Play It Safe by Kristen Ashley
“Had breakfast, Ang, coffee,” he called back then turned to me. Finishing shrugging off his jacket, he swung it out from behind him and dropped it on his scarf. “I’m Gray,” he announced as he settled.
“Hi Gray,” I replied then repeated, “Can I help you?”
He grinned and he really shouldn’t have done that. He really shouldn’t have.
Because he had a dimple in his left cheek, it made him go from strikingly handsome to strikingly handsome with a hint of cute thrown in for good measure. And if that wasn’t enough, it brought my attention to his lips which, I did not know how, but I hadn’t noticed until then were full and inviting.
My mouth got dry.
“I’m Gray,” he repeated, I tore my eyes from his now moving, beautiful lips to his equally beautiful eyes and he went on, “You are?”
I pulled it together again.
“I’m wondering how I can help you.”
His eyes went funny, assessing, watchful as his head tipped slightly to the side.
Then he untipped his head and noted, “You’re still in town.”
I looked down at myself then at him and agreed, “Yep.”
He grinned again.
Hells bells!
“You get warm the other night?” he asked.
“Yep,” I repeated.
“Good,” he muttered and Ang, our waitress, hit the table with a mug of coffee for Gray.
We both looked up at her. She was looking at Gray.
“How’s Mirry?” she asked.
“She’s good,” Gray answered on another dimpled smile.
Jeez oh Pete, that smile.
I had to get out of there.
“Been awhile since I been out to see her. She want some company?” Ang asked Gray.
“Always,” Gray answered.
“Can she take a visit from the brood?” Ang went on and Gray’s smile got bigger.
Yep. Oh yes. I had to get the heck out of there.
“You know she can, Ang,” he replied.
“All right then, I’ll pack up my monsters and swing by this afternoon after school,” Ang declared, dipped her head at Gray, looked at me, gave me a head to chest then she looked back at Gray, her head tilted to the side, she grinned a knowing grin then waddled (it had to be said, it was definitely a waddle) away.
Gray’s fantastic blue eyes came back to me.
“That’s Ang,” he told me.
“Got that,” I murmured.
He grinned again.
God. I had to get out of there.
“She’s got one boy, three girls, the boy…” he shook his head, still grinning. “Not sure which way that kid’s gonna swing but I had to guess, I reckon my guess would be accurate. The girls, all tomboys. It’s wild. Never seen anything like it. They’re more boy than most boys and her boy is more girl than any girl.”
“That’s fascinating,” I stated. It was and more, it felt good him sharing that with me. I didn’t know why. It could be the casual way he did it, like we were having a conversation, like we were getting to know each other, like this would be one of many such situations we would find ourselves in, together, just like we were then, conversing, sharing, getting to know each other until we knew each other and therefore I had to shut it down. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”
His smile faded and his eyes went watchful again. He also didn’t speak.
He studied me for a while as I assessed my options, deciding to get some money out, throw it on the table in order to pay for my already eaten and plate cleared breakfast and mostly drunk not cleared third cup of coffee, get my stuff, say a farewell that wasn’t rude but was final and get the heck out of there.
Before I could put this plan into action, Gray spoke again.
“Man you’re with, not old enough to be your Dad, looks enough like you, gotta be kin. He your brother?”
That had my attention.
When had he seen Casey?
I didn’t ask this question.
Instead I made a point.
“You the sheriff or something?”
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Then can’t say I’m real comfortable with that kind of attention,” I told him.
“Bet not,” he replied quietly.
“I –” I started but stopped when he leaned in.
“Can’t say I wanna say this but I’m gonna say it. You’re not here to look into the waitressing gig at Jenkins, you and your guy best be moving on.”
Not good.
“Sorry?” I asked even more quietly than he was speaking
“Don’t know the game, don’t care, don’t ‘spect you’ll share since you won’t even tell me your name. Do know what he’s doin’ and I’m not the only one. Don’t know when he calls you in to do your part. What I’ll tell you is, you move forward on whatever mark he thinks he’s found, you will find trouble. They’re expecting it. They’ve clocked him. You need to move on.”
I was right. Not good.
Casey had been made. And Gray, knowing I was laying low, made me.
Gray was right. Time for us to move on.
I was about to do that when he kept talking.
“That said, Jenkins’s girls get good tips. Food is top-notch, top dollar, always has been. Tips are big. Shelly, head waitress there, pulled down nearly forty grand last year. Nothin’ to sneeze at. She gets extra due to hirin’ and trainin’ but all the girls there been there awhile, they like it. It’s only that Diane left ‘cause her man got that job in Oklahoma so she had to go. Be a good place to be, you’re lookin’ for that kind of place.”
I stared at him and now my mouth and throat were dry. Not because he was handsome and all the other things he was, just because he was sitting there calmly offering me a dream.
I was probably the only girl in the world who wanted to be a waitress.
And it wasn’t being the waitress I wanted to be.
But that would work for me.
