed into the guest bathroom and dried her hair, hunted down two shoes that matched, and realized too late she hadn’t shaved her legs. So much for the skirt she’d pulled on, and too bad—she always made better tips when she showed her legs. Men really didn’t care if your legs were all tanned and svelte like a gazelle’s, or plump and pale like her own, as long as they were bare. Oh well. She dug out some jeans and named herself presentable. She didn’t much care what she wore, only where she’d be spending her night. Behind the bar, with Casey, for the last time until she didn’t know when. It took her back to a simpler time—before he’d known she was pregnant, before he’d been her boss or watched her become a mother. Back when he’d still hit on her, and still looked at her with fire in those blue eyes.
“Ready,” she called as she shut her door and shouldered her purse. The second-floor landing on this side of the house overlooked the big den, and she could see Casey leaning on the back of the couch, checking his phone.
He glanced up as she hurried down the steps. “Grab your coat, why don’t you?”
“I’ll be okay. Your car warms up quick.” She didn’t have a ride of her own just now, which sucked. Her little crapbox ’94 Colt was in the shop, needing a whole new engine. She couldn’t really afford the repair, but as it was Vince who’d gotten it towed into town for her last week, she had a sneaking suspicion the bill would never arrive.
The Grossiers and Raina, and even Miah to a lesser extent—he was by far the most upstanding of their tight little group—had all made her nervous, once upon a time. She was no stranger to shady company, but the lot of them were all so much more . . . something, than she was used to. Like they knew and trusted their own places in their dusty, scrappy hometown.
Abilene, on the other hand, felt lost most of the time, and more insecure than ever now, with Mercy to worry about.
“We’re not taking my car,” Casey said as she met him downstairs.
“Whose, then?”
“It’s your last night of freedom until this all blows over. Thought we might brave the cold and ride into town in style.”
“What, on your bike?” Jeez, she’d never ridden on a motorcycle before. “I dunno.”
“Bundle up. Bring gloves, too—it’ll be real cold by the time we close up.”
She weighed her anxiety against Casey’s confidence. Maybe he was right. Maybe she ought to relish the wind in her hair one more time, icy though it undoubtedly would be.
“Fine.” She grabbed her winter coat off its hook in the front hall and pulled on her mittens. “What about a helmet?”
“Got you covered.” Casey led the way outside, down the porch steps to the big front lot. As she eyed his Harley, the last of her hesitance waned. This machine no longer looked like a frigid threat to her life, but rather a perfect excuse to wrap her arms around the man she was otherwise in no position to embrace. Twenty socially acceptable minutes, each way, to spend with her body hugged close to his . . .
Sign me up.
Casey handed her a black helmet and clipped his own silver one on.
“I’ve never seen you bother with one of these before,” she said, fiddling with the strap.
He helped her tighten it, seeming tall and exciting. “Got to start setting a better example, if you’re gonna keep letting me hang around your kid.”
Her goofy smile went blessedly unseen as he swung his leg over the seat.
“Thank goodness I didn’t wear a skirt.” And thank goodness Casey was busy digging in his pockets for his keys and didn’t see her graceless first attempt at getting her leg up and over the back.
“Little help?”
Without a word, he hooked out his arm and she used it to haul herself into position.
“Thanks.”
“Hold on tight.”
She did, looping her arms around him. He was wearing a hoodie, and a sweater underneath, she could tell. And under that, she could just make out the shapes of his trunk. Man, you smell nice. Probably just his soap, she guessed, but sexy all the same.
The engine rumbled to life, puttering loudly as he cruised them toward the road.
“I’ve never done this before,” she shouted.
“Bit more fun in the summer,” he called back, once they were on the pavement.
“I’ll bet.” And would she still be in Fortuity come the summer, she wondered? She hoped so. It was tough, though. Once everything calmed down, she’d have to find her own place and pay for some kind of childcare so she could work more hours. In all honesty, the math just didn’t add up, not without any family nearby to lean on . . .
I won’t go back to Bloomville. Even if her pride somehow let her, even if things got that desperate, there was absolutely no guarantee her parents would talk to her, baby or no baby. She felt tears well as she imagined the worst—what they might say about Mercy, if they found out who her father was. You haven’t changed a bit, have you, Allison? You and these older men. When are you going to learn to keep your goddamned legs closed? That’s what they’d say—what her father would say—and her mother would flinch at the cuss and start praying. Crying and praying.
So, no. No way in the darkest, hottest corner of heck was she ever going back.
She locked her arms up tight around Casey, shut her eyes, and tried to forget.
• • •
It wound up being a busy night at Benji’s, and Abilene counted up two hundred and eleven dollars in the tip jar. “Wow, good haul for a Monday.”
Casey was loading the washer with the final few last-call glasses and tumblers, and he shot a smile over his shoulder. “How much?”