Chapter 11 #2
Getting lost in her was natural, like falling asleep. The rest . . . I’d deal with it next month. The baby wasn’t coming until March. I had time, right?
“Want that nap?” I asked.
“Not yet. I think I’ll move some books in here and try to make it until seven. Then just crash for the night.”
“I’ll help.”
We spent the next few hours setting up her office.
Over the past month since she’d moved in, more and more things had appeared.
Mostly deliveries from her parents. I was rarely here for those.
Dale and Claudia usually came over when I was at work, on their respective lunch breaks or at five, when I was usually still at the garage.
Avoiding them was better. They didn’t like or trust me—not that I blamed them. They didn’t want Cass living here, and I doubted they had any idea that we were having sex. Dale would have lost his shit over that.
We’d have to figure it all out eventually. When the baby came, we couldn’t keep dodging each other, but again . . . I’d deal with it next month.
“We need to pick a room for the nursery,” Cass said as we returned to the living room and the sea of pink gifts.
I’d forgotten about the mess. “Wherever you want.”
“You don’t have an opinion.”
“Not really.”
“Okay,” she drawled. “Then probably across from my room so it’s easy for me to get there in the middle of the night.”
Meaning she wouldn’t be sleeping in my bed after the baby came. “What is all of this stuff? Do you need so much?”
“Yes, according to my Google research and what most of the women told me at the shower today. Bottles. Diapers. Towels. Clothes. My mom bought us a car seat and my aunts all chipped in for the crib and changing table I wanted. They’re getting delivered tomorrow. Those are the necessities.”
“The kid needs her own trash can?”
“I guess it helps contain the smell.”
“Fucking great,” I muttered. How the hell did you even change a diaper?
Cass frowned. “You don’t have to help. I’ll take care of this. Just like I’ll take care of the kid.”
And now she was pissed. Christ. “Sorry.”
She waved me away. “It’s fine.”
God, I hated that word. Why couldn’t she see how hard I was trying? Why couldn’t she see that I was walking blind here? Before I got pissed, it was time to go. The last thing I wanted was a fight.
“I’m going to go meet Dash for a beer.”
Shock flashed on her face for a second, then she blinked and nodded. “Fine.”
Another fine.
“Why don’t you come too?”
“To the bar?”
“Well . . . yeah.” It wasn’t like she hadn’t gone there before.
Cass stared at me like I’d just asked her to fly to the moon. “No, thanks.”
“Fine.” That damn word was rubbing off. I brushed a kiss to her cheek and headed for the door. “See ya later.”
The air was cold as I jogged to my truck, in such a hurry to escape the explosion of all things baby and an argument with Cass that I’d grabbed my keys but not a coat. Lucky for me, my new truck had heated seats.
After the accident, it hadn’t taken me long to heal up from the minor bruises.
I’d gone to a dealership two days later and bought the newest model Chevy on the lot, complete with all the embellishments.
Chrome running boards. Custom stereo system.
Tinted windows so dark they weren’t exactly street legal.
The exterior was black as midnight, and it had the best engine on the market.
My bike was top of the line. My truck should be too. The old one, shit brakes and all, was now scrap metal. I’d sent it straight from the towing company who’d collected it after the accident to the local junkyard.
I sat behind the wheel, staring at the house. A light turned on from Cass’s side, not her bedroom but the other room. My hand hovered over the ignition.
Inside was a beautiful woman who had dealt with a lot of my shit. I didn’t know how to stop screwing up. Maybe Dash would have some advice.
The drive to The Betsy seemed different than it had two weeks ago, and it had nothing to do with the new truck. It was guilt. Every mile, every turn of the wheels, and I knew I was heading in the wrong direction.
“Goddamn it.”
Cass was at home, unpacking and setting up a nursery for the baby—our baby—and I was off to the bar. But she could have come along. We could have had a little fun, then come home and the baby shit could have waited until tomorrow.
It was probably for the best. The crowd on a Saturday could get wild and Cass was tired. I’d go have some beers. Spend time with Dash and call Emmett down. Then I’d come home after Cass had fallen asleep, and tomorrow, hopefully, she wouldn’t be pissed.
The parking lot wasn’t full when I got to the bar, but it was still early. Most Saturdays didn’t get started until eight or nine. But I spotted two familiar trucks—Dash’s and Emmett’s. They were the only company I needed.
“Is that Leo Winter?” Paul squinted, pretending to make out my face. “We’d thought you died.”
I chuckled and strode to the bar to shake my favorite bartender’s hand. “Still alive.”
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Not bad. Been busy.”
“Beer or whiskey?”
“Tequila,” Emmett answered for me, coming up to my side and handing over a pool cue. “We’re getting drunk tonight.”
“Sounds good to me.” Maybe after a few shots the guilt of leaving Cass behind would disappear.
“Think Cass will be our DD tonight? Or do we call Pres?”
“I’m sure as hell not calling Cass to drive here and pick my drunk ass up.”
