15. Chapter 15
fifteen
T he morning after the Flyers’ Christmas party, everyone slept late. Except for those who had small children and businesses to open, of course.
Cassie rose late because she was off that day, and texted Dean.
CutiCass:‘How u feeln??’
Receiving no response, she started to worry. What if he had some horrible bug, or food poisoning? Should she have insisted he go to a quick care facility last evening? Or, should she now contact the hotel where he was staying, and have them check on him? What if he was alone in his hotel room, too sick to even reach for his phone?
She texted Drew.
CassC:‘Dean ok? He ws sic lst nit. Not ansrng txt now.’
Drew:‘Rlly? He didnt say. Wil chek on hm.’
CassC:‘Ok thx.’
Her dad came into the kitchen as she was perched on one of the stools at the island, frowning at her phone.
“Hey, kiddo,” her dad said, yawning. “Something wrong with the coffee?”
“No, why?”
He gave her a quizzical look. “‘Cause you’re scowling at your full cup instead of guzzling it down, is why.”
She looked down, surprised to see her mug still full. “Oh, no. I’m just worried about Dean.” She took a sip of the hot, sweet brew. “He got sick last night, and had to go home, and I can’t get hold of him. Wondering if I should drive to his hotel, in north Spokane, to check on him.”
Her dad cursed, and she looked up, startled, to see him hurriedly setting the coffee pot back in the coffee maker, then thrusting his fingers under the faucet.
“Burnt myself,” he said, scowling down at his hand.
She looked at the pool of coffee on the counter around his brimming mug, and reached over to rip off a length of paper towels.
“You kids gotta watch what you’re doin’,” she said, deepening her voice to mimic him. “Burns can be dangerous.”
Her dad grunted, turning off the cold water. “Not wrong about that, was I?”
“So it seems,” she said, sopping up coffee with the paper towels. “So, do you think I should call Dean’s hotel, ask them to check on him?”
Mac turned his frown on her. “Baby girl, the cowboy’s an adult who can look after himself. He won’t thank you for causing a fuss.”
Cassie drank some more coffee. “I guess you're right.”
“Course I’m right. Now, I was gonna whip up some waffles, but seeing as how I’m gonna be holding onto an ice bag for a little while here, you mind helping with that?”
“Sure.” She hopped off her stool, and went to get the waffle iron from the pantry, while Mac pulled the bag of waffle mix from the cupboard.
Twenty minutes later, she finally heard from Dean.
CowboyD: ‘Srry fon off. Bttr 2day, jst tird, stayn clos.’
CutiCass: ‘Ok, srry to hr. Feel btr. 3’
No reply to this. Well, fine then. Still, his lack of goodbye seemed a touch cold to her, considering how much fun they’d had last evening. Until he got sick, that is.
She frowned to herself as she stood waiting for the hissing waffle iron to beep, signaling that another waffle was done.
As she cooked waffles, placed them on a platter in the warm oven, and helped set the table for breakfast, Cassie puzzled over what Dean’s coolness this morning meant, if anything. Was he angry that he’d gotten sick from food at a party to which she’d invited him?
The more she thought about it, the more irritated she became. If Dean was well enough to text her back, that meant he was fine, so she no longer needed to worry about him. And if he was going to be moody, that was his choice. And she got to make the choice not to put up with it.
On the other hand, maybe he’d just set his phone down and hadn’t seen her text. Either way, she wasn’t worrying about him anymore.
She tucked her phone away, took the last waffle out, and set it in the oven.
“How d’you want your eggs?” she asked her dad, who was now perched at the island, scrolling on his phone and drinking coffee, an ice bag around his right hand.
“However you want ‘em. Just make enough for Rae and Con, too.”
“Okey-doke. So raw is fine?”
He gave her a look from under his brows. “No, raw ain’t fine. You messin’ with me now?”
She returned the look in kind. “Yes, because you’re being… weird.”
“Weird how?”
