Not What It Seems (Escape to Alaska Trilogy) (9 page)

“I absolutely refuse to consider the idea of dinner with someone named Chief Rain Cloud. What is your real name?”

The native fellow chucked. “Allow me to introduce myself. The name is Randy Rock. Now which name do you prefer…Rain Cloud or Rock?”

“Rock? I heard that surname during one of my tours downtown. Are you related to the fellow who started the newspaper
Tundra Times
?” asked Cassidy.

“One of my uncles.”

“Very interesting. I’m looking forward to our evening out, Mr. Rock. Give me a call soon. The number’s in the book under my housemate Patricia Graham.” Cassidy spotted Clayton advancing toward them.

“I just might do that, Cassidy.” Randy Rock nodded and smiled.

“Nice to meet you.” She turned on her heel and swung past Clayton on her way to the staff room.

*

“Sorry that took so long.” Clayton stood, arms crossed, and feet planted in a wide stance. “What were you and Cassidy discussing?”

“Nothing much. A little of this, a little of that.” Randy tugged his guitar strap over his head, settled it on his shoulder.

“Did she leave in a huff, as usual?”

“Nope. She suggested I phone her and ask her out to dinner.” Randy’s expression remained unchanged.

“Right. Just tell me to mind my own business. Don’t resort to making stuff up,” muttered Clayton.

Randy turned on the microphone and smiled. “Good evening, folks. My name’s Randy Rock. Here’s a tune for you originally sung by the man in black.” The native singer started his set singing about prison blues.

Rock’s reluctance to volunteer any insight into where his conversation with Cassidy had led raised Clayton’s suspicions. What common interests would the two of them find to discuss? When nothing immediately popped into his mind, Clayton decided his friend was just playing with him. He’d seldom seen Randy with a woman. At one time, he’d even considered the possibility the guy was gay.

Ask Cassidy out to dinner?

As if that would happen.

Chapter 8

What was it with Alaskan men?

Cassidy had learned that at one time the ratio of single guys to single women was some ridiculous statistic like ten men to one woman. Even at two to one, shouldn’t either Clayton or Randy have jumped at the chance to ask her out to dinner? Okay, technically she’d asked them. But neither of them had acted on her almost brazen proposition.

Cassidy hadn’t dated anyone since the Jonathan Ward fiasco initiated at her father’s insistence, and she hadn’t heard from Randy Rock for a full two weeks. She’d almost given up hope of resurrecting her social life. And then Randy called Wednesday morning and asked her out to dinner Friday night.

Today was Friday, and she looked forward to the evening out. She’d checked her watch every fifteen minutes for the final two hours of her shift. Time dragged by at a snail’s pace while she completed the day’s work. Finally, six o’clock rolled around, and she raced into the staff locker room to change, touch up her makeup, and fluff her hair before her date arrived.

Cassidy’s stomach flip-flopped in anticipation.

She breathed deeply, attempting to calm her silly schoolgirl nerves while she undressed and tossed her blouse and denim skirt into her locker. Off came the cowboy boots next. She’d forgone wearing socks to avoid elastic marks on her legs. She stuffed her cowboy hat onto the top shelf and grabbed the plastic garment bag off the locker’s interior metal hook.

The sleeveless little black Vera Wang dress she’d bought on sale last Boxing Day slipped smoothly over her head. She peeked into the floor-length mirror attached to the locker room door. Vera’s creation fit her slim body perfectly, hugging her curves in all the right places. The V-neck tastefully displayed her cleavage, and the slightly scalloped hem floated about her legs enticingly.

“If Randy Rock’s heart doesn’t stop when he sees me in this dress, I’ll eat it,” she whispered aloud.

Black high-heeled sandals, diamond studs, and a single strand of pearls completed her outfit. She dug a brush and can of hairspray out of her purse and performed magic on curls crushed by a cowboy hat for the past eight hours. She retouched her cheeks with blush, carefully reapplied pink lipstick, and then added smoky gray eye shadow and another layer of mascara to complete the look. Satisfied with the image that reflected back at her, she whispered, “Here goes nothing.”

Just as Cassidy stuffed the garment bag inside her locker and slammed the tinny locker door shut, Sherry charged into the locker room. “Hi Cassidy, I’m late for my…” Sherry stood, speechless.

