And he had been for awhile.
If he could decide Mustang just might be where we put down roots then who was he to decide I couldn’t make a connection?
Just one.
Just one since I was twelve stinking years old.
He “connected” all the time.
Not me.
And I was not twelve anymore. I was twenty-two. I could drink legally in every state in the Union. I could drive a car. I could vote. I could join the Army.
I was an adult, darn it.
And I had been awhile.
I didn’t need my big brother looking out for me and, frankly, if we were honest about it (though, that was something Casey would never be) for the last at least five years, it had mostly been me looking out for Casey.
I turned to Gray and said firmly, “I’ll be ready at five thirty.”
The tension slid out of his body, Gray looked down at me and grinned.
With dimple.
Darn but I liked that dimple.
I smiled back.
“That’s not happening, sis,” Casey warned, his voice trembling with fury.
I looked at him. “It is.”
“Don’t be stupid,” he hissed and that made me even more mad.
“Seriously?” I asked. “Do you see that cut on Gray’s forehead, Casey? He got that for me. I put those plasters on. You were off having fun and I was in danger and Gray stepped up for me. You should be thanking him not getting in his face. He’s a nice guy. He has a lovely Grandma. She makes really good preserves. And I’m having steak with him tonight.”
Casey’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “You met his Grandma?”
“Yes, and she makes really good preserves.”
That was when Casey’s eyes narrowed on me. “Thinkin’ there’s shit you left out this mornin’, sis.”
“You’d think right but I don’t ask, you don’t tell and I don’t ask because even when I did, you didn’t tell. My turn,” I fired back.
Casey scowled at me.
Then he whispered, “I’m not likin’ this shift, sister.”
I knew he wouldn’t.
But at that moment, standing in a pretty town square pressed up against the warm hard body of a handsome man who was a good guy who took care of his Grandma, a Grandma that, even in a wheelchair, made delicious strawberry preserves, I didn’t care.
Therefore, I made no response.
He kept scowling at me.
I held it and as I did, Gray held me.
Then Casey’s eyes cut to Gray and he demanded ridiculously (and embarrassingly), “I want her home by ten.”
Gray burst out laughing.
I rethought my rebellion hearing it and knowing I loved it.
Yes, loved it. It was love. It went down to my bones. That was to say, I loved it with not a small amount of intensity. I’d heard it twice and that was how deep his laughter had rooted into me.
Yes, definitely rethinking my rebellion.
“I wasn’t jokin’, bro,” Casey warned and Gray sobered, kind of. Mostly he chuckled while smiling and looked back at Casey.
Then he said, “You gonna be at the hotel at ten to know?”
Casey’s teeth clamped and his jaw tensed.
That meant no.
And Gray knew it.
“Right,” Gray muttered, still sounding amused.
Casey leaned even closer, rolling up on his toes and I held my breath when he got nose-to-nose with Gray.
“I think you get I’m not likin’ this, you do anything to my Ivey, you got a problem,” he whispered.
“And I think you don’t get that all men are not like you,” Gray returned on a low growl, no longer even minimally amused. “I would never do anything to Ivey or any woman they didn’t want me to do. Now back off before I do somethin’ to you Ivey won’t want me to do.”
Oh dear.
Casey held Gray’s steady stare.
Gray returned it.
I held my breath.
Then I couldn’t anymore and therefore announced, “If you two don’t stop it, I’m gonna pass out.”
Surprisingly instantly, Casey leaned away. When he did, Gray moved back taking me with him.
Casey shot Gray a death glare, modified it only slightly before he swung it to me then he turned on his boot and stomped in the direction of the hotel.
Gray shifted so my front was not tucked to his side but his front.
I looked up at him.
And at a glance, I knew this was worth it. Enduring that scene was worth it. And this was because Gray wasn’t grinning, no dimple, no tender look, no laughter and just his eyes soft on me, but still, I knew it was worth it
“You okay?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Five thirty?” he asked.
I nodded again.
That was when he grinned.
Oh yes. Definitely worth it.
“Glad his shit kept you in town, dollface,” he whispered.
I nodded again. I was glad too. Very glad.
He lifted a hand and cupped my jaw.
I held my breath.
Please kiss me, please kiss me. Please, please, please kiss me, my mind chanted.
“See you at five thirty,” he muttered, his fingers at my jaw tensed a second then he let me go.
I shifted woodenly and watched him walk to his truck parked on the square.
Then I licked my lips, turned back and headed to the hotel.
One hour later…
I had a dilemma.
No connections. Play it safe. No roots. Traveling. Hotels. Bars. No one but Casey and me.
This meant I didn’t know what I was doing.
I’d never been on a date.
I didn’t even know what a VFW was.
I just knew steak was a fancy meal. Casey and I splurged on our birthdays, on Christmas and on Thanksgiving. We saved up (or I did) and made it so. No gifts. Just togetherness, a good meal and a toast that we made it that far and another toast to the hope that our futures would be that we’d keep on making it.
But now, I had a looming date.
With Grayson Cody.
And even though I figured it would only be this one, not for me, but for him, I didn’t want to mess it up.
But I had no idea what I was doing.
Casey was staring at the TV, waiting for his dream girl to get off work and ignoring me. When he wanted to hold a grudge, he held it as long as he wanted and he did this by giving me the silent treatment.
But even if he wasn’t holding a grudge, I could hardly ask him what to do on a date.
When we’d run he’d been seventeen. He’d only had a handful of dates by then. And since then, his dates included getting some woman in a bar drunk then getting in her pants either in his car or while I made myself scarce and he had fun in our hotel room.
I didn’t suspect this was the same kind of date Grayson Cody gave a woman.
My brother couldn’t help me.
And I needed help.
And I knew who not only could help, but would.
I just didn’t know if I could find her.
But I was going to try.
I flipped closed the semi-stolen/mostly-borrowed library book I was not reading but still was holding close to my face, dropped it on the bed and rolled off.
Then I grabbed my jacket, scarf and purse, shrugging, wrapping and strapping them on.
Then I hit the door, muttering, “Be back.”
Casey didn’t even tear his eyes from the TV.
Really, he could hold a serious grudge.
I left him to it, ducked out of the room and hurried through the cold, late afternoon sidewalks of Mustang to the square.
Let her be there, let her be there, let her be there, my mind chanted as, head down, shoulders hunched, I walked through the cold.
I pushed through the door of The Rambler and looked right to the bar.