Ignoring him and the jolt that accompanied his appearance, Cassidy followed David into the bar, giving Fred an urge through the door, and let the door swing shut behind her. “Come on to the back, if you would; we’ll put this in the kitchen after I put Fred in the office.”
“Sure thing,” he responded readily.
They jostled their way through the crowd. Darlene hadn’t been exaggerating. The tables were full, the standing bars were two-to-three deep, and the front bar was about five deep. The sidebar was open because it was the only place from which Sarah could run drinks.
In the back, Andy received the box from David and the bag from Cassidy with a confused look.
Returning to the front, Cassidy said to David, “Apparently, he hadn’t been informed they were running out of food.” She pointed to the far corner of the bar. “Looks to be your only option.”
Mac stood at the edge of the bar, beer in hand, his eyes fixed on her as soon as she appeared. Her nerves did their thing again at seeing him, and she was thankful the place was busy; she wouldn’t even notice he was here.
Right.
Darlene waved at her. “Hey! You got the floor. Sarah’s been bitching to go home for an hour.”
Cassidy caught a glimpse of Sarah. She was talking to Mac; Cassidy groaned inwardly. She’d be running drinks from right next to him. “Are you sure Jemma doesn’t want to? Better tips.”
“Jemma and I got our flow going,” Darlene answered.
“Okay,” Cassidy relented. She grabbed a beer and headed down the length of the bar. Placing it in front of David, who was sitting on Sarah’s other side, she assured him with a wink, “On the house. Thank you.”
David lifted it in her direction. “My pleasure. Thankyou.”
Shifting her weight onto her left hip, she looked at Sarah. “You can go home. What orders have you got going?”
Sarah did a little leap and let out a squeal. “Thank goodness! I’ve been here all day.” She started to wheel away.
“Sarah! What orders?” Cassidy snapped.
“Oh, right!” She rattled off a few orders, the tables or bar they were standing at, threw a kiss, and bolted before anyone changed their mind.
Cassidy concentrated on starting the orders and loading the tray, proud of herself for glancing at Mac only once. She gave herself extra credit because he had been watching the game, not her, when she glanced over.
Jemma nudged her with her shoulder. “Need help with those?”
“No, I’m good.” She completed the orders and slid the tray off the bar, balancing it carefully as she made her way out into the crowd.
Having been through this before, she knew how to maneuver through the unpredictable and unobservant crowd. She had learned from experience how to keep control of her cargo even when drunk patrons threw up their hands or jumped to their feet without notice. Yep, good times.
As she unloaded her tray, she reloaded with empties and took more orders for food and drinks.
She hated baseball.
More hands than she could count found their way to her ass, along her thighs, some attempting to under-skirt, or shirt, as it were. She was quick to change location or swipe the wandering hand away. It came with the territory, she supposed, but she hadn’t experienced this level of harassment before; was it the game? Was it the larger-than-usual crowd that made people think she wouldn’t notice? She tried to remind herself the blame should be on the gropers, not the grope-ee, but still. If she’d known she would be working the floor, she would have dressed for it.
She returned to the bar, sidling between people who had decided her spot was there for the taking, until Mac made room for her with a look and a shift in his stance. Noticing Mac’s chivalry, David stepped forward and began to move people back, telling them loudly to make way for her. Cassidy rewarded him with a smile before she shouted her orders to Jemma.
She was off-loading her empties when she felt the buzz that accompanied bodily contact with Mac, his arm and shoulder resting along hers as his head dipped toward her to peer under the bill of her hat. Before he could say anything, she snapped, “I’m busy, Mac; whatever clever little quip you think you have, please keep it to yourself.”
He leaned back and checked out her posterior as she leaned forward over the bar to dump ice into the trash. “Sweetheart, I want you to assure me you got something under your shirt.”
“Whether or not I do is none of your business.”
“As long as no one else here tries to make it their business,” Mac warned.
She tossed him an annoyed look. “I’m free to do as I please.”
“Didn’t say you weren’t,” he drawled.