FUEL (DirtSlap Series Book 1) (3 page)

Thrand smirked as
Cassie bit into a rib and moaned with satisfaction.

“You were right. This is amazing.” She licked BBQ sauce off her fingers in blatant appreciation.

They were tucked against a window in the upstairs part of Buck’s BBQ and sunlight turned her hair to spun gold. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Trying to merge the girl he’d left with the woman before him muddled his brain. There was nothing fancy about her. Just a woman with long, tanned legs, frayed shorts, black boots, and his baggy shirt. But she was like walking sunshine with all that hair and a mischievous smile.

“Glad you approve. Service sucks. But the food is incredible.”

She laughed. “Service is always this bad?”

“Yup, but as you can tell, it’s always packed.”

“So you said you might have a job idea. Don’t mean to rush it, but after this morning, I need a job. Quick.”

“Sure. Jobs on the strip can be hard to get with all the people who come through this town, but I can pull some strings. You okay with serving liquor?”

Her left shoulder came up in a shrug and the wide neck of his shirt slipped, baring a little bit of skin.

“No problem. I just want to get paid.” She turned her attention to the window and shook her head. “I’ve never seen so many people.”

He glanced out the window at the crowd. “This is nothing. Wait until Friday and Saturday night. Traffic is backed up and you can barely maneuver up and down the sidewalks.”

He hadn’t thought it possible, but her face lit up even more.

“Really? I can’t wait.” Her attention went right back to the commotion out the window, a smile never leaving her face.

She tossed her napkin on the plate and abruptly stood. “Let’s go. I want to see more.”

Without waiting on him, she shoved back her chair and headed toward the exit. When she reached the stairs, she turned toward him, those green eyes sparkling. Her wavy hair trailed down her back and her lips curled up, teasing him. “Come on, Thrand.”

Oh yeah…He was in trouble because she
was
trouble.

It was all he could do to keep up with her as she strode down the street, tossing question after question, barely letting him answer before the next one was out.

“Man, I wish I had my camera,” she said in awe as they admired the ‘Batman’ building.

“Were you really into photography?” Hands in his pockets, he walked beside her. He had been in Nashville for years, so the new had worn off long ago. But seeing it through her eyes reminded him of how amazing this town was. How full of life.

“I guess. Got one at a garage sale for fun and realized…” She paused and studied the concrete. “Well, pictures are always there. They don’t disappear.”

She glanced up at him and he stopped in his tracks.

Pain flickered in her eyes before she turned away. It twisted up the ugly shame he had felt from the moment he had driven off. He’d disappeared on her. Without a word. He had tried to get her help but hadn’t told her good-bye.

Before it could begin to fester, something else caught her eye. She captured his arm and pulled him along with a hundred more questions.

“You know, we don’t have to see it all today. There will be more days,” he said on a laugh.

She spun around, walked backwards and faced him. “Maybe. But maybe not.”

He caught her hand to stop her from backing into someone and noticed the leather cuff. He stared at it knowing exactly who the cuff belonged to.

“Cameron,” he murmured. His fingers grazed over the worn leather. He’d buried the hurt, the loss of his best friend…until now. Like a grisly wound that never really healed, she was slowly peeling off the scab.

Resignation settled on her face.

“One day, he was there. The next, he wasn’t. Moments can’t be wasted because you never know when it might be your last. I don’t intend to lose another day. I’ve lost too many already.” Her hand gripped his tightly. “I’ve missed too much. I’ve a lot to make up for.”

There weren’t any tears, only a sharp intensity with every word.

He shoved his glasses up and reached out to brush a thumb down her cheek. “You’re right.”

“So take me to my potential new job. I want to get my life started.”

He flicked his glasses back down so she couldn’t read the grief that swam just at the surface. “You got it, Buzzkill.”

Without letting go of her hand, he led her down the street and around the corner to a place called Booseys Saloon.