Cassie set the carton of eggs down by the stove, and pulled out a skillet. “I don’t know… wait. Yes, I do. You’re quiet. Too quiet. Why aren’t you asking me about my date, and–and whether I’m seeing him again, and all your nosy crap like that? Huh?” She leaned over the counter and narrowed her eyes at him. “Who are you? And what have you done with my dad?”
He reached out, too quickly for her to react, and booped her on the nose with wet, ice cold fingers.
“Augh!” She recoiled with a shriek, and nearly tripped as one of her fuzzy slippers came off the back of her foot. Catching herself in the ell of the counter, she made a horrible face as Mac leaned back on his stool, laughing at her.
RaeAnn appeared at the bottom of the stairs, and shook her head at them, smiling. “And what have you two been adding to your coffee this morning?”
“Nothin’ yet,” her husband told her. “But I could use some sugar.”
“Don’t mind me,” Cassie said loudly, turning to the stove. “I’ll just be cooking eggs over here.”
“Cook real slow,” Mac advised. “‘Cause your step-mama’s lookin’ extra-pretty this morning.”
RaeAnn laughed, Mac’s stool creaked, and Cassie pulled her phone from her pocket and cued up her modern country Christmas songs, in case the exhaust fan didn’t drown out their smoochy noises, because parental PDA—ecch!
Then she got busy scrambling up the eggs.
The rest of that week before Christmas, Cassie worked her full shifts, and then Warren’s nephew’s too. Glad to have the overtime wages, she did so without complaint.
Mamba Mama’s stayed busy. The Spokane streets were full of last-minute shoppers, and her quirky Christmas window displays had them coming into the store in a steady stream. This was good as it gave her little time to think of her disastrous dating life, or the lack thereof.
Christmas Eve she fell into bed, exhausted, and slept like a log.
Christmas morning dawned bright, clear and cold. Cassie sent Dean a text as soon as she woke up.
CutiCass:‘Merry Xmas! How u feel??’
CowboyD:‘Merry Xms u 2. Btr, thx.’
CutiCass:‘Grt! Wnt 2 com ovr ltr?? Tons 2 eat D’
SuprCass: ‘K, thx. I’ll lok ltr.’
Cooler made a huge breakfast, and the four of them gathered in the sitting room, Christmas carols by country artists old and new playing softly on the TV surround sound, to exchange gifts.
Cassie’s gift from her dad was a Visa card with a few hundred dollars on it. She gave him a grateful hug and he patted her back.
“Figured green always works.”
“It so does,” she agreed, her voice thick with emotion. “Thanks, daddy.”
“Hey, hey,” he murmured. “Got your back, baby girl, always. You know that, right?”
She nodded, still holding onto him. She did know that.
RaeAnn also gave her a gift card for a year’s worth of appointments at Iris Salon. Cassie thanked her tearfully as well, because her new cut required regular trims, and she knew RaeAnn’s services were worth a whack.
Connor gave Cassie a pair of nice earrings, with a gift receipt in case she didn’t like them, which was super thoughtful—RaeAnn’s idea, no doubt.
Her own mother had sent her a gift card too. Modest, but still welcome.
Gifts exchanged, Cooler turned on the TV, and the first of the succession of favorite holiday movies, The Christmas Story. Later, Cassie knew from convos with them every year, would come Ernest Saves Christmas, the Christmas Chronicles and then possibly a Hallmark movie or two for Rae.
Ellen, to Cassie’s secret and Cooler’s not-so-secret relief, had gone to spend Christmas this year with her sister Linda.
They all cleaned up the kitchen from breakfast. Then Rae shooed the men out, and immediately began prepping the hors d’oeuvre and snacks they’d graze on the rest of the day. She had cheeses, ham, salami and olives for a charcuterie board, all the ingredients for layered Mexican dip, chips and crackers, a huge veggie tray and one of fruit.
“Are we having people over today?” asked Cassie, eying the other containers RaeAnn was pulling from the fridge.
“Oh, these are just some hot dips to slide into the oven,” Rae said. “And, you know, friends may stop by. So I want to be prepared.”
