30. CARSON

Each time I come into Patty’s looking for the quarry, I end up running into Cassie. So, of course, when I come in looking for Cassie, she’s not here.

It would be the height of irony if one of my preferred suspects was here right now, but no such luck. At this time of morning – after the pre-work crowd but before the coffee break crowd – there’s only a handful of customers.

I sit down near an elderly couple, sipping tea and poring over sections of the Times as they share one of Tricia’s exquisite raspberry scones.

“Carson!”

I turn to see Tricia waving frantically at me from behind the front counter. I smile and wave back. I’ve managed to avoid her on my previous trips in here on the Chase, mostly because I didn’t want to start a conversation that I know was just going to distract me.

Too late now, I guess.

She fills a cup with black coffee and trots over to my table, bounding with energy.

“Good to see you again!” she says with far too much enthusiasm, setting the coffee in front of me. A few black droplets spill over the edge of the cup.

“Thanks, you too. Can you join me?”

“Hey, I’m the owner, I can do whatever I want.”

She plunks down in the chair opposite me and leans forward on her elbows.

“So,” she says. “I’ve seen you in here lately but I never got to talk to you. How are things?”

Hmm. Why am I suddenly picturing an interrogation room and a hot light? Now, if Cassie tried her hand, I’m not sure I’d be able to resist. Still, I have a feeling that whatever I say is going to go straight back to her. I’ll try to sidestep any potential embarrassment.

“They’re great, Trish. How about you? Is the deal coming along?”

She waves a dismissive hand. “I let Sandra look after that. I mean Cassie.”

What’s this, now?

“She doesn’t go by Sandra anymore?”

Tricia props her elbows on the table and drops her chin into her hands with a theatrical flourish.

“Not since you walked back into her life,” she says, batting her comically long false lashes at me.

Huh. I take a sip of my coffee, mostly to avoid having to say something back. I don’t know how to process all this stuff.

Also, the timing sucks: my cocky belief that I’d win the Chase within a few days was obviously unfounded. There are only a few days left to go, and the hotel key is still firmly lodged in my pocket. I’d be astounded if anyone has made near as much progress as me, but that doesn’t make it any easier to take. It’d kill me to see it devolve into a bidding war for this woman’s virginity.

Honestly, I’m not even sure that I would place a bid. It would almost feel like cheating. Maybe, just maybe, I could get involved to save the poor woman from the clutches of one of my less savory colleagues.

“How did your date go last week?” Tricia asks out of the blue, and I almost spray coffee all over her apron. I manage to choke it down instead.

“You know about that?”

She rolls her eyes. “Cassie is my BFF; I know everything.”

Everything?

“So she told you about the coatroom,” I say, wincing.

Tricia leans back in her chair.

“The coatroom,” she says with a knowing nod. “Mm-hm. Yup.”

“Not my finest moment, I’ll admit.”

“Why, uh, why do you say that?”

My eyebrows go up. Maybe Tricia’s into kinky stuff and public sex isn’t a taboo. In any case, she’s not judging me. It’s good to finally be able to talk about it with someone.

“Well, I mean, I don’t normally go pawing women in public places, especially on the first date.”

“Uh-huh.” She picks up a toothpick and starts gnawing on it. “Of course not.”

“Although, I guess it wasn’t technically our first. I mean, we were together for almost two years in high school.”

“Why did you guys stop?”

“Stop dating?”

Should I tell her? Hell, why not? In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Cassie stood me up on our prom night and disappeared. Her family moved to another base, and she never got in touch with me.”

Tricia frowns. “She did that?”

“Yeah.”

“I was talking about the coatroom. Why you stopped – well, you know.”

Oh, shit.

“But really? She just ran out on you at prom?”

“It was bad timing,” I say. “I’m sure she had her reasons.”

I wish I’d never sat down. Now I have to backtrack on all this. It didn’t mean to turn this into a Cassie-bashing session.

“Let me guess: Cassie stopped things in the coatroom when they got heavy.”

My eyes narrow. “I thought she told you all about it.”

“Look, we’re past that now,” she says. “Was it Cassie that put a stop to things?”

“Well, I sure didn’t. It was all I could do to put on the brakes.”

“And she was all weird after it, right?”

I nod. “I have to admit, I’m not used to that. Usually it’s the woman who can’t stop.”

Tricia grins. “If you do say so yourself…”

“I own a mirror, Trish,” I say with a shrug and a grin of my own, so she knows I’m joking. “Full length, too.”

She breaks up cackling at that, which does a lot to ease the tension I’ve been feeling since she sat down. Tricia is a good friend; I’m glad Cassie has her in her corner. She’s never really had someone like that to rely on.

Well, not as far as I know, anyway. Lately, it seems like I’m constantly reminded of all the things I don’t know about her.

Tricia’s laughter trails off and she leans forward again. When she speaks, it’s in a whisper.

“I think I may know what the problem is,” she says.

“You do?” I whisper back.

What’s with the conspiracy?

“First, you need to know that I would never break a friend’s trust under any other circumstances,” she says in a lecturing tone. “I’ve got Cassie’s back, you feel me? And if you ever hurt her, I’ll be the first one coming at your balls with a pair of live chainsaws.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” I say. It’s the truth. A part of me wonders how she could go about holding two chainsaws at once, but I quickly focus my attention.

“The reason Cassie’s being so weird is that… well, she doesn’t have the same level of, you know, experience that you do.”

I frown. “What’s that got to do with it?”

“Think about it: you’re – well, you’re you. You said it yourself, you own a full-length mirror. And you’re rich and successful and super-cool and everything else that comes along with it. Private jets and supermodels and God only knows what else.”

She’s right. I know how that sounds, but I don’t have any illusions about myself. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished; I worked incredibly hard to achieve it all.

“Now here’s Cassie, on a date with you, and she doesn’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. “How does she not know what to do? It’s pretty simple.”

Tricia leans in close and lays a hand on top of mine. I glance down and see the tattoo of Tinkerbell that rests on the crook of her thumb.

“Carson, you’re too smart to be so dense,” she says with a soft smile.

I sit there, blinking at her.

“Obviously I’m not,” I say.

But that’s not true. Dawn is breaking somewhere in the back of my mind. I can practically hear it cracking, like a monstrous iceberg of stupidity that’s finally hit warmer waters.

“Cassie’s never been with a man in that way,” Tricia says. “She’s a virgin.”

And suddenly my heart is pounding so hard I fear it’s going to burst right out of my chest.