Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
WEST
I paced the office, resisting the urge to rip my hair out.
I didn’t want to go out there. I didn’t want to face Harmony Haven.
Not any more than I already had. Blue didn’t understand what was at stake.
She didn’t know how deep it hurt when people looked at me like I was either a tragedy or a villain.
No one knew what it felt like because I’d never let anyone close enough to find out.
I kept my heart locked up, sealed tight beneath a calm exterior and an expensive suit.
And when I came up with the plan to get Blue’s help, I never imagined she’d come with demands of her own.
The worst part wasn’t even her pushing me. It was the way she looked at me, thinking I might crack under the pressure of slinging drinks. She may have thought I’d be embarrassed, or worse, incompetent.
I wanted to prove her wrong. Wanted to wipe the smirk off her face. Wanted to see a spark of respect when she looked at me. But I didn’t know why I even cared.
I left the office without heading toward the bar. Instead, I slipped through the back hallway and pushed open the heavy door that led outside. Marshal—Blue’s driver—was posted up like a gargoyle near the wall, and Marcus, my driver, stood nearby.
They were talking. Quiet. Tense.
Marshal stiffened as soon as he saw me, but Marcus just raised an eyebrow, silently asking what the hell I was doing.
“Do you still keep a bag of clothes in the car?” I asked him.
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “Just a few dress shirts.”
“Perfect. Grab me one.”
Marcus and I were roughly the same size, not that I was about to start swapping underwear with the man.
He ducked back toward the SUV and returned with a plain dress shirt that matched the one he was wearing under his suit.
He handed it over with a small nod while I gave Marshal a look, something between “don’t ask” and “stay out of my way,” then turned to head back inside, past the office and toward the main room.
The moment I stepped into the opening of the bar, Blue spotted me. Her expression shifted, her eyes went wide, her mouth forming a question she didn’t ask out loud. But her body relaxed a little, like she was shocked and maybe even a little proud.
It was showtime.
“Blue,” I said quietly, keeping my voice low. “Can I see you in the office really quick?”
She raised an eyebrow and gestured around her. “How about you step into my office?” She motioned at the bar with one hand, the shelves of liquor with the other.
I smiled the sweetest, fakest smile I could manage and crooked my finger, beckoning her toward me. She moved with exaggerated sway, hips rolling just enough to draw the attention of every guy sitting at the bar. She knew exactly what she was doing.
“Yes, sir?” she teased, her voice playful and low, and my pulse kicked up.
I didn’t respond. Just grabbed her wrist gently and pulled her toward the hallway.
Once we were inside the office, I slammed the door behind us and backed her against it.
I didn’t touch her, I didn’t have to. My body did all the talking, and the tension crackling between us was louder than anything I could’ve said.
“I told you that shirt wasn’t cutting it for me,” I growled.
Then I stepped back and shrugged off my jacket, tossing it onto the couch. She didn’t move, just watched with narrowed eyes as I undid the cuffs of my dress shirt. When I reached for the top button, our eyes locked.
Something flared.
I should’ve stopped. Should’ve turned around and walked out. But I didn’t.
I was caught up in her attention, the heat, the game we weren’t supposed to be playing.
As I slid the shirt from my body, I saw her eyes follow every movement.
I knew she saw my broad shoulders, lean muscle, and the strength I’d built from discipline.
My body was just another layer of armor, another weapon in my collection.
It kept people from looking too closely at the parts of me that were soft, or broken.
Her lips parted.
I reached forward, hooking a finger through the belt loop of her jeans, pulling her closer. She stumbled forward slightly, breath catching. A small sound escaped her throat, so soft I might’ve missed it if I hadn’t been listening for it.
“Remember what I said, dear?” I murmured, my voice teasing. “No wife of mine needs to be showing skin for tips. You’re a wealthy woman now.”
Then I wrapped my shirt around her, holding it closed for a beat, nodding for her to slide her arms in.
She didn’t fight me. Just rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath as I buttoned it over her stomach and tied the bottom to make it fit better.
Then I took my time rolling the sleeves up to her elbows.
“There,” I said, stepping back. “Now you can get back to work.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she laughed, totally unbothered by the fact that I’d just redressed her like a damn doll. “But now you don’t have a shirt, dear husband. And no man of mine is going to bartend shirtless. Although I imagine the ladies would tip you enough to buy another suit.”
I grabbed the shirt Marcus had given me and slid it on while she watched, her expression twisting in confusion.
“Can I ask you something?” she said, circling around me like she was sizing me up. “Why didn’t you just give me that shirt?”
I rolled up the sleeves and raised an eyebrow. “Because this one isn’t mine. And if you were going to wear a shirt, it sure as hell wasn’t going to belong to anyone but me.”
“You sure are possessive and surly for a man who didn’t even say ‘I do.’”
I couldn’t help but grin. She was impossible. And I was somehow enjoying the hell out of it.
“Just making sure everyone knows you’re mine.”
“Oh, right. Just for the ruse,” she laughed, turning toward the door.
“Get your ass behind the bar. I’ll teach you how to throw bottles around.
And, um…” She paused, hand on the doorknob.
“Tuffy saw the ring. I told her we got a little crazy and decided to see where it goes. But if she doesn’t pick her jaw up off the floor soon, you might have to buy her a car. ”
“That reminds me,” I said, pulling something from my pocket.
Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t actually buy a car, did you? Because I already hate that driver and—”
“I didn’t buy a car.” I held up my hand, sliding a matching wedding band onto my finger. “I bought this.”
“And then just put it on yourself,” she said, clicking her tongue. “Romance is so dead.”
She opened the door and walked out, leaving me standing there laughing.
Laughing.
Why was I laughing? Wasn’t this supposed to be inconvenient? Miserable?
I was more screwed up than I thought. Because whatever this thing between Blue and me was, it wasn’t supposed to feel light. It wasn’t supposed to feel good.
I stood there for another minute, then headed for the hallway, pausing at the intersection.
One direction led out the back door.
The other led to the bar.
I could already hear the voices, laughter, and glasses clinking. Blue’s voice rose above it all like a melody. She really did love this place. It was home to her, and now it was hers. Getting rid of Jeff and banning the Murphy brothers gave her peace. Safety.
But for me?
Harmony Haven was anything but safe. I may have been born here, but it was also where the worst parts of me were carved out. It was where everything went black.
I felt that darkness pressing against me again, clawing at my chest, trying to drown the light Blue had turned on just moments ago.
I had two choices.
I could walk out that back door and pretend none of this ever happened.
Or, I could walk into that bar… and pretend I still had a soul.