She looked from her captured wrist to him. “What? Why? Not what you ordered? Speak to management.”
He sat back in the booth, his action pulling her to the edge of the seat. He asked curiously, “What’s with the attitude?”
Cassidy tilted her head. “You don’t bedevil Darlene; why do you bother me?”
He grinned, a twinkle entering his eyes. “Bedevil?That’s a word.” Looking her over, he answered, “Can’t play with a mouse that doesn’t squeak.”
Affronted, she squeaked and tried to yank her wrist away.
He chuckled. “Calm down; you’re too easy.”
Reversing her strategy, she braced her knee on the bench and leaned in. He turned toward her, his other hand going to her hip, looking eager to welcome her into the space with him, sending all sorts of funny feelings through her. But she stayed on point. “What did you say to Marge? What happened?”
His brow raised. “Oh, that’s what’s got your panties twisted.” He released her, pushing her back off the bench.
“Well?” she demanded as she regained her feet.
“Sit.” He indicated with a tilt of his head the bench opposite.
“No.”
He shrugged off her refusal. “Fine. She was coming up as I was walking out. There was no avoiding one another.”
Cassidy narrowed her eyes. “That was it?”
“What else do you want there to be? An exchange of recipes?”
Good question—not the sarcastic part. She wasn’t sure what she wanted. Begrudgingly, she warned, “She’s not your biggest fan.”
“Not my problem. Yours, maybe, but not mine.”
Hers, definitely. Narrowing her eyes one more time, she turned on a heel to go back to the bar.
“Hey. Cassidy.”
“What?” She stopped but didn’t bother to turn back to look at him.
It took a couple of heartbeats, but he finally said, “Thanks.”
She frowned, her heart strangling her as she stared across the room at the neon signs on the wall, bracing herself for the sarcastic words she knew were coming. Words that would create more distance between them. Words meant to hurt.
“For Fred.”
The words were delivered quietly, softly, with a touch of humility and vulnerability.
Cassidy turned to look at him, wishing she had been facing him when he’d said it because, in the short amount of time it took her to turn, he was regarding her from behind his defenses, lifting the glass of whiskey to his lips. She searched his eyes for a sign of the man who had mumbled those words but didn’t find him. So, she turned and walked away.
It was more than she’d expected, and meant more to her than he’d want her to read into.
Chapter thirty-four
Mac
NEVER A DULL MOMENT, SWEETHEART
Thenightdidn’tendhow he’d imagined it would, with him sitting on his kitchen floor, Fred’s head in his lap. Cassidy’s snores were loud enough to permeate his bedroom door.
At least he had her; she was safe.