Page 123 of Family Affair

What’s taking you so long? Split already, she thought savagely and deftly moved her elbow to block Andy’s energetic petting.

As if he heard her thoughts, Cade stood up and threw some cash on the table. Too late she realized that in order to get to the door, he’d have to pass right by her.

Without second thought, she slid off her stool and straight into Andy’s lap.

“Woo-hoo! Now we’re talking, baby!” His multiple hands gripped her hips in several places at once.

“Hey, it’s not fair! Get off his lap and come sit in mine!” Ron grouched and patted his thigh. Laughing and batting away Andy’s hands, Coco lowered her head and shrunk in on herself. Her heart beat out seconds as they ticked by: one thousand and one, one thousand and two, one thousand and three… Would he notice her, sitting in a strange man’s lap? One thousand and seven… She should have planned better. How would she explain awaythat? One thousand and ten…

She couldn’t bear it any longer. She lifted her head and looked.

He was gone.

Relief washed over her as she looked around.

But the main reason for her being here, the guy at the back booth, was still there, still turned away. What a stupid mystery.

Coco moved from Andy’s lap back to her stool. Andy pouted and ordered another beer.

The guy at the booth, it appeared, was finishing his meal.

“Do you live in this area?” Ron breathed out a cloud of heavy beer exhaust. His breath tickled her ear and she giggled to cover up the fact that her lip curled in distaste. She was getting sick of this farce and of these men’s hands of her.

“I live in Atlanta, not far from here.”

The guy at the booth tipped his bottle draining it. He was almost done. Coco watched him like a hawk.

Finally -finally- he stood up and started walking toward the exit, toward her. She would have only one chance at taking a good look at his features, exactly when he neared the pool of light by the bar.

His ball hat sat low over his brow, obscuring the better part of his face. His head was bent low, giving her no hint of his features.

He reached the bar, so close. Still, she couldn’t see what he looked like.

He started to round the nearest booth, and once he did that, he’d turn away from her again, heading straight for the door, and all her efforts would have been for nothing. Seconds counted.

Andy’s draft appeared.

On impulse, Coco reared back and shoved her elbow toward the beer. The tall glass fell over, the foam splattered and the brown surge inundated the bar, sloshing over the edge and raining down on the patrons’ knees.

Andy jumped up from his stool. “Shit, my pants!” He grabbed a napkin to blot the wet stain on his jeans.

And it worked. The mystery guy raised his head to look at the commotion. The uneven light reached beneath his hat and brought his straight nose and stony chin into sharp relief.

Coco’s stomach bottomed out. She knew this man. Oh, yes, she knew him.

He didn’t pay Coco any attention, just glanced at Andy and kept going. The door opened, then closed, and he disappeared leaving the implications of his clandestine meeting with Cade crowding in her mind.

Ross had been right. As she was beginning to understand, Ross was always right.

“What did you do this for?” Andy slurred, still holding a napkin to his wet pant leg.

“I’m so sorry, Andy!” Coco infused her tone with such genuine remorse that Andy shut up. “Here, let me help.” She grabbed another napkin and patted him on his thigh, squeezing and blotting, and all the while her mind was busily sorting through potential exit strategies.

Andy put his hand on the small of her back.

“I’m so embarrassed, so sorry.” She straightened up.

“That’s a'right, I’ll live.”