Darlene darted after her. “Hey! What’s up with you? And will it result in a four-day cone of silence?”
Cassidy frowned over her shoulder at her. “What are you talking about?”
“If looks could kill… Come on, Cassie, what’s going on with you and Mac?”
Cassidy paused with her hand on the office door. “Why do people keep acting like we were besties? He’s my neighbor and an asshole. We aren’t friends; we never have been.”
“People?”
“I’m opening the door, Darlene. Fred is on the other side.”
Darlene looked at the door blankly for a second and then made a face of disgust. “Oh, that beast.” She took a couple of steps back. “Okay, get him.”
Cassidy opened the door to a happy Fred. His excitement was infectious; he was always surprised and grateful when she appeared. “Fred, you’re the only one who loves me.” He wagged his tail hard.
Darlene reached out and slapped her arm. “Not true!”
Cassidy led Fred out and headed back down the hall.
Behind her, Darlene prompted, “About Mac.”
“Fuck him,” Cassidy quipped. “We know you like to do that.”
“Whoa, wait. That sounded like jealousy.”
“I meant for it to sound like I don’t give a damn.” She stopped without warning, causing Darlene to run into her before catching herself. “Shit, I can’t go out the front.”
“Why not?”
“Fred and Mac have a bromance. I’ll never get out of here if I go out front.” She was certain Mac would commandeer her dog to force a conversation with her. Turning toward the back, she announced, “The beer garden is now open, Darlene. I’m going out the back.”
“Just so he won’t pet your dog?”
Cassidy answered as she pushed open the outer door, “Pretty much.”
Chapter eighteen
Cassidy
WET SETTIN' HEN
Acoupleofdayslater, Darlene was sitting at the bar going over paperwork in the late afternoon, wearing her cowboy boots with jean shorts and a T-shirt proclaimingGeorgia Peach. As Cassidy worked the bar, she wondered if Darlene was from Georgia—she’d never let on which Southern state she used to call home.
Cassidy filled beer orders and brought food from the back, her hair tucked under a baseball cap. Her outfit was as simple as Darlene’s: dark blue spandex shorts and a cotton T-shirt. She wasn’t going to win any fashion awards today.
Business started picking up all at once, more people coming in than usual for an afternoon. No games were on. Cassidy had almost given up on guessing the reason when Silas phoned the bar.
“Hey, Silas,” Cassidy said, her eyes sweeping the sudden influx. Her heart dropped and then raced ahead again as Mac came in with the crowd. He paused inside the doorway, assessing the activity. Then his eyes found her. They looked at each other a moment before he moved toward the side of the bar where the dartboards were gaining traction.
“Sid, there’s a storm blew up.”
For a minute, she wondered if he was talking about Mac walking into the place. “Really?” she asked vaguely as she watched Mac strike up a conversation with a couple of the dart-throwers. Then her brain clicked on, and she realized Silas was talking about the weather. It explained the sudden influx at the bar.
She grimaced. “Oh, shit.”
“No, I’ve got your boat taken care of, don’t you worry. Can you find a place to hunker down for the night? It doesn’t look like this is going to blow over until later. Marge and I could make room—”
“No,” she assured him. Silas and Marge lived above the Trading Post in a small apartment. It was perfect for them, but not so much for them, her, and Fred. “I’m good. I’ll stay with Dar.”