Chapter 32
Igive myself a few moments after Beckett leaves, but I know I need to get back out front before people start talkin’. I check my reflection in the little mirror on the wall and smooth down my hair. Once I’m presentable, I head back out and join Clayton behind the bar.
“Where’s Beckett?”
Clay smiles. “Oh, you mean the guy who just walked out of here with nothing more than a half-assed wave and a shit-eating grin? A grin that matches yours, I might add.”
I narrow my eyes. “Quit stirring the pot, Clayton.”
“I’m not stirring the pot. I’m simply making an observation. Now, if you’re done with your break, it’s gettin’ a little busy in here, and I could use some help.”
Old Man Caruthers plops down on the stool in front of me to prove Clayton’s point. “Hey there, pretty lady. Can I get a Jack and Coke when you get a moment?”
“On it,” Clayton says, grabbing the soda dispenser and the bottle of whiskey. He sets the drink on the bar. “Now, remember, your beautiful wife says you only get one of these, so don’t even think about asking for another.”
Mr. Caruthers harrumphs. “Damn meddling woman. Always worried about my goddamn health.”
“It’s because she loves you so much, she wants to keep you around for as long as possible.” I give him a flirty wink. “You can’t blame her for that, right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles into his glass. “What about you? I heard you’ve ditched that husband of yours and moved back to Hope Springs.”
“News travels fast,” I say dryly. “Lucky me.”
He flashes a big yellow-toothed smile before barking out a laugh. “Girl, you can’t take a shit in this town without everyone knowin’ about it. I bet you didn’t have that problem up north.”
“No, I did not.”
But I had plenty of other problems.
Mr. Caruthers takes the final gulp of his drink and pins a ten-dollar bill beneath the glass. “Well, anyway, it’s nice havin’ you back, Presley. I’ll be seein’ you around.”
Becca, one of the three servers working tonight, leans on the bar and whispers. “Uh, Clayton, I think we have a problem on seventeen.”
Clay and I both look up to the table in question. I’m not entirely surprised she’s referring to Nicky’s table.
“What’s she doin’?” Clay asks.
Becca looks over her shoulder. “She’s only had two drinks since she’s been here, but I suspect she indulged in a little pre-gaming beforehand. She keeps making unsavory comments about...” Her eyes slide in my direction. “Well, let’s just say she’s fast approaching cut-off, and I’m thinkin’ she won’t take that so well. Her date seems even worse.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Clay promises. “Presley, call Colby for me, will ya? His cell number’s by the phone. Tell him we might need some help convincing this guy he shouldn’t be driving himself home.”
I nod and do what he’s asked. As I’m relaying the information to the sheriff, I watch Clayton approach Nicky’s table. They exchange words, and from the looks of it, they’re not all that pleasant. Her date stands up and puffs his chest out, trying to look intimidating, but my brother has six inches and at least fifty pounds on him. I see Colby’s police cruiser pulling in front of the doors right as the man storms outside. Clayton and Nicky are still getting into it, their volume becoming increasingly louder. I consider intervening but think better of it. The only thing I’m bound to do is make the situation worse. Clayton motions Theo, one of the other servers, over. The two men discuss something briefly while Nicky is going off on Clayton, calling him all sorts of names.
“All right, that’s enough, Nicky.” Clay grabs her by the elbow and starts weaving her through the tables.
“How many times do I have to tell you, dickbag? It’s Nicole!”
“Sorry about the foul language, ma’am.” Clayton winks at an older woman scandalized by Nicky’s language. “Don’t worry, folks, we’ll get this all cleared up in no time. You each get a drink on the house for your troubles. C’mon, Nicole. Let’s go have a chat in my office.”
Theo sidles up to me behind the bar. “Damn, she’s not taking the whole breakup very well, is she? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her be nice per se, but ever since Beckett dumped her, she’s like a swarm of Yellowjackets in a potato sack.”
That’s an interesting—yet freakishly accurate—analogy.
Colby pops his head inside. “Everything okay in here?”
I nod in the direction of the hallway leading to Clay’s office. We can hear Nicky screaming from all the way over here, and if I’m not mistaken, she’s throwing things. Poor Clayton. I’m sure this isn’t the first time he’s had to deal with an unreasonable drunk, but adding a woman scorned on top of it is just askin’ for trouble.
