Catching Cassidy

by Melissa Foster

  “Act like my friend. Act like we always have. We’ll work through the finances at the bar, hang out, have fun like always.” Even as I say it, I know nothing can ever be the same, because I’ll live every second of every day wanting more of her.

  “Okay. I’ll help you at the bar. We’ll try to be normal, whatever that is, but certain things have to change. There are some things we can’t go back to.”

  I wait for her to say more, knowing she’s right and hating it so much I rebel against asking what things she’s talking about.

  “You can’t hold my hand or put your arm around me without me feeling like I do right now.” She shrugs. “It’s just impossible. Every time I see you my body gets all...” She blushes and turns away.

  “So you’re telling me that I’ve already messed up our friendship?” I feel like I’m falling into a dark hole, grasping for a frayed rope that becomes more threadbare every time I touch it.

  “You’re used to making out with girls and it not meaning anything.”

  “That’s hardly fair. You mean everything to me, Cass.” Right this second I truly hate my past.

  “I’m not used to it. You know that about me. I don’t usually make out with a guy who’s never taken me on a single date, much less let him touch me…there.”

  Jesus. How could I not have seen this coming? She’s right. I’m a dick. A total dick. I never should have let myself touch her.

  “I’m sorry, Cassidy. You’re not just some girl. You’ve never been just some girl.”

  She shrugs as if nothing I’m saying really makes a difference, or she’s accepted it without any more heartache. She’s compartmentalized it. I know Cassidy. It’s how she deals with her parents. It sucks knowing I fit into the same type of slot in her head as they do.

  “I know. I’m your friend, and you love me, but still, if I’m going to remain sane, things have to change.”

  “Cass, if I thought it wasn’t risky—the two of us—I’d try. But you can see that I can barely handle myself right now. Do you understand? How can I expect to handle us?” I let those words sink in to my head as much as hers. “What you’re telling me is that I’ve already ruined things between us? By doing the right thing I’ve made things worse?”

  “Being friends, drawing that line between us right now, Wyatt. That’s your right thing. Not mine. I’m just trying to figure out a way to move forward without losing my mind.”

  The thought of moving forward without one arm securely around Cassidy? I’ve clearly already lost my mind.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ~Cassidy~

  I CLAIMED TO be sick yesterday and begged off helping Wyatt with the books. I know it’s a chickenshit move, and it probably makes me a bitch on some level, but all morning I’ve felt sick to my stomach. Heartsick. The idea of working closely with Wyatt is too much for me to take. So I hide. From him. From everything we said. From what we did. From myself.

  Wyatt texts and calls and checks on me a hundred times, and by this morning I feel wildly guilty and give in to the promise to help him with the books. We work closely in Tim’s office. Tim is out for the afternoon and Jesse is gone for the week, taking care of his own business. It feels funny working with Wyatt in this new ocean of discontent.

  Delilah comes to the doorway and leans against the doorframe. “Hey.”

  “Hey, Dee. What’s up?” Wyatt asks. He sounds too upbeat, and I know Delilah can tell something is going on. Her eyes are darting between the two of us.

  “Did something happen that I should know about?”

  I’m not sure if she means between us or just in general, and I’m not sure if Wyatt knows either, because he doesn’t look at me, so I can’t see his eyes.

  We both mumble a negative response, and Delilah sighs, then leaves the room and goes back to work.

  Hours later we’re still poring over the books side by side. Our legs keep brushing against each other, and every time they do, my heart skips a beat.

  Wyatt is smart, and he picks up on the process of reconciliation easily. It turns out that it’s not just the last few months that aren’t reconciled. It’s a time-consuming process to tie the canceled checks to the invoices, and it becomes apparent that Tim isn’t as organized as he seems, which makes the job that much more difficult. I’m so bored with these reconciliations already, I can’t imagine how I’ll work with numbers all day long. I want to be taking pictures, or helping Brooke in the café, or…Even better…I want to be making out with Wyatt.

  I’m losing my mind, because that is definitely not on the agenda.

