Kristen Ashley - Play It Safe

I’d had a lot of experience hiding behind a guard that was unshakable.

But not enough not to be left breathing heavy with my hand flat on the bar and my eyes trembling with wet as I stared at a woman I did not know who said the nicest things to me that I’d ever heard in my twenty-two years.

“I’ll end with this, babe,” she whispered. “I don’t know what you got goin’ on, it’s a small town, you look the way you look, you play pool the way you play pool, you catch Gray Cody’s eye and he steps up for you, word’s gonna spread. Everyone’s talkin’. You decide to let go whatever you got goin’ on, I was close on puttin’ up a sign in my window. I need help. I don’t know what you do but I do know men in seven counties would come to The Rambler to buy a beer from you. You want the job, it’s yours. You need a place to hang ‘til you get your shit together, I own this joint including up top. Mostly storage and the rest ain’t much, but it’s got a kitchenette and a bathroom. You’re welcome to it until you get on your feet. A month, two. Then, you wanna stay, we talk rent. You wanna find somethin’ nicer, you keep smilin’, lookin’ as flat out gorgeous as you are and sellin’ the hell outta beer, we’re good. You don’t want that and take off, I get that. Life is life. But that offer is on the table. Yeah?”

I was still breathing heavily to stop the wet from spilling over when I nodded.

“Diet’s on the house,” she muttered then grinned.

I pulled my lips in and bit them.

Then I let them go and grinned back.

Then I pulled in a heavy breath.

Then I grabbed my diet and took a sip.

Then I set it down with great care, my eyes on the glass and my hand executing this maneuver like judges were sitting at the end of the bar who would flip up numbers that would grade my performance.

Then I tipped my eyes to Janie’s and whispered, “Thank you, Janie.”

“Thank me with your name,” she returned.

“Ivey.” I was still whispering.

“Ivey,” she shoved her hand at me, “nice to meet ‘cha.”

I looked at her hand. Then I took it. Then I looked back at her.

“You too.”

Then I smiled.

Two hours and forty-five minutes later…

“Hey, Gray!”

“Hi, Gray!”

“Yo, Cody!”

We were walking through the VFW which was what Janie said it was, a lodge. A full lodge. Long tables and lots of them with bench seats full of people, oldies, young couples, entire families.

Gray had his hand at the small of my back guiding me through.

He knew everybody and they knew him. Thus the called out greetings. He also got a lot of smiles, head tips (women), chin jerks (men) and waves (kids).

I just got a lot of looks and every last one was curious. Friendly, but curious.

Except for a few of the younger women. Their looks were minus the friendly.

Gray led me to the last table where there were two seats available at the end of the benches, the rest of the table full.

I slid on the bench across from Gray thinking I couldn’t do this.

I could hustle big, bad, bearded bikers who could break me in two, take their money and clear out of town with Casey driving, gun in his hand, me riding, my baseball bat in mine but this… this I couldn’t do.

But I had no choice. I was there so I had to find a way to do it.

I took off my coat feeling self-conscious. Janie said I didn’t have to change. But I had a tank that had some nice lace at the top and my cardigan was kind of cute. So I’d put both on. I’d also refreshed my makeup and perfume. I’d lastly added a couple of pretty necklaces and some bigger than usual earrings. It wasn’t much but it said something and Gray deserved to have a girl open the door to him who made an effort.

So I made that effort.

And, looking around, no one was in ballroom gowns. In fact, even though it wasn’t much, I was dressed better than most.

This gave me relief.

Gray had on what I’d seen him in this morning and afternoon. Dark blue turtleneck, jeans, boots. He didn’t look any different at all.

He didn’t need to. Gray Cody didn’t need to make any effort. He was naturally spectacular.

He shrugged off his leather coat, unwrapped his scarf and, like me, tucked it on the bench between himself and the person next to him.

“Hey, Gray,” we heard and I watched his eyes go down the table where more greetings were being called.

He did a chin lift then introduced, “Folks, this is Ivey.”

I lifted a hand, looked down the table as a whole and gave a lame wave.

Then I realized it probably looked lame so I dropped it and tucked both between my thighs. As I did this, I took in a bunch of curious, friendly looks, smiles and a few greetings.

Then, to my surprise, that was it. They turned to each other or their meals.

