“You’d better stop and see Mom, or she’ll never fucking shut up about it.”
“Soon. But not today,” he said, turning them onto the bleached-out desert highway.
Not today. Because yeah, he had business to take care of. Serious fucking business.
A debt to collect.
And tomorrow, an old girlfriend to track down.
Chapter 7
Casey barely saw Abilene before it was time to head to the bar, to his mingled relief and disappointment. Relief, as he had no clue how to handle her, after last night. Disappointment, because he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to see her. Look at her. Study her, and try to parse the girl he’d thought he knew and the woman who’d turned him inside out on that couch.
She stayed in her room until nearly eleven—sleeping, he hoped, or avoiding him after last night’s little collision, he suspected—and with Christine puttering around, they got no chance to acknowledge any of it. He watched the baby while she showered and got ready for her doctor’s appointment, and then the women were off. Abilene took the baby and thanked him with a smile, and he watched her head out with something odd and uncomfortable tensing his chest.
When he got to the bar, Duncan was already downstairs, hovering around the contractors.
“Hey,” Casey called, locking the dead bolt at his back.
“Ah, you’re early.”
“Yeah, I was just killing some time, actually.”
“Killing time, on such an auspicious day as this?”
“Abilene’s safely off to Elko for the afternoon, so I can put the worrying off for a while yet. Can we talk a minute?” Casey asked, planting his elbows on the counter.
“Sure.” Duncan strolled behind the bar, grabbed a stack of papers off the register and came to stand opposite Casey, frowning at the pages.
“Dunc, something happened last night.”
His gray eyes grew wide and he set the papers down. “Not Ware?”
Casey shook his head. “No, he’s only been out a couple hours now.”
“So what, then?”
He blew out a long breath. “Abilene came on to me.”
Duncan’s posture relaxed. “Christ, you had me worried. Were you drunk?”
“No, and that’s the fucked-up thing about it.”
“How does being sober make it worse, precisely?”
“Because now we can’t blame it on alcohol.”
Duncan crossed his arms and leaned into the post at the corner of the bar. “I take it you succumbed to this pass, then?”
“Pretty much. Dude, I messed up, right?”
Duncan made a noncommittal face. “Not necessarily. It’s inappropriate, and ill-timed, and fairly irresponsible on your part, but it’s also not at all surprising.”
“No?”
Duncan smiled, as dry as unbuttered toast. “Have you forgotten the way you two used to circle each other?”
“No, but I mean, I didn’t know she was pregnant back then. Plus I’m her boss now.”
“And I don’t relish the day this implodes and we need to find a new bartender. But as I said, I’m not surprised.”
Casey felt his face turning pink. “In my defense, it wasn’t sex or anything.” Though Christ, it had felt like more than what it had been, hadn’t it? More memorable than the last time he’d gotten laid, for sure.
“I wouldn’t overthink it if I were you,” Duncan said. “Your very under-rested, very overstressed employee came on to you. The girl’s awash with hormones I don’t care to attempt to fathom, and scared, and probably somewhat imprinted on you. Unlikely though it may seem, you’re the most reliable male role model in her life at the moment. Don’t rake yourself over the coals for whatever’s happened, but for goodness’ sake, don’t encourage it if you don’t see it going anywhere.”
“It can’t go anywhere. That much I know for sure.” Though Christ, he wanted to feel that again, everything she’d brought out in him, last night. Everything that had burned between the two of them. Propriety could go fuck itself.