“Hi, Sherry. You muttered something about running late?” Cassidy dropped her lipstick into her small black silk evening purse and closed it.

“It is you in there, right?” Sherry motioned for Cassidy to turn in a circle for her. “Wow! That is some dress!”

“Thank you. A little number I purchased months ago, but it seemed perfect for tonight.” Cassidy grinned and curtsied playfully.

“That’s right. Randy’s taking you out to dinner tonight.” Sherry whistled. “I can’t wait to see his face.

“Gotta go.” Cassidy grabbed her black trench coat off the coat rack and folded it over her arm. “Don’t wait up,” she called playfully on her way out to the bar to wait for her date.

Cassidy noticed that Clayton almost dropped the liquor bottle he was holding when she strolled into the bar, and then he just gawked at her. Well, at least the dress achieved the desired effect on one man, she thought. For a second, she wished he was the man she was waiting for. Well, he’d blown his chance.

Clayton appeared to have recovered and asked, “Going somewhere with a girlfriend tonight?”

“Nope.” Cassidy winked. “I have a date.”

“A date? I’m a little surprised. You usually just head home after your shifts.” Clayton swiped a damp towel across the counter in front of Cassidy, and then wiped the area dry with a second cloth.

Cassidy tossed her coat on the bar top, sat ladylike on the barstool, and placed her evening bag in front of her.

After a trio of fellows paid their tab at the counter and left, Cassidy asked, “Clayton, is the idea of me dating really that surprising?”

Scowling, Clayton cleared away the mess the fellows left behind and vigorously wiped the countertop. “Remember, I warned you. The owner fires waitresses who date customers.”

“I’m not dating a customer,” spat Cassidy. “I’m capable of attracting a man’s attention without accepting the unwanted overtures of drunken bar patrons.”

Cassidy silently stewed. Did Clayton Morrison and his overblown ego think so little of her? “You, my friend, refused my offer to spend a pleasant evening together over dinner. Ergo, my personal life is none of your business.”

“As long as we understand each other.” Clayton stood, frowning, arms crossed.

At that moment, the main entrance door swung open. Anticipating her date’s arrival, Cassidy’s eyes migrated in that direction. Clayton’s eyes followed.

Randy Rock crossed the threshold, spotted her seated at the bar, and smiled warmly. Cassidy’s heart fluttered unexpectedly inside her chest. The handsome man slowly strolled toward her wearing a perfectly-tailored dark blue suit, pale gray and blue striped shirt, solid medium blue tie, polished black leather shoes, and a wide grin. Two perfect braids hung over his shoulders. When he stepped up beside her, she caught a whiff of the same male cologne which she again recognized but still couldn’t put a name to.

“Hi.” Cassidy couldn’t contain her smile.

“Hi yourself,” answered Randy.

His eyes roamed over her entire body from her sandals clear up to the diamond studs, and then he whistled in approval, low and slow.

Cassidy hopped off the barstool and similarly scanned her date from head to toe.

Randy slowly turned in a complete circle, grinning broadly. “Donned my best suit, and splashed on some ‘white-man-smell-good-lotion’. Do I pass inspection?”

“Definitely.” Cassidy grabbed her evening bag off the countertop. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you very much, Miss Du Pont.”

“Have you picked out a restaurant?”

“Yes, I have. And I’m hoping there aren’t too many old gentlemen eating at Endless Nights tonight.” Randy Rock reached for her coat and helped her into it.

“And why is that?” asked Cassidy.

“When you stroll in wearing that dress, some of those old geysers might swallow their dentures.” Randy whistled again.

Cassidy laughed. “Mother insisted a lady could never go wrong wearing a little black dress and pearls.”

“That’s what we Native people call a wise elder.” Randy kissed her on the forehead.

Cassidy stiffened slightly when Randy leaned toward her, but the moment his warm lips brushed her skin she relaxed. Jonathan Ward had never kissed her so tenderly or created such a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach during their entire three months of dinners, movies and dancing. Not even once.

*

“So, Chief, you’re her date tonight?”

Clayton glared at his friend. He recalled brushing off Randy’s comment concerning Cassidy’s request that he ask her out to dinner. Should he have taken the comment more seriously? He couldn’t put his finger on any specific reason why the idea of the two of them dating bothered him. But for some reason, the idea didn’t sit well with him.

“Yes, sir.” Randy moved his hand to Cassidy’s back. “I’m the lucky fellow.”