Cassie shrugged. “Okay, looks totally yum. What can I do?”
Rae put her to work, and they chatted and sang along to Christmas carols as they prepped food.
The guys bundled up and shoveled walks and driveway clear of the snow that had fallen overnight, sparkling pristine white under the winter sun and brightening the house with its reflected light. They came back in with red cheeks and noses, stomping the last snow off of their boots in the mudroom and laughing about a pickup that had fishtailed on the slick street.
The familiar soundtracks of the films, Christmas carols, and cheerful conversation warmed the house. Video calls were held with the Carson grandparents and Uncle Brad’s family at their home. The younger cousins delighted themselves making faces behind the adults’ backs until their parents shooed them away.
Late that afternoon, Cassie phoned her mother to wish her a Merry Christmas, but when Nina didn’t answer, ended up leaving her a message.
Cooler, passing by her place at the kitchen island, lifted his brows in query. “How’s your mom?”
“Don’t know, she didn’t pick up,” Cassie said. “Knowing Nina, she’s probably working.”
“You should drive over and see her,” her dad said, pulling another bottle of beer from the fridge. He twisted the top off and leaned on the island across from her, his gaze warm. “Yeah, I know … she’ll be workin’ twenty-two a day. But still, you’ll know you made the effort.”
When Cassie merely gave him a look, he winked at her. “An’ you can show her your new look. Knock her socks off.”
Cassie snorted, and took a pull off her own beer. And had it not been her third of the day, she probably would have not shared what she did next.
“Right. I can just hear her, ‘You look nice, sweetie. It’s just too bad you got your dad’s build. Or, it’s just too bad you won’t let me take you shopping for clothes. Or, it’s just too bad you don’t grow your hair out, maybe even get some of those extensions’. Etcetera, etcetera, blah, blah, blah.”
Cooler stood frozen, beer halfway to his lips, fire kindling in his eyes. RaeAnn, who had moved to Cassie’s side, caught his gaze and tipped her head in distressed sympathy. He raised his brows in a silent, furious, ‘you already heard this shit?’ and she nodded. He closed his eyes briefly, grinding his teeth.
“Right,” Cooler bit off. “In that case, like you keep tellin’ me, you’re a grownup. You don’t wanna visit her, stay and keep knockin’ the socks off folks around here. Roads are probably bad anyway.”
Cassie sighed gustily, and set down her beer. “No, I should go. I can catch up with friends, too. Eva, Shree and LaTisha are still there, not sure about the others. And, no whining on Christmas, right?”
Now Rae moved in, sliding an arm around her shoulders and giving her a warm squeeze. “You’re not whining, honey, you’re venting. And that’s what family is for.”
Cassie smiled up at her. “Okay. And thanks, both of you.”
“I got two fuckin’ awesome kids, so of course I wanna hear what they have to say,” Cooler replied. “Now, who’s up for some Ernest Saves Christmas?”
“’Heh-heh-heh, air brakes!’” Connor quoted loudly from the sofa where he was sprawled with a bowl of chips and a smaller bowl of Rae’s layered dip, a soda at his elbow. “I’ll start it up.”
“And he’ll quote the dialogue for every character, through the entire movie,” Rae sighed.
Cooler chuckled, because she was not wrong.
But that was now part of their Christmas ritual, and they settled down to watch the movie, smiling. Cassie brought her phone to scroll through her favorite apps and do a little texting on the side, and she noted RaeAnn had hers in hand as well, along with a magazine.
A woman could only take so many Ernest shenanigans, after all.
She also remembered to go thru her Insta account, which was fine, full of fun pics of friends and family, until she got to #XmasPartyFlyersClub Then she sat bolt upright, and let out a squawk of distress that had her family turning to her in shock.
“What?” Mac demanded. “You choke on something?”
Cassie shook her head, staring at her phone.
Con ducked sideways to see, and then chortled. “What the what? How wasted were you?”
Cassie sank down into the sofa, moaning, hiding her face in an Elf throw pillow.
“What’s she goin’ off about?” Mac asked Rae.
