Page 21 of Montana's Bravest

“Call me Sam. And I believe we’ve met,” I say as her eyes flutter between me and the causeway. “It’s a tight squeeze, but you’ll be alright.”

“Of course.” The van revs back to life.

She attempts to quell her panting, but I know her fear is far from subsiding. “Need me to drive?” I offer.

“No!” she snaps, pride wounded or fighting her own battle, I can’t tell.

I assess the air between us. There’s power in her independence, a resilience I admire. But there is a concoction of fragile emotions projecting out of her, and I’m drawn in, curious to uncover the layers of Cassidy Winter.

She guns the engine, and in a heartbeat, her eyes snap shut. I reach out, our hands meeting on the steering wheel as hers bleach white.

“Cassidy, brake now. Brake!” I urge as we hurtle toward the causeway’s end.

No response. At this speed, the van will end up in my living room. I immediately wedge my foot alongside hers, easing off the accelerator.

Finally, she hits the brakes, and I yank up the handbrake, cutting the engine.

Her lips shiver, her face desperate to escape my scrutiny. I’m looking not in judgment but in concern, wanting nothing more than to comfort her.

“Just breathe.” I rub her back, my hand still over hers.

She inhales, my hand guiding her. “I... I’m sorry. That wasn’t me,” she stammers.

“It’s alright,” I reassure her. “Stay put, I’ll get you water.”

She shakes her head, berating herself. “That was stupid. So stupid!”

Yes, it was reckless, her pride blinding her to fear. I’d have scolded anyone else, but Cassidy isn’t just anyone. My heart’s already made its choice—she’s different. I stop the back rub, opting instead to rest my hand on her shoulder. “We’re safe now, that’s what matters.”

“That was too close,” her voice rattles, her head angled toward the creek.

I don’t fully grasp her fear, but her body language screams a need for reassurance, which I’m willing to provide. My hand stays on her shoulder, a gesture she seems to welcome.

“I’m afraid of water.” She exhales deeply, as if forcing more than just air out of her lungs. “You must think I’m chicken.”

“Cassidy. You wouldn’t be a bar manager if you were chicken.”

“Just Cass,” she says.

“That was ballsy of you, standing up for Maximus that day.”

“That was different,” she scoffs. “Perhaps you’re wondering why I even live in Montana. I mean, I avoid rivers, lakes, and beaches when I can. If I have to pass them, I’m usually high up or far enough away. But that…” She points back at the causeway. “That was too close.”

I nod, withdrawing my hand from her.

Slowly her grip on the steering wheel eases as she waves off her admission. “Sorry. I shouldn’t even have told you all this. I’m here to make sure you and your guests are having a good time.”

“You’re allowed to be scared of something, you know?”

Her blue eyes slowly shine. Her shoulder relaxes as she nudges herself closer to me. Then she smiles. “Thanks, Sam.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll do better the second time ‘round,” she says.

“When you’re ready to head out, I’ll drive. Don’t argue,” I say lightly.

She nods and composes herself. “Liquid gold’s in the back.”

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