All the Right Moves

chapter 4

AFTER SUFFERING THROUGH bumper-to-bumper traffic for three blocks, John finally turned on Flamingo. Another minute and he merged onto I-15, glad to be away from the Strip and the tourists. He hadn’t minded leaving Rick and the other two men behind, either.

Dinner with the guys was supposed to have boosted his spirits, remind him of the camaraderie he enjoyed in the air force. Not depress him. Halfway through the meal he knew he wouldn’t be joining them afterward at the Palms for drinks and hunting. Maybe he shouldn’t have left so early. A beautiful woman in his bed might be just the distraction he needed. On the other hand, the mood he was in, he doubted he’d want anyone that close.

It was Troy, the pilot he hadn’t met before, who’d sent John into a funk. In the middle of their discussion about the F-35, he’d gotten a call from his wife. She’d put their two kids on the phone so he could say good-night to them, then Troy told her he loved her and missed her. Seconds after Troy disconnected he asked Rick where they were going clubbing.

No one at the table had batted an eye. Not even John. None of his business, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that kind of crap went on all the time, but Jesus, the guy had just talked to his wife and kids. How did a man run cold to hot that fast after telling a woman he loved her?

Granted, John wasn’t an expert on love or marriage. Twice he’d thought he’d been in love, once in college and then again five years ago. Both ended up being false alarms. Greta and Tricia each had been fun, sexy, amazing women in their own way, just not right for him. But while they’d been together, he’d never cheated on either of them, never considered it for a minute.

He sped past the exit for his condo. He hadn’t planned on going to the Gold Strike, so it wasn’t the reason he’d bailed. But he didn’t want to go home, either. It was early, only nine. And he wouldn’t mind seeing Cassie again.

Thinking about the cute bartender made him smile. He’d be disappointed as hell if she wasn’t working tonight, but he doubted she took much time off. The bar was her domain and the customers her family. Everyone seemed to get a real kick out of trying to stump her with trivia. They put some thought into the questions he’d heard, but no matter how busy she’d been, Cassie had known the answer. He’d never seen anything like it. Like her.

Traffic thinned the farther he got away from the Strip and downtown, and it didn’t take long to get to the Gold Strike. The parking lot was less crowded than last night but he looked for a spot on the street anyway. Maybe he was wrong in thinking the Corvette was safer at the curb, but the stalls were narrow and he’d watched more than a few guys putting away too many pitchers of beer.

At one point early last night Cassie had cut off a burly man with bikers’ tats. John had moved to the edge of his stool ready to intervene, then saw she hadn’t needed help. The guy hadn’t given her any grief. Another man with arms the size of oak trees and wearing lots of biker leather had emerged from the back room. No doubt he would’ve bounced the drunk all the way to the California state line if he’d uttered one wrong word to Cassie.

John parked the Corvette and pocketed his keys on the way to the door. If he’d thought about it earlier, he would’ve changed into jeans. Though he wouldn’t stand out too much in dark slacks and a white oxford shirt, not in that eclectic crowd. In deference to the heat, he rolled his sleeves back another turn and, all right, he hoped he didn’t look too preppy.

As soon as he stepped inside he saw her behind the bar, sitting with her head bowed. Over a book. A couple sat a few stools down from her, both with full cocktails in front of them. His seat from last night was free, and he pulled it away from the bar. Lisa, the waitress, came from the back room and smiled at him. She set her tray near Cassie and said something, probably alerting her that she had a customer, because Cassie’s chin came up and she looked right at him.

Quick as a wink, she shoved her book under a pile of towels, then took out a frosted mug and filled it with beer. Once again, she’d worn tight faded jeans and a T-shirt, black this time, and not so snug, which was a shame. When she carried the drink over to him, he saw an outline of a cat on the front of her shirt.

His gaze switched to the beer she put in front of him. “How do you know this is what I want?”

“I’d be happy to pour you a scotch.”

He smiled and picked up the mug. “I guess this makes me a regular.”

“Nope. Come in five days a week for six months and then maybe....”

“That’s some serious drinking. I don’t know...I could embarrass myself.”

She finally smiled. “A tab, or do you want to pay up in case you have another emergency?”

