All Chained Up (Devil's Rock #1)(59)

He looked back at Dean. The way he leered at Briar made Knox feel like breaking his nose.

“Get the f*ck out of here!” he snarled.

The guy held up a hand. “I’m going! I’m going!” He picked up a case of beer and hurried back out into the bar.

Knox stuffed himself back into his jeans, turning his back on Briar. He was still aching for her. Longing for relief so much that he physically hurt.

She made him forget about the world, and he couldn’t do that. If she wasn’t smart enough to see that, then he would have to be smart enough for both of them.

He spun around, putting several paces between them, staying clear of her touch, but he didn’t have to say anything. Her expression stopped him.

She looked stricken, her eyes liquid-dark like some wounded animal as she rose to her feet. “You’re right. This is crazy. What am I doing? Someone saw us . . .” Her voice faded and she shook her head, searching his face.

Now was the time. If he wanted her to stay, if he wanted to make things right, he needed to say something now.

He held silent.

“I’m out of here,” she whispered, and rushed from the room. A brief punch of Creedence Clearwater hit his ears as she passed through the swinging door.

Well, he’d handled that like shit. But at least she was gone. It needed to be done. He reached down and adjusted himself, still aching. He sucked in a deep breath and waited for his erection to subside. A hissed breath passed through his teeth. He counted to twenty before following.

Ignoring the hollowness in his chest, he stepped back into the bar. It was even more crowded than half an hour ago.

He scanned the crowd, looking for her, still wanting to assure himself that she was all right after what just went down.

He couldn’t spot her, but he found her friend parked at a table. Shelley wasn’t alone anymore. She was laughing with two other men, a row of shots in front of them. Suddenly, Briar was there, stopping before her. He watched, his stomach knotting as the laughter faded from Shelley’s face. He knew Briar was telling her that she wanted to leave. Because of him. Whether she said that last part or not, her friend could figure it out.

Shelley patted her shoulder and nodded sympathetically. Without another word, Briar turned and wove through bodies until she was out of the bar. As though she couldn’t stand to be even in the same vicinity with him.

Which was just as well.

He watched Shelley follow after Briar, ignoring the sinking sensation in his chest and shoving away the deep ache that whispered he was making a mistake. Shaking his head, he told himself that it was the right thing to do. He might be a free man, but he wasn’t free enough. Not free to be with her. He was trying to get his life together and he didn’t need a complication like Briar Davis. She made him feel like he was unraveling at the seams.

The next hour passed in a blur.

Aunt Alice appeared before him with a huff. “Okay, that’s the third drink order you messed up. At this rate I won’t have any tips tonight. Clearly your head’s somewhere else.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she held up a hand, cutting him off. “Nope. Not gonna hear it. Ever since that pretty thing showed up and you disappeared with her in the back, you’ve been distracted. Why don’t you take off early? Jimmy and I will lock up.” She waggled her eyebrows at him, clearly indicating she thought he should go after Briar.

“Aunt Alice, I got this—”

She pointed in the direction of the door. “Go on now. You been here almost every day this week. Don’t come back tomorrow. I’ll see you Monday.”

With a sigh, he nodded and stepped around the bar, exiting through the back. He could at least check in on Uncle Mac. Hopefully, he’d eaten something besides Hostess cakes for dinner. Knox had made spaghetti yesterday so he wouldn’t have to resort to his usual junk food dinner.

Aunt Alice had done her best to take care of him over the years, but she had her own family to look after, in addition to working at Roscoe’s. Now that Knox was out, he was hoping to ease some of the burden for both his uncle and aunt. He had a lot to make up for.

He sat in his truck for a moment before starting the engine. He stared vacantly into the back parking lot. Some of the perimeter lights were out and he made a mental note to take care of that this week.

The old farmhouse where he grew up was only ten minutes from Roscoe’s. He drove past the fallow fields that Uncle Mac, North, and he had planted and harvested growing up. The sight of it in the moonlight, darkly barren with only patches of wilted grass, settled like rocks in the chest.

The porch light was still burning brightly as he drove up. Sandy hopped down the steps and barked at him as he pulled next to his uncle’s pickup. Uncle Mac didn’t use it much these days—the stiffness in his left leg getting to be too much even for a simple drive into town. He added getting his uncle’s truck inspected to the to-do list growing in his head.

It wasn’t even midnight yet, but Mac kept odd hours. His various medications kept him up at night. Unsurprisingly, his uncle was camped out in the living room in front of the television watching a rerun of Mash.

“Uncle Mac,” he greeted. “How’s it going?”

He waved from his recliner. “Good. Not closing tonight?”

“Alice offered to.”

His uncle nodded and glanced at the clock. “Eleven-thirty on a Saturday. In my day, the night would have just been getting started.”