I scratch the back of my head. “Yeah. I’ve been working.”
“Deployed?”
“For a little while.”
She hums, then reaches out and lightly touches my arm. “Well. Maybe you can tell me about it sometime.”
Is that an invitation? Before I can respond, a heavy hand drops onto my shoulder. Hard. I jump, surprised, but I already know who that hand belongs to.
“Diego,” Knight says lightly, squeezing. “What a coincidence. Casey and I were just on our way out.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah. I’m just here to—”
“Nick,” Devin calls from behind the bar, setting down a big plastic bag with four Styrofoam boxes inside. “Order up.”
Knight pats my shoulder before I step away to grab the bag. Devin pushes the bag at me.
“Don’t let him scare you off,” she whispers with a wink.
I chuckle and grab the bag. Knight and Casey are already stepping through the door. I jog to catch up before it swings shut.
“Better get that back to the office,” Knight says pointedly, glancing at the bag. “I’m sure the guys are starved.”
“See you around, Nicholas,” Casey adds. “Don’t forget to check your pocket for extra nickels!”
“Huh?”
Knight chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Something our dad used to say when we were kids,” he explains.
We all get in our respective cars, Knight following me back to base. I sigh inwardly. One of these days, I’ll work up the courage to head back to the bar Casey works at so I can really talk to her.
Don’t forget to check your pocket for extra nickels!
What a weird thing to say—but also sort of cute. I smile. Then, when I slow to a stop at a red light, I stick my hand in my jacket pocket just for shits and grins.
Something papery that’s not exactly paper crinkles in my hand.
“What the—”
I pull out a small paper napkin—one of Devin’s The Draught bar napkins.
Casey’s name and number are scrawled on it.
“Holy shit,” I murmur, grinning.
I glance into the rearview. I can clearly see Knight sitting behind the wheel of his truck, staring straight ahead. I know he’s waiting for the light to change, but it feels like he’s staring right through me.
The light turns green, and I start forward.
I shouldn’t call Casey Knight.
But I’m going to anyway.
3
Casey
Thursday afternoon, I’m shopping at Sephora for some brand-new makeup items for my kit, anticipating the job in a couple of days. The bride belongs to a pretty well-to-do family and she mentioned that there very well may be government official-types in attendance, friends of her father’s. Not that that has anything to do with me, really, but it does make me want to work that much harder. It might allow me to book more jobs.
The idea of that raises a mixture of feelings inside me, but they’re mostly positive. There was a time when the thought of doing makeup professionally disgusted me to the point of actual, physical nausea. Now, I only feel like that when I think of working in Hollywood. And that hurts more than anything, because being a Hollywood makeup artist was my dream ever since I was about six years old.
“Shake it off,” I mutter to myself, and resume picking out makeup brushes.
A little explosion goes off at my hip, inside the cross-body purse I’m carrying. I shift my mesh shopping bag to my other hand and fish around inside for my phone.
Diego: Hi beautiful. How’s your day?
I can’t help it—I giggle like a little teenager at the text as my heart thumps hard and my cheeks heat. I can’t believe I have a crush like this, but I do. I have ever since Nicholas Diego came to the college bar with my brother and a couple other guys from the squad. He’s the youngest of the group, only about twenty-four, but he’s really smart and good at his job. But at over six feet, with broad shoulders and a running back’s body, dark hair and eyes and olive skin, he’s also hot as hell. He’s a hunky nerd. I don’t know if he knows how utterly good-looking he is, but I like that about him.
After I slipped him my number the other day, I received his first text a few hours later, to my surprise. I didn’t think he would. But he did, and we’ve been texting ever since for the past three days.
Casey: Just doing some shopping for that job I have on Saturday. How’s your day?
Diego: Ok. Busy. Was thinking of you.
And did I mention he’s so sweet?
Casey: How would you like to see me?
There’s a long pause. Then the trio of chat bubbles appears, disappears, appears again, disappears again.
I giggle again. Looks like Mr. Tech Wiz has been properly flummoxed.
Casey: Is that a hard question?
Diego: No! I mean, not a hard question.
Diego: I DO want to see you.
Diego: Just…I don’t think your brother would like it.
Casey: My brother doesn’t need to know. It’s my life. Meet me at España around 7.
I hold my breath, waiting.
Diego: Ok. See you then.
Diego: Can’t wait.
Getting out of the house to meet Nicholas is harder than I give it credit for. Usually, Alex and I eat dinner together when he gets home from work, unless I have to work at the bar. In preparation for the job on Saturday, I asked for the whole weekend off. I don’t think my boss liked that too much, but I don’t really care. I’m thinking about quitting anyway. I don’t really like serving tables, and some of the college guys get handsy, which brings back awful memories for me.
Anyway, I hear Alex come home as the garage door opens. I pause, leaning toward the mirror with a lip gloss tube in hand. It’s pretty clear I’m going out-out—I’m wearing a snug-fitting sweater, jeans, and boots, my hair is styled, and I’m wearing makeup. I don’t do this for the bar job, let alone to go run errands.
I’ll just tell him I’m going to get a few drinks with the girls, I tell myself firmly as I finish up with the lip gloss and spritz myself with perfume. Then I grab my jacket and purse and head downstairs.
Alex is in the kitchen, pulling out items to make dinner. I feel a little guilty—usually, I’m the one who cooks. That’s not because he expects it; my brother is letting me crash rent-free until I feel ready to leave, so I try to do my part by cooking meals and cleaning up.
“It’s a little chilly out, so I’m thinking chili tonight,” he says without looking up, setting a package of ground beef on the counter.
“Um, sounds good,” I reply. “Except I’m going out tonight for a little while.”
Alex looks over at me, noting my outfit. “Oh. Who are you going out with?”
“The girls,” I say boldly, though my insides shrivel with guilt. I hate lying, least of all to my brother. He’s my best friend. But I know the endless shit he would try to give me if I told him the truth, how much he’d try to “dad” me. Besides, I don’t want Nicholas to be negatively affected either. I don’t want to say anything until I know for sure where this is going.
Alex nods. “Okay. Are you going to be out late?”