The beat-up wood floor pulsed with the movement of dozens of couples two-stepping their way to Blake Shelton. Casey Stewart stood in the corner, sipping ice water from a glass and watching the action move around her. Her friends, Teagan and Shawn, cut up and laughed in the middle of the dance floor, weaving between couples like pro, Texas two-steppers. Not even in Colorado for a few hours and already they had found the most Texan thing to do on their annual vacation.
Teagan’s red-orange hair whipped around them as Shawn twirled and dipped her with a familiarity that spoke of years of friendship. Heads turned toward her friends, studying their footwork, spins, and dips. Casey smiled. The two of them could really dance. It had never really been her thing, despite Shawn’s best attempts.
Well-worn, round, wooden tables circled the dance space with chairs haphazardly scattered, abandoned. Water pitchers and half-empty glasses littered tables, their owners demonstrating varying levels of intoxication on the dance floor.
A small bar sat off in the corner, manned by a cute blonde flipping through her phone and eyeing a redheaded guy goofing off a few tables over. Casey could tell by their green and gray Colorado State jackets that they were athletes of some sort. Judging by the build of the redhead and a few of his buddies, she guessed football. Too bad they couldn’t help her with the new sports league she was trying to start or find her the coach she needed to hire before the holidays. She had roughly seven weeks before Christmas. Seven weeks to hire someone and get them settled before sports leagues kicked off in January. She shoved the thought aside quickly. Vacation mode, Casey. Vacation.
One ogling gaze turned in her direction had Casey slipping further into the shadows. She shook her head. No way. Her party days were long over and her taste for cocky athletes had died a quick death in high school. She ran fingers through her shoulder length, layered, brown hair, pulling it over her shoulder.
“Case, it’s your turn to dance with Shawn.” Teagan Ray skipped up to Casey in all her bohemian glory that only she could pull off in a Colorado winter. Her ivory sweater belled at the sleeves. Her jeans tucked into red-brown, ankle, moccasin boots, and jewelry dripped from her wrist and ears. Her long, curly hair hung loose and wild, like Teagan—bright and free. Shawn closed in on the two of them, his plaid shirt hugging his broad shoulders and his jeans hiding his cowboy boots. His naturally olive skin, dark hair, and dark eyes kept female eyes glued to him wherever they went, but he’d never paid much attention, something that endeared him to Casey and Teagan even more.
“I’m having too much fun watching the two of you.”
Shawn’s crooked smirk cast Casey’s way made a girl nearby look twice. Casey could practically see her drooling.
“Seriously, Shawn, can you try to tone the cuteness factor down just a tad?”
Shawn drew himself up tall. “Casey Stewart. I am a man.”
Teagan nearly spewed the sip she’d just taken.
Casey attempted to match his pose, her five-foot-two frame dwarfed by his size. “And?” Her own smirk danced on the corners of her mouth, but she sucked it back.
“And that means I am not cute. Hot, handsome, gorgeous, or even good-lookin’ I will take. But not cute.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his shirt stretching tighter. He must have been hitting the weight room with the football team he coached.
Teagan patted Shawn on the back. “Casey was being sarcastic, Shawn.” She shook her head with a dramatic sigh. “I’m afraid you are just average.”
He turned the full weight of his charm on Teagan. “Oh yeah?”
Teagan shot Casey a look, but Casey only shrugged. She’d been the middleman between the two of them since childhood. The three of them had been best friends for years, united by dysfunctional home lives and the desire for something different. Teagan and Shawn had both been foster kids, eventually adopted by the families on Casey’s street. Casey almost wished she’d grown up in a foster home, but she didn’t wish for Teagan and Shawn’s experiences. They all bore scars from childhood. Casey’s mother had definitely left her fair share. Speaking of . . . her phone lit up with another text from her mom and another rant about how Casey was a terrible daughter. She’d been on a roll since Casey, Teagan, and Shawn had landed.
Teagan grabbed her arm and tugged, sloshing the water from Casey’s glass and splashing a few drops on Casey’s cherry red sweater. “Time to get you on the dance floor. No sulking, no thinking, nothing but fun. Those pretty brown eyes of yours are far too shadowed right now. Time to lighten up.”
Casey laughed at her friend’s dramatics. She squeezed Teagan’s hand. “I’m finishing my water, Teag. Go have fun. I’m good.”