  I push that thought aside and turn back to the books. Tim has invoices on his computer and some printed out, but nothing is where it should be, and I can’t concentrate on numbers when Wyatt’s sitting so close to me. I fight the constant urge to try to talk him into giving us a chance and settle for a few stolen glances. I can tell Wyatt’s trying not to look at me. The veins in his neck are thick, and his fingers grip the pencil so tightly that they’re turning white.

  As the day rolls on, I feel the heat of his eyes on me, like he couldn’t resist the temptation, and by late afternoon, my insides are going a little crazy and the air is pulsing with heat again.

  He leaves the room, and two seconds later my phone vibrates with a text. I grab it, glad for the distraction.

  It’s from Wyatt, and I wonder if he’s going to tell me that he can’t work with me after all. I open the text and pray for the best, only I don’t have a clue what the best means.

  Can you handle things for about thirty minutes?

  I wonder why he needs me to and why he’s even asking. It’s not like the bar is relying on us to make it function properly. I text him back, Sure.

  A minute later he returns my text. Good. Heading home for a cold shower.

  I’m glad no one is around to see the big, cheesy grin on my face.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ~Wyatt~

  AFTER ONLY ONE day of working together, I can no longer trust myself to work in the same room as Cassidy. Every time we’re together, the room feels like it’s closing in on me. I’m drawn to everything about her, and when she gets close to show me things on the ledger, it takes all of my energy not to take her in my arms and devour her. Luckily, Tristan took the day off to go somewhere with Ian, leaving me on bartender duty. I’m happy for the change of pace. I’m pretty sure having blue balls all the time isn’t good for a guy.

  Delilah took the afternoon off to go meet a therapist with Brooke, which I’m all for. I think Dee has too many things to worry about to focus on the bar, and now I have an excuse to work on something other than finances with Cassidy. One of our part-timers called in sick, which leaves us shorthanded.

  The bar is getting busy, as it does most afternoons, and Dutch is in the back cooking up a storm. Livi and Charley are waiting on tables. My phone vibrates with a text from Jesse.

  Did you hire anyone?

  Shit. I totally forgot. I text him back. Sorry, man. Totally forgot. Been busy.

  I serve up two drinks and then read another text from Jesse.

  You staffed for the party tonight?

  I put the glass that I’m drying down too hard on the bar, and three customers look over. I totally forgot about the party, but I can’t tell Jesse that I’m not prepared for it. I don’t want him to worry. Instead I reassure him.

  I’ve got it covered.

  I lean on the bar, watching Charley and Livi wait tables. This is Livi’s first summer with the Taproom, but she seems responsible. When they’re finished, I come around the bar to catch them before they walk into the back room.

  “Hey, guys, we’re a little shorthanded. Any chance you can stick around tonight?”

  Charley’s hands immediately go up in surrender. “I can’t, Wyatt. Sorry. I promised Dane I wouldn’t miss the group lab assignment we’re working on tonight, and we leave tomorrow for a three-day project, so I won’t have time to make it up.” She glances at her watch. “Shoot. I have
to leave in ten minutes. I’m so sorry. You know I’ll help any time I can, though.”

  “I know. No sweat, Charley. Tell Dane I said hello.”

  I worked with Livi the other day. She’s sweet as the day is long, way too mature for whatever age she is, which I imagine can’t be more than twenty, and she takes a minute to think about her answer.

  “I really don’t want to turn you down, Wyatt. I need this job. But this weekend is the anniversary of my mother’s death, and I need to drive home tonight to be with Holly and Jack.”

  I open my mouth, but no words come. The anniversary of her mother’s death. Next year, and every year after that, we’ll have to revisit the anniversary of our parents’ deaths. The thought makes my gut feel like there’s lead in it.

  She tilts her head and looks at me expectantly, reminding me that I should say something.

  “Oh gosh. I had no idea. Sorry, Livi. Are Holly and Jack your siblings?”

  “No. They raised me after my mom passed away when I was fourteen. It’s complicated.” She smiles, and I can tell she doesn’t want to talk about her family situation. “I heard about your parents, and I’m really sorry. If you ever want to talk.” She shrugs. “I’ve been there, and I’m a good listener.”

