Burn It Up(15)

Her lips pursed, expression changing in an instant. “That wasn’t, like, your girlfriend or something, was it?”

“No, just an old colleague. I mean, hey, I’m not a great guy, but I’m not a complete shit.”

She looked deflated for a breath, then smiled. “You don’t think you’re a great guy?”

“Oh, hell no.”

“How come?”

“You don’t want to know, trust me.” She was a good, Christian girl. He hadn’t heard her so much as swear in the past four months—not since the pregnancy mood swings and the throes of labor had passed. She didn’t need to know about his old life. Best-case scenario, it’d disappoint her. Worst case, those pesky morals would have her phoning the f*cking feds on him. The latter felt unlikely, but in any case, the truth of his past was a burden this girl needed like a hole in the head. My past and my future both. Man, was he ever a f*cking catch.

“You’ve been good to me,” she said. “And to Mercy.”

“That’s different.” And it was new. He was a good boss, he supposed, and tried to be a good friend. But he’d not always been the best son or brother, and while Casey had never intentionally hurt anybody, he was far from an upstanding citizen.

As his body cooled, his thoughts turned to that little fantasy house of Abilene’s.

There were lots of places around Fortuity that fit the bill—modest little ranches that you could buy for pretty cheap. For now. When the new casino was up and running, who knew what might happen to the property values, but until and if that all went through, you could get a decent place for as little as fifty grand.

Casey thought about that job Emily had called with. His own savings was all tied up in the bar, but right there was an easy twenty grand. A fat down payment, and with a couple more gigs like that, he could buy a place outright for Abilene and her daughter. She couldn’t afford it herself, not on a part-time bartender’s wages, but it sure would do her good, that kind of stability. Before she’d come to Three C she’d been living in a rented room in a cranky old lady’s basement—not exactly home sweet home.

Maybe three final jobs, and I could be her goddamn hero.

Except she’d want to know how on earth he was able to afford it, and telling her wasn’t an option.

Fucking shame, too. The thought of it excited him. For plenty of good reasons, he couldn’t ever be her man. Chiefly because of his mental health, but he couldn’t tell her about that. Or rather, he wouldn’t. He was only now beginning to face it himself—not only the shame and embarrassment of feeling faulty and doomed and helpless, but the guilt over how he’d handled his mother’s decline. The dread of wondering sometimes if maybe he’d earned this fate, maybe he deserved it, for failing her, for running away as he had. So no, he couldn’t tell Abilene why, and no, he couldn’t be her man. But being a benefactor wasn’t a bad consolation prize.

They’d gone quiet, and Casey’s heart felt all warm and mixed-up. The kiss needed acknowledging, that much was clear. Hot as it had been, right as it had felt, they needed to agree it could never be repeated. Last thing this girl needed in her life was another complication.

“What just happened,” he said, trailing off. “That kiss, I mean. That was unexpected. Real nice, but . . .” Tell her it can’t ever happen again, dumb-ass. “Unexpected,” he repeated.

“I know. I wasn’t thinking straight, exactly.”

“Me neither.” He rarely was, not when this woman’s body was within ten feet of his.

“I don’t regret it,” she added.

“No, I don’t either. But given everything you’re dealing with right now, I think we ought to agree not to do that again.” He laid his arm along the back of the couch. “Not to pretend it never happened, but just . . .”

“Yeah . . . But it was real nice, just like you said. Nicest thing I’ve felt in ages.”

He smiled, and in a breath he felt sad. He wished this was last summer. Wished this was the ignorant and blissful world he’d lived in when he first met her, back when he’d had no clue she was pregnant, no clue about her ex, no ties to her aside from his attraction. No ties to Fortuity, so when he inevitably f*cked it all up, he could just roll back out of town with his sights glued firmly on whatever came next.

Oops. Should’ve thought of that before you bought a bar and started bonding with her goddamn baby. Shit. He’d gone from a completely free agent to a business owner, boss, babysitter, and bodyguard in what felt like a breath.

Guess when I step up, I step all the f*cking way up.

“Tell me about the house,” he said, wanting a distraction, and something familiar and innocent, to settle his racing mind. “Where’d we leave off? Two bedrooms now. Washer and dryer.”

“Tell me about your tattoo,” Abilene countered, her voice spacey and quiet, barely louder than the crackle of the fire.

He glanced at his outstretched arm, his sleeve pushed up to expose the ink on his shoulder. “What about it?”

“Why a horseshoe, but then a thirteen in the middle of it? Doesn’t that kind of cancel out any good luck you’re gunning for?” She traced the simple black design—dark gray, really. He’d gotten it in Vegas during his gambling days, probably seven years ago, now. He shivered at the touch, chest and neck warming in its wake.