Emmett nodded. “And I’m scared of Pres these days. She almost bit my head off yesterday when I didn’t rinse out the sink after dumping the last swig of my coffee.”
“Cab.” Dash came over. “We’re all getting drunk and calling cabs.”
Paul lined up six shot glasses on the bar and poured his finest tequila into each. “You guys want to cash out each time or start a tab?”
“Tab,” the three of us answered in unison, picking up a shot.
“Cheers, boys.” I raised my glass, then tipped it to my lips.
By the time the bar was full of people laughing and drinking and dancing to the loud music, I’d lost count of how many shots I’d taken.
“I’m out.” Dash slid off his stool at the table where the three of us had been sitting for hours after giving up on pool. “I’m leaving while I can still stand up and get it up. The boys should be in bed by now. I’ve got a woman at home who needs an orgasm or two.”
Guilt pinched hard in my chest. No matter how many shots I’d had, it just wouldn’t go away.
This wasn’t where I was supposed to be. I’d fucked up. I should be at home with Cass.
“I’d better go too,” I said but before I could stand up, Emmett put his hand on my shoulder.
“What? It’s not even nine o’clock. One more drink. Then we can share a cab.”
I sighed. “’Kay. One more.”
He stood and went to the bar as Dash walked for the door, giving me a wave before disappearing outside to call a cab or flag the ones that hung close to The Betsy on Saturday nights.
A delicate hand snaked up my shoulder.
I flinched away from the touch, turning.
A brunette was at my side. She’d been eyeing me from her own table for the past hour—apparently not taking the hint that I wasn’t interested. “Hey, Leo.”
“Hey.” I shifted my shoulder, trying to dislodge her hand.
But instead of moving away, she took it as an opening to move in closer, squeezing in between me and the table and pressing her hip against my thigh. “Having fun tonight?”
“Yeah.” I focused on her face, trying to figure out if I’d hooked up with her before. She was familiar but I’d had a lot to drink and her features were a bit fuzzy. She looked like every other woman. Not Cass.
“Here you go.” Emmett put four shots on the table just as a blonde latched herself to his side.
These chicks must have been waiting for Dash to leave, probably because he would have told them to fuck off.
“Hey, baby,” the blonde purred to Emmett.
“Hey.” He shot me a smirk and put his arm around her shoulder. “What’s your name again?”
She stood on her toes, motioning him closer. Whatever it was that she whispered in his ear made him laugh. He drained two of the shots, one after the other, then sealed his lips over hers.
“So much for sharing a cab,” I called to his back as he steered the blonde toward the door.
“I guess it’s just the two of us.” The brunette ran her long fingernails up my thigh, going for my zipper.
I clamped a hand over hers, stopping it before she could touch my cock.
She took it the wrong way because when I turned to tell her to get lost, she pressed her mouth to mine, dragging her tongue across my lower lip. She pulled away before I could stop her, then leaned in toward my ear. “I’ll share your cab.”
“Nah. Sorry, sweetheart.” I shoved her hand away. “Not interested tonight.”
“Aw.” She pouted and took the stool where Emmett had been sitting. “Buy me a drink at least?”
“Knock yourself out.” I motioned toward the shots, then dug out my phone to call for a cab, seeing a missed call on the screen.
Cass had called just a few minutes ago and I breathed a long sigh. She couldn’t be that pissed if she’d called me, right? The music and noise from the crowd were deafening but the second I walked outside, I’d call her back.
“Take yours too,” the brunette whined, sliding the other shot glass closer.
“Huh?” I looked up.
She motioned to the shot. “Your drink.”
I set my phone aside and frowned, but took the glass, clicked the rim to hers and swallowed the tequila in a gulp. “Thanks. Have a good night.”
Before she could stop me, I shoved away from the table and walked for the door. Three feet away, a thick, flabby arm came around my shoulders.
“Leo! Come here a sec.” Bobby hauled me to where he was talking to a group of guys I knew because they all worked at the fire department.
We shook hands and bullshitted for a while, but then Bobby began to grate on my nerves. He was one of the loud and boisterous regulars who I played pool with often. A good guy when he wasn’t smashed, which was not tonight.
He leaned in too close as he spoke, and I eased back, stumbling on a crack in the floor. My head was spinning too fast. My eyes crossed as I tried to focus on his face. Shit. How many shots had we had? I must have lost count if I was this drunk.
“I gotta go, Bobby.” I walked away. Maybe some air would clear my head.
It didn’t. One step into the parking lot and I nearly dropped to my knees. The strength in my legs was gone. My eyes struggled to focus and I was seeing double, but I managed to set my feet on a path to my truck.
I’d crash inside. I’d call a cab when I sobered up a bit. Where was my phone?
I didn’t remember reaching the truck’s door. I didn’t remember crawling inside.
All I remembered was staring through the windshield as my truck rolled down the road, wondering what the fuck had been in that last shot.
And who the fuck was driving me.