Rae plucked Cassie’s phone from her nerveless fingers, and took one look. Then she put a hand to her face, her eyes wide. “Ommagerd,” she mumbled.
“Gimme that.” Mac grabbed the phone and looked at it. Then he sighed heavily and tossed it back to his daughter. “Well, you put on a fine show, you two gals. I coulda done without knowin’ you was wearin’ a damn thong, but now everybody on the internet knows.”
Posted on Cassie’s instagram was a photo of her and Piper on the floor of the back hallway. Piper was on top, ass in the air, short skirt flipped up to reveal black lace panties. Cassie was partially on her side, knees up as she struggled to find purchase to plant her bootheels on the slick floor, and her short red skirt had flared out behind her, revealing her bare bottom, cleft only by narrow red lace.
“That’s not a thong,” she protested. “It… It just looks that way in the picture. Oh, my God, I’ll never be able to show my face in public again.”
“Oh, honey, it’s not that bad,” Rae said instantly. “I mean, no one we know is ever on Instagram. Just you kids. And I’m sure you can ask whoever took that to take it down.”
Cassie moaned again. “It’s too late. It’s already been reposted about a hundred times. Oh-h, fuck my life.”
“Hey, language,” her dad said crossly.
She gave him a cranky look in return as she got up and headed for her room. Fine for him to curse constantly, but not his ‘womenfolk’.
SuprCass: Did Rav post tht?? Cn he tak it dwn??'
FunDella: No, sorreeee. I dnt no who??
SuprCass: K, thx.
Great. She could hardly text her way thru the Flyers, asking each if they’d posted the photo. That would only draw more attention to it. She’d just have to stay in her room for the next five years, until everyone forgot about it.
Later, bored with her own company, she was on her way back down when she heard voices in the kitchen. Friends stopping by, as RaeAnn had predicted. She paused in the shadows at the head of the stairs to determine who was there before continuing.
“I brought my special shrimp dip, with Ritz crackers.” That was Darlene–ugh, which meant Snake—double ugh. He and her dad must be out in the garage, getting drinks out of the beer fridge.
“Oh, thank you,” RaeAnn said graciously. “Let’s put it right here in front. Just look at those tomato rosettes, so pretty.”
Cassie smiled to herself. Her stepmom was seriously sweet. She herself was gonna hide out upstairs for a while longer. She had turned to tiptoe back to her room when Darlene spoke again.
“Well, I guess Cooler don’t think much of that cowboy Cassie’s dating, hmm?”
Cassie froze.
“What makes you say that?” Rae asked.
Darlene laughed. “Well, we all seen the cowboy at the party, come a’scootin’ outta the back hallway like his tail was on fire. And then Cooler right after him, all pleased with himself. Warned him off, hmm?”
She laughed again, which turned into her smoker’s hack, and then murmured something else, in a voice too low for Cassie to hear.
But she’d heard enough. Her hands clenched on the stair railing, and she gritted her teeth, anger boiling up inside her.
Dean hadn’t had a bellyache after the party at all. He’d been scared to touch her again, for fear of what her dad would do to him, probably with her Flyer uncles lined up behind him.
“Oh now, Darlene, I’m sure you just took it wrong,” Rae was saying hurriedly. “Dean is a nice young guy. Now, let’s get you something to drink. What’ll it be?”
Cassie stomped into her bedroom, shut the door, and yanked her suitcase from the closet. She was going to her mom’s place, until she cooled off enough to not murder her own father with the nearest sharp kitchen implement.
Too angry to face her dad without blowing up at him, Cassie stayed in her bedroom the rest of Christmas evening.
When he knocked on her door to check on her, she pretended to be asleep. She did sleep a few hours, finally, and woke groggily to her phone alarm and the dark of a winter morning.
Scrubbing at her grainy, sore eyes, she rolled out of bed, grabbed the clothing she’d laid out, and shuffled into the bathroom across the hall.
