Wild Forces: A Friends to Lovers Romance (O-Town Book 2) by Karen Renee (inspirational novels .txt) 📗

I shook my head and moved to the cabinet where we kept the Crown Royal. As I grabbed the liquor, I pulled down two matching glasses.

“Uh, Gabe. It’s the middle of the day,” Cassie said from the breakfast bar.

I put everything in front of her. “Your cat died, your sister told you in a bitchy way –even if you didn’t say that yourself, I’m sure it was– and all of that pisses me off. So, if ever there was a time to day-drink, I’d say this is it.”

Her lips twisted, and I didn’t know why I never noticed how damn plump they were until now. No, that wasn’t true. I’d noticed when Brenden and the other assholes made that bet with me. Seemed I had been shoving that to the back of my mind for the past two and a half years. Clint’s words came back to me. ‘The truth comes out when you’re drunk.’ I wasn’t even drunk this time and I wanted to make a pass at her.

My timing would be shit again if I did that. Dammit.

She shrugged. “You’re right. But only one. I’m a light-weight and I’ve never had straight whiskey.”

I grinned and poured a finger into both glasses. “Tell me something I don’t know, Daughtry.”

She picked up her glass, sniffed it and her nose wrinkled. I held my glass aloft and she raised hers.

The door unlocked and opened just as I said, “To Mom.”

“To Mom,” she replied.

Brock closed the door and crossed his arms on his chest. “Cassie is a miracle worker after all. She’s got you toasting our mother.”

Cassie had taken a sip of her drink and coughed immediately. She shook her head at Brock. “No. Not your mother. My cat named Mom.”

“Who died today,” I added.

Brock shook his head and moved toward his room. “I’m sorry to hear that, Cassie. Losing a pet is always rough.”

She pressed her lips together, nodded, and took in a deep breath as tears welled in her eyes.

I clinked my glass against hers. “Drink up. No more tears, nerd. Tell me about your Mom.”

She chuckled, but it sounded forced. “I didn’t know there were rules to day-drinking, Gabe. And, just to say, you need to put something in this glass for me, because no way can I down another sip of this stuff.”

I winked. “How are we friends, again?”

With the fridge door open, I said, “Well, you’re gonna have to be good with ginger ale, because everything else we have in here doesn’t mix with Crown.”

She heaved a sigh, and I grinned as I took a can of ginger ale to her.

I leaned over the counter toward her. “Why so glum, chum?”

“You have to ask?”

I turned my head to the side. “Shit.”

Shoving away from the counter, I popped the top on the ginger ale, and poured some into her glass. “Sorry, Cassie-Cass. I didn’t even think before I asked that. I just figured you were tore up about having to endure Canada Dry with your Crown Royal.”

Her eyes were bright, but she smiled. “It’s okay, Gabe. In some ways, my damn sister was right.”

My entire torso reared back at that. “No. Not buyin’ that, Cassie.”

She chuckled, and pride swelled in my chest.

“Let me explain. She said, if it mattered so much to me, I would’ve rented a place where I could’ve kept Mom with me, but I didn’t. So, I can’t expect people to know my cat died, because none of my neighbors would know I even have a cat. Hell, I doubt Kaylee knew I had a cat.”

I set the ginger ale to the side, then folded my arms onto the counter, leaning my weight onto them. It did not escape my notice that Cassie’s eyes were riveted to my forearms.

“Honey. None of that shit matters. Whether people know you have a cat is irrelevant. Your heart is broken, that’s plain to see. Your sister is not right. Not even a little bit. Whether your cat died under your watch or your parents’ is neither here nor there. Going out of her way to inflict that kind of heartache is fuckin’ bullshit.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, stroking my bicep.

I ground my teeth together because I wanted to lean into that touch, but couldn’t. She couldn’t think I was taking advantage of her when I made my move, and even if she was semi-sober, she was vulnerable because of her cat. Women were masters at calling out manipulation. I had to bide my time. Again. Having done it before, I could damn sure do it this time.

She took a huge sip of her Crown and ginger, putting the glass down with a thunk.

“I think my sister’s marriage is fake,” she announced.

I straightened from the counter, shaking my head. “Well, shit, Daughtry. Ain’t no softballs with you, are there?”

“Softballs?” she squinted at me.

I grinned. “You’re only pitching hardballs, honey. Or curve balls, depending on your outlook.”

Her head tilted while I poured more whisky into my glass.

“What’re you talking about, Gabey-Gabe?”

“A fake marriage is heavy stuff, and you just laid it right out there like it was nothin’. That’s not a softball approach to our conversation. But that’s okay. Why do you think her marriage is fake?”

She grinned at me with a sly look in her eye. “She doesn’t want me spending the night at my parents’ house this weekend. That shouldn’t matter, Gabe. I should be able to sneak in there at three a.m. and not have to worry that someone will be in my bed. Yet, I suspect she and Rafael don’t share a bed. I don’t understand that. She’s in her thirties –late thirties, but still– women hit their sexual peaks in their thirties, I hear. He shouldn’t be sleeping separate from her. Don’t you think?”

I swallowed my urge to laugh. “Uh, I really don’t know, Cassie. There some other reason you think their marriage is fake?”

She shrugged and drank the last of her drink. “Nothing except the fact Raphael is the nicest guy