Chapter 14 #2
Like his discovery of the stock market. Now, he got just as much of an adrenaline high from staying home fiddling with statistics and probability as he did going out and getting drunk.
Now, he felt excitement about building custom cabinets for his kitchen.
And the younger version of himself would’ve found all that pretty damn lame.
So maybe his excitement at the mere discovery of a particular woman’s body was changing also. Because now he wanted to know how it would be the next time, and the time after that. There were layers of discovery to Cassidy, he was finding. And he was obsessed with getting there.
He was even obsessed with having coffee together.
He held the door open for her, and she looked up at him, then glanced around, clearly a bit worried.
There was no one he knew particularly well inside, though he couldn’t say the same for Cassidy. He didn’t notice her gaze stop on anyone specifically, though, and she seemed to relax as they walked up to the counter.
“You know what you want?”
“You don’t have to get me anything,” she said.
He gave her a long look, and her cheeks turned pink. “What?”
“I’m going to buy you coffee, you silly girl. And a sweet treat.”
“A sweet treat?”
“Yes. You definitely need a sweet treat. After all that exertion.”
He whispered the last part, but she still looked at him as if she was considering punching him for being indiscreet. He was okay with that.
The person in front of them finished ordering, and they stepped into place. He looked at Cassidy meaningfully. “A mocha, please,” she said, then frantically searched the bakery case.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“We’ll take two cinnamon rolls,” West said. “And I’ll just have a black coffee.”
He tapped his phone against the reader and paid, giving thanks for the advent of modern technology, which meant he didn’t have to dig around for his wallet.
It was in his pocket, and he knew that without checking; he also knew the card was probably inside.
But forgetting simple things like that when he had other things on his mind was a common hazard for him.
His phone was usually welded to his hand.
The cashier handed him a cup of coffee over the counter, and he and Cassidy went over to a table to wait for the cinnamon rolls and her mocha.
It was funny, because he had fallen into taking care of her in these interactions, and he liked it. She looked happy, and that made something inside him glow with a deep sense of satisfaction.
They ate their cinnamon rolls in relative silence, then parted ways to drive up to the Wild West Show.
Today they were rehearsing with the entire team. And while Cassidy knew what to expect, he watched her very closely as they got out of their trucks and walked toward the crowded arena.
His dad was there, wearing his fringed jacket and his white cowboy hat. “Good morning,” West said.
“Morning,” his dad responded cheerfully. This was his happy place, where he felt comfortable, at ease. Where he didn’t feel out of step with the world. West did understand that.
The whole team of performers was there too: trick riders, acrobats, gymnasts. It was a motley collection of folks, who were family in many ways.
In West’s opinion, the plot of the performance was a little bit convoluted, and it definitely didn’t relate much to history.
Not that any of it was supposed to be historical retelling.
His segment with Cassidy was the same runaway horse thing he did with his sister during their typical show, but he’d added a subplot about needing to collect horses to pull Santa’s sleigh.
Cassidy’s runaway horse was an important part of the puzzle.
Each of them performed a piece of the story until the end, when it all came together. He didn’t worry overmuch about the plot, or whether or not it made sense. It was William’s narration that tied everything together. And that was what was important.
Today, they were also trying on their costumes.
Cassidy was ushered into the women’s side of the dressing room, while he went over to the men’s and put on the white bedazzled jeans and white jacket that his dad had picked out. “This is some bullshit,” he said, looking at himself in the mirror. Like a cowboy angel. He was not into it.
He walked out of the dressing room at the same time as Cassidy, who was wearing a white-trimmed short red dress covered in red rhinestones, and he thought his jaw was going to hit the floor.
His outfit was ridiculous. She looked so hot he thought he might die.
“Oh,” she said, looking him up and down.
“Rhinestone cowboy,” he said, spreading his arms so that the fringe on his jacket moved.
“I kind of like it,” she said.
He smiled. He could feel that it was a wicked smile. Because he felt wicked. He took a step toward her, and then his dad walked in. “Showtime,” he said.
West took a step back, and Cassidy startled like a little cat.
It was a good thing he’d been reminded where he was. Because he had been about to do something totally inappropriate. That sounded like him.