Showered, she dressed warmly in a black turtleneck and leggings under a fuzzy black vest, hid her lack of sleep the best she could with cosmetics, blew dry her hair, donned her favorite earrings and bracelets, warm fuzzy socks and boots, and lugged her suitcase and coat downstairs through the quiet house.
The kitchen lights flicked on as she set her suitcase down by the door. She startled, and then glared at her father, who stood in the doorway in from the garage, already in uniform for a long day as EMS.
He raised his brows. “Goin’ somewhere, baby girl?”
“To see mom,” she said. She turned her back on him, moving around the island to flick the coffeemaker on, then opened the refrigerator and stared blindly at its contents. “I have two days off, I’m gonna use them.”
“Ah-huh.” Her dad reached past her, pulled out the bottle of orange juice, and pulled two glasses from the cupboard. “Come sit, have some juice, and tell me what’s got you upset.”
She watched him pour the juice into the small glasses, furious that he was so calm when she was spoiling for a fight. “I’ll tell you what’s got me upset—it’s you, daddy.”
He raised his brows, handed her a glass of juice, and took a drink of his own, waiting. Cassie took a drink. It was sweet and cool. She drained the glass and set it down on the counter, then set her hands on her hips, glaring at him again.
“You said something to Dean, didn’t you?” she accused. “The night of the party, you scared him off. Didn’t you?”
Her dad shrugged, giving her an innocent look. “I spoke to him, sure. Don’t know that you could say I scared him off, though. Just told him to take care with you.”
She shook her head in disgust, tears threatening all over again. “Right. You know what, don’t even bother–I know you did a lot more than that. When I get back, I’m gonna figure out how to move out.” Somewhere. Anywhere.
“Aw, c’mon,” he said, throwing out his arms and giving her a pleading look. “Don’t be mad, baby girl. You know, it ain’t easy bein’ a dad. For chrissake, I’m just trying to look out for you. If I could, I’d walk through this world in front of you with a big damn broom, sweepin’ trouble outta your way. And that includes knuckleheads that just wanna get in your panties.”
She sniffled, and gave him a look of exasperation. “Daddy, I’m twenty-two years old. I liked Dean, a lot. You have to let me live my life. I mean, d’you want me to stop letting you even meet the guys I date? ‘Cause I can do that. Keep my life a secret, maybe not bring a guy around until I’m married to him, or something, and you can’t scare him away.”
He watched her fill a travel cup with coffee and creamer. “Well … you could always choose a Flyer. Then I’d know he’s worthy of my baby girl.”
“As if,”she twisted the top on the mug with quick, angry movements. “So he could report every move to you for approval? Besides, there’s no one I want to date in the club, anyway.” Or that wanted her.
“Ah-huh. Welp, how’s about I fix you some breakfast before you take off?”
“I already packed a granola bar and a banana. I’m ready to go.”
“Right then, lemme at least get your bag.”
Suffering a hug and kiss from her father, and his assurance that he loved her, even though she was being a brat right now, Cassie told him she guessed she loved him too, even though she was really, really mad at him.
He heaved a put-upon sigh, and shut her car door after her. “Me an’ Con checked your fluid levels a couple days ago, and I see you got a full tank. Now drive safe. Text me when you get there. Any problems this side of midway, call me or T or Moke—they’ll pick up even if I can’t.”
“I know, I know,” she said. “And any problems on the other side of half-way there, call Uncle Bullet.”
The Flyer version of 24-hour road service. Call a brother and have them ride out, escorting a tow truck for her vehicle. It was free to the recipient, unless you counted the scolding handed out about regular vehicle maintenance, and the swift report back to the entire Heights’ Flyer family.
And he wondered why she wanted out?
As the sun rose, behind her, Cassie headed west through the rocks and evergreens that bordered Airway Heights. Past fields of snow-whitened wheat stubble, and the small lakes the area was known for, now frozen over. The winter sky was a vault of pale, chilled blue overhead, broken only by the occasional vee of Canada geese or a single, soaring hawk.