Clayton gritted his teeth.

“Cassidy, I warned you. The waitresses are not allowed to date the customers.” Clayton emphasized his statement by wagging his finger at her.

Randy pointed at the stage, grinning. “White Boy, you hired me to sing here every week and that qualifies me as staff, not a customer.”

In Clayton’s opinion, he’d only offered Randy an opportunity to entertain folks with no money exchanged. Did free drinks, however, constitute an agreement that could be construed as employment? Clayton opened his mouth to argue the ‘hired’ part, and then thought better of it.

“Correct.” Cassidy stared down Clayton, daring him to disagree. “Although your arrangement with Mr. Rock is verbal in nature, the mutual agreement remains valid and binding on both parties. Furthermore, although no money changes hands, Randy receives complimentary drinks on evenings when he performs. Thus, he receives consideration in return for providing a service, namely entertainment. He’s staff!”

Clayton glowered at Cassidy. Had she read his bloody mind? She’d presented her case convincingly enough: succinct wording, spoken with conviction and confidence. Hell, the damn woman could hold her own in a court of law if she set her mind to it.

“Are you ready to go?” asked Randy.

“Anytime you are.” Cassidy smiled up at her tall date.

“Then we’re off.”

As she headed toward the front entrance, Cassidy called over her shoulder, “Goodnight, Clayton. See you tomorrow.”

“Don’t wait up, White Boy. I’ve no intention of bringing Cinderella home before midnight.” Randy grinned wickedly, bobbed his eyebrows, and then closed the door behind them.

A full minute passed before Clayton realized he still stood with his mouth agape in the middle of the room. He glanced across at Terry, noticed the amused expression on the bouncer’s face, and realized his friend witnessed the entire exchange.

“Okay. So Cassidy hasn’t become acquainted with a lot of people in town yet. But you’d imagine someone as intelligent and attractive as Cassidy would govern her social life by higher standards. The man wears his hair in braids, for God’s sake.” Clayton kicked a chair on his way back behind the bar.

Terry gave no reply.

“Randy just joked about that Cinderella midnight stuff, right?” Clayton glared at the bouncer. “After all, it’s only their first date. Isn’t it?”

Terry remained silent.

“Well, isn’t it?”

Terry shook his head, muttered something about a green-eyed monster, and strode across the floor to check on a table of increasingly noisy oilfield workers.

The remainder of the evening dragged while Clayton constantly worried about Cassidy and Randy. Were they finished the appetizers yet? Had the waitress served their entrees? Had desserts been ordered yet? How many drinks had she consumed?

Suddenly, he felt like a damn fool. “I’m thinking like a father for Pete’s sake,” he muttered aloud. What did he care that Cassidy had gone out to dinner? Rock seemed respectful of women, honorable, gentlemanly. The guy never overindulged, even when the drinks were free. Randy certainly wouldn’t take advantage of her. Would he?

Forget it, he decided. They would enjoy dinner, Randy would drive her home, and they’d exchange their goodnights. Cassidy would be home safe in her bed, alone, well before midnight, regardless of what Randy had alluded to before they exited the bar.

“Oh hell,” he muttered aloud. Rock wouldn’t kiss her goodnight, would he? Clayton’s fists clenched when images of Randy and Cassidy sharing a steamy goodnight kiss popped into his mind.

While he mixed a spicy Caesar, his mind continued to work overtime. Maybe he should swing by Endless Nights for a quick bite to eat. He glanced at the wall clock. Ten thirty. Hell, they’d probably finished dinner and departed the restaurant long ago. And Cassidy would be at home, safe and sound.

Unless they decided to take in a movie.

Or enjoy a leisurely summer night drive.

Or hit a night spot.

Forget it, he decided again. Cassidy wasn’t his kid sister, fortunately, considering the recent thoughts he’d conjured up in his mind about her. She was a big girl, he reasoned, and she could take care of herself.

At least, he hoped she could.

Chapter 9

Cassidy slunk into the bar with one purpose in mind, a hot cup of coffee and two headache tablets. What had she been thinking? Dancing until four in the morning when she was scheduled for the early shift.

She crawled onto the closest barstool and silently set her handbag onto the counter. “Coffee please,” she whispered.

“You look like death warmed over.” Clayton poured coffee into a Gold Diggers mug and slapped it onto the counter in front of her.