Arm Candy (Real Love #2)(67)

“Don’t worry about that.” Candace is so short, she doesn’t have to bend far to meet my eyes. My tears keep coming, and her face goes wavy. “Lars and I can handle things tonight. Go on and sneak out the back.”

Gosh, that sounds heavenly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

I shake my head, but as another teardrop tumbles down my cheek, I open my mouth and tell Candace everything.

My mother’s warning. My vow to never get married. My blurted I love you and the offer of Davis’s house key that scared me half to death.

“Aw, hon. You were caught up, that’s all.” She strokes my hair and offers a kind smile. “He’s a beautiful man. Who could blame ya?”

“I meant it.” I whisper my confession. When I manage to stop the flash flood from my eyes, I lift my chin to face my friend. “I meant it when I said I loved him back. I let him go because I’m terrified of screwing up. I’m…I’m”—I gesture uselessly for a few beats before finishing—“I’m like a pi?ata, but filled with terror instead of candy.”

“A terror-filled pi?ata. That’s a new one.” Candace swipes a few cardboardlike paper towels from the dispenser on the wall and offers them to me.

I scrape them over my face, doing a good job of removing my makeup and the first layer of my epidermis.

“What is he doing here? Did he come to get you back?”

Devastation covers me like a thick blanket as I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I think he’s trying to go back to the way things were before we…before we…”

Fell in love and I ruined it all.

I mop at another surge of tears.

“You take all the time you need. I mean it.” Candace peeks out of the office door and down the hallway. “I’m going to go out there. Lars is getting slammed, sweetie. Are you going to be okay for a minute?”

I’m not even in the same stratosphere as “okay.”

“Yep.” I give an exaggerated thumbs-up. Once she’s out the of the office and shuts the door behind her, I sniff and take a few deep breaths. I pull my purse out of the desk drawer and do some rummaging. I find a powder compact and dust on a layer, muting the red in my cheeks and around my eyes. A tube of copper lipstick serves as emergency eye makeup, and—would you look at that?—my new waterproof mascara lived up to its promise. It’s still there.

I don’t feel better about Davis being here, but I refuse to hide in here or sneak out the back. I fucked up, but I’m a big girl. I can own it.

I just need a little more time.

I rifle through the paper piles on the desk that Dax didn’t put away—and busy myself in mindless accounting for about twenty minutes. Before too long, I’m feeling human again.

I can do this. Davis startled me, that’s all. And hell, who knows? Maybe he left already.

In the hall I flip my hair over my shoulder, examining an inventory sheet as I walk. Candace shoots me a compassionate glance as she simultaneously makes three cocktails. I hold up the paper and announce, “Found it!”

Candace and Lars frown in confusion. That’s okay; I was only pretending to find a paper so Davis wouldn’t think I ran away from him.

Which I totally did.

But when I turn to meet his eyes across the bar, one look at him proves he’s not paying attention to me at all. Vince is talking with his hands, and Davis’s attention is all on him.

Until it’s not.

I’ve tossed the paper in the trash can and am moving to help my fellow barkeeps when Davis glances over, catches my eye, and holds me hostage.





Chapter 24


Davis


She’s been crying. Her eyes are red rimmed and her face is pale from too much makeup.

This is why I came in here. I wanted a reaction—even confirmation that she meant what she said to me a week and a half ago. I was looking for closure. I was willing to have her lash out at me so we could have it out in one final verbal brawl and I could soundly shut the door on what we had.

Grace’s jade green irises were welling with tears when she darted into that hallway. What she didn’t know was that she took my heart with her. I have my confirmation, but it’s the opposite of what I expected. She’s hurting.

She breaks eye contact first, asking the guy next to me what she can get him to drink.

“The promotion was unexpected,” Vince is saying. He’s taken on the mission of talking about anything and everything except Grace. A challenge, since she’s right fucking in front of me. “Unexpected, but nice. Who can turn down free money, right?”

“Thanks, man,” I mumble, because he’s a good friend.

Vince takes my out-of-the-blue gratitude in stride. “Anytime.”

“Go home to her.”

“Jackie’s fine.” He gives me an exaggerated shrug. “I’m your wingman, Davis. I can’t leave until I know you’re okay.”

I’m not going to be okay until I get Grace back. I know that. Hell, I’ve known that. She’s in as much pain as I am—regretting ending things and afraid that if she admits it, I’ll reject her in turn.

“I’m almost done here anyway.” A heaping helping of sadness creeps into my voice. I’m not confident I can get her back. Not tonight. Not ever. But I have to try. “I have an early-ass morning tomorrow. The twelve-hour days are killing me.”