Thanks to hours of defensive driving training with her dad—who had seen enough horrific wrecks caused by excessive speed on snow and ice to have nightmares about his own kids—Cassie was an experienced winter driver. She was grateful though, that the interstate highway was bare and dry, as this meant her drive would take only two hours.
Her mom lived in Kennewick, one of the Tri-Cities. Not on the street where she’d raised Cassie, but in a newer neighborhood crammed with two-story homes, all painted in neutral hues, set in tiny yards.
Nina’s home, painted white, had a fountain in the shrubbery by the front walk, now empty of all but snow. A rustic ‘Welcome’ sign sat at the perfect angle on a white bench by the front door, a large ceramic crock just so at the foot.
Inside, the white and beige decor looked like a magazine layout on ‘how to decorate on a budget’. This was something at which Cassie’s mom had always excelled. So much so, that she’d turned it into a business, now her sole means of support.
Since the woman had, in Cassie’s memory, never actually sat down to relax with a book or TV except for home improvement shows, her business was a success.
When Cassie walked in the front door, her mother greeted her with her cell phone headset on.
She gave Cassie an encompassing look, raised her brows in surprise, and then held up a finger in a ‘just a minute’ signal.
‘I know, Justine,” she said in the syrup-over-steel voice she used with her clients. “But here’s what you really want to do with that room. Instead of a sectional, I’m thinking a love seat and two chairs. I saw the perfect pieces this week on Facebook marketplace…’
Surprise, surprise, her mom was working the day after Christmas. And she’d probably spent Christmas day working too, forgetting she had a daughter who might want to chat with her.
With the ease of long practice, Cassie tuned out the discussion of tufted-versus-rolled upholstery, and ducked into the small but cute powder room just off the two-story foyer.
When she came out, her mom was still on the phone, pacing back and forth across the sitting room, pausing only to twitch a sofa pillow or the hand-knit throw tossed artfully over the back of the beige sofa.
Nina was Cassie’s height, but so slender she could, if she chose, wear jeans off the boys’ racks at any given store. She wore her highlighted blonde hair long enough to brush her shoulders, and dressed in carefully curated finds from the sales racks at Chico’s and Nordstrom’s, which meant she was always chic.
Today she wore a pair of blush leggings, along with a blush-and-rose flowered tunic that would’ve made Cassie look like a giant sofa cushion, and rose-gold metallic booties. These matched the bangles on her birdlike wrist, and her heavy pendant necklace.
Yep, Nina was a business dynamo and a fashionista, but she’d never win mom-of-the-year award. She appeared to have already forgotten Cassie had arrived, so engrossed was she in her client’s remodeling needs.
With an inward sigh, Cassie went back out into the cold wind to get her suitcase from her car. She’d head up to the guest room and get settled, then text Eva, who had wanted to know the minute Cassie hit town. And Daniel Hancock, see if he was in town. If he was, she was totally dropping in to his office.
By the time she’d unpacked, her mother managed to get off the phone long enough to welcome her home, and offer her supper of microwaved frozen lasagna and packaged salad.
“Well,” Nina said when they were seated in the dining area, with food and a glass of red wine each. “I’m so glad you put my Christmas gift card to good use. For that haircut, you must have gone to a salon in Spokane, hmm?”
Cassie sighed inwardly. Nina chose to view RaeAnn as a tacky, small-town beautician, and nothing Cassie said made a difference. Nina would change her tune in a hurry if she set foot in Iris Salon, but that would probably never happen—which actually, when she thought about it, was for the best.
Still, answering her was a pleasure. “Actually, the cut, color and makeup were all a gift from RaeAnn,” Cassie said sweetly. “I’m using the gift cards from you for clothing. The stores started the sales early this year, have you noticed?”
Her mother looked like she’d swallowed pure lemon juice instead of red wine. Cassie smiled to herself as she took another bite of lasagna. Which promptly stuck in her throat as her mother reacted typically.
“Well, it’s just too bad the cut is so short,” her mother said, with a look of sweet sympathy. “Chin or shoulder length is so much more versatile.”
