He laughed. “And you’re very generous, even applying that term to us. Bikes just happen to be the thing we all bonded over when we were kids. The bunch of us are well overdue for a nice, long group ride, too.” Duncan made things tricky; he rode just fine, and being with Raina, he ought to be invited on such an outing. But if he went, Miah likely wouldn’t. Church would come up with a million work-related excuses, no doubt, so maybe some weekend soon they’d just have to trick him into it. He seemed to be getting over his shit with Raina, at least.
“You could come,” Casey added. “Ride with me.”
“That’d be the most exciting thing I’ve done in ages, if I could find a sitter.”
“Confronting your gunrunner ex not thrilling enough for you?” he teased.
“The most exciting fun thing.”
The speed limit dropped to thirty as the town materialized around them, homes and businesses growing dense as the rural route morphed into Station Street. It gave Casey a funny feeling and made him nearly wish he was working that night. He was in the mood to listen to the gossip, to pour drinks and take in the smells and sounds of the bar, the same smells and sounds from his childhood. Lubbock had been hot, but not like here. Not dry like northern Nevada, not half as dusty. Even Vegas hadn’t smelled quite like Brush County did, like clay and sage, and distant fires, come summer. No place felt quite like home, he thought, as familiar buildings slid into view on either side of the road.
“Hey, it’s your shitbox,” Casey said, nodding to the auto garage. Vince had both bay doors wide open and was standing by Abilene’s Colt with a wrench in his hand. Casey honked. Vince waved. “You’ll be back on the road before you know it.”
“I hope I can make all of this up to you guys someday,” Abilene said. “Especially your brother, for the money he gave me, and now my car. And you, of course, for a million things.”
“You don’t owe me crap.”
“I beg to differ.”
Casey assembled his feelings, trying to get his mouth to go someplace soft and sentimental here in this car, as he’d managed in bed with her.
“Everything I’m experiencing, because of you and the baby . . . It sounds stupid, but it means a lot. I’ve never been for anybody what I’ve been for you two. And it’s hard and it’s exhausting, and I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, but I like it. I feel useful in a way I haven’t before. So you don’t owe me a thing. You’ve given me plenty, trust me.”
He was relieved to turn into the diner’s lot and cut this conversation short. Nice as those things were to say, they also made him feel insanely naked. Which was fine when you were under the covers with somebody, but something else entirely out here in the larger world.
He got the car seat out and lugged the baby into the diner while Abilene held the door. He registered a mix of pride and awkwardness, carrying her in, and was pleased not to recognize any faces as they entered and scanned for a booth. Having been away for nearly ten years, he was always getting grilled by old neighbors and classmates about what he’d been up to, and he never had enough answers. Now, to get spotted with a woman and a baby in tow . . . ? He didn’t have the energy to explain.
Once they were settled, an older waitress came by. Abilene had worked here for a few months the previous year, and there was the requisite fawning over the baby before coffee was on the way.
Casey didn’t need to see the menu; it hadn’t changed since he’d been a kid. He ordered a cheeseburger and Abilene got soup and a sandwich.
He hunkered down on his elbows and smiled at her. “Your first taste of freedom in almost a week.”
She nodded. “Feels good. Smells even better.” She held his gaze, then looked to the window, her smile goofy. “What you said, in the car . . .”
“It’s all true. That’s all we need to discuss about it.”
“It was sweet,” she said, meeting his eyes once more. “That’s all. I don’t think anybody’s ever said something that nice to me before.”
“Their loss.”
She smirked. It wasn’t a gesture she made often—her smile was typically broad and sudden, like clouds breaking wide, sun streaming down. Her cheeks still dimpled, but there was something sly about those lips, something vaguely wicked. He liked it.