Miss Firecracker (14 page)

“I hear ya. But again, you were too nice a guy to say no when they asked you for help?”

“Pretty much.”

Dave sighed. “You ever done anything
you’ve
wanted to do job-wise? Without worrying about whether your decision will hurt a family member’s feelings? Or without being embarrassed about what you’re doing?”

“The only job I’ve ever gotten on my own was at the Rusty Spur. I like tending bar. I’m good at it.”

“I wouldn’t have asked you to watch my place if I didn’t know that.”

“Thanks.”

A bout of silence stretched between them.

“Look, I wasn’t blowing smoke the night I talked about expanding LeRoy’s. With the storefront next door empty, I could add on a kitchen. Probably start out serving bar food and see how that goes.”

“I imagine it’ll go over well.”

Dave tossed his empty water bottle in the recycling bin and jammed his hands in his pockets. “I know you’re struggling to find a place to land after your dad’s stroke. So I just wanna throw it out there that if you’re interested, sincerely interested, not just being ‘Blake the nice guy’ to your old buddy Dave, but looking to make a permanent change in your life, well, I’d like to talk seriously about a partnership.”

That surprised Blake. “Why?”

“I had nothin’ but time to think on the way back from Jackson Hole. I realized that Gloria was right about a lot of things.”

“Like?”

“Like I don’t have a life outside of the bar. Makes it worse since I live upstairs and I can’t seem to get away from it. I need to. Soon.” He squinted at the horizon. “We both work too damn hard, Blake. Be nice to share the workload.”

“That is true.”

Dave turned and grinned. “And the profits.”

“Yeah, you do have the beginnings of a goldmine here.” Blake pushed up from the wall. “I appreciate the offer. Can I crash at your place and keep pouring drafts for the next couple days while I’m considering it?”

“Absolutely.” He hesitated. “Now can I say something about Willow?”

“Have at it.”

“She’s a door slammer. She gets pissed, she slams the door and she stomps away. Once she cools off, she’ll come back around.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“You’ve got an entire bar to drown your sorrows in.” Dave slapped him on the back. “Come on. You’re off the clock. Lemme buy you a drink.”

“Deal.”

Willow drove aimlessly.
She passed by Mandy’s house, but something—probably pride—stopped her from pulling in and pouring her heart out.

At that moment, Willow realized she’d been so focused on her job that she hadn’t maintained many female friendships. Her best buddy, Cerise, had married a soldier and they were stationed in Germany. Sure, they kept in touch via email, but it wasn’t the same as meeting in person and gorging on ice cream or margaritas.

The guys Willow worked with were…well, guys. Good guys, but none of them would appreciate her spilling her guts. Not even over a beer. Not even if she was buying the beer.

Willow could call her mother. She’d be secretly thrilled to hear her daughter finally had man troubles. Despite their polar opposite personalities, Willow got along great with her, which meant Mom would know immediately something was wrong. Which meant her dad would know. Which meant Dad would threaten to take action. Which was never a good thing.

You had a good thing with Blake.

Up until I found out he lied.

He didn’t lie. He just didn’t tell you everything.

He should have.

Since when do you have to know every little thing about someone within four days?

That thought jarred her. She’d never expected that before.

Besides, hadn’t Blake said he needed to talk to you?

Crap. She’d forgotten that too.

What if he’d meant to tell you about his past?

Fine. But why was he embarrassed about raising sheep?

Why were you embarrassed about being Miss Firecracker?

Touché.

Especially since you told Blake right after you met that part of your life was over and didn’t matter.

Hadn’t Blake just said the same thing?

That’s not who I am, anymore than Miss Firecracker is who you are.

Her heart nearly stopped. What if she’d made a big deal…out of nothing? What if she was looking for an excuse to break it off with him first because she knew Blake was leaving? What if she broke it off in a manner that hurt him? So there was no chance she’d be hurt in return? And if she ended it when she was ticked off about something he’d done, it’d be easier to handle anger than sorrow.

Wouldn’t it?

No
.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Had she just made a big mistake?

Blake was a good man. Truthfully, he was the nicest, most decent, honest, hardworking, thoughtful, sweet, caring, loving man she’d ever met.

Didn’t you secretly believe the man was too good to be true?

Yes.

You don’t deserve him.

Which didn’t matter now because she probably lost him.

That’s when the tears came. A flood so intense she had to pull over on the side of the road.

About five minutes into her crying jag, her cell phone pealed, “Who’s Your Daddy?” Willow debated on answering it, but her father would keep calling until she picked up. He was perverse that way. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and hit talk. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, baby girl.”

“When did you and Mom get back?”

“About an hour ago.”

“How’s Jackie?”

“
Jackson
is fine. He misses you. He says hey.”

“I miss him too. I wish I could’ve gone to meet his new football coach, but someone had to hold down the fort, right?”

“Speaking of…I stopped over at the Stone jobsite. The guys said you’ve been gone since before noon. You run into problems?”

“No.”

“Huh. You sound funny. Is everything all right?”

No.
Willow directed her anger and frustration at her father. “Maybe I sound funny because my dad is checking up on me first thing. Did you think I was slacking while you’re gone?”

“Hell no. I just talked to the guys—”

“I work hard in this company, day in, day out, and if I want to take a long lunch or time to clear my head, I don’t appreciate the guys tattling on me to you like I’m some juvenile delinquent—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait just a damn minute, Willow. I trust you and you damn well know it. The guys mentioned it ’cause they’re worried about you. They said you showed up late yesterday morning too. You never do shit like this.”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to tell me what’s really goin’ on.”