Teagan did a double take over her shoulder, and a sly grin stole over her face. “Well looks like you don’t have an option. Dust off those boots because here comes a guy who could rival Matthew McConauhottie himself.”
Casey snapped her head in the direction of Teagan’s gaze and fought back a groan. Sure enough, the jock had decided to dethrone himself and head her way, another buddy strutting across the room at his side.
“First of all, I’m not wearing boots. Second, you need to come up with a new, good-looking actor besides Matthew McConaughey. And third, I am not dancing with either of those guys and you know why. Besides, I can’t move my feet to the rhythm, and I don’t want them dropping me on the fl . . .”
“Hey, gorgeous, I saw you eying me over there. Care to dance?”
The guy, who looked a little more like Zac Efron than McConaughey, towered over her. Dressed in a white, long-sleeve shirt that hugged his athletic frame, he crossed his arms, making his muscles bulge even more. His eyes drifted down the length of her body. Her back ached and her muscles tensed, ready to respond. She hated his roving eyes. Time to revert to “distract the step-dad” mode. Fortunately, it worked to keep other guys at bay, too.
She took a step toward him and gave him a once-over, smirking. “I think you’re mistaken. I was just talking to my friend here. I’m set.” She raised her now almost empty glass in a toast and spun on her heels, reaching for Teagan. She took a quick inventory of the room, Shawn now over at the bar ordering a soda and the door on the other side of the dance floor. She angled her body that way.
A hand grabbed her forearm in an iron grip, and she found her body spinning before she slammed into a rock-hard chest. Apparently, he had more coordination in his current state than she gave him credit for.
“I love a girl who plays hard to get,” Mr. Asking-for-it slid his hand down toward her waist. Blood filled her cheeks as he played with her belt loop and began to move his hand lower down her backside. With a quick jerk, she threw her knee up and between his legs.
His hands flew off as he doubled-over in front of her. She fought the urge to push him the rest of the way to the floor. Any modicum of kindness leached from her as her defenses locked in place.
“Your mother must not have taught you manners. When a girl turns away from you, she isn’t begging you to chase her. Now be a good boy and run back to your friends.” Asking-for-it’s buddy choked on a laugh and grabbed his friend’s arm. Shawn had appeared quietly in the struggle, but he’d known Casey long enough that he provided his presence and let her fight her own battles. Just like she’d been fighting them alone since the age of fifteen. Maybe even before that.
With a groan and grimace, Asking-for-it unfolded himself to his full height. Casey could see the effect of the alcohol in his system. Great, an angry drunk. Why had she ticked off an angry drunk? Too many nights in her mom’s bar in Austin, Texas, slammed into her, knocking her back a step. Too many nights of deadbeat men and stepdads hollering through the house after a night of binge drinking and watching a game on television.
She threw up her walls and prepared to fight, her fingers balling into fists at her side, ignoring the fact that this guy could knock her down without trying. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Probably yet another text from the woman who had aided her distrust of most guys in the first place. Casey could only fight one battle at a time.
The guy took a step forward, his jaw locked and eyes brimming with anger at being humiliated in the growing crowd. Casey felt Shawn tense next to her. She reached for a rickety wooden chair, ready to swing it if necessary. Shawn took another step closer. This guy had about five seconds before the situation would leave Casey’s hands and Shawn would cease to stand in the background.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Calm down there, Sanders.” The ginger decked out in his football jacket arrived on the scene. His swagger spoke of confidence bordering on arrogance, but no alcohol inhibition. His grin could have melted the heart of any ice queen, but Casey had learned not to fall for a charming smile long ago. Ginger grabbed Asking-for-it’s arm and nodded at his friend to do the same. “My apologies for my friend here. I think it’s time we call it a night. He’s normally a charming southern gentleman.” Ginger grinned at Casey while tugging at his friend.
Casey nodded her thanks. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. Can I make it up to you?” The hint of hope lingering in Ginger’s gaze made her cringe, but at least he was more of a gentleman. No more boys tonight.
“Only by taking care of your friend here. Thanks.” Bending, she retrieved her glass from the floor, dismissing him with a final glance, and turned to Teagan and Shawn.
“You don’t always have to be sassy to the guys, you know. Some of us do have good intentions.” Shawn threw his arm around her shoulders, his plaid shirt pulling tight against his chest and his buttons gaping to reveal his t-shirt and the emblem of a mustang, the mascot of the school he coached for. She grabbed his wrist, her fingers closing around the tattoo peeking from below his sleeve on his olive-toned skin.