*

Cassie could have
stayed mad about being dependent on Thrand and the whole situation, but it wasn’t in her. She’d shaken off the tension the moment she stepped on the bus, and promised herself she would just roll with it. Whatever happened, happened. She was here, not there, and that was good enough. Thrand had been a bonus she’d never imagined, but he wasn’t what she remembered.

He used to be edgy. Restless. One could barely keep up with him. He’d come by the nickname, Bedlam, for a reason. He still had the swagger that made people get out of his way and turned every female head, but now, he seemed comfortable in his own skin. The younger Thrand was belligerent and in your face. Not anymore. He was more subdued. At ease. But then he had been free and able to figure it out.

But she didn’t miss the anguish that crossed his face at the mention of Cam. He couldn’t hide that from her even though he tried.

They stopped at a bar called Booseys.

She watched Thrand fist-bump a huge, scary-looking dude sitting on a stool at the entrance. The man wore black leather and had wild, long, curly, black and gray hair. It didn’t help that he wore thick, heavy rings that would do some serious damage to anyone stupid enough to get in the way of his fists.

“Dooley, how’s it going, my man?”

“Hey, hey Thrand. What’s up?” Dooley turned his dark beady eyes on her. “What you got here? Jailbait?”

Thrand put his glasses on the back of his cap, his familiar grin in place once again.

“No, she’s legal. Just barely, but legal.” He winked at her, and she couldn’t stop from smiling back. “This is Cassie, a friend from my hometown.”

She extended her hand, and Dooley wrapped a surprisingly warm, soft hand around hers.

“Nice to meet you, missy. You should visit more often.” Dooley chuckled as he looked her up and down, making her feel self-conscious. He leaned over to Thrand. “She got an older sister who wants to visit?”

“Sorry, man, you’re outta luck. Hey, is Mick around?”

“Figures,” he grunted. “Yeah, he’s at the bar.”

“Nice to meet you, Dooley.” Cassie barely got out before Thrand took her hand and led her into the dimly lit interior. She would never tell him, but she loved the feel of his large calloused hand gripping hers.

The floors were
worn hardwood and the walls were nothing but red brick lined with pictures of everyone from George Strait and Hank Williams, to Jason Aldean and Lynyrd Skynyrd. A bar ran almost the entire left side of the room and tables and chairs were set randomly throughout the place. A raised stage was in the back with a dancefloor in front of it.

“Hiya, Thrand,” a pretty, very petite redhead said with a sweet southern drawl.

Cassie felt a lot like an Amazon standing next to the girl. She had to be almost a foot shorter than her and fifty pounds lighter.

“Hi, Lila. This is Cassie, a good friend of mine and, if luck holds, your new coworker.”

She beamed. “Thrand, you are a godsend. Rachel’s last day is Sunday.”

“Buzzkill, it looks like your luck just turned around. I’ll be right back.” He patted her ass and walked toward the bar.

She blinked then laughed. She supposed she deserved that.

“Please tell me there is a story behind a nickname like Buzzkill because I’d smack the first jerk to call me that.” Lila had her hand on her hip, bright blue eyes flashing.

Small she might be, but right then, Cassie knew the girl wouldn’t take shit from anyone. “Thrand was best friends with my brother, Cameron. I used to follow and hang out with them when they jammed in the garage. I was just a kid and it didn’t help with their efforts to hook up with girls. So he called me Buzzkill.”

Lila burst out laughing and eyed her up and down. “He’d have to be a moron to call you that now.”

She shrugged, heat filling her cheeks. “It’s been seven years since he’s seen me. I didn’t even know he was here when I came to town.”

Lila tilted her head and smirked. “And you just happened to run into him? In this town, bursting at the seams? That’s almost too coincidental.”

“You’re telling me. Weird as hell,” she muttered and glanced at Thrand, who was talking to some insanely tall guy behind the bar.

“Fate, baby girl, can be one strange bitch.”

“Cassie,” Thrand hollered and waved her over.

“Go. Tell Mick I’m getting you a shirt.” She smiled and practically skipped to the back room.

