All the Right Moves(49)
If she didn’t know better she would’ve sworn he’d touched her. Cupped her cheek, brushed a kiss across her lips, stroked his hand down her back. “What?”
“Please. Let me do this while you study.”
Damn him if he was what ended up making her cry. It was bad enough that the customers had seen her go all gooey with John. Crying was out of the question. She was the one who came to other people’s rescue. It was always her riding in to make everything right. She never needed anyone’s help. She carried the world on her shoulders just fine. Problem was, she couldn’t tell him to go away because her voice wouldn’t work.
“Your book is right here,” Lisa said, and moved the pile of rags. She waited for Cassie to respond, then gave up on her and said to John, “She can study in the storage closet right back here. It’s small but big enough, and she has earbuds to block the noise. If you need her she won’t be far.”
“She won’t be disturbed,” he said, so convincingly even Cassie believed him.
He came around to their side of the bar, which snapped her out of her trance. “No. You can’t do this.”
“Why not?” He picked up a clean towel and threw it over his shoulder. “Hey,” he said to Lisa, who’d slipped past him to return to the floor. “Will you handle the register?”
“Absolutely.”
Damn it, he wasn’t listening. Neither of the coconspirators would look at her. Though everyone else in the place seemed to be doing both. She gave a general glare in a sweeping arc, and by then she was able to face John with a good head of steam to steady her.
“John,” Cassie said deliberately, “the answer is no. You don’t know how to mix drinks.”
“Says who?” He glanced around at the occupied tables. “Lots of beer drinkers. So that’s easy. As far as cocktails go, tonight everyone’s drinking either gin and tonic, tequila sunrises or hard liquor...neat or on the rocks.”
“No, they’re not.” Cassie tried to yank the towel off his shoulder, but he caught her hand. “I’ve had orders for piña coladas, rusty nails and—”
“From this moment on, those are their choices. Or they can talk me through a drink I don’t know. It won’t kill anyone.” He smiled and squeezed her hand, low, where no one could see. “Most of these guys in here... They’re your people, Cassie. If they knew the tough spot you were in, they’d want to help.”
“They’re paying customers,” she muttered.
His strong muscled chest was right there in front of her, only a few inches, and she had the sudden and horrifying desire to bury her face against him. If she moved closer he’d put his arms around her. She knew he would, and she could hide from all her problems. If only for a few minutes.
“Come on,” he said gently and picked up the book, holding it out to her. “Get crackin’.”
Lisa chuckled. “I like him,” she said, then left with her loaded tray.
“You can let me go now.” She looked pointedly at the hand engulfed in his, and he released her. When she turned, she saw that Gordon and his crew weren’t thrilled about what had just happened. “Some of those guys might give you a hard time.”
“I thought we agreed I can take care of myself.”
She smiled up at him, ordering herself not to get lost in those warm brown eyes. Not to fool herself into thinking this was anything more than him being a nice person doing a nice thing. “Thanks,” she said in a steady voice, then melted a little when he winked.
* * *
“THREE GIN AND TONICS, two vodka tonics, tequila rocks and don’t forget the lime wedges this time,” Lisa said. “Also, two more—never mind. I’ll get the pitchers started.”
She scooted around to his side and jumped right in, positioning the pitchers under the tap before moving over to the sink and turning on the faucet.
“I don’t know how you two keep up,” he murmured, careful to keep his voice down. Cassie was holed up behind the door just a few feet away, and she’d already ducked her head out twice in the two hours since he’d been playing bartender.
“Well, Cassie’s fast and we’ve worked together a long time, but tonight is extrabusy, plus—” She let out a short laugh. “I don’t know if I should tell you.”
“What?” He concentrated on carefully filling the shot glass, then dumped the gin over the ice in the tumbler. He couldn’t free-pour like Cassie did. The liquor cost would go through the roof if he tried that. “Tell me what?”