Rough and Tumble

by Crystal Green

  “They’re waiting,” he said to Molly, making this as easy as possible. Next to him, Jimmy Beetles was sucking on his beer bottle, being way too interested in Cash’s business.

  She was tracing the peanut-dust trail on top of the table like she was trying to get ahold of some words that were escaping her, and Cash forced his heartbeat to slow. Fuckin’ good-byes.

  “Were you expecting something more from this visit?” he asked. “’Cause it looks like we’ve run out of time for anything besides debt clearing.”

  “I don’t know what I was expecting,” she said softly. He could barely hear her over the music, but the shape of the words on her mouth was obvious. Damn, that mouth. . . .

  Beetles chuckled, like he was enjoying seeing Cash trying to squirrel his way out of this. Usually, he was more careful about choosing his women. Convenience had always been a quality he appreciated. But Molly? She’d been once-in-a-lifetime, a lure he hadn’t been able to resist.

  Better to get this over with before she grew on him any more than she had. Things had gotten too intense back at the Pink Ladies. Too personal. Yeah, he hadn’t worked her out of his system yet, but there were other ways to scratch the itch she’d brought on. He’d become real good at finding distractions over the years because suffering over a woman wasn’t his style.

  But, for some reason, the longer she stayed, the harder this got.

  “You need to go, Molly P.,” he said, kicking back in his chair, showing her he was done.

  She picked at her skirt, and his damn-fool heart bent over backward. Was it his fault she didn’t know how to deal with a one-night stand?

  He went soft on her. “Remember the after-dark experience in this saloon last night? Tonight wouldn’t be any different.”

  Jimmy Beetles had his say. “Leighton’s gonna make my night. Little does he know I’ll be joining that backroom game. I’m gonna love to see his face when he gets a load of us.”

  As Beetles lightly punched one fingerless-gloved hand into the palm of the other, Cash was reminded of how Jimmy had wiped Leighton out during a game a month ago and had cried “cheater” loud and clear. He’d at least been sober during that game, and Beetles knew Leighton was definitely going to remember him. It remained to be seen how Cash would fare.

  Molly was wiping the peanut dust off the table now. Would lighting up a smoke chase her out of here?

  “Why don’t you go on,” he said. “Get a head start before sundown.”

  Get a head start before I change my mind.

  The stray thought unsettled him, but he stuck to his guns, even when Molly trained those mermaid-colored eyes on him.

  “Just answer one question for me,” she said, again, so low that he had trouble hearing her over the music.

  But he’d read her lips this time, too. He couldn’t stop staring at them, hungering for the feel of them on his own, imagining what it’d be like to have them all over his body as they lay in a real bed with sheets curled around them.

  Imagining what it might be like to have her with him for even longer than that.

  He didn’t have any time or inclination for those fantasies, though. Who in this saloon did?

  “What do you wanna know?” he asked her casually.

  She glanced toward her friends by the door. The little one, Sofia, was motioning to Molly, but she turned back to him, taking a deep breath then letting it out.

  “When you punched that man today,” she said, leaning toward him, probably so Beetles wouldn’t hear, “why did you do it?”

  What the hell kind of question was that? “I already told you—I didn’t like the way the asshole touched you or how he talked to you.”

  “Why else, Cash? Because I can’t help thinking that . . .” She trailed off.

  Holy shit, did she think there was another reason he’d pounded that man?

  His pulse jittered, because there had been another reason. A hundred of them, and they’d all converged on him during an emotional explosion that’d blindsided him, sending him out of his chair so he could throttle the guy.

  He’d already been smarting from Jesse telling him what to do about Leighton, and no one ordered Cash around—not his friends, not the government, not society. But, more than anything, there’d been a memory of a woman—frail and vulnerable, always needing his protection . . . him being all too willing to give it to her . . . him getting too invested every time she found herself in trouble and he had to come to her rescue . . .

  Old habits died hard. But the worst part of all was that Cash actually liked Molly, and he’d hated himself for bringing her into that club just to see how much she could take.

  As he stood from his chair, it protested over the floor. He looked down at Molly, her skin going pink, like she was embarrassed for even bringing up the subject. Like she’d been insulted once again by someone who made her feel bused into a school or degraded. And, this time, it’d been him.

  Definitely time for her to get out. “You need to go, Molly.”

  An uncomfortable moment pulled at the air—her sitting there watching him, her not going anywhere. For a second, he wondered if she was defying him, if she was going to challenge him on his bullshit and make him admit that he wanted her to stay, even for one more night, and then they could go their separate ways.

  But then she stood, as dignified as always. And when she held out her hand to shake his, he almost laughed, startled.

  “Thank you for everything,” she said in a clipped accountant voice, like she was about to close a ledger on him and start on a new one for someone else once he left her office. “It was . . . an experience.”

  As he stared at her hand, Jimmy Beetles’s voice interrupted.

  “Goddamn, Cash,” he said. “Surely you know what to do with a hand, as well as all the other parts of a woman.”

  Cash ignored Beetles, and when he paused a second longer, Molly rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand, making him shake. Cash didn’t even have time to enjoy the adrenalized bolt she always sent through him because she dropped his hand and let her arms rest at her sides.

