1. Cassidy

cassidy

. . .

“ T hree fingers, please,” Travis grumbles, flopping into a barstool with a huff. He removes his Sapphire Lake Fire Department ballcap, rakes a hand through his hair, then replaces it, lowering the brim over his eyes.

I pull a lowball from the stack and pour a smidgen above three fingers of his favorite dark amber into the glass. “Rough twenty-four?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

Our small town hasn’t had a fire in months, I hope he didn’t lose someone on a medical call. I discreetly check my phone for missed calls—nothing from the hospital where I work third shift four nights a week. If it was an emergency, I would’ve been called in. Why is he so on edge?

“Hey, Linds! I’m taking five.” After untying my black half-apron, I place it next to the register, then round the mahogany bar to sit with Travis. “What’s going on?”

He sips his whiskey and lets out a defeated sigh. “It’s your brother. ”

“What?” I shriek, eyes wide. “What’s wrong with Caleb? Is he hurt? Did Pop tell you something? Is?—”

“Slow down, Cass,” Travis chuckles. “Cay is fine. I’m just bummed he missed another birthday.” He takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “Ever since I turned twenty-one, I’ve had to drink alone. I know what he’s doing for the Navy is important, but I miss my best friend.”

“I miss him, too,” I admit, placing my hand over his. “It’s your birthday?” He nods and takes another sip. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember, I’m the worst at keeping track of dates. If it makes you feel better, I flew to New York to see Ingrid for my twenty-first because I wanted to celebrate with her. But I forgot her birthday altogether, and she’s my best friend! I didn’t realize it until I saw people wishing her a happy birthday on social media. I still feel like an asshole.”

He huffs a small laugh. “You should probably invest in a planner.”

“I haven’t used one since college; I lose them.”

“Shouldn’t you get back to work?” I follow his gaze as he gestures to the nearly empty bar. When I look back at him, our eyes lock, and my stomach does the little whoosh thing it always has since I was in middle school—when cooties morphed into crushes.

“Nope,” I reply, popping the ‘p.’ “In fact… Lindsey! Mind if I take off? I’ll open for you tomorrow before my shift.”

“It’s slow. Go for it.” She shrugs and continues tidying behind the bar.

I shimmy to get comfortable on the stool. “Since we’re celebrating, what should I order? Maybe an Old Fashioned?”

“That’s an old man drink, Cass.” Travis struggles to hide his smile. I’ll take it considering he came in looking like he’s been listening to too much nineties alternative.

“Says the old man drinking whiskey neat on a Tuesday night.” I slip off the stool to make my drink, catching Travis’ headed gaze on me. He’s the town fuckboy and has the panty-melting glare down perfectly. Thankfully, I’m immune.

Oh, the lies I tell myself…

After I add a little splash whiskey to Travis’ glass, I join him again. “All right, gramps, a toast to not spending another birthday alone.”

I clink my glass with his, and as I’m about to take a sip, I still feel his eyes on me. The whooshing hasn’t subsided; it’s ramping up. One would think after decades of knowing each other, he wouldn’t have this effect on me. I take a deep breath, willing away the butterflies.

The deep breath was a mistake. Sitting this close to him, I can’t help noticing how delicious he smells—a mix of sweet citrus and something spicy like cinnamon. It reminds me of a simmering pot in the fall, or maybe even Christmas. Now I want to bake cookies, drink spiked cider while watching a movie, and maybe even curl up under a fluffy blanket with him… naked .

Fuck, where did that thought come from?

He’s my friend. Nothing more.

Setting down my drink, I still feel as if I’m under a microscope and blurt, “What?”

“Nothing.” He quickly looks away, still watching me from the corner of his eye.

After swirling the speared cherries in my drink for a moment, I take a sip, savoring the burn as it hits my throat. Unwarranted nerves overcome me. Travis is my brother’s best friend—he’s off-limits. We’re having a drink together. That’s all. Except, my hormones haven't received that message and my cheeks are heating as they always do around him.

Years ago, in high school, I made the mistake of dating one of Cay’s friends. When it ended, their friendship was ruined. Once the dust settled, Caleb and I made a pact to not date each other’s friends again. We’re eleven months apart, practically twins, and grew up with the same friends grade after grade. The pact to not fuck each other’s friends was necessary, especially with him not-so-secretly being in love with my best friend.

Granted, that was back in high school, but I could never date Travis, or any of Caleb’s friends, without talking to Cay first. He’s on a submarine somewhere, so permission isn’t an option.

Except we’re not in high school anymore. I’ll be twenty-four next month, haven’t had sex in almost a year— by myself with my vibrating toys doesn’t count —and Travis has been with enough women to know what he’s doing in bed. If ever there was a moment to say “fuck it,” this would be it.

One night, no strings attached is Travis’ specialty. I’ve poured drinks for his broken hearted fuck-du-jour women to know exactly what I would be getting into. It isn’t as if he would want more… and Cay would never need to know.

Fishing out the rogue cherry that escaped my spear, I pop it in my mouth, and after a moment ask, “Want to get out of here?” He’s mid-sip and sputters a cough. “Are you okay? Don’t make me Heimlich you if?—”

“What do you mean by ‘get out of here?’ Because when I say it, it means you’re coming home with me and riding my face until you’re begging for my cock. ”

“Travis!” I whisper-shout. “Someone might hear you.”

He finishes his whiskey and tosses down forty dollars on the bar. Offering his hand, he purrs, “If you want to get out of here, you’re driving.”

After taking a quick glance around the bar, I nod, and as I place my hand in his. A warm, fuzzy feeling tingles throughout my body; I love and hate it.

Travis leads me to his pickup and every part of me is screaming to run the other direction. Nothing good can come from fucking Travis… except mind blowing orgasms. If my brother ever found out, he’d murder Travis, regardless of whether or not I am a willing participant or not.

Meaningless sex. I can do this.