I rub my hand up my bare arm, feeling the scarred skin under my palm, and follow suit with the beer chugging. If anything, at least both of us sitting here with empty glasses will get Cass back to our table faster.
Like she has a sixth sense for men in need of a beer, she almost immediately turns back up next to me and plunks down into the empty chair. “Sorry, I need to sit for half a second.”
“Are you okay?”
“My back feels like it’s about to spontaneously combust and, if my feet could talk, they’d be screaming bloody murder. Oh, and I think she’s parked right on my bladder.” She points a finger angrily at her stomach, like she can somehow intimidate the baby into moving. “But, yeah, peachy. I’m fucking peachy keen.”
“Give me your feet.”
“I have to work and also… no. Gross. I’ve been running around all night. They’re sweaty.”
“Give me your fucking feet, Cass.” Unblinking, I stare her down. She doesn’t move, narrowing her eyes right back at me. So I reach under the table to grab them myself. Her heels fall onto my lap, and I untie each sneaker before pulling them off.
“You really shouldn’t,” she protests before sinking into the chair with a relaxed moan when my thumb presses into the ball of her foot. “Fuuuck, okay. Can you do my back next?”
“I would. You know I would.” If she would invite me over, I’d doanything. Fuckinganythingto be allowed back in her world for a single night.
“I need to get back to work, though.” She pulls her leg, and I grip her foot tighter. “Your drinks won’t refill themselves, will they?”
“No. But I have two feet and a heartbeat. Take a break, alright? I got it.” I stand up, setting her socked feet down on my empty chair, and grab the empty glasses from the table.
Apparently, I’m about to have my first interaction with Dave since that morning at Cassidy’s house. Letting out a slow exhale, I walk across the bar floor. Feeling the weight of Cass’s stare on my back and the crushing fear from Dave’s looming presence on my chest.
“Hey, Cass needed a break. Where do you want these?”
Okay, now we wait to be murdered.
I wince when his mouth opens. “Through those doors, chuck ’em on the rack.”
What the hell. What the hell. What the hell.
There’s no way he was that chill.Nice, even.I follow his instructions and decide to push my luck by ordering another round. Again, nothing.
“Is she okay?” Dave asks, looking up from the quickly filling pint glass to where Cassidy is still sitting at our table, talking to Denny and twirling a fallen strand of hair.
“Oh… yeah. Just said her feet and back hurt.”
“Right. I told her I’d be civil, and I will be.” He hands me a round, black tray and starts placing full pint glasses on it. A monotone voice and zero expression in his face. Refusing to look at me as he speaks. “Until you hurt her. If you treat her with any less respect than she deserves. If you break her heart… I will fucking end you.”
“All due respect, if anybody’s going to end up hurt, it’s me. Cass is the one with all the control here.” I struggle to balance the tray as he places the last glass for our table on it.
Jesus, how does Cass do this every day?
“What else do you need me to do so she can stay off her feet a while longer?”
He eyes me suspiciously. “Clear off that table over there. And see if anybody needs a round.”
I sidle up to our table and start passing around beers, to the boys’ delight. Not a single one of them will let me get away without chirping me.
“Damn, what a fuckin’ downgrade in the quality of staffing here.” Sundial—the shittiest cowboy we have on the ranch—chucks a handful of peanuts into his mouth, then adjusts the backward ball cap on his long hair. Just for that, I take a long chug of his beer before handing it over.
“Shut up. He’s got diapers to buy. Let the man earn some extra cash.” His brother, Colt—an infinitely better cowboy and probably the sole reason Sundial’s still employed—smacks him on the arm. “Hey, Red. If you show me your tits, I’ll tip you extra.”
“Colt, the only person I’m showing my tits to tonight is your mom after I’m done here. Fuck off.” I smack him on the back of the head and carry on.
Denny doesn’t fuck around. Jamming a five-dollar bill in the waist of my jeans before I can set the tray down to stop him. “No offense, Cass, but I might like Red being our server even more than I like you.”
Cassidy laughs.The real kind.“No offense taken. I like it better, too.” She reaches into the black server pouch tied around her hips and pulls out a bill, waving it at me like we’re at a goddamn strip club. “Will you show me your titties, or are they fully reserved for Colt’s mom tonight?”