It took him a moment. “Ah, last night, right.” He took a sip. “I forgot I had to be somewhere.”

“That reminds me...” She reached into her back pocket, pulling the stretchy T-shirt across her breasts.

He stared at the cat, saw that it wasn’t just a cat. There was an equation written out within the outline.

“Are you trying to figure out what the cat represents or my cup size?”

John huffed out a short laugh. He’d have to remember she didn’t pull punches. “I was just admiring Mr. Schrödinger’s cat. I’ve never seen it expressed quite so well.”

She tried not to smile as she pulled out some bills and laid them on the bar. “It’ll be the last time I wear the shirt in here, because trying to explain it to these lunkheads all day has given me a headache.”

“What’s that for?” he asked, when she slid the money closer to him.

“Your change from last night. You left before I could cash you out.”

“That’s your tip.”

“Thirty-three dollars?”

He shrugged.

Cassie pursed her lips. She had a nice mouth. “Are you sure? I bet you didn’t think you were leaving that much.”

“I’m sure.”

“All right.” She snatched the bills and stuffed them into her front pocket. “What do you do for a living? Can’t have anything to do with finance.”

He smiled, his mood already improved. “No, but you don’t have to explain T-shirts to me, either.”

She gave him that one with a nod and a grin, but then Lisa called for her to fill an order and Cassie snapped back to her duties. Tugging at her ponytail, she returned to her station. It gave him a chance to admire her cute, slightly upturned nose and the long graceful curve of her neck. He already knew she had a nice behind but he was careful not to ogle.

He hoped she came back to talk to him after she finished. The couple sitting closer to her were nursing their drinks, so they didn’t need anything. He turned to check out the tables. The older guys in the corner were okay for now. They had a number of beers and shots waiting. John recognized the group from last night, even before spotting the retired air force ball cap, and he nodded to the vet in the wheelchair who stared at him.

The man didn’t acknowledge the overture, but that was okay. Maybe he was protective of Cassie and didn’t like her talking to the new guy. Maybe he’d even pegged John as military or, worse, an officer. He’d run across his share of sergeants who lived to serve their country, honored rank but had no use for the men wearing the stripes. Unfortunately, he also knew a number of officers who didn’t deserve respect.

In that regard the military was like any other business, he supposed. The people at the top weren’t always the brightest and the best. Right now he only cared that Cassie didn’t know he was air force. Or that he was a pilot. To someone like her it probably didn’t matter. Still, for once he just wanted to be John, a guy drinking a beer and talking to the bartender.

Within five minutes the pool players ordered half a dozen pitchers and more customers spilled into the bar. John clenched his jaw each time the door opened, not sure if he was upset because she was kept away from her studies or from talking to him. She was efficient, and he’d done worse things than watch her move, but at this rate, he’d have to empty his mug to get her attention again. He shouldn’t resent it. More customers meant more tips for her.

Hell, he’d just wait everyone out. He wasn’t tired, and didn’t expect he would be for a while. He lifted his mug, but set it aside before he drank. He liked beer just fine, as long as it was cold. She’d see it and know that he wanted another one. When she looked over at him, he mouthed for her not to rush.

His phone buzzed, signaling a text. Even before he looked he knew it had to be Rick.

It was a simple message: · · · — — — · · ·

John hadn’t expected the SOS. He laughed, imagining the scene at the Palms. It seemed his dinner companions had hit the mother lode. And now they had more women than they could handle.

He hit Text. You’re on your own.

While he waited to see if there was a response, someone sat at the bar a couple stools away from him. He briefly glanced over and saw it was actually two women, young, maybe college age. Standing behind them was a third woman with long blond hair that hid most of her face.

“Hey, Cassie.” The brunette with the really short hair, who was sitting, waited for Cassie to look at her then signaled that there were three of them. “When you have a chance.”

John caught Cassie’s nod before he checked Rick’s return text. It turned out to be a picture of a redhead. She had a lot of makeup and wore a low-cut top that left nothing to his imagination. He hadn’t been a kid who peeked at his presents before Christmas morning. When he unwrapped a package, he preferred to be surprised.

Thanks, but I’ll pass.

Once he hit Send, he turned off his phone and slipped it into his pocket as Cassie approached, carrying three mugs. “What are you guys doing here on a Tuesday?” she asked the women while setting down their beers.

