Burn It Up(86)

“There you are,” she said when he found her in the den, bouncing a red-faced and deeply annoyed infant.

“Here I am. And yikes. Somebody woke up on the wrong side, huh?”

She’s not the only one.

“Want me to try anything?” he asked.

“Knock yourself out. She’s clean and fed and burped, and she slept almost nine hours straight through.”

“Well, that’s probably the issue, now, isn’t it?” Casey asked the sputtering, seething baby as he lifted her from Abilene’s arms. “You’re much too well balanced, aren’t you? No outlet for your tiny well of rage.”

“Something like that.” Abilene watched with mingled frustration and awe as Mercy quieted in seconds, face going placid, blue eyes glued to Casey’s.

“Show off,” she grumbled, though she was grateful for the quiet.

“That’s better, huh? How about I put you in your rocker?” He laid the baby in her seat, and Abilene held her breath, waiting to see if she started up again. Wonder of wonders, she looked as calm as could be.

“Hallelujah.” She dropped her head against the couch’s back.

“Your ex came by the bar while I was taking stock,” Casey said, sitting on the next cushion.

Her head snapped right back up. “He did?”

“Don’t worry—it was fine. He was after a job, actually.”

She blinked. “Really? What, bartending?”

“No, cooking, once the restaurant opens.”

“Oh. He did a lot of that in prison.”

“Said he valued his spinal health over a paycheck from the quarry, and I can’t say I blame him.”

“So you said yes?”

“No, no. I told him I’d talk to Duncan and to you. If all three of us are comfortable with the idea, we’ll consider him.”

“I don’t think I’d mind,” she said, mulling. “It might be awkward, is all.” But probably not terribly. James wasn’t possessive or jealous. Not once an affair was over. You were either all in with him, or else you got the typical frosty reception he reserved for strangers and acquaintances. Only if you were his lover—or his enemy, or indeed his child, she imagined—did he bother getting wound up about you.

“It wouldn’t be for a few weeks still,” Casey said, “if it did even happen. Plenty of time to see how the two of you are getting along.”

She nodded. “It’s good to hear he’s looking for legal work, at any rate.” He seemed to be respecting her rule.

“I’ll talk to Duncan then, see what he thinks.” He rubbed his thighs, then met her eyes with caution in his own. “So, what are you doing this afternoon?”

“Just this,” she said, nodding to the baby.

His lips thinned to a pensive line. “Hang on a sec.” He stood and strode off in the direction of the office, and Abilene heard knocking, then faint talking. He was back inside a minute and lifting the rocker.

“What are you up to?”

“Christine’s going to watch Mercy for an hour or two. You and I have something we need to do.”

If not for last night’s talk, she’d have assumed he meant sex—men rarely moved with such purpose if they weren’t about to get lucky. “What?”

“We need to talk,” he said simply, disappearing down the hall with the baby.

“About?”

Casey either didn’t hear or didn’t care to reply. When he returned he was patting his pockets, pulling out his keys. He eyed her clothes. “Grab a sweater and jacket and your mittens. We’re going for a little ride.”

She was tempted to resist, but in the end, the baby was fed and in good hands, and she was more curious about what he needed to say than she was stubborn about last night.

Once she’d changed, she met him by the front door and they got their shoes on.

“Safety first,” Casey said, and handed her Raina’s helmet. She strapped it on as they headed for his bike.

“Where are we going?”

“To the place I always went to when I needed to get my head on straight about shit.”

“Which is?”

“You’ll see.” He mounted the Harley and she got on behind him.

He rode them west, toward town, and then straight through it—all the way down Station Street, across the train tracks. He took a left on Railroad Avenue, passing the motel, then onto the quiet route that ran beside the foothills. Maybe a mile out of town, he eased them to a stop on the shoulder and climbed off.

Abilene did the same, unsure why this spot was significant to him. All she saw was a load of scrub brush and sage, a whole lot of desolate badlands to the east, and rising red rock to the west.

“Follow me.” Casey headed toward the hills.

“This is where you come to think?” she asked, following his path between the boulders and brush.

“Just trust me.”

She did, even as this mystery excursion had her scratching her head. They hiked for five or ten minutes up into the hills, until she was short of breath and warm enough to unzip her jacket and fist her mittens.

“Just about there,” he said, kicking his way through a tangle of brush.

At long last, they stopped, and she followed his lead when he turned and sat on a flat outcropping, facing east.