Chapter 12
Casey watched Stephanie’s green blouse disappear down the narrow hallway toward the restrooms. The best table in the house.
Nico had given it to them without hesitation after one quiet word from her, the one tucked against the courtyard wall where bougainvillea spilled over white brick and the fountain trickled beside them.
He thought this was a date. Of course he did.
She pressed her palm flat against her thigh under the table.
The tan pants felt suddenly too warm against her skin.
Dinner had slid into something that felt dangerously like a date more than once tonight.
The easy rhythm of their conversation. The way Stephanie’s hazel green eyes kept finding hers over the rim of her glass.
The way Casey’s own pulse had refused to settle.
This was exactly what she had sworn off.
And having a crush on a straight woman was even worse.
She exhaled slowly. The fairy lights blurred for a second.
When Stephanie came back she would keep things light.
She would not notice how the green blouse made those eyes brighter or how Stephanie’s laugh made her heart stutter. She absolutely would not.
Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass anyway as she finished her wine.
She caught the server’s eye and lifted her chin in the smallest signal.
The check arrived moments later, sliding across the polished wood before she could second-guess the impulse.
Her fingertips still carried the faint warmth from the leather folder as she tucked her card inside and slid it back.
When the server returned with the receipt a minute later she signed quickly, the pen moving across the paper with a small scratch that felt louder than it should.
Nico appeared at her elbow while she was still sliding the receipt into her pocket, wiping his hands on the ever-present black apron dusted with flour.
“You know,” Nico said, voice low, “you gotta tell me where you find all these beautiful women, Casey. These kind of women aren’t on the dating sites I’m on. I’m starting to think you’re hoarding them.”
Heat rushed up her neck and bloomed across her cheeks.
The compliment landed like an anchor, dragging her thoughts exactly where she did not want them.
Stephanie in that green blouse, the fabric soft against her skin and somehow making the hazel of her eyes look deeper, greener, like the water at the reef on a clear day.
The way she had leaned in, listening like every word Casey said mattered.
Dinner had slipped into something too easy, too warm, the kind of evening that made her rule feel like a distant suggestion instead of the hard line she had drawn after Melissa.
She was not doing this again. Stephanie was here for six weeks. Unavailable in every single way. Casey had spent the last hour reminding herself of that while her pulse refused to listen.
She opened her mouth to correct him, the words forming awkward and heavy on her tongue, when movement caught her eye.
Stephanie emerged from the narrow hallway, the green blouse catching the light just enough to make Casey’s stomach tighten.
Those long layers of dark hair moved with the humidity, brushing her shoulders.
Casey’s breath did something complicated. She shut the feeling down hard, focusing instead on the faint crease between Stephanie’s brows that had been there most of the night. Nerves, probably. The setup had clearly thrown her.
“Nico, this is Stephanie,” she said before she could overthink it, gesturing between them as Stephanie drew close enough that the faint trace of her perfume reached her. “Stephanie, Nico.”
Nico’s smile widened, warm and knowing in a way that made Casey’s blush deepen. He gave a small bow, the kind only he could pull off without looking ridiculous. “Pleasure.”
Before Casey could find the words to untangle the assumption, a server called Nico’s name from the kitchen door. He touched Casey’s shoulder once, quick and affectionate, then disappeared toward the back with a final wink that said he thought he understood everything.
They stepped outside into the thick Key West night. The air wrapped around her bare shoulders immediately, warm and carrying the distant salt of the ocean mixed with the street smells of fried plantain from somewhere nearby. Her sandals made soft sounds against the uneven sidewalk.
“You shouldn’t have paid,” Stephanie said, voice carrying that careful politeness that always made Casey wonder what she was holding back. “But thank you.”
Casey shrugged, trying for the easy smile that usually came without effort. “I’m sure in the next five weeks we’ll be out for dinner again.”
“I hope so.” Stephanie’s words came soft, almost surprised, like she had not meant to say them quite that way. She glanced sideways, those layered waves of hair shifting with the movement. “So where should we go now?”
The question caught Casey off guard, a small spark of surprise flaring warm in her ribs before she could smother it.
Stephanie had seemed a little off during dinner, quieter than usual, picking at her food in that thoughtful way that made Casey want to reach across the table and smooth the small line between her brows.
She had chalked it up to nerves about Nico, about the awkwardness of being set up when she clearly was not interested.
The idea that Stephanie might want to keep the night going sent an unwelcome flutter through Casey’s stomach. This was not supposed to feel good. It was supposed to be neighborly. Friendly. A way to push Stephanie toward someone available while Casey kept her own wanting locked down tight.
“Well, I usually end up at Lola’s,” she said, keeping her tone light even as her pulse picked up. “It’s a gay-friendly bar, so there is a mixed crowd, but it’s still mostly a gay bar with a few tourists who wander in. We can go somewhere else though.”
“No. That’s fine. Let’s go there.” Stephanie’s shoulders straightened a fraction. “If you want to. I’m happy to go home too if—”
Casey waved her off before she could admit how much she wanted to keep Stephanie around a little longer. “I’m always happy to have a few drinks at Lola’s.”
The walk to Lola’s passed in easy silence.
By the time they pushed through the narrow teal door, the low lighting and familiar hum of conversation had wrapped around Casey like an old friend.
The air smelled of good beer and lime and the faint salt that seemed to live in every corner of this island.
Ceiling fans turned lazy circles overhead.
The mirrored backbar reflected fragments of them both as they claimed two stools near the end.
Casey ordered them both Painkillers, the tall glasses already sweating in the humid air. Her fingers brushed the cold condensation when the bartender slid them forward.
This wasn’t a date. It would not become one.
Yet here she was, crushing so hard on this woman. The attraction tugged at her, like the tide she knew better than to fight.
She took a long drink, letting the cold bite of rum and pineapple chase the feeling down. Five more weeks. She could keep her distance for five weeks. She had to.
Her knee bumped Stephanie’s under the bar, accidental and electric. Casey pulled back immediately, pulse hammering against her throat while the jukebox shifted into something slow and bluesy.
She shouldn’t want this. Wanting only led to disappointment—to something real that vanished when reality intruded. But Stephanie’s laugh pulled at her, and for a moment Casey imagined what it might feel like if Stephanie wanted her back.