All the Right Moves(8)
He figured she’d been exaggerating that the place would get busy, that it was a ploy to get rid of him. He’d gotten the impression she didn’t think he belonged here, and she wasn’t wrong. The loud country music, hard metal posters, questionable bumper stickers plastered crookedly to the walls—none of it was his style. He’d seen the four Harleys parked outside, so he’d known beforehand this wouldn’t exactly be an officer’s club. Which had been the point.
He wasn’t in the mood to do what he always did, expect what he always expected, talk to the same people he always talked to. Something had to shake him from his uncertainty. He’d thought about leaving Vegas, going somewhere crazy. Tahiti or Pittsburgh. But he didn’t want to fly anywhere, not if he wasn’t the pilot. So the next best thing was to change neighborhoods.
The door opened again. This time it was a thirtysomething woman in civvies, who joined the group wearing scrubs. The older rough-looking guys who’d already been drinking when John came in seemed to know the newcomers, and there was a brief but polite exchange before everyone returned to the business of imbibing or ordering from the blonde waitress. Lisa, according to Cassie.
He wouldn’t forget her name. It suited her. Not that he could say why. He didn’t know a Cassie or a Cassandra that he recalled. But with those big hazel eyes, the smooth fair complexion and that sense of humor, the name seemed to fit. Her auburn hair was on the curly side, and she habitually blew at the loose tendrils that seemed to keep getting in her way.
Sipping his beer, he tried to figure out what cartoon was on the front of her T-shirt without being obvious. Her small compact body appealed to him and it would be easy to just stare. The fabric stretched tight across her breasts didn’t help. It made him curious as to whether wearing the smaller size was by design, or if she just hadn’t cared what she grabbed out of the drawer. Her faded jeans looked as if they’d been around awhile, and again, the snug fit made it difficult not to be one of those creepy guys he wouldn’t wish on anyone.
Maybe she wore the tight clothes to bolster her tips. Although in a place like this no one was leaving anything extravagant. She was good with the customers, he’d give her that. She knew a lot of them by name, which was unusual in this town. It was also odd that the bar didn’t have video poker and slot machines. Every place in Vegas had machines. Gas stations, supermarkets, diners. He’d figured a bar without the ability to lose a paycheck would be mostly empty, but the evidence proved him wrong.
He worked on his beer, less worried about staring at Cassie now that the place was so packed. Clearly she was well liked. People stopped to say hi or to ask her a question or tell a joke. She rolled her eyes at a bawdy riddle, then grinned and kept working, her hands plunged in sudsy water, while waiting for pitchers to fill with beer.
When a young woman in pink scrubs asked for pretzels, Cassie put her to work loading bowls for every table. Cassie herself stayed on task, juggling mixed-drink orders, keeping the draft flowing and carefully checking glasses she’d just washed.
She wasn’t only attentive, she moved fast and was quick-witted. Maybe she owned the bar.
“Hey, Cassie.”
Her head came up, her gaze going to someone in the corner. “Hey, what?”
“Where’s the cheapest gas today?”
“The Pilot on Craig.”
“Thanks.” The man chuckled. “You owe me five bucks,” he said to his companion, who started to argue about the accuracy of the information.
Several others booed him. An older man in a wheelchair with two mixed drinks in front of him swore Cassie was never wrong.
John hadn’t given the guy more than a passing glance but now he noticed his ball cap. It read Retired Air Force. He’d finished his career a sergeant was John’s guess. A permanent frown was etched on the old-timer’s grizzled face, reminding John of Master Sergeant Henry Ludlow. The man had already put in his twenty by the time they’d met. John had been a young lieutenant, still green and way too cocky. It was Ludlow who’d whipped him into shape. The man had never disrespected John’s rank but he sure hadn’t taken his crap, either. Thinking back, he smiled.
“You okay over there?” Cassie’s voice brought him around.
He checked his beer, surprised that he’d already downed half of it. “I’m good for now.”
She nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she turned her attention to the slip the waitress set in front of her.