Page 20 of Just Between Us

And it’s a good thing I’m here. Shit’s about to hit the fan with that photo of Austin and Penny out in the world. It makes my blood boil thinking about it. Penny is salt of the earth, one of the best people I know, and Austin seems like a good guy haunted by some bad choices. I can’t imagine how they must feel.

Then there’s Cassie. Being Austin’s sister can’t be easy on her, which is why I thought a night here might do her some good. Old Town Tavern is good for exactly one thing: distraction.

And the place is packed tonight. It seems everyone within a forty-mile radius crawled out of the woodwork to have a drink. Let’s just hope I can keep up with orders, seeing how it’s been a while since I bartended.

My phone screen lights up with an incoming text, my eyes flicking quickly to see if it’s Cassie.

Lacey

Hope you’ll be in town tonight.

Lacey

Thought we could get together.

Shit, that’s an issue I’ve got to handle. Lacey was the no-expectations, casual hookup I had on my last trip to Nashville. I fucked up and gave her my number, but I’d almost forgotten she exists with the sudden presence of Cassie. I’m a total asshole.

Lacey was nice, pretty, and a good time. But I’ve gotta cut that off. Gotta rip off the proverbial Band-Aid. I put the last seltzer in the fridge and shoot her a response.

Sorry, Lace. It’ll be a while before I’m back in Nashville.

Thanks for a good time though.

I hit send before thinking twice, but by her response, thanks for a good time was the wrong thing to say.

Lacey

You’ve got to be kidding me. Asshole. Consider yourself blocked.

Well, that doesn’t make me feel great. I like to think I’m a decent enough guy, and I always make my intent perfectly clear. I’m not looking for anything serious. That’s not a path I’ll travel back on. I thought Lacey and I had an understanding.

I delete her contact and exhale. I hate that I hurt her feelings, but I made the right call. She can’t go getting attached or catching feelings.

I’m wiping down the bar when the doors open, but it’s not Cassie, just a couple of coaches from the local high school. They push through the crowd to the bar and order two old-fashioneds. One asks for top-shelf bourbon, and it takes all I’ve got not to roll my eyes. Everybody knows you don’t mix with the good shit. That’s for sipping.

I’m handing the guys their drinks when the doors open, and finally,finally, she’s here. Standing on the threshold, evening sunshine spills in around her, bathing her in a halo of golden light. Cassie steps inside and the crowd shifts just enough for her eyes to find mine. When they do she wiggles her fingers in a tiny wave.

As she walks my way I drink her in. Her hair is loose tonight, spilling down her back and across one shoulder and her cheeks are flushed from the walk. After my first sweep, my eyes make their way down and up again for another hit of her.

Fuck me, this woman.

The heads of several men turn in appreciation as she pushes through the crowd and I feel it before I can do a damn thing about it. A territorial surge that has nothing to do with being friends. If she has any clue that every male in the room is watching her, she doesn’t show it. She could have her picktonight, and the thought has me gripping the edge of the bar so hard my knuckles turn white.

She reaches me, a smirk playing on those pretty pink lips when she spots the note still taped to the barstool.

“This seat taken?” she asks, un-taping the sign and placing it face down on the bar.

“Reserved for this hot brunette who just walked in.” I motion for her to take a seat and place both hands flat on the bar. “What’ll it be?”

“What are you good at mixing?”

But Coach Top Shelf can’t read the room. He interrupts us, clearing his throat and rattling the ice in his glass, impatiently. I hold up a finger to let him know I heard him but he’s gonna wait a minute longer just for being an ass.

“I can make just about anything,” I tell Cassie, dropping my voice. “But the drink of the night is the pretty girl special.”

Cassie’s eyebrows knit together. “The pretty girl special?” she repeats. “Isn’t that basically whatever I order, but on the house?”

“Bingo.” I shoot her a wink and start pouring bourbon for the old- fashioned.