Thankfully, all he required of her from then on out were refills of his whiskey. She cleared his plate, picking off a leftover French fry as she walked back to the kitchen. He’d eaten the softer ones, leaving the crunchy ones—she preferred the crunchy ones. They were cold, but she hadn’t eaten much that day.
She knew he was watching her make her last rounds. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, leaning against the back wall of the booth with his feet up, arm draped over his knee. She tried to ignore the force of his gaze as she informed him, “Last call. One more?” Her eyes went to the half-consumed tumbler. She didn’t want to offer him another; he had to be full-on drunk by now.
Picking up the glass and bringing it to his lips, thus her attention to his mouth, he answered, “Why not?”
Cassidy tilted her head. “If I gave you a breathalyzer right now, you’d have the right to remain silent. Do you have a ride home?”
He took a slow survey of the nearly deserted bar before sliding back to her. “Doesn’t look like it.” He grinned. “You worried about me?”
“No,” she answered. Not entirely true. “But if I knowingly serve you drunk and let you get behind the wheel—”
“Then take me home.”
Cassidy took a physical step backward, her body jolted so hard. “What?”
“We’re neighbors. Take me home,” he repeated, his eyes fixed on her in a silent dare.
Her cheeks colored; that’s not where her mind had gone when he’d first said it, and his expression was taunting. Frowning, she asked, “If you knew you couldn’t drive yourself back, why’d you keep drinking?”
“Didn’t think I’d be going back alone.” Then half of his mouth kicked up. “But I’m not, am I?”
Cassidy snorted. “I’ll take you as far as the dock; you’re on your own after that.” She walked away.
She gave him his last whiskey and a glass of water. He raised an eyebrow at the water, and she narrowed her eyes. She held out her hand without a word and waited for him to drop his keys in her palm. He watched as she and Jemma escorted the other patrons out the door and cleaned up, setting up the bar for the next day.
Cassidy went back to the office to collect Fred. When she came back out to the main room, Andy and Jemma were getting ready to leave. Mac was nowhere to be seen.
She sighed when she noticed her drunken charge was missing. The other two looked at her in apprehension.
“Go on, he’s my problem,” she assured them.
Andy and Jemma exchanged a look. Cassidy could tell they were tired and wanted to go. “I mean it,” she said. “I can lock up on my own. Besides, I’m the one who volunteered to take Mac home.”
Not wanting to give her a chance to change her mind, Andy and Jemma beat a hasty retreat.
Cassidy leaned back against the door and waited. Fred gave her an odd look before he sat at her feet, clearly confused as to why she didn’t go through the door as well. Then his head whipped around, and his ears pricked up as his tail beat the floor with excitement.
Mac appeared and leaned against the jamb opposite the bar, staring back, hands in his jeans pockets. “We alone?”
The rough, suggestive tenor of his tone slid over her, snaking down to her core, both chilling and heating her at the same time. Fighting the sensations, she answered, “Yes, they left. It’s late. I’m tired and I have a lake to navigate. Are you finished screwing around?”
“Interesting word choice.”
“Mac, please,” she begged, pushing off the door. Turning to open it, she knew by Fred’s antics that the man was approaching. She stepped back and held it open, watching him watch her as he moved with a hunter’s gait across the room toward her.
Anxiety rushed through her, and she turned her head to look outside so she didn’t have to look at him. Closing her eyes, she thought of Elijah and the many nights they’d left this bar together when he’d come to pick her up. Depending on the night or her particular mood, she’d either fall asleep or she’d wrap her arms around him as he steered them home.
There was no falling asleep these days, no warm body to wrap herself around.
His hand on her hip caused her to jump, but he merely edged her on out the door. Snapping out of her memories, she locked the door while Fred decided between relieving himself and the opportunity to have Mac pet him.
“You can drive my Scout back,” he offered.
“Nope, you get to Uber in tomorrow morning to retrieve it.” Before he could speak, she covered her mouth in mock alarm. “Oh wait, we don’t have Uber out here.”
“That red hair’s showing.” He reached out and tugged on one of her pigtails. Cassidy ducked away.
They moved down the dark, deserted sidewalk together toward the Trading Post, Fred marking every tree and hydrant as they went. Cassidy tried not to like how safe she felt having him with her, even if he was three sheets to the wind. And even if the area wasn’t unsafe. The perception of his protection was comforting.