Chapter Seventeen
The palm of my hands rammed against the steering wheel after I pulled into Lazy Ray’s parking lot. My gaze drew to the charred spot on the ground where Brock’s car had been, the area marked off with yellow tape.
Did I seriously storm off over pizza?
Okay, to be fair, the issue went a lot deeper than him having dinner with my sister. Yes, I was being super sensitive due to our earlier fight, but I just needed a few minutes alone to clear my head. I knew Brock wouldn’t be far behind me.
He might have let me leave on my own, but that didn’t mean I was alone.
I fucking hated fighting with Brock, particularly about Kenna. She had become a sore spot in our relationship, which was still too damn fresh to be dealing with problems like this.
The way we ended things weighed heavy on my mind all during the first hour of my shift, and despite telling myself I didn’t want him here, my eyes continued to stray to the door, waiting for the moment he walked in.
He was giving me space, or he was taking space. I couldn’t decide which.
The Saturday dinner rush just started and, compared to last night, bordered on pathetic. Only a handful of people ate or sat at the bar watching a college football game.
“You got something on your mind?” Ray asked, popping a hip against the bar counter beside me as I waited for Zeke to fill a beer order.
I grabbed a stack of extra napkins for table twelve. “Too much. I think my brain might explode if I add one more thing to think about.”
“Does it have something to do with what happened yesterday?” she asked, not in a prying way but more concerned.
I’d already apologized a gazillion times when I came in to my shift, and Ray being Ray just brushed off the incident like it was no big deal. But it was. “Indirectly,” I admitted.
“Hmm,” she pursed her lips at something behind me. “What about that hot piece of ass that just walked through the door? I’m guessing it has something to do with him as well?”
My eyes swung to the entrance, already knowing who it would be. Sure as shit, Brock Taylor stood at the front of the bar, his eyes immediately crashing into mine. Once they found me, they stayed, unwavering.
From the hard set of his jaw, I could see he was still irritated with me. What else was new? Apparently, the space hadn’t been enough to cool his temper.
“Where’s the entourage?” Ray whispered, moving up to my side. “I heard he never goes anywhere without the Elite.”
“That isn’t exactly true,” I muttered, remembering the extra napkins table twelve had requested.
Ray balanced a beer in each hand. “Holy shit. Is he coming over here? Oh, my God. My hair.” From the corner of my eye, I saw the beers coming my way and caught them without spilling any on my hands. Ray smoothed her hair with frantic movements. “I suddenly can’t breathe,” she panted.
“I know the feeling well,” I muttered, my gaze still caught with Brock’s. He had that effect on me too. I couldn’t seem to look away.
My pulse quickened as he drew close enough that I could finally catch a hint of his scent, and my entire body relaxed. “You’re here.”
Frowning, he shoved his hands into his back pockets. “Where else would I be? If you insist on working, then I have no choice but to be here as well.”
I popped a hand on my hip, shifting most of my weight to one foot. “You could have sent one of the guys.”
“I could have. Would you prefer I call Micah?” he asked with a brow cocked up in question.
“Maybe. At least he won’t spend the entire night glowering at me,” I retorted.
“No, just hitting on you.” Brock grabbed one of the beers out of my hand and took a drink.
“Hey,” I scolded. “I needed that.”
“So do I, Firefly,” he muttered, taking another long pull of beer.
I screwed up my nose. “Do you think Carter is going to show up to my work?”
“Yes,” he stated matter-of-factly.