Cassie took an extra large swallow of wine to get the lasagna down, and gritted her teeth. Just get through dinner and she could escape to see her friends, she reminded herself.
Her mom moved on. “So, tell me about your new job? What is the place called--Mama Mia, or something?”
“Mamba Mama’s,” Cassie corrected her. “It’s very … eclectic. You’d love the bargains. It’s where I got the cashmere throw for you.”
The cream-colored throw had been second-hand, but in perfect condition, and Cassie had had it dry-cleaned with the ‘snow fresh’ scent option. Since it was now draped casually over a corner of her mom’s living room sofa, she knew Nina liked it.
But her mother would not be diverted. “Well, it’s just too bad retail doesn’t pay enough to live on. You know if you moved back here, you could work for me again. Plenty of room for growth if you just put your heart into it.”
Cassie did not want to put her heart into sourcing re-purposed home décor. Cassie loved comfy furniture, but she didn’t care whether it was ‘vintage’ or ‘authentic period’, or just came out of a factory.
And most of all, she never, ever, ever, ever wanted to work for Nina again.
She’d had more than enough of that when she lived at home. Starting with small tasks at around age eleven, she’d progressed to working her ass off on weekends refinishing furniture and helping haul it to client homes, while her friends were working jobs surrounded with others their age.
And nothing Cassie did for her mother had ever been quite good enough. If she never again heard the words ‘it’s just too bad you didn’t do it this way’, she’d die happy. Cassie hadn’t realized how sick she was of the phrase, and the attitude, until she spent time with RaeAnn, who always thanked her, and didn’t second-guess or nitpick.
Now she gave her mother a look over her wineglass. “Not happening, mom.”
"Just trying to help.” Nina sighed and went back to picking at her undressed salad. “So, are you dating any nice young guys? With actual jobs, I mean, not those bikers.”
Her usual healthy appetite now completely gone, Cassie dropped her fork with a small clatter. “Nope. Not dating anyone. So, tell me about you. How’s business, good?”
Her mother’s eyes lit up. “Well, yes. Very good. I have a new client with a huge house out along the river. She’s very into antiques and finds.” She talked on, forgetting her own food, and all Cassie had to do was listen and nod, and drink her wine.
After the meal, Nina ducked into her home office ‘just for a sec’ to take another client call, which meant Cassie probably wouldn’t see her again for at least an hour.
She set her phone to play some Maren Morris and cleaned up the kitchen. Then she went upstairs to freshen her makeup.
An hour later, Nina was still in her office, discussing—passionately—the advantages of lacquer over paint for a refinished bureau. When Cassie stuck her head in to say she was going out with friends, her mom gave her a distracted waggle of two fingers, and continued talking on her phone.
So, nothing new there.
Cassie’s phone chimed as she climbed into her car.
BzyBodyDad: ‘Bet ur on way out. Don’t lve ur drink on table wil u dance D. Gotcha!’
BstDtrEvr: She sent him a ‘phooey’ face in reply.
But as she drove to meet her friends, she was smiling wryly, despite her irritation. Her dad drove her nuts at times, but she knew if she were in real trouble, he—and the other Flyers—would be behind her one-hundred percent.
Nice if she could toss her parents in some kind of personality blender, and get two middle-of-the-road parents who were interested in all she did, but then stepped the hell back when she needed them to.
Oh, well. She supposed—even though she’d rather eat ghost peppers than admit it—she preferred her dad’s biker bossiness to her mother’s style of putting her business first, and her daughter in distant second place. And, since she was counting her blessings, Mac had also given her an awesome stepmom, a great little brother, and a big, rowdy Flyer family who cared about her and also wanted her around.
Well—most all of them did. One of them wanted her to go play in the kiddy corner. The big, muscle-bound, dumbass.
Eek, she needed a great drink and some fun time with old friends.
But as she parked outside the bar where she’d agreed to meet her college friends, a couple walked past into the bar. The guy was big and fit, and the way he looked down at his date made Cassie’s heart contract with yearning. Oh, God, if only…
The couple disappeared inside, and she shook her head. Okay, enough. She was here to see her friends, and be distracted from her own crap-ola. Time to get that drink and get on with it.