“You are the exception to the rule.” She shifted her feet on the scuffed oak floor. “He was asking for it.”
Teagan hugged her waist on the other side. The only people who could get away with hugging her this much were these two. And her little sister. But that’s it. She really needed to text Emery tonight. If things were heating up with their mom, Casey might need to step in.
“One day, some guy is going to knock through that sarcastic, homely thing you got going on,” Teagan tugged at a strand of Casey’s dark hair, “and he’s going to haul you over his shoulder and ride off into the sunset while blaring that pop rock junk you like so much.”
Casey chuckled and tugged away from her friends, reaching for her black down jacket hanging on the back of a chair. “There will be no sweeping off the feet, no hauling, and no charming. I swore off men in high school. You know that.”
Shawn grinned and dropped a quick kiss on her head. “Thou doth protest too much.”
“That doth soundeth lameth coming from thou, Coach.”
Shawn grinned, his white teeth gleaming red in the dingy light of a neon sign mounted on the wall. “That sounded worse. How are the kids you work with ever going to learn to speak proper English with you talking like that?”
Casey sighed and slipped on her coat. “I don’t think that is their biggest concern right now.” Casey and Teagan both worked at Ellie’s Place in South Dallas, Texas, a nonprofit organization intent on restoring hope to a community caught in bad patterns of poverty, socioeconomic issues, crime, and hopelessness.
They started with the kids, providing mentors, after-school programming, tutoring, and a safe place to come and stay out of trouble. They hoped by caring for the kids and partnering with them in their daily life that the community would learn they could reach for more. Slowly but surely, they would change. That’s why Shawn toughed it out at the local high school, Teagan led the mentor program, and Casey handled the leadership program and some counseling and worked with Teagan on the fundraising events. Al, the founder of the center named after his late wife, counted on them to keep things running smoothly. Being away for even a few days when they planned to launch the sports leagues so soon made Casey feel like she was letting someone down. What if one of her kids needed her? What if parents or guardians had trouble with the registration? What if she didn’t find someone in time for the new year? Ellie’s Place was not for the faint of heart. You had to feel called to work with kids who needed a little more TLC.
Teagan turned a playful smile to her friend and bumped her hip. “Let it go, Case. You’re on vacation. You can mother all your little chickens and host all the interviews you want for the new position when we get back to Dallas. But for now”—she shoved her friends closer together—"dance with Shawn.”
Casey held up both hands. “I’m outta here. I’m going to call for an Uber.”
“Take the rental. Teag and I can call for a car later.” Shawn tossed her the keys.
She snapped the ring out of the air and released a quiet breath. The benefit to having two friends who had known her since the age of seven meant they knew when to let her go. Her demons knocked, and she wanted to get away from the conduit for the memories. She cast one last look over at Ginger’s group. The guys seemed to still be talking Asking-for-it down from his heated seat. Someone had been dumb enough to put another beer in his hand. She sighed and wound her way to the front door.
Silence descended as the heavy wooden door closed behind her. Casey leaned into the stillness and took a deep breath of cold mountain air. She loved living in Texas, but there was something strong and calming about the mountains that loomed like dark shadows behind the buildings across the street. White flakes fell from the sky, twirling in the orange glow of the street lamps.
Casey ground her snow boot into the ground, tracing a pattern in the fresh powder. She could relax, she could let go for a few days. And then she would go home and jump back into her life and back into the fight. She glanced at the quiet street, shops now closed, buildings quaint and attractive for tourists in the small ski town of Deacon, Colorado. Maybe the break would be good. Maybe the mountain air and hitting the slopes with her oldest friends would give her a bit of the peace she craved. And maybe a good night’s sleep would erase the memories of another handsome jock who had ripped out her heart so long ago. Her phone buzzed again. Casey took a deep breath of the cold mountain air and finally checked the messages. Mom. Mom. The last text made her heart plummet. Emery.
Please get me away from Mom. I can’t do this anymore.
So much for a break. No matter how far she went, she couldn’t get away from the wreckage her mother left in her wake. Casey had been collateral damage, she’d picked up the pieces, and now she was worried about her fourteen-year-old half-sister. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow her sister to grow up like she had. Emery had Casey, and Casey couldn’t let her down. With her back to the bar, she headed toward the car, snowflakes thickening above her in the black sky. Time to call her mother.