  “Thanks, but I’m good, and don’t worry about the job. It’s here for you. Drive safely this weekend.”

  “I can probably stick around until about eight or so. I’m only driving to the Cape, so…”

  “That would be awesome, if you’re sure.”

  She nods. “Absolutely. I can use the extra money.”

  I thank her again and then go back into the bar, wondering what it must have been like to lose her mother at such a young age. Delilah and I are having a hell of a time dealing with it at twenty-two. Then I realize she said Jack and Holly, whoever they are, raised her after her mother died, and I wonder what happened to her father. I don’t have time to decipher her life when I can hardly navigate my own. I force the thought away and focus on work.

  I try to reach Delilah to find out where she’s put the schedules, but she’s not answering her texts or her calls. Instead, I spend the next two hours riffling through files, trying to find the other employees’ phone numbers before I realize that there are no other employees. I head back out to the bar to figure this out. I call Brandon to see if he can help out, but he’s got a gig tonight. I call Brooke, but she’s not answering either. Brandon calls back a minute later and says he asked Ashley to help, and she’ll be here in half an hour.

  Gotta love my friends.

  Over the next hour the bar gets progressively more crowded. Cassidy left before Jesse reminded me about the party, and I don’t really want to bother her with this, but I have no choice. The bar is busier than hell, and Livi and I are doing all we can to keep up. The party that was booked has tripled in size, as the original fifteen people are joined by two more groups that come through the door hollering orders for drinks. I pull out my phone and see that I’ve missed a text from Cass.

  The accounting firm in NY checked my references. That has to be a good sign, right?

  Good? Good? No, it’s not good—not for me, anyway—but yeah, it’s a great sign for her.

  “Hey, can I get two Jack and Cokes and a gin and tonic?”

  I look up at the gray-haired guy and nod, thankful that I don’t have to card a kid. I hate that shit. I shove my phone in my pocket, fix his drinks, and after he pays, I give him his change. He leaves me a dollar tip, and I wonder why Delilah wants to keep the bar. I can’t imagine doing this all day and night. Then again, I’m too distracted to think of doing much. Cassidy’s text is weighing heavily on my mind, and I still need more staff. Pronto.

  I pull out my phone and text her.

  A great sign for sure. I’m stuck down here with no staff and a big party. Any chance you can help me out?

  Ashley walks in and comes straight over to me. Her long blond hair is pinned up in a ponytail, swaying with each determined step.

  “Hey, Wyatt. Tell me where you need me.”

  I’m so relieved, I hug her. “Thanks, Ash. Livi needs to take off. Can you take over for her?”

  “No prob.” She smiles as she crosses the floor and says something to Livi, who hands her the order pad and a pen, then another pen that she has tucked behind her ear.

  Livi goes into the back, I assume to clock out, then comes back through the doors and heads directly to me. “Is it okay if I take off?”

  “Of course. Thanks, Livi. You saved my butt tonight.”

  “Hardly,” she says with a smile. “I’m always happy to pull an extra shift if I have the time.” Livi takes a step away and then comes back and leans across the bar.

  I lean down closer to hear her.

  “I know it’s none of my business, but...I’ve seen Delilah crying in the ladies’ room.”

  Delilah cries in the ladies’ room?

  “Please tell her I’m here if she needs someone to talk to. You know how they say time heals all wounds?” she asks.

  It’s all I can do to nod. I’m still thinking about Delilah, and now I’m even happier that Brooke’s taking her to see a therapist, because I’m obviously not equipped to help her through this alone.

  Livi narrows her eyes and smiles. “They’re right. Time does. It just sort of kicks the daylights out of you first.”

  As I watch her walk out the door, I’m not sure if she’s serious or kidding, but I understand about the daylights being kicked out of me. I’ve got that part down solid.

  My phone vibrates again, and I read the message from Cassidy.

  Yeah. Can I drive your car? I don’t want to walk down alone.

