“You think?” Why did that single word bother him so?
Her head tipped and her smile softened. “Correction. I know I’d like that.”
Those few words made him happier than they should have. “Then the Whiskey Moon it is.”
For as long as he could remember, the favorite town tavern hadn’t changed much. Probably had looked exactly like this before he was even born. Scarred floors, a long bar with mismatched stools, a jukebox in the corner, and pool tables under a lamp that had seen better decades welcomed them. The low murmur of conversation from the handful of patrons at the bar was a nice change from the earlier concert crowd.
Letting go of her hand and moving it to the small of her back, he guided her to a small, two-top table in the back, away from the main flow of traffic but with a clear view of the two pool tables that dominated the far side of the room.
A waitress appeared. “Kade Sweet. I heard you were back in town. It’s been forever.”
“It’s nice to be home.”
“I hear congratulations are in order.”
Nodding, his smile seemed to tug hard at his cheeks. Mildred and Iris were even better than he remembered at spreading breaking news. “Thank you. This is Cassie.”
“Nice to meet you,” the two said at the same time.
“So,” the woman asked, “what can I get you?”
“Two Shiner Bocks.” He turned to Cassie, realizing he probably should have asked before ordering the favorite Texas beer. “Okay with you?”
She nodded and smiled demurely. A man could get used to that.
“Coming right up.” The waitress turned and stopping at a couple of other tables on her way, headed for the bar.
Together they took in the crowd.
Cassie began tapping her fingers to a familiar tune. “Did you come here a lot?”
“Often enough. At least once we were legal. In a town this small, it’s kind of hard to sneak in with fake IDs.”
“I can see where that would be a challenge.”
“What about you? Did you sneak into bars before you were legal?”
She shook her head. “When you’re in the system you turn eighteen and are shown the front door. Doesn’t leave a person with a lot of time or money to play around.”
That made his heart squeeze. Some of his best memories came from the crazy things he and his friends did between high school and joining the Army. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? It’s not your fault.”
He shrugged. What more could he say? She was right. It wasn’t his fault or his responsibility and yet it bothered him more than he could say to think she had a less than ideal childhood.
The waitress returned with two beers and two glasses. Another table called her over and turning on her heel, she scurried over.
Kade ignored the glass and grabbed the long neck bottle, his gaze drifting to the pool tables. “You play?”
She shook her head.
“Want to learn?”
Her gaze shifted to the two tables, one empty, and taking a second to consider, bobbed her head. “Sure.”
They moved to the open table. Quickly, he explained the rules, then racked the balls, the sharp, solid clack a satisfying sound. She chose a cue stick with a surprising amount of care, testing its weight and balance. He watched, fascinated, as the blackjack dealer’s focus returned, her gaze sharp, analytical.
Positioning himself against the table, he broke, the balls scattering in a chaotic spray. It was a decent break, but nothing dropped. He stepped back. “Your shot.”
