He stepped into the room, grasped her upper arm.
‘Look at me.’ His voice was still soft; the pressure of his fingers wasn’t.
She reluctantly raised her eyes to his.
‘Tell me the truth.’
‘The truth is I don’t want to be here any more.’ And it was true. Not when she wasn’t wanted.
‘So that’s it? It’s all just down to what you want, when you want it?’
‘Sure.’
His stony façade began to crack. ‘What about the club?’
‘What about it? Isabel and Corey can manage it between them. You don’t need me.’ And he didn’t. Never had.
‘Have you no sense of responsibility?’ Volume rising. Anger audible. ‘You really are a hedonist, aren’t you? Only into something if it’s good for you. Not worrying at all about how that impacts on anyone else. What about Isabel and Corey? What about me?’ His nostrils flared as he snaked in a breath. ‘You don’t even care, do you? Do you?’ His fingers tightened.
She braced and let him throw the accusation, let the pain wash through. She’d sworn never to lie to him, but she refused to lay herself on the line when he’d betrayed her. He could think what he liked. She wasn’t going to answer. Couldn’t. How dared he be so two-faced? Expecting her to be there for him right up to the moment when he decided he didn’t need her any more. Planning to turf her out without even giving her the time to find alternative arrangements.
He took her silence as confirmation. ‘Fine. Get your bags. Go.’ He flung her arm away, as if touching her had burnt him. His words flew at her, louder and louder. ‘Get your bag!’ He went to the drawer and scooped up the remaining items, tossing them into the open pack with visibly shaking hands. ‘Don’t bother with your shift tonight. I can manage fine without you. I don’t need you!’ His face had reddened and his voice roughened. ‘You don’t want to be here, then go!’
She stared. Mr Cool, Calm and Collected had lost it. His chest rose and fell as if he’d been running endurance for hours. His fists were clenched at his sides. Anger and scorn bled from his pores. ‘Go.’ He jerked his head towards the door.
Equally high emotion raged through her. He wasn’t even going to try to stop her. Wasn’t even going to question why. Well, now she knew for sure. It was over. Well and truly.
Without another word she gathered her bag in both arms and marched out. Not looking back.
Daniel stood rigid in the middle of her room, listened as the front door slammed, and swore. Loudly. Lots. He really wanted to pull something apart with his hands. He’d never felt so angry in his life. He strode out of the room and to the lounge, paced around and swore some more. Overly eloquent Daniel was for once unable to think of a thing to say other than a few four-letter words over and over. Absolute rage ripped through him. She had left him. Up and out without a hint of why, without a speck of fight. His vision clouded in swirls of red. Finally in frustration he pulled back his fist and punched the stainless steel door of the fridge.
He punched hard. The door was harder.
The stupidity of his action was nothing on the stupidity of letting that woman into his life.
The pain shooting up his arm was nothing on the pain crunching up his heart.
He stalked round the room, shaking his hand out, and half stumbled on something. Glancing down, he saw her cowgirl boots lying toe to toe, doing their own mad dance. Mocking him.
He’d known it. As soon as she heard the club was up for sale she’d be off. Out of there faster than a rat in a cattery.
He gulped in air. Wait a second. She didn’t know—did she?
As he stared at her boots his brain started functioning again, albeit at a much slower rate than usual. He cursed his hot-headed explosion. That would have to rate as one of his densest moments ever. That and the fridge thing. But he’d been too angry to think. He hadn’t been thinking at all. Usually he was able to divorce his emotions from his reason. But all that registered at the time was that she was leaving. Just like that. Skipping out of his life without a care. And it really hurt.
What hurt more was the realisation that he didn’t want her out of it at all. The one thing he swore he’d never let happen. Never let a woman get to him. Never need.
But Lucy had slipped in—the worst possible person because she’d slip right out again. As she just had.
He had to get her back.
Something must have happened in the morning. Something had made her mad. Something had hurt her. That he had seen. Despite her attempt at indifference, he’d seen the fire in her eyes, the defiance in her chin, the frantic pulse at the base of her neck—emotional as and fighting hard to hide it. He’d been just as emotional and lashed out when he should have been probing. Idiot.
But when it came to Lucy he couldn’t seem to think straight—not until right now. He did need her. He needed the peace and comfort he felt in her arms at night. He needed the fire when she teased him through the day.
The thought of her leaving made whatever decisions he had to make seem irrelevant to his happiness. She was the key to his happiness. Finally Daniel understood the overpowering need to risk it all.
But she’d just walked out the door to who knew where.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
You like to have the last word
LUCY couldn’t resist. She had to go back one last time to say goodbye.
She phoned ahead and got Isabel. Made sure he wasn’t there. Not that there was much doubt about that. Opening time on a weekday night he’d be sitting behind his desk saving someone’s world.
She’d been sleeping on a sofa for four nights now, but it wasn’t the hunched position she had to lie in that had her aching. It was him. The hurt in her heart radiated out through her whole body.
She walked in and managed a slight smile at Isabel and Corey. The bar was just as she’d left it—no mark of her absence, nothing to show she’d even been there at all. She could safely disappear and not matter. She hated not mattering.
Corey leant on the bar texting on his cell phone. She raised her brows at him. ‘On work time?’
He gave her a wide grin. ‘You’re not the boss now.’
No. She tipped her chin. ‘I just wanted to get a couple of things from the office.’
‘No worries. Take your time.’
She went in, closing the door behind her. She didn’t dare glance at the small two-seater sofa in there. As it was she was having heated memories of the night she’d taken him there. She tidied a couple of files in the cabinet and checked over the last entries she’d made in the computer. She printed the document she’d written up regarding future events at the club and put it on the desk for whoever was going to take over. She’d put hours into it. They could put it in the rubbish themselves. Picking up her favourite pen, she put it in her pocket, took one final glance around the little empire she’d loved to regard as her own. Then she squared her shoulders and headed back out for the final time.
Dani
el stood at the bar. Not sitting in his usual seat but standing right in front of the office door. And of all things he had her cowgirl boots under his arm. They stared at each other until she could no longer stand the accusation in his gaze and looked away first. She glanced over at Corey, whose grin was even wider than before. She didn’t need him to tell her it had been Daniel he’d been texting. Men clubbing together, that was what it was. Isabel would never have done that—she was throwing Lucy an apologetic look.
‘I’d like a word.’ Daniel marched past her through to the office. Every hair stood on end as his arm brushed hers on the way past.
Not wanting a scene in front of the others, she turned and followed him, shutting the door. There was a moment’s silence and she became aware the music in the bar had unsubtly been turned up.
‘You know the club’s up for sale.’ He still had a firm grip on her cowgirl boots.
She stared anywhere but at him.
‘You go from being happy in my bed, happy pulling pints here to walking out just like that. There had to be a reason—I forgot to ask the other day because I was feeling extremely angry.’ He put her boots on the table between them. ‘Once I calmed down I realised something had to have happened, that was the logical thing. Am I right?’
‘Possibly. Does it matter?’
‘Of course it matters. It clearly matters to you.’
‘Not really, Daniel.’ Which was a major understatement, but if he could be clinical and detached, so could she. ‘It’s time for me to move on.’
‘Really?’
She nodded, not trusting that her voice wouldn’t betray her wobbly innards.
‘What about us?’
She steeled. ‘What about us? It’s just an arrangement, isn’t it, Daniel? Bed mates—providing a little relief for each other to ensure a few hours’ sleep.’