He brought the beer bottle to his lips. “Gonna be Day to me.”
She wanted to ask how she could be anything to him. Or whose bright, new beginning she was because she flirted with her darkness too much to be her own light—let alone be anyone else’s.
But before she could say anything, the blonde made her move. The woman stood up, her eyes targeting Mac; her friend watched, an encouraging smirk on her face.
Cassidy raised a brow. “Enjoy your beer,” she said. She moved away, walking to the computer to log his drink.
Cassidy watched in the mirror beyond the bottles and etchings of Guinness Beer ads. Mac had the reputation as a manwhore—no one complained on that score—but she was curious about how he did it. Yes, he was good-looking in a broody, calculating, I’m-gonna-fuck-you-stupid-and-forget-your-name-while-I’m-doing-it sort of way some women liked. Actually, it seemed like a lot of women liked it because he was a busy man. And his molten eyes didn’t miss a thing but Cassidy couldn’t place his appeal solely on looks. There was more to it than that. Much more.
As she watched the young blonde come in for the kill, she was disappointed in Mac. She could have sworn even though he’d appreciated her looks, he wasn’t interested in anyone so young. She was barely twenty-one, according to her ID. Cassidy pretended to look over inventory on the computer as she watched in the mirror. The blonde shoved her hair aside and leaned back against the bar, thrusting her breasts forward.
Mac glanced over at her, sliding his eyes down to where she wanted his attention, bringing the beer to his lips again. Eyes roaming back up, he raised a brow in question.
“If you’re lucky, all this can be yours,” she said in a lispy voice with a little girl’s affectation.
Mac frowned, setting the beer bottle down. “If I’m lucky?”
Rolling toward him, she pressed her breasts against his arm, running a hand along his back as she cooed, “I think you could be very lucky.”
“How old are you?”
“Isoldreally what you want, baby?” she asked. She shot a poisonous look over her shoulder at Cassidy.
Cassidy’s eyes widened as she returned her attention to the computer; she’d heard enough. If he walked away with this girl, she’d burn his shack down. Yes, the woman was technically of age, but if cradle-robbing turned him on, she didn’t want him next door to her.
She needn’t have worried. “I’m not interested in kids.” Then, “Day!”
It took a second before Cassidy realized he was talking to her. Belatedly, she turned in question.
“You check their IDs?”
The blonde’s mouth dropped open, offended, as she let out a huff.
“Are you asking me if I know how to do my job, Mac?” Cassidy challenged.
“We’re twenty-one!” the blonde snapped, indicating her friend. “And you’re an ass!”
“Little girl, I didn’t approach you,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, well, now I’m walking away. Say goodbye tothis,” she said snidely, gesturing to her body as though he’d lost out. With a miffed toss of her hair, she stalked over to their table. “Let’s go. This is thegeriatricbar.”
Mac chuckled as he pulled on his beer.
Moments later, bright light filtered into the bar once more, the two young women opening the door and moving on.
Cassidy sighed as she walked around the bar toward their table to clean up. Not shockingly, they didn’t leave a tip. At least they’d paid for the beers.
Mac turned on the stool to watch her. “Sorry to run off your customers.”
Cassidy tossed him a look. “You have a way with people.”
Mac looked toward the closed door. “Brat was born while I was in boot camp. And that’s if her ID wasn’t fake, which I doubt.”
Cassidy put her hands on her hips. “Really? Insulting me twice now? I know a fake when I see one.”
He gave her a crooked smile before drinking again.
She asked, “Did you and Jason go through boot camp together? If you were in boot camp twenty-one years ago, you’d be the same age. Thirty-nine, right? If you joined at eighteen, too.”