“Shut up. Miles is killing me out there. It’s not a joke.” He rolls his eyes, and his shoulders as if trying to shake it off. “What’s going on with you, man? You look like someone kicked your puppy tonight.”
I look at him, trying to decide if I’m ready to bear the truth to him. I decide now, it’s too soon. “Indie came in on Tuesday,” I tell him instead.
“Why? She knows the bar is firmly inDuke territory.”
“She’s getting married.” I watch his jaw drop. “I don’t know to whom. She left me an invite, but I haven’t opened it. I don’t really care.”
“Well, I do. Get it. I’ll open it. Find out who it is and tell you if it matters.”
Walking toward the register, I hesitate before grabbing it. It’s not about the man—never was. It’s about the part of me she took when she walked out, the part I still can’t name. “I seriously don’t care, Cash. This isn’t necessary.” Pulling the gold envelope from beneath the drawer, I hand it to him.
“Yeah, yeah.” He rips the envelope open, and gasps, theatrically, at the card inside. “That dirty rascal.”
Dammit, now my curiosity gets the best of me. “Alright, who is it?”
Laughing loudly, he shoves it back into the envelope, holding it out to me. “I don’t fucking know. Some loser. He’s not from town.”
I blow out a loud sigh. “Jerk-off.” I throw my bar towel at him and his laughter chases me as I walk into the office in the back, dropping the envelope on the desk.
At my desk later that night, I save Caroline’s number into my phone. I don’t know what to say or how to even open the door. I don’t know if I even should. She didn’t say I could use her number to reach out, just to help with the tires. Sadie’s running the bar, so I just sit in the quiet for a few minutes.
You’re welcome.
Caroline
Hey, Grumpy.
Her instant response feels important, and her response makes me smile.
I’m not grumpy.
I’m stoic.
Caroline
Whatever you say, Grumpy. Good night.
I read the text a few more times, leaning back in my chair. Hovering over the keyboard, I try to decide how and if I should respond. Shaking my head, I put the phone away in the desk drawer.
“Hey, Boss?” Sadie calls from the door to the backroom. “Can you man the bar? I need to restock and can’t leave these heathens alone.” I move toward the door, hearing muffled laughter followed by, “Yes, John, you are a heathen!”
Chapter 8
Fat-Bottomed Girls
Callie
Seeing Duke last night confused whatever feelings I had about my flirtation with Cash. Before I walked into the bar, I knew his blanket was giving me something, comforting me somehow, but Duke was just kind of a jerk. My feelings and the contentment I got from his warm, man-smelling blanket is more of a coincidence than anything. Last night, even though he was undoubtedly still a jerk, there was an attraction, beyond my ability to explain.
He’s straight-forward; he says what he means. There is no sugar coating or love bombing, just genuinely himself. Even when he told me to leave last night—which hurt my feelings—it was also pragmatic, he saw the practicality of the situation. Mentioning it being “handsy” felt almost…jealous? Like he didn’t like the idea someone might hit on me. The way he speaks and lives, unapologetically, disarms me but also brings out someone fierce and confident.
The way his eyes feel on my body, the way he pauses at mycollar bone, my breasts, my hips, is appreciative, not judgmental. I’ve been judged a lot in my life for being heavier, thicker, larger than the prettier, skinnier girls. Roger liked to poke that wound over and over.
“Jesus, Caroline, how about you worry less about when you’re going to eat next and go for a run or something?” Roger yells at me from behind the wheel of the car.
“I was just asking if you had thought about what you wanted for dinner so we could stop if we need to,” I respond, fearfully, under his attack.
“Yeah, well, you might get rid of your fat ass if you stopped asking.”