“We’ve got one for you.”

John felt a shift in the atmosphere. Those sitting at the bar all turned to look at the girls, and it wasn’t because they were pretty.

* * *

CASSIE SIGHED AS KARMA reached between her friends for her mug. “I want a shot with this. Shall I get it myself?”

“I’ll get it.” Cassie looked at Ariel, who’d spent a little too much time at the tanning booth. “Who’s driving?”

“Brittney,” she said as she tilted her head at her pale friend sitting beside her. “I’ll have a shot with Karma.”

“Wait,” Brittney said. “I don’t think it’s my turn.”

The other two laughed. “That’s because you were too drunk to remember that I drove last week,” Karma said.

Cassie took a deep breath and turned her attention to John. She picked up his beer mug, gave him a smile, then walked back to her station, hoping whatever the terrible trio had in mind would be harmless.

Pouring a shot of tequila, she noticed Karma noticing John. Her double take was like something out of a movie. Not that Cassie could argue with that—she’d had the same reaction. A couple of nudges later, and all three of them were staring at him with about as much subtlety as a two-ton truck. Cassie should do something about it, although she figured he could take care of himself. Besides, she was curious about his reaction to the girls. They were all legal, of course, but they were young and hot and she wasn’t sure if John was a player or not.

He had to know they were staring at him as if they’d discovered Johnny Depp had wandered into the bar. Damn. What would they be like after they had their shots?

Cassie walked back with John’s beer, and only John’s beer. She stood right in front of him. After she put down the mug she planted her hands on the bar in a very territorial display. “You doing okay?”

He gave the girls the side-eye, then smiled. “Just fine.”

“Good. Enjoy the rest of the game.”

It took him a few beats too long to look up at the TV. She had no idea what game it was, but it didn’t matter. He now had a reason to ignore the women, and they had a reason to leave him the hell alone.

She’d have done the same for anyone.

She sidled over to the girls. “What’s this big stumper of yours?”

“It’s a killer,” Ariel said.

“Hush up,” Karma said. “It’s my question.”

“Karma. Stop. I don’t have time for this. I don’t care whose question it is, you’d better ask it or I’m not playing.”

“Oh, you’ll want to play,” the blonde replied, flipping her hair back behind her shoulder.

“Why is that?”

“Because you’re never gonna get it.”

“What’s the subject?”

“TV.”

She went back to her station and picked up the two shots for the girls, wondering how long it would take for people to buy a clue. Every time she was challenged it was with absolute certainty that their question was so obscure she’d never get it in a million years. Cassie just shook her head. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

The three girls laughed, then Ariel and Karma threw back their drinks.

“The question is,” Cassie said, “what do I win when I get it in less than sixty seconds?”

The noise level from the rest of the bar had gone down considerably. Which always happened when someone challenged her reign as trivia queen. It was getting kind of old, but she couldn’t complain. Everyone bought rounds after she answered, either cussing her out or congratulating themselves. The gimmick was good for business.

“Winner’s choice,” Ariel said, just before she slammed her empty shot glass down on the bar.

That quieted the whole damn place...well, at least the main room. Cassie could still hear the pool players going at it. “You’re crazy if you think I’m doing that. Look, I’ve got to study, and Lisa’s up to her eyeballs in orders, so, tell you what, let’s not play and say we did.”

She saw John’s surprised reaction, which gave her a twinge of guilt for being so curt. “I’m sorry,” she said, sort of sincerely. “I honestly don’t have time.” She turned away with a shrug and hoped they’d let it go.

“But that’s exactly why you should play,” Karma said, grinning. “Because if you win, your choice could be us taking over behind the bar for a couple of hours.”

Cassie stopped. Turned. But instead of facing off with Karma, her gaze went to John. He’d clearly given up all pretense of watching anything but the little drama unfolding right next to him. Cassie should shut it down, tell them to wait for another time, but she had to admit it was tempting. Acing her test was beginning to feel like an impossible dream. Now she faced her challenger. “You tend bar? Please. You barely know how to drink, let alone mix.”

Karma, who really did have a big mouth, just raised an insouciant eyebrow. “How hard can it be? Pour a beer, wash a mug, pour another beer.”

