Need Me (Broke and Beautiful #2)(32)

“Nope.” She sent him an exaggerated wink. “Just mine.”

Roxy held up her beer for a toast. “To threats of castration and slightly terrifying Southernisms.”

“Cheers.”

They all drank. Abby tilted her head back and looked up at Russell. Who was already looking down at her with a frown. “You work construction all day while I’m in an air-conditioned office. Why don’t you take my seat and I’ll stand a while?”

He nodded toward something beneath the table. “Because your feet hurt.”

“How do you know?”

“I know because your shoes are at least two sizes too small. You could barely walk on the way here.” He actually looked irritated at her, tugging the collar of his Hart Brothers Construction shirt. “Why would you wear uncomfortable shoes?”

“Because they match.”

“Oh, they match.” He shifted against the wall. “You’re taking a cab home.” Abby grinned up into Russell’s frown until he shook his head, an answering smile forming around the hard edges of his mouth. “Women like you were sent here to drive us all crazy.”

“Thank you.”

Honey turned her amusement on Roxy, hoping to gauge her friend’s reaction to the chemistry buzzing between Russell and Abby, but Roxy looked . . . ill. Beside her, Louis didn’t appear much better. Both of them were staring at the bar entrance. With a pit of dread in her stomach, Honey turned in her seat.

Ben had just walked in, looking as he always did. Just out of work. A little stressed. His navy button-down was tucked into gray slacks, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He wasn’t alone, though. Walking in beside him with a megawatt smile on her face was the older woman he’d sat with at the poetry reading. They were holding hands.

OH SHIT. THIS feels like a colossal, goddamn mistake. But that had to be natural, right? Because hurting someone’s feelings wasn’t supposed to feel good. In this case, though, it was necessary. The entire subway ride there, Ben had been debating with himself over how to let Honey down easy. If he’d be able to let her down at all, once he got within the vicinity of her and could smell, hear, see her. So when he’d run into Viv coming out of the bookstore two blocks away, he’d thought he’d seen his solution. She’d beaten him to the punch by asking him out for a drink, and he’d said yes. Or he’d heard himself say yes. Or maybe he hadn’t said anything at all. She’d latched onto his hand, and here they were.

And now that he was standing in Honey’s vicinity, now that they were standing in the same room, he knew with dead certainty that he wouldn’t have been able to accomplish letting her down any other way. She was painfully beautiful staring at him from across the bar, her face flushed from laughing. She’d parted her hair differently so that it was all pushed over onto one side, and he had the odd, sudden urge to ask her why she’d decided to do that. His friends were glaring at him, but he only knew that because he could feel it. He couldn’t take his eyes off Honey long enough to confirm.

The pink flush in her cheeks was changing, turning red, the sparkle in her golden eyes dulling and dimming. Viv was asking him something, probably what he wanted to drink, but he couldn’t focus on the words. He forced himself to remember why he’d done this. Honey had lied to him, let him walk into a trap. She was everything that had ruined his father, his family. She’d willingly put his career in jeopardy. It was too familiar, and he needed to distance himself from it.

So when she jumped out of her chair and sped off toward the back of the bar, why did he drop Viv’s hand like a live grenade and take off after her? Because he had no choice. His body moved before his mind registered the action, as if one end of an invisible rope was attached to him and Honey held the other side. He dipped in and out of noisy groups of people, feeling like he’d left his stomach behind him at the bar.

Oh God. Her face.

At that moment, even with the voice in his head telling him breaking things off was right, nothing seemed worth the betrayal and hurt he’d seen on her face. What the hell was he going to do if he caught up with her? Explain that he had to hurt her like this? Explain that if he left even a sliver of a chance for this relationship to continue, he’d be toast? He so would. Nothing could keep him away from Honey unless she wanted nothing to do with him.

Now that he’d handily accomplished that goal and couldn’t take back what he’d done, he had the horrible suspicion that he hadn’t thought it all the way through. That he’d missed something important and it would come back to haunt him. Or maybe it already was.

Ben ground to a halt outside the women’s bathroom. A brunette walked out drying her hands on her shirt, giving him a funny look when he tried to look over her shoulder before the door closed. “Yeah?”

“Is there a blonde in there? She would have just walked in.”

“Nope. Empty.”

He cursed under his breath while turning in a circle. Where else could she have gone? Two swinging, wooden doors caught his eye, located opposite the bathroom. Several men bustled behind them, yelling over the loud music. The kitchen. Not stopping to think, Ben pushed through the doors, ignoring the strange looks he received as he jogged to the other side, toward the back exit he’d suspected was there. He saw a flash of blond hair and increased his pace, throwing open the door as soon as he reached it.