Mine to Keep (NOLA Knights #3) - Rhenna Morgan Page 0,34
He wore a suit like he’d been born in one and commanded everything and everyone around him like it was second nature. You just didn’t learn those things on the street.
Or did you?
Through the ancient speakers, the playlist she’d fired up two hours ago shifted from the driving kick of Five Finger Death Punch’s “Blue on Black” to the smooth intro of Coldplay’s “Arabesque.” All around her people talked, laughed and commiserated about the week they’d left behind and the weekend ahead.
But her brain couldn’t quite reboot. Couldn’t overcome the possibilities Cassie had planted.
Or you’re just too smart to buy it.
The snarky jab fueled by one too many experiences lashed hard and deep and left a stinging burn in its wake.
“We’re having a barbecue tomorrow,” Cassie said. “Some really good friends of ours from Dallas are flying in, and I think you’d like them a lot. I want you to consider coming over. Just hang out, eat some food and see what you think.”
Finally, her snark rallied. “You have friends flying in from Dallas? I don’t even have friends willing to drive from Desire to Tremé.”
Cassie gave her a sassy don’t-be-a-wiseass look. “Don’t even go there. One of the guys—Trevor—has a charter jet service, so we visit each other a lot. They’re the most down-to-earth people I’ve ever met. You’d actually love them.”
“You realize you just used down-to-earth and charter jet service right next to each other. That’s an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one.”
Cassie had the good grace to blush, but shrugged like she couldn’t help it. “I know it sounds weird, but if you’ll just give them a chance—come see for yourself—you’ll know I’m right.”
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow was a Saturday.
“I have to work the desk at the television station.” It came out the same way she’d grapple for a life vest in a cataclysmic flood. She shoved her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and tried not to shift her feet. “Plus, I gotta swing by here tomorrow night and help close.”
“Well, then, stop by in between. Just for an hour to say hello so I can prove I’m right.”
An hour.
That wasn’t too bad. She’d made it nearly six hours on Monday, and despite the fancy digs and clothes, she genuinely had felt comfortable most of the time. Maybe if she went for a little bit Cassie would leave things alone. “Let me think about it.”
The wry grin Cassie shot her said she knew perfectly well the catch phrase meant there was a 50/50 shot she’d bail, but she nodded anyway. “Fair enough. But I’m telling you—you’ll be shocked. I sure as heck was when I met them. And in the best way possible.”
She stood and dug around in her purse. “You remember where Sergei’s house is?”
“That’s kinda like forgetting where the moon is,” Bonnie said. “And if you’re fishing out money for a drink, then you can count me out for tomorrow.”
Cassie’s head snapped up. “But I got a drink.”
“And I pretty much run this place even if the owner doesn’t pay me enough to claim the job. If I can’t get a house drink for a friend who bent over backwards for me, then something’s pretty fucked up.” She tipped her head toward Roman and Kir, who had their eyes trained on the assholes slowly standing from their table. “Go. Get those two out of here before a Clash of the Titans remake kicks in at my front door.”
Cassie zigzagged a look between the two groups and clearly factored the same outcome Bonnie had because she snapped to attention. “Right. I’m on it.” She paused before she headed out. “Promise me you’ll think about it?”
Oh, she’d think about it. Acting on it was a whole different ballgame, but she owed Cassie some consideration at least. “Promise. Now go. Blood’s a bitch to clean up.”
With a giggle that was as bright as everything else about her, she hustled to the exit and strong-armed Kir and Roman out the front door.
They’d come to check on her.
Why that simple realization rattled her as hard as it did, she couldn’t say, but it left an unfamiliar warmth and comfort in its wake. She’d never met anyone quite like Cassie. Not growing up, or in the friendships she’d tried and failed to make living on her own. But there was something about her—an air that made you feel comfortable enough to be exactly who you were and assured there’d be zero judgment.