  This makes me happier than it should. She’s asking me for something. It’s such a small thing, but it’s huge in the realm of finding some modicum of normalcy between us. I text her back. You bet. Keys are on my dresser.

  When Cassidy shows up, the bar is busier than it’s been all summer. I’m dying to talk to her about the job in New York, to see what else the company said to her, but I’m doing all I can to keep up with the drink orders while she and Ashley wait on the tables. Customers are drinking and hollering to one another. A wave of people file out the door, but it barely makes a dent in the crowd.

  “Two shots of tequila and a gin and tonic,” Ashley says as she leans over the bar.

  I fill two shot glasses and mix the gin and tonic. “Here you go. You holding up okay?”

  “Yeah. I waitressed through college. I’m cool.” She disappears behind a broad-shouldered man.

  I see Cassidy come out of the back with a tray of food. She’s tied her hair back in a ponytail, and her eyes are serious as she weaves through the crowd and delivers the food to a table in the back.

  “Three screaming orgasms.” A petite brunette slides onto a barstool and pushes money across the bar.

  “Sure thing.” I mix the shots and give her the change.

  “Keep it.” She winks as she walks away.

  I shake my head, and my eyes lock on Cassidy as she approaches the bar.

  “Screaming orgasms, huh? You dole them out to just anyone, or do I have to be someone special?” Her voice is seductive, and her eyes are playful.

  I lean across the bar and lower my voice. “Depends. You want the kind that come in a glass?” I have no business taking the bait, but I can’t resist her.

  Her cheeks flush pink as a guy comes up behind her and places his hand on her shoulder. She spins around and smiles at him.

  “Hey there, Cassidy. Sorry to bother you, but do you think we could get another tray of fries?”

  I narrow my eyes at the tall guy who’s way too old to be looking at her like he is, and she’s drinking it all in.

  “Sure thing, Tom. I’ll bring it right over.” She watches him walk away, turns back to me, and rolls her eyes.

  “Do all the customers tell the waitresses their names?” I sound, and feel, like a jealous boyfriend, which pisses me off.

  “Bett
er tips this way. Livi clued me in.” She brushes her fingertips over mine. “Besides, you and I are just friends. Why do you care?”

  “I don’t. Just curious.” I spend the rest of the night watching Tom eye Cassidy and getting angrier. Correction. I know the difference now. I hate it, but I can’t deny the truth. What I’m feeling are the ugly claws of jealousy, and I’m getting more jealous by the second.

  ~Cassidy~

  BY THE TIME we’re done cleaning up, it’s after one o’clock in the morning, and my feet are killing me. Wyatt’s been in a pissy mood ever since he made the comment about telling the customers my name, which has made for a very tense evening. But really, what does he expect? If he doesn’t want to cross that line with me, then he can’t be mad if I act like I’m not his girlfriend.

  Which I’m not.

  Even though I want to be.

  It sucked flirting with all those guys tonight when there’s really only one guy I want to flirt with. Wyatt, Ashley, and I walk outside, and Wyatt locks the Taproom doors. His ass looks amazing, and I feel myself staring like I’ve never seen it before, even though I’ve taken many eyefuls recently.

  “Stop staring at my ass,” he says without turning around.

  “Jesus, you have eyes everywhere,” I say, and Ashley and I laugh.

  “That and I saw you in the reflection of the glass.” He looks from me to Ashley as we walk through the parking lot. “Thanks for helping tonight, you guys. We made a great team, and you both saved my ass.”

  “Anytime. I’ll see you guys later.” Ashley waves as she opens her car door.

  Wyatt swings an arm over my shoulder, and for a second my insides get all hot and tingly, and then I remember we’re just friends. I move out from under his arm, because as Tristan said, hearts aren’t as smart as heads, and there’s no way I’m giving this heart of mine a chance to screw with my head again.

  “Hey,” Wyatt complains.

  I glare at him. I already put myself out there with the screaming orgasm tease, and I have no idea where it came from. Wyatt’s response surprised me, and when the customer ordered his drink, I was relieved for the diversion, because I’m not certain that I wouldn’t have scrambled right over that bar and thrown myself at Wyatt.