Chapter Twenty-Four
Casey’s boots fought for traction against a sidewalk that had vanished under a foot of fresh snow.
Her cheeks stung from the sharp, bracing chill, and puffs of white bloomed in front of her face as she hurried toward the theatre.
The familiar storefront signs were hooded in snow, their edges blurred and softened.
She squinted against the glare of the midmorning sun reflecting off the drifts, which sparkled like a carpet of diamonds. The scent of cedar smoke and cold stone drifted down from chimneys above as a biting wind nipped at her ears and worked at turning her fingers numb inside her thick gloves.
The theatre door groaned as she shoved it open.
She dashed down the hallway, veered right, and stepped into her office, her toes still tingling with the painful thaw that came with high-altitude cold.
She shook the melting flakes from her coat then paused, sensing someone in the room.
She turned. Slumped in one of the leather chairs was Scott—the last person Casey expected or wanted to see.
What the fuck is he doing here? Seeing him there, in the sanctuary of her weekday world, felt like a physical violation of her boundaries.
“What’re you doing here?” she asked as she hung her coat on the rack.
“Is that the way you greet everyone who comes by to visit?”
“No. Only people who are uninvited.” Casey walked to the blinds and snapped them up.
“I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop by and say hi. I’ve never been in the theatre. Can you imagine that? Lived here my whole life and never stepped foot in the building.” He pulled out a bar of some kind, unwrapped it, and took a big bite. “It’s kinda cool.”
“And I’m kinda busy. I’ve got end-of-year grants and budgets I need to wrap up.”
Scott chomped on the candy bar, his gaze fixed on her. “How come you haven’t been at work the last couple of weekends?”
Casey rubbed her right temple. “And why is that any of your business?”
Scott shrugged and took another bite.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t have time to visit with you. As it is, I’m already running late.”
“I’ll come back and take you out to lunch.” He glanced at the clock on the wall behind her. “I’ll be back in about an hour. Got a couple of errands to run.”
“I can’t make it. Why don’t you go with you girlfriend?”
“Jillian’s pissed at me. We had a fight over the weekend, and she’s punishing me.” He squinted, his face tightening. “That’s how you women do it, isn’t it? Reel a guy in, then turn into bitches.”
“I’m sorry you and Jillian are having a spat, but it happens in relationships. It’s not the end of the world. Show her some attention—flowers might help if she’s into that—and you’ll both be back on track.”
Before he could respond, Clara knocked on the doorframe, her eyes shifting from Casey to Scott and back again. “Should I come back?” she asked.
Casey smiled. “No. Come in. Scott was just leaving.”
“So, it’s a no?” he said.
Casey nodded.
“Whatever,” he muttered, stalking out.
“Is he a new employee?” Clara asked, setting a thick folder on Casey’s desk.
“No. He’s someone I work with at my weekend job.”
“The nursery, right?”
“Yeah. How did you know I work at the nursery?”
“I know more than people think.” A sly smile twitched across her lips.
Heat flared across Casey’s face, her forehead suddenly feverish. She turned away, fixing her eyes on the beige office wall, trying to hide the crimson she knew was spreading across her cheeks.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Clara said, her voice earnest.
“You didn’t. I just didn’t think Rags told you,” Casey muttered, pressing her palms to her cheeks.
Clara laughed. “Rags didn’t tell me. He’d never tell anyone anything. I just figured it out. Besides, he’s never come by the theatre this much in his life.”
Casey smiled. “Are you okay with it?”
Clara beamed. “For sure. It’s about time he stopped acting like a badass frat boy.”
Shaking her head, Casey couldn’t wipe the grin from her face. Memories of their early morning lovemaking sent a rush of warmth through her, leaving her lightheaded.
“Is he being decent?” Clara asked.
“He’s good,” Casey replied.
“If he acts up, let me know.” Clara feigned a stern look.
Casey laughed.
“Is there a party going on in here?’ Jacob asked from the doorway.
“Just girl talk,” Casey said, picking up the folder Clara had brought in.
“Anyone interested in grabbing lunch in a few?” he asked, his gaze lingering on Casey.
“I’m meeting Zoe,” she said, cringing at the white lie.
Clara cleared her throat. “I better get back to my desk,” she said, walking toward the doorway.
“Thanks for bringing me the work,” Casey said, a smile in her voice.
“How’ve you been?” Jacob asked, pulling Casey’s attention back to him.
“Busy. You?”
“There’s always another production to prepare for,” he said. “I’m not complaining. I just wouldn’t mind a break.”