She slid onto a barstool next to Thrand. He skated a hand under her hair and rested it at the nape of her neck. He used to do that from time to time back home. Then it was innocent. At least for him it was. For her? Not so much and her reaction hadn’t changed a bit.

His hand sent a shock wave of awareness through her body. She tried to ignore the sensation as she was introduced to Mick, her new boss, who looked more like the leader of a biker gang, not the owner of a bar. He wore a black leather vest over a black shirt and his long, salt-and-pepper black hair was slicked back from his face. He sported a long, scraggly goatee and when he talked, she caught a glimpse of a gold tooth.

“Thrand said you’d been a waitress before?” Mick wiped out mugs.

She nodded. “Five years in a diner.”

“You good on a busy night?”

Thrand’s thumb brushed along the back of her neck lightly, almost absently, but she was hyper-aware of his every move. It made her skin hot and she shifted on her seat.

“Yeah, but small town diner busy, and Nashville busy, are probably two different things.”

Mick laughed. “I like her, Thrand. No nonsense.”

Thrand grinned, glanced at her, and instantly dropped his hand.

Her thinking was a lot clearer without his fingers doing a slow dance on her skin, but she’d choose his touch over clear thinking any day.

A woman walked up beside Mick and crooked an eyebrow. “I heard you hired a new girl without talking to me?”

Mick shrugged. “There she is.”

Cassie sat up a little straighter when the lady’s golden eyes landed on her. She felt like she was being measured or judged. She wasn’t sure which.

“I’m Cassie.”

“Dana. And you are how old?” She tilted her head, eyes narrowing.

“Twenty-one. As of yesterday.” Cassie fiddled with her leather cuff.

She laughed. “Well, that explains the lost look.”

Lila plopped on the stool beside her. “Here’s your shirt.”

Cassie held up the black shirt. Booseys was written in bold, jagged yellow and red font. But the neck was cut out wider, as were the short sleeves. She looked up at Dana, who was wearing the same shirt with sleeves and neck intact. “What happened to it?”

“Oh that. It’s all about the tips, and if you show a lil’ skin—” Lila shrugged as if that explained it all. “I know you’re going to make a killing.”

“I think she would do just fine without showing skin,” Thrand muttered a frown marring his face.

“What fun would that be?” Lila giggled and hopped up to help some new customers.

“So this your girl, Thrand?” Dana asked. Humor danced in those odd-colored eyes as she glanced from him to Cassie.

He rubbed his chin and shook his head. “Just a friend from home.”

“Sure. Cassie, you can start Monday at ten in the morning. That should give you some time to get used to the place before the crowd hits. We’ll fill out all the paperwork then.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate this.”

“We’ll just take it out of Thrand’s hide if it doesn’t work out.” Mick grinned.

“You wish, old man.” Thrand stood. “Ready, Buzzkill?”

When he held her hand as they walked out the door, her heart skipped a beat. It was hard to ignore all that Thrand had been to her when she was younger, even if he hadn’t known about it.

He’d been her protector right alongside Cameron. They were her heroes. With those two looking out for her, she didn’t have to worry about much. Except her dad.

Her worse fear…every time her dad made Cam pay for their mom’s desertion. She’d left when Cassie was six and never looked back.

Cam made sure she didn’t see much of the violence by locking her in a room or in a closet. It kept her from witnessing the blows but doors were thin, and she heard it all.

All the accusations.

Cussing.

Crashing.

Afterwards, she would see fresh holes in the walls and broken furniture. Worse were the bruises and cuts left on Cam.

She and Cam learned to stay away. Mostly in Thrand’s garage. He was the only one who befriended them in a town full of hypocrites. As the boys got lost in their jamming, she got lost with them. And totally lost in Thrand.

They were the odd trio.

Until Cam died.

The way Thrand made her feel now was a lot like walking on a razor’s edge. Confusing and tempting at the same time. He was all grown up and every inch the man she always thought he would be. Every time he looked her way, his crooked smirk appeared and the gray in his eyes darkened. That was all it took, and she was lost in him again.