CHAPTER SEVEN #2
“Oof.” Branson shoves me slightly as we come up to several open seats facing the side of the bar. “No need to punch me for speaking the truth.”
“We’re here for happy hour,” I remind him as I slide onto a bar stool. Derek and Branson fill in the seats on either side of me.
“Holy shit,” Derek says in a low voice, his eyes fastened to the sexy lines of her body as she reaches for a liquor bottle on the top shelf that her co-worker pointed to. “You mean Casey Hart? Is that her?”
The interest in his voice grates at me. I pin him with a hard look. “Yeah. That’s her.”
He shrinks slightly. “Okay. Just checking.” His throat bobs as his gaze slides back to her. “She got hot.”
She was always hot in my book, but now, exponentially so. To a degree that I’m clearly having trouble keeping under wraps, if my friends are ribbing me about her after so little time.
“Dude, I wouldn’t….” Branson begins, grimacing over at Derek.
Their ribbing fades away as Casey finally looks up from making whatever drink her co-worker helped her with. Her gaze slides our way and immediately her face lights up.
As soon as her attention is on me, everything else fades away. The low indie rock music of the bar, the conversation, even the friends I came with. Gone. All I can see is her, this radiant beam of sexy happiness that is waving and coming our way.
“Look who wandered in,” she says with an ear-to-ear grin.
“We’re here to make sure you studied your drink recipes,” I say.
She leans against the bar, crossing her arms as she sizes us all up. “Oh, I studied. And I’m ready. What can I get you?”
Branson and Derek order first. When it comes to me, Casey holds up a hand.
“I already know. Arnold Palmer.”
I fight the dopey grin threatening to overtake my face. “Not tonight. I’d like to drink whatever IPA you think matches my skin tone best.”
She sends me a private smile and winks before leaving us to prep the drinks. I can barely pry my eyes off her as Derek slaps my arm.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It’s just a joke,” I say.
“Yeah, an inside joke,” Derek laments. “We ordering food or what?”
“Of course. Let’s get a spread.” We look at the small menus gathered in an upright holder nearby, making our selection.
We debate between hot or garlic parm wings, decide to do both, as well as different burgers for each of us.
When Casey comes back with our drinks, a smile quirking at her lips, I realize I am starving.
But not for food.
For Casey.
“Here we go. Drinks on day one of the job. Hope you don’t spit them out,” she cracks. I make a display of testing my beer and nodding approvingly.
“I think this will do. You liking the job so far?”
“Yeah, as far as day ones go.” She slings a white bar towel over her shoulder and looks around at the place. “It’s lovely in here. My coworkers are nice. I think I’ll like it.”
“Good.” I lift my bottle in a toast, and she makes a fist to bump it against the beer.
“What’s next? You boys hungry?” She nods toward Branson who is still deciding between the Texas burger and the Ohio burger. We place our orders, and she commits them to memory before whooshing away and getting lost in the activity at the far end of the bar.
From there it’s a pleasant blur—heated conversation about some recent changes to the Bayshore waterfront, followed by endless sports talk.
Brews on the Bay has good food, but it’s even better when it’s being delivered by a hot brunette like Casey.
We wolf down our food, order another round, and finally it’s time to cash out.
When Casey brings back the credit card slips from our payments, she says, “I’m going to clock out soon. They had me on a mid-shift for my first day.”
“You need a ride home?” I eye the receipt, sign my name, and then pull a $100 bill out of my wallet to slide her way. “That’s for you.”
Her eyes get huge. “That’s, like, double your bill.”
“So?”
Her throat bobs, and she looks up at me. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. Put it toward rent in Chicago.”
“Thanks, Griff.” She sends me another one of those pretty smiles that threatens to undo me and collects all our slips. “And to answer your question, no, I drove. But I appreciate the offer.”
Branson and Derek say their goodbyes to Casey and we filter out into the parking lot.
They’re making plans to head downtown next, but I wave them off, telling them I’ll see them another time.
I’m waiting for Casey, because I can’t help myself.
I shove my hands into my pockets, starting a slow walk toward her car.
Part of me knows I shouldn’t be hanging around like this, because there’s so much more behind it than simple friendship.
But I want to see her, talk to her, be with her.
We don’t have much time left this summer, and I want to enjoy Casey Hart until I lose her to Chicago again.
A door creaks open nearby and then a few moments later I hear footsteps crunching on the gravel.
“Griffin! Wait!”
Casey rushes toward me, but she doesn’t know that I was already waiting for her. She bounds up to me, flushed and excited. “Thanks again for coming to see me on my first day.”
“Of course. This is my favorite place to come. You’ll probably be seeing me a lot.”
She toys with the end of her ponytail as she gnaws on her bottom lip. “Speaking of seeing you a lot, I wanted to talk to you…”
“What’s up?” I make my hands into fists in my pockets in a bid to keep them from moving any closer to her.
The orange-red sunset over the lake has reached us here in the gravel parking lot, and it’s got me feeling romantic.
I catch the scent of peonies from a nearby bush.
I’d pull her into my arms and not let go until tomorrow if I could.
But instead, I make fists in my pockets and wait.
“Is your roomie offer still on the table?” She smiles hopefully at me.
“Fuck yeah it is. You decided?”
She nods, though it’s mixed with a grimace. “I just need to get out of my parents’ house. I was thinking about what you said…about getting robbed and all that. If you’re willing, I’d much rather live with a friend than a stranger.”
“I think that’s smart.”
“The only thing is I will be paying you rent.” She points a finger at me as though this has any impact.
“Uh…no.” I laugh, adjusting my backwards ball cap. “You won’t.”
“We’ll see about that,” she warns.
“I already saw to it,” I respond, playfully swatting her shoulder. “We’re good.”
She gives a super cute pout-harrumph, crossing her arms over her chest.
“When you moving in, roomie?” I ask.
“Whenever you’re ready for me.”
It seems overeager to say right now, so I shrug. “Let’s shoot for tomorrow. I’ll be around.”
I need to keep this attraction casual, though the thumping behind my ribcage is anything but. Her living with me will soothe the anxious part of me that would worry whether her random roomie was out to hurt her or steal from her. At least now I can keep an eye on her. Keep her safe.
But definitely not make her mine.
Even though that’s the only thing I want to do as I look into her pretty hazel eyes.