Casey nodded. An awkward silence settled over the office. Their friendship had shifted during the last play, and it saddened her. She didn’t know how to fix it.
“You still seeing that biker?”
Jacob’s voice startled her.
“Yes.”
“I still can’t believe it. Why would you jump right back into the frying pan after JT?” He scrubbed a hand through his hair.
“Rags isn’t JT.”
His jaw tightened. “That’s not the point. He’s an outlaw biker—just like the jerk you hooked up with.”
“Jacob, we’ve been friends a long time. I miss the way our friendship was easy. What are you really angry about?”
“That you’re wrecking your life again, and I’ll be stuck helping you pick up the pieces,” he said, his voice hard.
Anger prickled across her skin, like goosebumps in cold air. “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you with my problems anymore. I guess I misunderstood what friendship means. I won’t remind you how many times I was there for you when you messed up.”
He exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry. I’m not myself today. I didn’t sleep well.”
Casey slipped into her chair and drew the folder closer. “It’s okay. We’re all a little off. After a show closes, there’s always that letdown—it takes time to find the rhythm again.”
“You’re right.” Jacob turned at the door. “Let’s grab an early dinner one night.”
“For sure. Next week?”
“Yeah. Sure.” He stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
Casey opened the folder, turned on her monitor, and pulled up one of the grants she’d worked on the week before. She secured her hair with a tie, then dove into her work.
A few hours later, she leaned back in her chair and massaged the back of her neck.
A thread of satisfaction wove through her at the productive morning: two grants completed and sent off, half of the fiscal budget already done.
She stood, lifted her arms over her head, and stretched, easing the tightness in her back.
A gentle gnawing in her belly reminded her of the breakfast she’d skipped.
Grabbing her coat, she shrugged it on and stepped into the hallway.
“Damn,” she said as she collided into Raven. “Sorry. I didn’t see you.”
“I didn’t see you either,” Raven said, rubbing the side of her head. “I was completely engrossed in this book about the scandalous nineteenth-century actress, Adah Issacs Menken. It’s fascinating.”
“Someone you’d like to emulate?” Casey smiled.
Raven laughed. “In some ways, her ballsiness. Not the part where she died broke at thirty-three.”
“How tragic. I don’t know that much about nineteenth-century actresses.”
“She was the highest-earning and most famous actress during the Civil War era. Can you imagine the determination it took to conquer the stage back then? She was a massive celebrity.”
“It must’ve been hard-earned, being a woman and all.”
“Totally. That’s what makes her life so interesting,” Raven said. “Are you taking a break?”
“Yeah. I thought I’d swing by the museum library and see if they’ve got any new books, then grab lunch.”
“I’ll join you for the library,” Raven said. “I have to pass on lunch.” She pointed to her slightly swollen cheek. “Dentist appointment.”
The theatre door closed behind them with a dull thump, replacing the familiar scents of coffee and sawdust with sharp, cold, and earthy pine.
Their breaths rose in jagged puffs as they walked along the silvered pavement.
Tiny flurries swarmed around them, settling into Casey’s hair and coat, Raven’s knit cap and parka.
The town felt hushed—cars muted, footsteps softened—leaving a white trail behind them that quickly filled in as snowfall thickened.
Streetlamps flickered on through the haze, casting a soft, diffuse glow over the road.
“It’s freezing out here,” Raven said.
“I knew winter would show up sooner or later,” Casey said, stomping snow from her boots before entering the museum.
Warmth wrapped around her as the door slammed shut, sealing out the cold. The roar of the wind dropped to a dull hum, and the icy sting in her cheeks burned as it surrendered to the scent of vanilla-tinged parchment and aged oak.
“It’s quiet in here,” Raven said, tugging off her knit hat.
“I’m sure the weather has something to do with it,” Casey said, shoving her gloves into her coat pockets. “I bet Devin’s in the back.”
They’d barely started toward the library when Devin appeared. A smile spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes.
“Well, hello, you two! What brings you in on a snowy day like this?”
“I wanted to see if you have anything new on women of the Colorado frontier,” Casey said.
He nodded. “We do. A couple of titles came in earlier this week. I actually had you on my list to call.”
“I had the vibe you’d have something new for me to devour.”
“That reminds me,” Raven said. “Speaking of vibes, Curtis wants to take you out to dinner next week.”
“What?” Casey said, surprise weaving through her. “Why?”
Raven shrugged. “You know Curtis. He never explains his impulses.”
“You’d be there, right?” Casey asked.