"All right," she spouted too quickly.
Surprise crossed his handsome features, then he smiled widely. "All right. Now, back to work."
Laughing, she shook her head and saluted him. "Yes, sir."
His eyes flashed when he whispered, "Sir."
Mackenzie didn’t have time to inquire the shadow that crossed over him. She left Grant standing there lost in whatever came over him.
When she rounded the corner to the bar, she stopped briefly before going to her section. Derk and Smith sat at her end of the bar. The look of fury on Derk's striking features said he knew she didn't take his car, which meant he knew something was up. Hesitantly, she pulled two bears out of the cooler, then approached them.
"What's up, Mac?" Derk asked snidely as she set the beers in front of them.
"Working," she answered.
Smith pulled a twenty out of his wallet and handed it to her. As soon as she reached for it, Derk snagged her wrist and yanked her toward him, the bar painfully digging into her stomach.
"What the fuck is up, Mac?" he thundered. "You didn't take the car or your shirt. What's going on?"
There was no way she could admit what she found in his drawers. If he was the man she concluded, her life could very well be in danger. And she had no idea what he was capable of or what sort of action he might take.
Trying for nonchalant, she shrugged. "I had fun last night, Derk, but that's all it was, fun. We both know neither of us has any intention on playing house."
She could hear her own voice quaking. Derk's eyes narrowed.
Crap.
Obviously, she wasn't capable of hiding her lie very well. That never had been one of her strongest traits.
"Really," he drawled menacingly. "That's how you're going to play this?"
"Derk‒"
"Don't fuckin' bother, Mac," he said, masking his anger. He released her arm, sat back, picked up his beer, and downed it in one long draw. Slamming the empty bottle down, he stood. "You're right. Last night was fucking fantastic, but you're not my type, M. Too damn darlin' for me. I need a woman who can keep up and you're not her. But, if you ever need that itch scratched again, I'm game." He stalked away and out of the bar.
She glanced at Smith, who gave her a sneering once over. "You fucked up, Mackenzie," he said factually. "Of all days you shouldn't have gone this route, today is that day." He stood, left his untouched bottle in place, and followed his friend.
A low whistle and chuckle came from behind her.
"What was that soap opera scene about?" Kayla asked as she stepped up next to her.
"I think I just broke up with Derk," she answered, unsure. She didn't think Derk considered them to be in a relationship. He made that perfectly clear. At least, that's what she assumed. But his anger threw her off. She didn’t take him as a man who’d care all that much if they ended. That she was another notch on his headboard. She couldn’t have misread him, right?
"Ummm, broke up? Don't you actually have to be a couple first for that to happen?" Kayla voiced her exact thoughts.
She turned to her girlfriend, entirely baffled. "I don't know what just happened," she paused, "or how I feel about it."
"Well, shit, Mackenz." Kayla snorted.
Yeah, that about said it all.
***
Three in the morning, seated in a booth across from Grant, Mackenzie's stomach kept turning. She couldn't get past a feeling of guilt. Why, she couldn't understand. Derk and she didn't have a commitment. He'd made it clear that wasn't an option and she'd agreed. Except he'd seemed so angry. The dark blaze in his eyes spoke volumes.
"Hello, earth to Mackenzie," Grant interrupted her wandering mind.
"Sorry," she said. Holding her menu open, she perused the items again. She needed something light this time of night. A chicken salad would be a good fit. Though how she was going to stomach that, she had no idea.
The waitress approached and took their order. When finished, she scurried off to continue her work. Mackenzie didn’t miss the way the woman openly drooled over Grant.
"So, how do you like working at Cards?" Grant asked. "You haven't been there long." At that time of night or early morning, the diner sat virtually empty. They could easily have casual conversation without being overheard.
"I like it. Tips are great. Now, if I could just quit falling off the bar, all would be well," she answered.
He laughed, tossing his head back. Those grey eyes of his were unreal. So vividly sharp. They had to be contacts.
"Is that your real eye color?" she blurted.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Yes."
"You get asked that a lot, huh?"
"Yes. I inherited them from my mother. Well, that and my blond hair, but Mom is fair skinned, like you," he said, his tone indulgent.