Defeated, she gave up looking, convinced he was punishing her for her indiscretion.
Chapter thirty-one
Cassidy
M&Ms
JemmaandCassidyleanedon the patron side of the bar, watching as Angel poured a lowball of Jack Daniels. The expressions on both of their faces were stunned bemusement and disbelief. Technically, Angel was still shadowing, but she liked to make her own rules. A Jack an hour was one of those rules.
She’d come in partway through Cassidy’s shift and would work through part of Jemma’s shift. It was Tuesday: a notoriously slow day for restaurants and bars.
Tonight, Angel had purple braids piled up in a sort of ponytail on the top of her head, in homage to a messy bun. Her makeup was heavy black, including her lipstick. She wore a black leather vest with nothing underneath—her usual—and a pair of low rider jeans.
Cassidy pushed back. “Good luck tonight.”
Jemma grimaced. “She gets to learn to clean the toilets.”
Cassidy laughed and headed toward the back to get Fred when she heard Angel call out in an overly seductive tone, “Oh, hey, sugar.” She glanced over her shoulder to see who had captured Angel’s attention, her eyes crashing into a heated brown stare. Her foot tripped on the wooden floor, and she winced as she faced forward again. Her reaction to him always caught her off guard.
And damned if she didn’t trip over her own two feet to make it obvious. With an eye roll and mental chide, she kept going down the hall. At least he had the decency to wait until her shift was over before he descended on the bar.
Collecting Fred, she headed toward the front again. She called out a goodbye to Tim in the kitchen as she passed. If he responded, she didn’t hear. Entering the main room, she refused to look for him. But she was aware of his gaze; had noticed him in her peripheral vision, talking to Jemma. They were standing by the tables, heads bent toward one another, but his eyes were on her.
Still, she was surprised by the stab of envy.
What the hell?
“Those two have a thing?” Angel asked Cassidy as Cassidy came even with the bar.
Cassidy answered off-handedly, “Mac sort of has a thing for all women.”
That appeared to pique Angel’s interest. “Really? So, he’s the one. Darlene didn’t mention it was him when he came in the other day.”
“Hm.” She didn’t care what Angel’s plans were when it came to Mac. He was big boy, he could take care of himself. She gave Mac a wide berth and headed toward the door. His eyes narrowed in challenge.
Cassidy headed toward the Trading Post. She hadn’t seen Marge and Silas for a few days and wanted to check in. Besides, she had a craving for M&Ms. Those had been Elijah’s favorite: dark chocolate peppermint M&Ms. They’d had to hoard at Christmas to see him through the year. Now, she was craving them.
The thought of them seized her heart. She stopped walking, falling against the brick wall. Fred halted on the pavement beside her and stared, head tilted.
The anniversary.
Cassidy cast a glance around her town’s main street, watching the people meander about their lives, oblivious to her sudden inner turmoil. They were unaware that these gorgeous days of late spring marched toward two days reminded her of everything she’d had and lost.
Jesus, was she going to progressively lose her mind as the days approached? Ignoring the leery stares of people who walked by her as tears cascaded down her cheeks, she leaned her head back against the bricks.
First her rings, now her sanity.
“What the fuck did you say to her?”
Cassidy didn’t turn to look at him; the touch of humor in his voice told her he wasn’t upset. But due to the meltdown she was experiencing, she didn’t care about any drama that might have occurred with Angel.
“Fuck’s wrong with you?” he asked, walking up the sidewalk toward her.
Cassidy dropped her head. He asked in amusement, clearly thinking that she’d put Angel up to something.
Fred danced in place, eager for attention, but Mac was focused on her. “Day?”
Then he was in front of her, grasping her chin and tilting her head back to look at her face. His brow pinched, he asked again, no humor this time, “Fuck’s wrong with you?”