Today they would work on putting all the pieces of the performance together. They had all rehearsed their individual scenes, and they needed to start working on the choreography for the last one, which included all of the performers.
His horses and Cassidy’s were in chutes next to each other; they would be the third act to go on.
“Okay. We go on after the toy soldiers do their tricks.”
“I don’t understand the plot.”
“It’s dumb,” West said.
“Okay. As long as it’s not just me.”
“Nobody cares about the plot. They care about the spectacle. Which is something that your brother has never understood.”
She laughed. “I guess so.”
“Speaking of the plot. Did you end up reading those diaries?”
“No,” she said, her voice soft. “I didn’t do anything on that trip but obsess.”
“As long as it was about me, that’s okay.”
She snorted. “About the whole situation.”
Somehow, it had been so easy for him to forget that there was a situation. Because last night had been all about them, really. And then this morning he had taken her for coffee. Now they were here. And the fact that Dalton Wade existed felt like a ridiculous intrusion.
“I want you to read them so you can tell me what’s in them.”
“You can read.”
“I can, but it would take me a long time to get through all that.”
“Maybe I’ll read it to you.”
The image of them reading together in bed was a nice one. But talk about distractions.
“Maybe,” he said.
“I just hope that I don’t embarrass myself in front of everybody.”
“Well, take heart. I know I’m going to embarrass myself in front of everybody because I’m wearing white jeans.”
She threw her head back and laughed, and he could see her just a little bit through the slats in the chute. “Okay. Point taken.”
“You’re supposed to say, ‘No, West, you look great, there’s nothing embarrassing about that costume.’”
“Two things can be true,” she said. “You do look great. But also, the outfit is ridiculous.”
They started to watch the scene unfolding in front of them, which included some high-flying acrobatics, and some moves that bordered on ballet. A circus rendition of The Nutcracker.
And after that, it was their turn.
“Ready?”
“Ready,” she said.
They had done the ride before with just the two of them. They had done it without music. This time, the Christmas music was blasting brightly as Cassidy began her turn around the arena, connecting her moves fluidly, beautifully.
He was having a hard time taking his eyes off her legs, and he knew he needed to keep his focus. But it was damn hard to do.
Then she was lying on her side, extended straight across the horse, and that was his cue to bring his horse up alongside hers, and sweep her to safety.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and brought her snugly in front of him on the saddle, keeping his hold on her horse and leading it out of the arena.
She was breathing hard, and his hand was curled around her ribs, directly beneath her breasts. It was taking a whole lot of self-control not to move it up farther.
“You were perfect,” he whispered in her ear.
He could feel her shaking with the giddiness of a job well done “I did it,” she said. “Wow. I can’t believe … I can’t believe I did it. Without falling or getting stuck in the saddle or anything.”
She leaned back against him, her head resting on his collarbone. He let out a contented sigh.
And he felt desire stir, in his gut and elsewhere.
He gripped her tightly and held her there just for a moment. Then he dismounted and lifted her down to the ground with him. “We have to stay until the end,” he said, looking at her intently.
She nodded.
And that was torturous. Because they had to wait through several more acts, and then it was time for them to go out again.
For that last scene when Christmas was saved or whatever else his dad had thrown into the half-baked story that was just about using every Christmas prop they had in their possession.
He and Cassidy rode on his horse, circling with other riders who were waving sparkling Christmas banners, while toy soldiers marched everywhere.
A Christmas medley played, and his dad stood up on a platform in the middle of it all, then shouted. “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
West couldn’t deny that he felt an adrenaline rush from the whole thing. From a job well done. It was satisfying to put on a show like this. To achieve something like this.
But then Cassidy looked at him, and he wasn’t thinking about the show anymore.
“Do you want to come back to the trailer? And get … changed?” “Sure,” she said.
She went to the dressing room and came out clutching her clothes.
He didn’t even bother to grab his. “Great. You know where it is, or you can follow me.”
“Yeah,” she said.
His house wasn’t really fit for company. His bed wasn’t made, and there were clothes on the floor, but he didn’t care enough to try to stop her from coming.