In this town.
With him in it.
Roots.
Connections.
Wake up every day and know where you are and go to bed every night knowing you’ll wake up that way.
I would love that.
And just thinking about it made me want to cry.
So I had to get the heck out of there.
And I set about doing that, getting money and suiting up against the cold while muttering, “Appreciated, Gray. Your time. Your honesty.”
I didn’t button my jacket or wrap my scarf around, barely had my wallet back in my purse as I slid out of the booth, scarf in hand, bag scrunched with it, still shrugging on one side of my coat.
But I gave it to myself, one last thing. Foolish. But I wanted it. Badly. And I didn’t get anything I wanted so I took it.
I looked back in his beautiful eyes surrounded by his striking face, his fantastic lips, his thick, unusual hair all on top of broad shoulders and a wide chest covered in a Western-style denim shirt with pearl snap buttons and I whispered, “Take care.”
Then I got the heck out of there.
Chapter Three
I Owed Him Everything
Fifteen minutes later…
“That works for me,” Casey stated and I stared.
“What?” I asked.
He grinned and I knew that grin.
My brother.
Darn.
“Had a hot one the other night, gonna take another dip in that. Good to have the time and not have to be on the job.”
I told him about what Gray told me, he was made, Gray made me. The situation was hot. We couldn’t proceed.
We had to get out of there.
“Casey, I don’t think I have to remind you but we have five hundred, twelve dollars and thirteen cents. We gotta get on the road.”
His grin didn’t fade even a little.
“Just one night,” he replied.
I shook my head. “No, we gotta go.”
“Ivey
“We don’t. We have five hundred, twelve dollars and thirteen cents without a play to make. We gotta get on the road, find a new burg, find a new payday. That takes time. We have a week before we got nothing.”
“Honey,” definitely cajoling, the grin getting bigger, “it’s only one night.”
“One night means one more night’s hotel stay and one day we’re not on the road, a day we lose. We don’t have a night.”
Casey stepped back and his face got hard.
This was not good either.
My life was filled with not good. It happened a lot. And a lot of when it happened was when Casey got this way.
“Jesus, Ivey, what the fuck? It’s just one night!” he clipped loudly.
“Casey –”
“No,” he shook his head. “Fuck that. I liked her. She made me laugh. Spendin’ time with you, love you, sis, you know it,” he thumped his chest, “bottom of my heart, you know it,” he said the last three words leaning in, emphasis made in his tone, his body, his face, emphasis he made often, “but you aren’t about shits and grins, honey. She made me laugh. I had fun. I don’t get that a lot. I’m not askin’ for a week, I’m askin’ for one night. The least you could give me.”
Over the last ten years there were a lot of “the least I could give Casey”.
And just like then, I gave them.
“One night.”
He wasn’t done being angry.
“Jesus,” he muttered, moving away, “why you make me jump through these hoops…” he trailed off and I closed my eyes.
I did it because I learned a long time ago. I kept our bank. I paid attention. I kept us on target. Casey wasn’t good at that.
Casey wasn’t good at a lot of things.
Except taking care of me.
In his way.
And I knew exactly how far five hundred, twelve dollars and thirteen cents would get us in food, gas and hotels.
We had a week.
We didn’t have a day to blow.
But I’d blow it for Casey. I owed him that. I owed him everything.
“Tonight, need you to make yourself scarce,” he declared, lifting the phone out of its cradle.
Oh no.
I was giving him his night, he didn’t get the room.
“No way,” I replied, turning to face him fully.
His still angry eyes came to me. “What?”
“No way,” I said. “You had the room last night. Not again. I was sitting in a bar for three hours and then I was out in the cold. You need a visit with your hot one, you get creative but I get the room.”
He put the phone back in the cradle and returned, “I can hardly bang her in the car. She’s a class piece.”
Right. She was a class piece.
I didn’t believe that for a second.
My brother nailed his fair share of pieces and none of them had been class.
“Then, like I said, get creative,” I replied.
“That is uncool,” he bit out.
“What?” I asked. “We should not be staying an extra day and you know it. You want to have a little fun, laugh a little, enjoy her company, you got it. I gave in. We can’t afford it but it’s yours. You also got the hotel room last night. Tonight, it’s mine. I know you can be creative, Casey. So be creative.”
He scowled at me.
I let him.
I gave in a lot, most of the time I let him walk all over me. I owed him so I gave it to him.
But I wasn’t going to sit in that bar, not tonight, not when Gray could walk in. A Gray who knew what Casey was, what I was. No way. No stinking way.
Casey waited, hoping I’d melt. I did this a lot so he had a lot of hope.
I held his scowl and didn’t melt.
“Fuck,” he hissed, snatched the phone out of the receiver, dug into his back pocket and took out a wisp of paper. Then he looked at it and started punching buttons.
“I’ll give you a second to talk to your girl,” I muttered and his eyes cut to me.
“Thanks, big of you,” he said sarcastically.