Giving us privacy (kind of).

Wow. That was nice.

“Evenin’ Gray, hello beautiful creature that embodies the reason I put my ass on the line for this country,” I heard, my eyes grew wide, my head turned to the gravelly voice and I tipped it back to look at an old guy standing by our table to see him looking down at me. “Gray knows the drill. Gray gets a T-bone, rare, potato, loaded and loses the veggies. I gotta know about you. You want a T-bone, which, little thing like you, will kick your ass. A strip, which I recommend. A fillet, which melts in your mouth but there ain’t much to it. Or a sirloin, which is okay, still recommend the strip.”

“Uh… then, I’ll um, go for the strip,” I told him.

“Right, then how you want it cooked?”

“Medium rare,” I ordered.

“Pansy but you’re a girl, I’ll let that slide.”

My eyes got wider.

He kept speaking.

“Baked potato or fries and before you waste my time, a loaded potato comes with butter, salt and pepper, sour cream and chives. If you’re gonna eat a potato, I won’t like you if you don’t get it loaded.”

My eyes got even wider.

“Okay, then potato. Loaded.”

I mean, what else could I say?

Still, truth be told, I wanted it loaded.

“You want veggies?” he asked.

“Uh… sure?” I asked back.

“Women, they eat the veggies and/or make their kids eat ‘em. Men are men ‘cause they got out from under their Momma’s thumb and can say a big ‘eff you to vegetables. I carry no judgment, a woman wants her veggies,” he informed me.

“Well, that’s good,” I muttered.

“Still, you could bust my chops, order a steak well-done, a potato plain and ask me to steam the veggies and I’d do it for you ‘cause you’re just that beautiful.”

Wow.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

“Though, that said, it’d still be a pain in my ass.”

I heard Gray chuckle and I liked it, I liked seeing his face when he was amused but I couldn’t tear my eyes off this guy.

“Sonny,” a female from down the table called, “there’s children present.”

Sonny, our unusual waiter, looked down the table and asked, “My seed make that kid?”

I heard Gray chuckle again as my eyes got even wider.

“Of course not!” she cried, offended.

“Then do I care?” Sonny fired back.

I pressed my lips together. Gray’s chuckle became laughter.

“Honestly!” the woman huffed.

“That’s about it,” Sonny muttered then without another word he took off.

I watched him go then my eyes dazedly drifted back to Gray to see the dimple on full display which did nothing to assist my daze.

“Sonny’s a character,” he pointed out the obvious.

“I think I got that,” I returned the favor.

His dimple pressed deeper.

Seeing that, my mind became consumed with the hope that this date would end with a kiss.

“He went to school with my Dad,” Gray informed me.

I pulled myself out of my thoughts and nodded.

“Granddad died, he left Dad the place. Dad died, he left it to me,” Gray kept sharing.

I nodded again and there it was. His Gran was living with him and it was her home. He didn’t lie and I was glad to know it.

His voice was quieter when he asked, “What’s your Dad do?”

My eyes slid from his as I felt steel bands clamp around my ribs.

“Ivey,” he called and my eyes slid back.

“Don’t know my Dad.”

He held my eyes and I let him.

Then he asked, “Ever?”

I shook my head.

I watched him pull in a soft breath.

I changed the subject.

“What is your place?”

“Say again?”

“What’s your place? Is it an orchard, a ranch, a farm?”

“Ranch and orchard. We got peach trees and we got horses.”

That was interesting.

“Horses?” I asked.

Gray nodded. “Breed ‘em, raise ‘em, break ‘em, train ‘em, sell ‘em.”

“Oh,” I whispered, liking this. I’d never ridden a horse but I thought they were very pretty.

“Mustangs,” he went on and my gaze sharpened on him because I liked that more even though I had no idea why. “Or they used to be,” he continued and grinned. “Obviously not wild anymore.”

“Right,” I said softly really not knowing what he meant.

He must have read my face because he leaned toward me and explained, “Mustangs were and still are free-roaming. In other words, wild. Sometimes, to control the population, they’ll let them be captured and adopted. But to be a true mustang, the horse needs to be wild. My great granddad and his dad before him, before they were managed, used to go out and capture them, break ‘em, breed ‘em. Sometimes we’ll adopt to get new blood because we need it since all our horses’ ancestry is mustang.”