Rough and Tumble (14 page)

“What's the difference?”

“Food on the table and gas in the car. And good tips for those who deserve them.”

Hmm.

“Molly, I've got friends who'd tell me if I was crossing any lines. Believe that. And I've already mentioned that there're signs with
your
friend that need some attention.”

He was right. It wasn't as if he was her responsibility anyway. If he wanted to gamble, he could gamble. After today, she'd never see him again. But Arden?

Arden was hers. It'd been that way since college, when they'd propped each other up and become family, along with Sofia.

Molly felt a hollowness in her chest, but she wasn't sure of the reason. Because she wouldn't see Cash after this? Couldn't be.

But that didn't mean she wouldn't welcome what he had to say before he drove off into the sunset.

“What do you recommend Sof and I do with Arden?” Molly asked.

Cash lowered his voice. “Having her take responsibility would be a good start, and I say that as a guy who's been taking advantage of how you've been covering for Arden. I'm thankful for all her mistakes, but the next guy she loses to might not be so nice.”

The way he said it tugged at Molly. It was almost as if he was the kind of man who ached for what he didn't have, and he realized that the only reason he'd had Molly was because of Arden's gambling. There was something behind the green of his eyes—something painful.

Once again, he seemed to read her curiosity, and he began to walk toward a swinging gate that led to the parking lot.

“We'll talk about it in the car after I pick you up an In-N-Out burger, ,” he said, opening the gate. “Although there're much more exciting things I'd rather be doing in the T-bird.”

She didn't know what to say. So this was it? No funny stuff? No driving off the road and turning off the engine so he could have one more shot at her?

Why had he brought her to lunch if he hadn't wanted to . . . Hadn't been planning on . . . ?

Confused, Molly walked toward the open gate, getting near enough to him so she felt her skin prickle in his presence. She'd had enough last night and, obviously, he had, too.

And she kept repeating that on the walk to the Thunderbird.

***

Later that afternoon, Sofia sat with Arden and Molly in her Prius in front of the Rough & Tumble, the sun filtering through the windshield and competing with the running air conditioner.

“You good?” Sofia asked Arden.

Arden offered a thumbs-up before she reclined against the headrest, her short red hair slicked back. Sofia looked in the rearview mirror, connecting gazes with Molly in the backseat.

You ready for this?
Sofia thought.

Molly shot her a thumbs-up that matched Arden's.

Sofia felt pretty good about this plan Molly had come up with while she'd been with Cash—better than she had about anything else on this trip. It was just that Molly had been incredibly tight-lipped about everything when it came to their new gambler friend, including their time together this afternoon. Cash had taken Molly to a Tex-Mex place to sort out the details of Arden's problem. It seemed like Cash had some perspective on gambling addictions, although Molly hadn't gone into details when she'd gotten back to the hotel, but how weird was it that Cash had taken Molly out to play counselor? Talk about totally misreading a guy.

After Molly had gotten back from meeting him, she'd sat with Sofia and Arden in the room. That was when Arden had shared with Molly what she'd told Sofia when they'd been at the pool, finding a patch of shade and relaxing on loungers. She'd admitted that she'd gotten too enthusiastic about the gambling lately, but she'd stop. It'd only been during the past year she'd started to go to more poker games and Harrah's in San Diego, racking up the comp points she'd been using for this trip. When Molly had suggested that Arden actually be responsible for handing Jimmy Beetles the money she owed instead of staying hidden away from him and the situation she'd created, Sofia had been all for it. Arden had agreed, too, thank God.

Right now, Cash was even inside the Rough & Tumble, ready and willing to facilitate the meeting.

Turning off the car, Sofia took one more glance at Molly. She'd changed somehow . . . even within a day. Her cheeks were pink, making her green-blue eyes gleam, a secretive smile capturing her mouth every so often. And her hair . . . not only was it down around her shoulders, but it was big. Or maybe that wasn't the word. Big
ger
. Freer. Like it wasn't going to stick to any rules anymore.

But hadn't that been the point of this trip? To get Molly's mojo going?

When exactly had that happened, though?

As Sofia opened her door and got out, she wasn't sure she knew either of her friends all that well right now. Molly was keeping things to herself, and Sofia had absolutely
no
idea who Arden was or how she could've hidden a gambling problem from her two best friends.

Sofia locked the car after everyone had climbed out. She didn't even freak at the sight of the motorcycles in front of the saloon. Been there, done that, whoopee-ding-dong in comparison to everything else that'd been happening lately. She was
so
going to warn everyone about this place on her blog.