  “It was good knowing you,” she said. “I do mean that.”

  And he could’ve sworn that she was going to say something else—he might’ve even been willing to hear it—but Jimmy Beetles had gotten out of his chair, too.

  There was good reason.

  Someone had entered the saloon, ushered in by the glare from the open doorway. Cash had just enough time to notice the whack of the ceiling fans overhead, the silence of Hooper and the boys and the tourists while they drank.

  As the door winged shut, Cash saw Leighton on the other side of the room, scanning the bar. He had black hair that spiked up from too much gel, a bolo tied over his red piped-yoke western shirt, a fat silver belt buckle holding up starchy jeans, and silver-tipped black cowboy boots. He also had a square chin capped by a dimple, but it didn’t make him look badass, just prancy, like a guy who wore too much cologne and thought he was king at cards.

  One out of two was true. Unfortunately, so was the fact that he’d gotten here long before he’d told Jesse he was coming for the game tonight.

  What were the odds he’d recognize Cash from that drunk poker game, when he’d accused him of cheating?

  Hooper and the boys were welcoming Leighton, slapping him on the back, drawing him toward the bar. And why not when they’d all be playing poker later, fleecing the clueless out-of-town dipshit once again?

  Jimmy Beetles kept thumping his fist into his other palm, watching Leighton laughing with the boys and looking around the rest of the room, seeing who else was here to fawn over him. He found Sofia and Arden, giving them some oily attention before he completed his inventory of the saloon.

  Then he spotted Cash.

  At first, Leighton frowned, like he was combing through his mental data banks, trying to place Cash. Bu
t then Jimmy Beetles laughed loudly, attracting Leighton’s focus.

  The guy’s face changed as he pointed at Beetles. “Son of a bitch!”

  Cash grabbed Molly’s arm. “Get out of here. I mean it.” Then he made eye contact with Sofia, jerking his chin toward the door.

  She was as practical as she’d proven to be before, and she pulled Arden outside as a few tourists gravitated toward the far side of the bar, away from Leighton, exchanging anxious glances. Behind the counter, Cash could see Kat reaching down to where she kept the shotgun and baseball bat.

  But Molly hadn’t gone anywhere—and maybe that was because, to get out the front door, she would’ve had to pass Leighton.

  As Beetles kept laughing obnoxiously, making smooching sounds and motioning Leighton to come on over and give him a welcome-home kiss, Cash knew what he had to do before Leighton recognized him, too. Nothing else mattered—not even the fact that everyone in the R&T would think he was chickenshit for deserting a conflict.

  He had to get Molly out of here.

  That became extraclear when Leighton began to stride across the floor, shouting at Beetles.

  “You owe me a lot of money, man!”

  As Beetles sprang toward Leighton with a whoop, right along with Hooper and the motorcycle enthusiasts at the bar, Cash pulled Molly toward the courtyard.

  ***

  Molly had gone through some craziness these past couple of days, but nothing even came close to this.

  As yells punched the air behind her—she could even hear Kat warning everyone to back off—she ran out of the saloon with Cash, through the courtyard door, and into the general-store entrance. Cash didn’t stop in there, though, even if the air was peaceful, a new-age western song playing, the bearded man behind the counter merely looking up from whatever he was reading and saying, “Afternoon, Cash.”

  “Lock up,” Cash said on his way out the front.

  Molly tried to catch her breath, but everything was happening so fast: speeding down the boardwalk, seeing Sofia and Arden already in the Prius with the motor running and Sofia hopping up and down in the driver’s seat, waving Molly to get over there. Arden even popped out of the sunroof.

  “Hurry, Molly!”

  Cash was still hauling her along, his fingers digging into her wrist.

  The saloon door opened, men stumbling out, including Leighton.

  “Campbell,” he said, coming toward them. “You think I don’t remember?”

  Shitshitshit! And the guy was raising something in his hand. A knife?

  Cash didn’t falter, yanking her the other way, and when she saw the Thunderbird glinting under the sun, her heart almost burst.

  She had just enough time to look behind her and see Kat wielding a baseball bat, coming up behind Leighton, ready to hit a home run at his back. Beetles was right behind her.

  Cash hadn’t locked the car door, and he dove inside the passenger side, bringing her with him. Molly had enough presence of mind to lock her door as he smoothly pulled out his keys and started the engine, then peeled out of the parking place and toward the road, wheels spinning.

  She turned around, looking through the back window to see Sofia and Arden tearing onto the road behind them, their wheels gaining traction on the blacktop.

  Were they safe? Or was there more coming?

  Cash’s voice was steady. “Seat belt, Molly.”

  Yeah. Right. Seat belt. She fumbled for it, still not believing what’d happened.

  But stress and nerves finally hit her. They’d fled a bar brawl. For real. Things like that actually happened in life, and there’d even been a guy who might’ve been pulling a weapon on Cash. A greasy criminal, a hood who wanted to cut and slice like they were on the mean streets.