I sighed.
Then his eyes went to his feet and his face split in a grin. “Hey beautiful, it’s Casey,” he said into the phone.
I got out of there.
Chapter Four
Never Been Kissed
“Kitchen still open?” I asked the bartender.
I was back at the bar. It was a stupid place to be. It was the last place I should be. The last place I wanted to be. But there I was.
And I knew why.
Because I was lying to myself.
It wasn’t the last place I wanted to be. It was the only place I knew he might be.
Stupid.
She was the same bartender. Lots of thick, dark hair that flowed over her shoulders and down her back, nearly as long as mine. Even though it was January, she was wearing a skintight tank and skintight jeans. Better tips that way, I’d guess. She was long and strangely very trim, no meat on her yet she had large breasts. They didn’t appear fake though obviously I wouldn’t know. Either someone did a phenomenal job or God liked her a whole lot.
I figured God liked her a whole lot. Up close and closely inspecting, she wasn’t five years older than Gray, seven to ten years older than me. She was ten years older than Gray but wore it well. Didn’t hide it well. Wore it well.
Comfortable in her skin. Comfortable in her place.
She either owned the bar or was sleeping with the person who owned it. It was her space and she liked to be there.
“Five minutes, hon,” she told me on a genuine welcoming grin. “You’re in luck.”
I nodded and grinned back, mine probably not genuine or welcoming but I wanted it to be.
“Then can I have a cold one, bottle, and whatever is easiest for them seeing as I’m not picky and they’ll be closing the kitchen after making it?”
Her grin turned to a smile. “Pulled pork sandwich,” she replied. “I don’t know whether it’s easiest or not but you can’t leave Mustang without eating one of The Rambler’s pulled pork sandwiches. And we got those curly fries, can’t be beat.”
My grin got bigger too and I nodded again. “Sounds perfect.”
She tipped her head to the side, “No preference, like last night?”
Yep. Her tips were huge. She paid attention. It was mid-week but there were two bars in this burg and only this one in walking distance or close to the courthouse square and residential areas so I had no doubt there were nights and even days when it got busy. In fact, it was on the courthouse square. The other bar was where Casey and I were going to do our business. Still in the town limits but removed. When we’d made our first pass, I’d told Casey I was not going to work in The Rambler. The other bar was seedier, not as welcoming, not nearly as nice and the people in it were the same way. I didn’t mind taking that money. Anyone who came into The Rambler, though, different story.
But she remembered me from last night even if there weren’t a load of folks in. It was a nice thing to do, remembering me, letting me know it.
She was nice.
She liked Gray.
Gray liked her.
Her smiles were genuine.
And again I found myself wishing my life was different.
“No preference,” I confirmed. “Whatever beer is closest at hand.”
“Wish all my customers were like you,” she said through her perpetual grin.
But she didn’t. She didn’t know me. If she knew me, she’d probably kick me out.
She pulled out a Corona, popped the top and placed it in front of me. “I’ll go put in your order. Lucky for you, it’s late, they won’t mess around.”
I nodded yet again then muttered, “Thanks.”
She took off to the middle of the bar and then through some swinging half doors to the kitchen.
My eyes slid around the room.
It was five to nine. O
Casey and I traveled light. I’d read the three books I kept with me at least a dozen times. We didn’t have money for me to hit the bookstore I saw on the square and buy another one. Casey had stormed out in a huff after his call and told me not to wait up for him. I suspected this meant he wouldn’t be home until dawn. This also meant I got the first shift on driving the next day.
This was not unusual.
I should have stayed in, stayed warm, just stayed.
I didn’t. I moved. I did stupid stuff like refreshing my makeup. Fluffing out my hair. Spritzing on perfume. Putting on my slightly nicer cowboy boots.
Then I did even more stupid stuff like walking down to the bar.
I didn’t do stupid stuff. Careful. Played it safe. Always.
I didn’t know what came over me.
But I was hungry and I was bored and I’d been in that hotel room all day and nothing was on TV and the bar was warm, I’d smelled and seen the food last night and it looked good.
And Gray could be there.
He wasn’t.
I told myself I was relieved.
I wasn’t.
The crowd was lighter tonight than last night. Dinner crowd (if there was one) gone, people home in front of their TVs.
Two men sitting at a square table, not across from each other, beside each other. Slumped over the table, shoulders curved in, bottles of beer on the table held between both hands. Their conversation was quiet and probably not interesting. They either had women at home they didn’t want to be home with or, by the looks of them, they had no women and no prospects. Both heads of hair needed to be cut. Both sets of clothes needed to be tended better, cleaned more. Both bodies were not temples. The shoulders curved in meant they didn’t want attention and/or they were trying to detract it away from the unhealthy bulk on their frames. They were there last night. They were probably pretty, trim, big-boobed, genuinely friendly, happy bartender’s best customers. They were probably there every night mostly because they had nothing good to go home to and didn’t want to be reminded of that fact.