Chapter fifty
Cassidy
HOOKED ON A FEELING
ThefollowingweekpresentedCassidy with conflicting and heady sensations. Mac did reset her passwords, creating one of long and complicated gibberish for the Wi-Fi, and another equally horrific one for the computer login that had her scowling. But he was unmoved. Afterward, he’d picked her up and carried her into her bedroom, where he’d taken her breath away and had her rethinking her religion before leaving her.
She hated it when he left her. Despite the reason for it, the two nights he’d stayed with her, she wanted that back. She wanted him back with her. She wanted to fall asleep in his arms and wake up in his arms.
That’s why he left, she knew; he sensed her longing for more.
It was never going to be more.
But then there was the night in the bar, nothing special about it; she and Darlene working a decent crowd when Blue Swede’sHooked on a Feelingboomed out in the steadily playing lineup. As she walked away from taking an order, Mac surprised her by grabbing her and spinning her around, tucking her body up against his, face to face with her.
With a surprised laugh, she grasped his shoulders. Her hips moved naturally with his to the song’s upbeat swing. He grinned back at her, dark eyes shining, mouthing the words of the chorus to her, implying his lyrical euphoria at the idea of her love. He nipped her lips before he flung her out and pulled her back again, hands at her waist, thighs caressing, moving her around the floor like they were competing on a dance show. He sang the lyrics describing how he appreciated having her alone, urged her for more; that she turned him on… And out she went again before he brought her back.
They moved well together; he knew how to lead her. He knew how todance.
It was light-hearted and fun. The people hooted and clapped as he’d made a sort of public love to her, igniting her in front of everyone.
When the song ended, he’d delivered a hard, smacking kiss to her lips and walked away as though it’d been nothing, wiping at his bottom lip with a thumb while she’d stood there, stunned, heart hammering, body buzzing. She’d blinked herself back to reality in order to remember what she’d been doing before he’d swept her off her feet.
Looking toward the bar, Darlene was tracking Mac with hard green eyes.
Despite his display, he’d left with a bottle-job redhead. She’d tried not to be devastated.
“What happened to swearing him off? That was the last I’d heard.”
Cassidy sat in the backroom of the Trading Post, watching vacationers grab handfuls of junk food they wouldn’t normally eat at home. Vacation meant freedom from all of life’s usual rules.
Marge sat in a chair facing Cassidy, wearing another pair of denim overalls over a gingham shirt. “I did!” Cassidy sat back up, looking to Marge in earnest. “I’m not ready for any of this, at least I didn’t think so, and I was not going to seek out Mac again. Then… well, the anniversary.” They gave each other meaningful looks. “I was going to deal with it on my own; Iwason my own. I don’t know how he knew.”
Marge’s brows came together.
“And he was just there, making sure there wouldn’t be any pieces to pick up,” she explained. “I know you don’t trust him or like him, but there’s a side to him…” She placed a hand over her heart, shaking her head, unable to explain it. “There’s more to him than he lets people see. And he has this peculiar sixth sense about when I need him, and he knowswhatI need.”
Marge gave her a narrow look.
“Not that. Sometimes it’s facing your wrath for a bag of M&Ms.”
“Are you in love with him, Cassidy?” Marge asked directly, a hint of concern in her voice.
“No!” Cassidy fired back, startled, ignoring the jump in her chest cavity at the question. “I’ve been in love, remember? I know what it is. I know what it looks like and how it feels. Mac and I are not in love.”
Marge tilted her head. “I didn’t ask ifhewas.”
“Oh, Lord.” Cassidy swiveled the chair away and glowered at the monitors again.
“The devil is the devil for a reason, Cassidy. He convinces you there are no consequences until you’re paying for them.”
The comparison irritated her. “Mac’s not the devil.”
The look Marge returned to her was one that foresaw disaster.
Marge pissed her off, but only because she’d scared her by asking thelovequestion. It wasn’t possible. Her life had been a lesson in emotional parameters, being raised in a foster family. It’d been a good family, but she’d known all along not to expect adoption. They’d been doing their Christian duty and provided her a home. Their duty ended when she turned eighteen.
She was on her own in the world, emotionally, until Elijah, also a child of the system. His was a far more troublesome and gruesome history, but on some level, they’d been the same. Same fears, same insecurities; they filled in each other’s emotional void. They recognized how to heal each other.