FUEL (DirtSlap Series Book 1) Read Free Page B

else caught her eye. She captured his arm and pulled him along with a hundred more questions.
    “You know, we don’t have to see it all today. There will be more days,” he said on a laugh.
    She spun around, walked backwards and faced him. “Maybe. But maybe not.”
    He caught her hand to stop her from backing into someone and noticed the leather cuff. He stared at it knowing exactly who the cuff belonged to.
    “Cameron,” he murmured. His fingers grazed over the worn leather. He’d buried the hurt, the loss of his best friend…until now. Like a grisly wound that never really healed, she was slowly peeling off the scab.
    Resignation settled on her face.
    “One day, he was there. The next, he wasn’t. Moments can’t be wasted because you never know when it might be your last. I don’t intend to lose another day. I’ve lost too many already.” Her hand gripped his tightly. “I’ve missed too much. I’ve a lot to make up for.”
    There weren’t any tears, only a sharp intensity with every word.
    He shoved his glasses up and reached out to brush a thumb down her cheek. “You’re right.”
    “So take me to my potential new job. I want to get my life started.”
    He flicked his glasses back down so she couldn’t read the grief that swam just at the surface. “You got it, Buzzkill.”
    Without letting go of her hand, he led her down the street and around the corner to a place called Booseys Saloon.
    *
    Cassie could have stayed mad about being dependent on Thrand and the whole situation, but it wasn’t in her. She’d shaken off the tension the moment she stepped on the bus, and promised herself she would just roll with it. Whatever happened, happened. She was here, not there, and that was good enough. Thrand had been a bonus she’d never imagined, but he wasn’t what she remembered.
    He used to be edgy. Restless. One could barely keep up with him. He’d come by the nickname, Bedlam, for a reason. He still had the swagger that made people get out of his way and turned every female head, but now, he seemed comfortable in his own skin. The younger Thrand was belligerent and in your face. Not anymore. He was more subdued. At ease. But then he had been free and able to figure it out.
    But she didn’t miss the anguish that crossed his face at the mention of Cam. He couldn’t hide that from her even though he tried.
    They stopped at a bar called Booseys.
    She watched Thrand fist-bump a huge, scary-looking dude sitting on a stool at the entrance. The man wore black leather and had wild, long, curly, black and gray hair. It didn’t help that he wore thick, heavy rings that would do some serious damage to anyone stupid enough to get in the way of his fists.
    “Dooley, how’s it going, my man?”
    “Hey, hey Thrand. What’s up?” Dooley turned his dark beady eyes on her. “What you got here? Jailbait?”
    Thrand put his glasses on the back of his cap, his familiar grin in place once again.
    “No, she’s legal. Just barely, but legal.” He winked at her, and she couldn’t stop from smiling back. “This is Cassie, a friend from my hometown.”
    She extended her hand, and Dooley wrapped a surprisingly warm, soft hand around hers.
    “Nice to meet you, missy. You should visit more often.” Dooley chuckled as he looked her up and down, making her feel self-conscious. He leaned over to Thrand. “She got an older sister who wants to visit?”
    “Sorry, man, you’re outta luck. Hey, is Mick around?”
    “Figures,” he grunted. “Yeah, he’s at the bar.”
    “Nice to meet you, Dooley.” Cassie barely got out before Thrand took her hand and led her into the dimly lit interior. She would never tell him, but she loved the feel of his large calloused hand gripping hers.
    The floors were worn hardwood and the walls were nothing but red brick lined with pictures of everyone from George Strait and Hank Williams, to Jason Aldean and Lynyrd Skynyrd. A bar ran almost the entire left side of the room and tables