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“Don’t judge. I could be Baptist.”
“No judgement, whatsoever,” he promised. “Just calling you on your hyperbole.”
He watched her flip the switch on the signage out front. The lighted signs blinked off, and darkness draped the parking lot.
“Can you leave those on?” he asked when she headed toward the Christmas tree.
5
Marlowe
“Feeling festive?” She quirked an eyebrow at him but walked away from the tree and left the lights on.
Cass shrugged. “Nostalgic, maybe.”
“Yeah? Good Christmas memories?”
She crossed the room, stepped behind the bar, and grabbed a beer. Rather than stay on her side of the bar, she returned to him and sat next to him.
“Good memories,” he answered with a nod. “Small town memories, though not quite small like Rodey.”
Marlowe snorted.
“Safe place. My parents are great. Their friends were great.”
“Takes a village?”
Cass laughed softly. “I suppose. You?”
She sighed and looked away. “Good memories, but sometimes, even the good ones hurt.”
“Spoken like you have some that hurt.”
“Lost my mom when I was fifteen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” She nodded. “Dad and I have done okay, but losing a parent is hard.” She swallowed a small drink of her beer. “Being a fifteen-year-old girl and losing your mom is really hard.”
“I can only imagine.”
“So.” She cleared her throat. “I saw Sting in concert once.”
She tilted her head and waited for him to catch up. Sting’s voice singing “I Saw Three Ships” surrounded them.
“So, you like live music.”
“I like music,” she said simply. “Most people look at my tattoos and assume I like heavy stuff.”
“And do you?”
“Yeah.” She laughed softly.
“Hmm.”
Marlowe looked at him to find his gaze on her arms, a severe frown on his face.
“What?”