“I think Clayton’s got it handled, but it might not be a bad idea to check.”
The sheriff smirks. “Nah, I’m sure he knows how to handle Nicky just fine. It’ll be good for him.”
My eyebrows rise. “You’re not scared of Nicole, are you?”
He laughs. “Hell, yes, I’m scared of her. That woman is scary. Very, very scary. Give Clay my condolences.”
“Well, okay then. You have a good night, Sheriff.”
“You too, Presley. Say hi to Beckett for me.” He tips his hat with a wink as he walks out the door.
My chest tightens, and sweat beads my brow when a loud crash comes from the office. I know Clayton would rather die than raise a hand to a woman, but the noise triggers a memory of a man with fewer morals. I flash back to when Sebastian threw me into a glass coffee table, and it shattered from the impact. A large chard had pierced my side, and I really should’ve had stitches, but Sebastian wouldn’t let me go to the hospital, so I had to make do with a butterfly bandage. Maybe if I had split my face open, he would’ve been more concerned about scarring, but since the cut was on my torso, he couldn’t care less. He’d put a possessive hand over the jagged pink line as he was rutting into me sometimes. Looking back, I think he was proud of his mark on me as if it was his own personal brand. In a way, I suppose all of the scars he left behind are.
I blink away the awful memory as Clayton appears in the doorway, with a screaming Nicky thrown over his shoulder. “Pres, I don’t suppose you’d mind keepin’ an eye on things around here, would you? I need to take this banshee home before she breaks everything in my office.”
Nicky’s clenched fists are pounding on my brother’s back as her long, black hair brushes against the back of his knees. “Clayton James, I swear to all that is holy, if you don’t put me down right now, I will rip your balls from your body and feed them to you! Then, I’ll repeat the process with your dick!”
Theo cringes. “Damn.”
Clayton seems unconcerned by the colorful threat. “Keep it down, woman. People are eatin’ here. They don’t need to hear about your strange fetishes.”
When Nicky screeches, I see why my brother chose that particular mythical creature.
“Yep, I’m good. Are you sure you’re safe driving with her acting like that? Maybe we should get Colby back here.”
“Yes!” Nicky shouts. “Call the sheriff! Tell him I’m being kidnapped by this jackass!”
“Nah, I’m good,” Clayton insists. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
Nicky raises her head as they’re heading for the door. Her face is cherry red from all the blood rushing to it. That doesn’t stop her from glaring at me with all her might and delivering a parting shot. “Beckett might screw you six ways from Sunday, but he’ll never love you, Presley. He’s too messed up to be capable of lovin’ anybody anymore.”
“I said, keep quiet, damn it,” Clayton grunts as he adjusts her weight over his shoulder and ducks down low enough to get her out the door without clocking her head on the doorframe. “Call if you need anything, Pres!”
When the door swings shut behind them, my eyes wander across the bar to find every single person staring in the direction Clay and Nicky just went. They all blink rapidly, some with their mouths still hanging open from the spectacle. It takes ‘em a moment to realize the show’s over.
“Those two really need to bang each other’s brains out and get it over with.” Becca sets her tray on the bar. “Can I get two Crowns straight-up and a Bud Light Lime, hun?”
I pull out two glasses and start filling the order for her table. “Who should screw each other’s brains out?”
She looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Your brother and Nicole. They’ve been dancing around each other for years.”
I frown in confusion. “But...”
Becca smiles. “But she wasn’t technically single? Oh, sugar, I’m talking way before that. This has been going on for many, many years. I’m fairly certain they hook up whenever she’s not datin’ someone else, but they keep it low key.”
No way. I would’ve known about that, right? I know Nicky and Clay fooled around when we were younger, but that was back when Nicky was a tolerable human being. Clayton can’t stand her now, and from what I’ve seen, the feeling’s mutual.
Becca laughs as I set the drinks on her tray. “Don’t underestimate the power of a good hate fuck. Just ask him about it. Maybe he’ll come clean with you, considering you’re related and all.”
Oh, don’t worry; I plan to.