Chapter Seven #3
“It’s fine,” she said as she walked past him. “It was probably for the best.”
She nearly reached for the dishwasher’s scrub brush when she realized the words that had just come off her tongue.
“I don’t get it,” Skeeter said, hurrying his lackadaisical stride to match hers. “Why are you so unhappy these days, Rox? You’ve got everything you want now… the bar, your sisters, and Billy.”
The observation was enough to make her stop and stare at him. Everything she wanted? Was he serious? She didn’t even know where to start.
“Billy and I aren’t together.”
The bouncer tilted his head.
She felt uncharacteristic heat in her cheeks and made a jerky motion with her hand. “Not together, together.”
How long had he been listening at the door?
She rubbed her throbbing temple. “You know we’re not good for each other.”
“Who says?”
Frustration built up inside Roxie, but she just didn’t have the energy to let it out. “We need to get back to work.”
Rounding on her heel, she pushed open the swinging doors to the bar. The cacophony of sound nearly pushed her right back into the kitchen. Shit. She so did not want to deal with this now.
But she was the boss. This was her place, and it was practically bursting at the seams.
She couldn’t leave her staff short-handed. As wiped-out and brainless as she felt, she needed to help manage the crowd. After all, she was the one who’d gotten them here. All of them. The crowd, the cops, the news crew, and Landers Underhill…
Damn that billboard.
She adjusted her bra to make it stop pinching as she made her way to the bar.
People were not staring at her because they knew about the cataclysmic sex she’d just had on the other side of that wall.
They were staring because of the ruckus her actions had caused.
Purposefully, she let her hips fall into a rhythm, even though it set off all kinds of disturbing twinges and sensitiveness.
Too many newbies were here for her to show weakness.
She made her way to the bar to help out, but she scowled when she saw the young pup who’d drawn up a stool. That was all she needed, to have underage drinkers on site if the cops came back.
She slapped the bar top as she took her place behind it. “You legal, boss?”
The kid jerked back at her sudden appearance, but then froze and stared.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m the girl on the billboard.” She snapped her fingers. “ID.”
“I already checked it,” Skeeter said as he passed by. “He’s good.”
Oh, really. She stared at the guy, waiting for him to flinch. She sized him up quickly. Handsome, dark, and brooding. She had one of those already, and it was all she could handle.
“I… I’m twenty-one,” he vowed. He still hadn’t blinked.
“All right then.” Pushing back the handle on the tap, she shut off the flow of beer. She pushed the mug in front of her new patron, along with a fresh coaster. “On the house.”
Turning her back on him, she drew another beer for Old Martha and then Whitey.
As tired as she was, she fell into the familiar rhythm of waiting on customers.
If she didn’t joke with them as usual, it couldn’t be helped.
She was exhausted. She’d gotten no sleep last night and hadn’t managed to squeeze in a nap today—not after Billy had left her angry and frustrated.
She wasn’t as angry or frustrated anymore. No, now she was confused and rattled and out of rhythm.
And that sucked even worse.
It was hours later when she finally locked up The Ruckus. Skeeter walked her down the quarter block to the entrance to her apartment building.
“Sorry for the drama tonight,” she murmured as she opened the door to the staircase.
“Wouldn’t be any fun without it,” he grinned.
She supposed he was right, but at the moment, peace and quiet seemed more valuable than gold. She started up the staircase, feeling every step. She’d been running on adrenaline for most of the day, but it had drained right out of her. She didn’t know how she was still on her feet.
Her tired, aching feet.
Aggh, she missed her good boots.
Holding onto the railing, she made it to the second-floor landing. A pang caught her mid-chest when she looked at the door to the rental apartment on her right. For a moment, she paused, scared it would open.
And hoping it might.
When it remained closed and silent, she took a weary breath and continued on her way. This was the problem with living on the top floor.
Summoning the last of her energy, she climbed the steps and turned for the last half-flight. She was three steps from the top when she realized she wasn’t alone.
Billy stood under the hallway light outside her door. He leaned against the wall, his long legs crossed at the ankles. He looked big and quiet and so sexy she wanted to just walk into his arms and rest her head against his chest.
Her fingers tightened around the railing to keep herself from doing just that. She didn’t have the will to deal with him right now.
She didn’t have the spirit to deal with anything.
His chin lifted when he heard her footsteps, and their gazes connected.
Roxie stopped, her legs just unable to function anymore. The connection went past her brain. It locked someplace deeper inside her.
“No roof tonight.” Looking solemn, Billy held out his hand to her.
Roxie held back.
But then the tension in her body deflated. Taking his hand, she unlocked the door. Neither of them turned on a light as they moved into the apartment. Behind her, Roxie heard the door latch and then lock.
He was leading her then, her hand still tucked in his. With only the moonlight to guide him, he pulled her into the bedroom. In the shadows, they both stripped.
Flipping back the covers, Billy crawled in. He moved to the far side of the bed and she crawled in after him. He pulled the covers over both of them and settled his arm around her waist.
He felt warm against her back. Solid and comforting.
“Just sleep, baby,” he whispered into her ear. “Neither of us will be able to tonight unless we’re together.”