“Oh, yeah? I win, you take the bar for two hours. Then we’ll see how easy it is, Princess.”

“What if I win?” Karma asked.

“You won’t.”

“Still.”

Cassie narrowed her eyes. “Winner’s choice.”

A chorus of “Ohhhhhhh” came from the spectators. Cassie didn’t give a spit about anyone out there, she just wanted to win. Well, almost anyone. John had not only forgotten the TV, he hadn’t taken a sip of his beer yet. Odd, his gaze stayed directly on her. Even with Karma’s provocative statements, he hadn’t given the blonde so much as a glance.

“Deal.” Karma lifted up her beer mug. “Let the record show the game is on.”

Cassie’s eye roll should have gotten applause, but everyone was too caught up in the ridiculous game. “I haven’t got all night.”

“Okay, Cassie O’Brien. For the championship. What is Spencer Reid’s IQ?”

Cassie let out a breath. Of course she knew that. It was Criminal Minds. She was a huge fan of the TV show, and especially Spencer. Or Hotch.

It was 187. Or was it 189? Damn. Her first instinct was right. It was always right. She opened her mouth to say the number then remembered the quiz she’d had in her class last week. She’d gone with her first instinct and she’d been wrong.

“Tick tock,” Ariel said, her voice far too jovial.

“I have the right to refuse service to anyone,” Cassie said. “So keep it zipped.” She had to choose. She’d go with her first guess, because that was a deeper memory, one that came from the source.

“Time!” Ariel jumped up from her bar stool, flinging beer like confetti as she raised her glass to Karma. “You won! You won! You rock so hard!”

Cassie couldn’t breathe. How had...? No way had she lost to Karma and her college cronies. No possible way. There was a mistake. A drunk girl had kept time, it couldn’t be right. She’d had the answer on the tip of her tongue.

The noise was worse than midnight on New Year’s Eve. Seriously. Everyone was shouting. Even the old goats were banging on tables. Gordon was twirling his wheelchair, and that man could barely lift a glass.

It was only a game. And only her first loss. Her face shouldn’t be blazing hot. The only thing to do was be gracious as all hell. Smile like she meant it. Give the girls their due.

She’d have plenty of time later to poison their drinks.

* * *

THE BAR HAD GONE BERSERK around John, but all he could do was stare. Not at the mayhem, but at Cassie. He’d had no idea this competition of hers was so fierce. More than the reaction from the patrons, watching her face had told him just how deep the cut of losing went. But he had to give it to her. She was rallying like a champion. From the straightening of her shoulders to the almost real smile on her face, she looked as though she’d stumbled, not fallen. Somehow, she’d even managed to tame her blush. Very impressive.

He still felt terrible for her. If he could have, he’d have swept her out of here, taken her somewhere far removed, like up to Mount Charleston to look out over the valley.

As it was, he did his best not to look pitying. Although she hadn’t glanced at him since time had run out.

Karma was the one to actually calm the crowd down. Not completely, but for a bunch of people fueled by alcohol, she did a damn good job. Her ear-piercing whistle helped. “Quiet. It’s winner’s choice time.”

Another round of stomping and shouting took several minutes to run its course, but then all eyes were whipping between Karma and Cassie.

John was all ears himself. He hoped there wouldn’t be anything too humiliating involved because if that happened, he might have to step in. It wasn’t his place, but he didn’t care.

“All right, what do I have to do?” Cassie said.

“First, you can bring me and my friends a round.”

“If that’s your request, then that’s going to be it. Nothing in the rules says you get a laundry list.”

Karma pouted extravagantly. “Fine. But see if you get a tip.”

“I’ll live,” Cassie said, her arms crossing her chest. She looked like a little spitfire. Which was something John would never say out loud for fear of being clocked. But he’d think it.

“What you have to do, Cassie, is kiss...” Karma turned around and faced the center of the room. A hush gave the moment all the drama of the last pitch f a no-hitter. Karma’s gaze settled on a moose of a man, bigger than a redwood tree trunk and painted with more ink than the Mona Lisa. The old bear’s grin showed exactly how many teeth he’d lost to time.

Then Karma spun around, pointed a long, red nail directly at John, and said, “That guy.”