More Than Lies (More Than #1)(89)

My cell phone rings.

Picking it up off the desk, I read the caller ID. It’s Mac.

“Hey, stranger.” It’s been a while since I’ve been to the pub. I miss it, if you can believe that.

“Hey, sweetie.” His voice is always soft when he’s speaking to one of his girls. That’s what he calls his waitresses. He’s a sweet old man in a daddy sort of way, and very unlike my own father. “I’m hoping you can bail an old man out of a bind.”

“I can try. What can I do for ya, Mac?”

“Holly called out sick. A new girl I hired last week quit. I’m short tonight, and I was hoping you were free and could work tonight.”

Shoot, it’s family dinner night. Damn it, but I can’t leave Mac hanging.

“Sure, I can do it,” I agree before I chicken out. The guys will just have to understand. We leave in a couple of days. I can always make it up to them over the weekend.

“Thanks, girly girl. You’re the best. Can you be here in an hour?”

Crap.

“Yeah, I can make that happen.”

We hang up. I stack the envelopes with the checks inside them on the desk with a sticky note attached that has Natalie’s name scribbled on it.

Walking out, I start a group text to my roommates letting them know the bad news about dinner.

Me: Guys, Mac is in a bind and I told him I’d help out tonight. I’ll make dinner up to y’all in GA. Sorry!!

I’m hoping I can get past Shawn and out the door before he sees his phone. As I walk by, he looks up and gives me a half smile and nods a goodbye. I dodged that one. He was busy applying a transfer onto some guy’s leg.

My phone dings twice simultaneously as I slide into the driver’s seat of my car. I need to get home and change quickly so I can get to the bar on time. A shower is out of the question, but I can freshen up and change clothes.

Matt: You’re kidding, right?

Mason: WTF. That’s bullshit.

I knew they wouldn’t be happy. Coming between men and their weekly promised food isn’t the smartest thing one could do. I’ll have to hear about this one for a while.

Another text message comes through when I put the gearshift into drive. Keeping my foot on the brake, I read it before pulling out of the parking lot. This one isn’t part of the group text.

Shawn: You couldn’t stop and tell me that before leaving?

Me: You were busy.

Shawn: And you’re a chicken shit.

Ass.

I don’t respond.

Instead my mind wanders to the person I try every day to forget. I don’t want to forget him, but if I did, then I wouldn’t have to feel this pain any more. I really am a weak and crappy ass person.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX





SHAWN BRADEN





“Hey Shawn, how’s it going?” Removing my eyes away from Tara, I glance to my right to see a chick sliding into the booth next to Kenny. Her voice is familiar. When she settles into the seat, she looks up at me, smiling and places her hand on my shoulder. “It’s good to see you again.” Her lips are curved into a flirtatious grin.

I reply with only a brief grin to acknowledge her. This shit is getting old, and it’s not what I want to deal with tonight. I know who the girl is. I inked two bow ties on the back of her thighs a week ago.

Before I’m able to slide away from her touch, I feel the presence of another person to my left. The sound of bottles clunking together and being placed down on the table tells me it’s Tara with our drinks.

I turn, looking up to see a flash of anger directed toward the chick that just joined our table. Tara removes her phone from her back pocket. When she looks at the screen she huffs out a frustrated gush of air.

“Um, Taralynn, honey?” Adam calls out in a question. I look at him as he holds up a Coors Light. He doesn’t drink that type of beer. That’s when I peer down at the rest of the drinks that aren’t what she knows we all drink.

“Yeah?” She questions back while dropping the hand holding her cell to her side. Her expression changes when she realizes she brought us the wrong drinks. “Shit. I’m sorry, guys. I’ll be right back.” She places her cell on the table in more of a toss than sitting it down. Tara grabs the bottles by their necks and walks off.

My earlier assessment of something being off or wrong is confirmed. Then again, her brother was killed eight weeks ago. She is still dealing with a lot of emotions. Emotions she won’t talk about, so really one could say she isn’t dealing with things as she probably should be.

Wanting to know what caused her frustration, I snatch up her phone. The screen isn’t locked, and even if it was I know her code. Her text message app is opened to a text conversation between her and Jared. My jaw locks at the sight of his name. Not liking the thought of her speaking to him, I unashamedly read the messages starting from about an hour ago.

Tara: I feel like I’m drowning. Like I can’t breathe.

Jared: Come over when you get off.

Tara: Don’t. That’s not why I texted you.

Jared: Then what was your reason?

Tara: I need someone to talk to. I don’t know. I don’t have anyone and I need a friend.

Jared: Baby, you know I’m your friend, but I can be so much more too.