She led the way to the door, opening it to a rush of rock music and the same old crowd at the bar from yesterday.

“Little girl!” called Hooper, Arden's handlebar-mustached poker card dealer.

The rest of the teddy bear biker contingent welcomed them, and Sofia waved before she walked with purpose over to the other side of the room, where Cash was sitting with a scummy biker wearing a blue bandana and sunglasses on his head.

Yuck. Must be Jimmy Beetles.

Sofia barely noticed Cash's leisurely look at Molly as Arden came to her side, her arm touching Sofia's.

She pressed against Arden, too.
I've got your back
.

Molly didn't seem to notice the whole stand-and-be-strong thing, because she slid into a seat next to Cash. They made an odd but striking sight—him with his scruffy hair and stubble and who-cares wardrobe, her with a fashionable sundress and Nordstrom sandals.

Why were they about ten times more relaxed around each other than they'd been yesterday?

No
, Sofia thought. No way anything had happened between them. That wasn't Molly, and she'd been telling herself so the entire day.

Or maybe . . .

When Jimmy Beetles started to get out of his chair to shake Arden's hand in greeting, Sofia linked arms with Arden and pulled her back from the table.

Jimmy Beetles laughed and sat down. “I get it. All business. Sorry that losing these bills is gonna hurt so much, babe.”

Arden's arm muscle clenched, and Sofia held on to her.

Cash was as mellow as ever. “How about you stop giving her a hard time, Jimmy? They need to be out of here before the sundown crowd shows up.”

“
You'll
be around to benefit from Leighton's bad play, though, right? That is, if he can remember your face. He was real wasted that night.”

Cash gave him an extralong look, as if he was telling him an unqualified
Who cares?

Sofia didn't know who Leighton was, but she wanted to leave as much as Cash wanted them to go. She leaned against Arden, urging her to give him the money already.

Arden did Sofia proud, reaching into the front pocket of her denim skirt and stepping forward in those cowboy boots she liked to wear. She handed a wad of bills—mostly Cash's—to the biker.

“Every dollar is there,” she said.

Jimmy Beetles began to count it out. It took him a few minutes, and Sofia wondered if he was being stupid, flashing his money around. But she also wondered if this scenario hadn't happened before because no one around them seemed to notice except for a few tourists at the bar.

He finished and smirked at Arden before stuffing the wad in his sleeveless leather jacket pocket. “Did you hear about the game going on tonight in the backroom with Leighton? He sucks as a player, and you're sure to score some money back from him.”

Arden stuffed her hands in her front pockets, pulling at Sofia's linked arm. When Sofia glanced at her face, her teeth were gritted, like she was resisting the lure of a game. Molly and Sofia looked at each other.

Damn Jimmy Beetles.

Cash obviously thought so, too, because he said, “Knock it off, Beetles.”

The other man let out a belly laugh. “I had to try. Damn, is this a tough room or what? Then again, I wouldn't be laughing either if I lost all that money to me.”

Arden spoke up. “It's not going to happen again. Ever.”

“Sure, sweet-ass,” Jimmy said. “You can tell me that when you're back here tonight. Hell, if you weren't a gambling gal, you wouldn't have bet the farm on that poker or baseball game.”

Arden whirled around with Sofia still connected to her, going for the door.

Sofia was pissed. “He could've been nicer about that.” When she realized Molly wasn't next to them, she looked behind her to see where their friend was.

Much to her surprise, Molly was still at the table, a stricken expression on her face.

Why? Dang it, they needed to leave the Rough & Tumble, pack up their room, and put Vegas behind them so Arden wouldn't be so tempted by the gaming.

But when Molly looked at Cash and he looked at her, the truth kicked at Sofia like a stubborn mule that'd just been untied.

Maybe Molly had become an even bigger stranger than Arden.

Cash wasn't sure if he was seeing straight.

Molly's friends were waiting for her near the door, but she hadn't gotten out of her seat yet. Was there some sort of important good-bye she needed to say to him?

That had to be what she was thinking—there was no way she was hesitating because she wanted to stay here with him. Molly had better things to get back to, and he'd only been one item on her Vegas to-do list. That's all. More to the point, though, Cash didn't like women who couldn't get up and go. Good-byes were a pain in the ass. It'd been that way for years, ever since a certain good-bye had almost taken him down, but that didn't matter anymore. He wouldn't let it.

“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. But 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.