“He’s the one who told your ex where to find you. Sort of. Who told him to come after me, anyhow.”
“Oh.” Her gaze went to the back lot, but Dancer was gone. “That’s crummy, but I suppose plenty of people could have done the same. It’s not exactly a secret that I work for you. Or that we’re close,” she added softly, turning to free the baby’s head from her tiny hood. “Anybody from Benji’s could’ve told him as much.”
“That may be true, but trust me—that asshole still needed telling off.”
She shot him a look for the swear.
“Sorry. I’m angry.”
“I can tell . . . I’ve only seen you this angry once before.”
He frowned. He didn’t ever want her to see him this way. “When?”
“Last fall, when some of the rednecks were giving Duncan a hard time in the bar.”
“Oh, right.” Casey considered that, a tiny bit relieved. In that sense, he had his dad beat. Tom Grossier would snap if you annoyed him. Casey saved his rage up for when somebody disrespected or threatened his friends.
As that realization dawned, he felt the anger lift for good. And just in time—their food arrived then. He didn’t want those emotions here with him. Didn’t want them infecting the little bubble that he and Abilene inhabited here and now. He didn’t want to be like his old man or like James Ware or any other hard, angry man. He didn’t want to be how his brother had been, before Kim had shown up, so emotionally constipated he had to get into fistfights to vent himself. He didn’t want to be the kind of man that Fortuity demanded its boys become.
But he also had to admit, it had been way easier this past decade. Way, way easier when you didn’t have any commitments, nothing and no one you felt protective enough toward to tap into these macho bullshit lava rivers that flowed in men’s bodies, just waiting to erupt when a big enough fissure formed.
Fucking feelings, he thought, registering a rare and uneasy kinship with his brother and father. He turned his focus to his French fries, feeling hard and soft and completely bare-ass naked. Unarmed, even with the barrel of his pistol warm at his back.
Chapter 16
Drama at the diner notwithstanding, that afternoon was the most pleasant and relaxed time Abilene had passed in ages. After a stop at the drugstore, they drove around the county for an hour, taking in the landscape.
Even after only a week of being sequestered, she’d managed to forget how vast this place was. The sky seemed endlessly high, the badlands infinite. Freedom was nearly hers once more—not from the obligations of work and motherhood, but in simple ways. The ability to move as she pleased through town, and soon, the convenience of her own car.
Not that she’d be all that glad for these little trips with Casey to end.
Still, she’d get to work with him at the bar again, the place where their flirtation had blossomed to begin with, and soon after, their friendship. She might look naive, but she wasn’t dumb. She knew that every time they messed around, every time they spoke as they had in the car on the way to the diner, she was falling for him. It was dangerous, but so, so easy. More natural than any other crush she’d gotten tangled in. Her curiosity mounted by the day to know exactly what Casey had done to earn his record, and what he’d been up to since then, that he seemed unwilling to come clean about, even to his closest friends. If she was indeed falling, she ought to know. If you fell with your eyes wide-open, you at least knew what was waiting for you at the bottom. And who knew—maybe whatever he’d done hadn’t even been all that bad. Something forgivable.