An hour later, Cassie was kind of wishing she could have more than one drink. She was bored, more than a little hurt, and pissed off.
Her friends had clearly moved on without her.
Oh, Eva, a lean girl who wore her curly black hair in a short ponytail, and mostly lived in jeans and jerseys from her softball team, was interested in Cassie’s new life, and wanted to hear all about what it was like partying with the Flyers, and living near Spokane.
But Shree was absent, having accepted a date with a guy she’d met earlier in the day–at a gas station, of all places.
And LaTisha, who knew which rich hues complemented her dark skin and ebony curls, and used them on her nails, lips and clothing, strangely took one look at Cassie, and instead of complimenting her happily on her new look, as Eva did, tossed her own long hair and shrugged, as if to say ‘whatever’. She also kept interrupting Cassie and Eva to talk about activities in the Tri-Cities, with people Cassie didn’t know.
Eva gave Tisha weird looks, and smiled at Cassie as if to apologize for their friend, but went along.
Cassie found herself comparing these two with her new friends. Shelle, Manda and Piper were too sweet to be so rude. And Della would tell Cassie to stop putting up with this bitch’s crap.
As Tisha began yet another story about new friends, Cassie yawned widely, patting her mouth with one hand.
“Oh, sorry,” she said loudly, interrupting Tisha, who glared at her, mouth open. “Time for me to roll. Eva, give me a buzz if you’re ever in my area. And as for you…” she looked at La Tisha and shook her head. “I don’t know what your problem is, girl, but you’re about as much fun as a big zit on prom night. So buh-bye!”
With that, she got out of there, leaving shocked silence behind her.
The third time her husband rolled over in their bed and thumped his pillow, RaeAnn gave up on sleeping herself.
“Mac?” she asked, a hand on the warm skin of his back. “What’s wrong?”
“Just can’t sleep,” he muttered. “I’ll go down on the couch.”
She rolled to him, sliding her arm around his strong torso. “Hey,” she protested. “Remember we said we’d always talk about things? Did I do or say something to upset you?”
He sighed deeply. “Oh, hell no, mama.” Rolling onto his back, he lifted his arm, and she snuggled close, her head on his shoulder. He sighed again. “This, I did.”
“Oh.” She pressed a kiss to his throat. “Is it between you and Cassie?”
“How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.” That, and their house wasn’t that big. She’d heard his and Cassie’s tense voices from the kitchen the morning before, and his mood had been off ever since.
He sighed again. “I might’ve stepped in it with her and that Dean kid.”
RaeAnn froze. Darn. That meant Darlene had been on the nose with her clubhouse gossip. “What did you do, Mac?”
“Nothin’ that much,” he said.
She poked him in the ribs, and he flinched.
“Oh, all right. I warned him off, told him to keep his horny hands off of her, or else.”
Rae leaned up on her elbow, and smacked him sharply on his chest. “Mac Carson, you didn’t!”
He stared at her. “Hey. What was that for? Just lookin’ out for my baby girl.”
“Oh, Mac, don’t you see? He was her–her rebound guy. Not that important in the long run, but for now, yes. She needed an attractive guy to boost her self-esteem after her big crush on Heavy, and that was Dean. At least until you stuck your nose in.”
“Well, he–he ain’t a Flyer,” he said stubbornly. “And besides, Heavy’s noticing her now.”
“Yes, and it would have done Heavy a lot of good to notice her walking away with another guy,” she said tartly. “Like she’s had to watch him with that–that Britt person.”
He snorted. “You mean bitch, say it, mama. And she won’t last, wait and see.”
“That’s not our business,” she said, rubbing her eyes.
He yawned, and pulled her close. “Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, thanks for listening. Now go to sleep, ‘cause I know you gotta get up in a few hours.”
“Okay,” she mumbled. “Love you, mister Carson.”
“Love you too, missus Carson.”