  She started to laugh, just as she did whenever anxiety got to her. Bubbles of disbelief, blooping up through her lungs and out of her mouth. They overwhelmed her, and she doubled over, holding her stomach, tears leaking out of her eyes.

  Not a word from Cash, though, and when she glanced up at him through tear-smudged vision, she saw that he was smiling, one hand on the wheel, seat belt off and body slumped as if he were still sitting in the Rough & Tumble, ready to take a shot of whisky.

  “Was that . . . for real?” she asked between giggles.

  “Afraid so.”

  “That’s . . . your life? Seriously?”

  “Not all the time. Just whenever someone like Leighton shows up, all hot under the collar because me or Beetles supposedly wronged him. He’s just a cocky, terrible player.”

  “There’re other people who’re after you?” Good God.

  “My profession,” Cash said with a shrug. “It can hold the unexpected.”

  He was driving on the interstate toward the Strip, as if he was going to drop her off at the hotel again, then hit the road, as Jesse had advised him to.

  So it was going to be good-bye there, wasn’t it? He’d drive away and the adventure would be over. No more excitement, no more adrenaline, just a job interview in six days and a life without speed bumps.

  With a start, she realized that she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. For once, she didn’t care about anything but the present, not the job interview, not drinking mojitos by the pool, not playing it safe.

  “Keep driving,” she said, the words out of her mouth before she could check them.

  He didn’t answer at first, but his fingers wrapped around the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

  Mortification needled her. Did he want to dump her off, get rid of her? But what about today, when he’d seemed so ready to seduce her again before the shit had hit the fan in the Pink Ladies? What about the way he’d defended her, the way he’d looked at her on the way back to the hotel in the car when he thought she hadn’t noticed?

  He still wanted her, and she knew it.

  “I don’t want to go back,” she said. “It’s not time for that yet.”

  “It’s damn past time.” His jaw was tight. “I’m not going to Rough and Tumble tonight. Probably won’t be there for a while—not until this thing with Leighton blows over.”

  “You can just drop everything and leave like that?” she asked. “Sofia told me you’re house-sitting in Rough and Tumble and—”

  “My friend Boomer’s gonna understand, believe me.”

  She stared at the road ahead of them.

  So this was it. But, damn it all, she couldn’t accept that. One more night, she thought. And that would be it. Then back to life, back to reality.

  She fetched her phone from her purse, dialed Arden’s number, then waited for her to pick up.

  Can’t believe I’m doing this, she thought ecstatically. I’m doing this!

  Arden answered with a rebel yell. “Mary, mother of God, that was awesome!”

  Then Sofia’s voice. “You good in there, Mol?”

  “Tip-top.” She angled her body toward Cash, turning on her speakerphone so he could hear every word.

  Arden said, “I’m trying to convince Sofia, Miss Stick-Up-the-Butt, that we need some drinks to put out the flames after that. What do you say, Mol? And, I swear, I’ll stay miles away from the casino.” She barked out a laugh. “I can’t freaking believe we were just about to go all redneck in there! Hah!”

  Cash shook his head.

  Molly kept looking at him. “Actually, I have a date tonight.”

  After cocking an eyebrow, he looked out his driver’s window, then went back to peering out the windshield. “Molly . . .”

  She continued. “Would you guys mind? I wouldn’t even be out for too long, then we can party the rest of the night before we go home tomorrow.”

  Sofia’s voice came on. “You’ve got to be kidding, Molly.”

  “Just so you know,” she said, “you’re on speakerphone.” Boom! Argument blocker. “Also, rem
ember all that talk about getting back some mojo?”

  “Oh my God,” Sofia said. “This goes beyond mojo. There are so many reasons to get back home right now.”

  Arden rammed in. “Like what? I’m going to be a perfect girl. We’ll see a show tonight—I’ve got those free tickets to Jersey Boys. Please, Sof? Molly can meet us later, no gambling involved.”

  “I don’t . . .” Sofia started.

  “Mojo,” Arden said, and it held all kinds of meaning.

  “Mojo,” Molly repeated. Hell yeah, she was going to play that card with her friends, and Arden had better back her up, based on everything Molly had done for her.

  Cash didn’t respond the entire time. Maybe he wanted to hear how female friends operated. Or maybe he was planning on just dropping Molly off anyway.

  They’d see about that.

  “Sof . . .” Molly said.

  “Okay.” Sofia sounded beaten, but then she perked up. “It’s highly doubtful that the psycho at the saloon would track us down on the Strip anyway. Right?”

  Arden said, “Like he’s gonna hunt us down for just being there. Besides . . . ‘Walk Like a Man,’ Sof. ‘Big Girls Don’t Cry.’ This is gonna be the best night.”

  Molly did an inner fist pump. “Thanks! See you later?”

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Arden said.

  Sofia ended the call. “You’re both incorrigible.”

  Molly signed off and grinned at Cash until he looked over at her. Her blood twirled, causing friction in her veins.

  He sighed. “You should’ve gone to the show with them.”

  “Why? Can’t you find anything more entertaining for me to do?”

  He sent her one of those steamy green-eyed looks—the kind that seemed to go on forever, like a long road that wound toward the horizon.