She sniffed. “It’s nothing. Forget it.”

Pause. Then, “Does this have something to do with that bartender working at LeRoy’s that Paul told me about?”

Stupid big mouth Paul. “Dad—”

“Is he there with you now?”

“No.”

“Who is this guy? Paul said he saw you together at your house all lovey-dovey and you were doin’ repairs in the bar.”

“So?”

“So, is this guy using you?”

I don’t know. Maybe I was using him.

“Since when do repairs include a stint working as a cocktail waitress?” he demanded.

“It’s a long story. Besides, it’s over.” Her voice caught on the word
over
.

His angry pause burned her ear. “Sweet baby Jesus, Willow Rose Gregory. Are you…
cryin’
?”

She nodded her head yes but whispered, “No.”

“What did that dumb fucker do to make you cry?”

Silence.

“Answer me.”

“Drop it, Dad.”

“The fuck I will. Goddammit where are you?”

“Let me talk to Mom.”

“Like hell. You’ll tell her to tell me to calm down and I don’t wanna calm down. He makes you cry, I make him cry.”

For crap’s sake. She was twenty-five years old! “Don’t you dare, Dad. I mean it—”

A scuffle erupted and Willow guessed her mother grabbed the phone. Then the dial tone rang in her ear.

Good. Her dad was protective and hotheaded, but her mother was the voice of reason. She’d keep him from acting rashly.

Too bad her mom hadn’t been around earlier to keep her from doing the same.

Two hours later,
Blake was working on a fairly decent drunk when the door slammed open like an angry bull had kicked it in. The cowbell crashed to the floor with a final dull clank.

The bar went utterly still.

He knew without turning who’d come for a piece of him.

Big Kenny Gregory.

Fucking awesome.

Blake tossed back the shot of tequila. He straightened his carriage to his full height of six foot three. He briefly wondered how bad Willow’s dad could be. Or how big he could be. Given Willow’s petite frame chances were good this guy bullied people with his mouth, not his size. He slowly spun his barstool around.

Holy freakin’ shit.

The guy was at least six foot eight. He weighed a good three hundred and fifty pounds. He had shaggy, curly dark hair laced with streaks of gray and a matching ZZ Top beard, which made him look like an outlaw biker. Or a prison escapee. Or both.

He stalked toward Blake, wraparound shades obscuring his eyes. His black sleeveless T-shirt read “What the Fuck You Lookin’ At?” Ropes of thick chains swooped from the front of his jeans to the wallet jammed in his back pocket. Chains which rattled against the gigantic knife clipped to the left side of his studded belt.

Before the heavy boot steps stopped, Blake stood. He wasn’t meeting this guy halfway, but he sure as hell wasn’t sitting on his ass.

Big Kenny ripped off his shades and loomed over Blake. “You the piece of shit who made my baby girl cry?”

“Yep.”

Not the answer Big Kenny expected. “Least you ain’t denying it. You’d better start talking, boy, about what you done, or I start breaking bones until you do.”

“With all due respect, Big Kenny, what happened between Willow and me isn’t your business, so back off.”

“Who the fuck you think you’re talking to, boy?”

“I ain’t a ‘boy’ and Willow isn’t a little girl. She’s a woman who doesn’t need her daddy to run interference in her personal life.”

Big Kenny growled.

“But I see where she gets her temper. You get pissed off first, stomp away second and worry about the rest of it later. Am I right?”

No answer.

“In fact, I’ll bet you a thousand bucks she didn’t tell you what happened between us. Know why? Because that’d mean she’d actually have to…I dunno…
talk
about it. But fuck, that’d be too goddamn easy, wouldn’t it? No, it’s much more productive to make assumptions! Which was what I was tryin’ to avoid from the get-go, but she’s pretty damn quick to jump to conclusions and not so quick to listen to explanations.” Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Does she get that trait from you too?”

Big Kenny glared at him.

Blake couldn’t seem to shut his mouth. He was tired of being the nice guy. Tired of being called a Boy Scout. Tired of being the understanding type. Tired of being the calm one. Tired of being the one who walked away rather than stay to fight.

Fuck that.

“I ain’t gonna lie. I wanna throttle her.”

“You’ve got a death wish by telling me that. If you touch one hair on her head—”

“For Christsake, chill out. I’d never hurt her. Do you have any idea how much it twisted my guts into knots to see pain in her eyes? Dammit, that tough little woman looked at me like I’d broken her favorite hammer.”

“Did you?”

“No! It’s just a stupid misunderstanding that would’ve taken like ten minutes to clear up, but she couldn’t be bothered to stick around and hash it out. She had to leave!” Blake grabbed onto the front of Big Kenny’s shirt. “Where the fuck did she go, huh?”

“Hands off. Now.”

“Blake. Buddy. Take it easy. Sit down,” Dave said from behind the bar.

“Shut the fuck up, Dave. I don’t wanna sit down. I’ve been taking it easy for too goddamn long. I wanna clear at least one thing up in my life right now.”

Blake locked his gaze to Big Kenny’s. “Go ahead and beat the shit out of me. ’Cause I sure as fuck couldn’t feel any worse. And if I’ve got goddamn bruises and scabs, maybe I won’t feel like such a fucking pussy for letting that little slip of a thing knock me to my knees.”