She gritted her teeth and remembered what it felt like to be accepted for who she was. Alex’s touch, the way he made her feel, and the way their bodies fit together. That was real. That was right. That was all she wanted, all she needed, all that mattered.
Fire bloomed in the darkness. The haze of insecurity and fear burned away until nothing but her anger remained. Sucking in a deep breath, she yanked away from MacIntyre’s hands.
“You’re wrong,” she spat. “You’re wrong about me, you’re wrong about him, and you’re wrong about the Phoenix.”
“Don’t be—”
“You shut up! You’re a lying snake. I know what you’re about. I’ve known men like you. The ones who make others feel small to boost their own egos. I’ve seen the way you treat your waitresses. You’re nothing but a bully. Dacey called you because she knows the truth. And I’m going to make sure everyone else knows it too.”
“Is that a threat?”
She grabbed a pair of shears off her prep table and brandished them in front of her. “It’s a promise. Now get out and don’t come back!”
* * *
Alex wasn’t used to this indecisive waffling going on in his mind. He made decisions and stuck to them, no matter the consequences. Now he couldn’t even decide whether or not it’d be a good idea to go around the corner and apologize to Emory or not. The way he’d been going lately, he’d probably just say something to screw it up even more.
There were a million things he wanted to say, but the idea of her refusing to listen terrified him. What if he’d burned the only chance he had? She’d reached out to him, and he’d flung it right back in her face. Was there really anything wrong with her getting to know him? Of course not. He was just used to a series of casual relationships that never got past sex to conversation.
He stopped scrubbing the bar with a towel. It was kind of nice knowing something about a lover that didn’t involve the color of their pubic hair or their bra size.
“Your front door is locked.”
Emory’s sudden presence left him silent with shock. The empty room dwarfed her petite frame. Her wild hair had been piled on top of her head, but most had escaped to curl over her narrow shoulders.
“I got in through the back.” She’d wrapped a hoodie around her body, her arms clutched tightly around her midsection. “I came to talk about that stupid petition, but I think I’m in trouble now too, Alex.”
His brain was slow but still functioning. He took in her pale skin and glassy dark eyes. Something had traumatized her since he’d left her shop hours before. There was only one likely answer to that. His anger at MacIntyre went from a slow smolder to a rolling boil. “What happened, Emory?”
“He came to the shop.” She closed her eyes, rocking back and forth on her feet. “He was so mad about you and me, about us. He started saying crazy stuff.”
Alex loved hearing her say the word “us,” but now wasn’t the time for that. “What happened, Emory? Did he touch you?”
“Not like that. He just grabbed me.” She put her hands on her face, muffling her next sentence. “It was what he said about the future, about me belonging to him. He sounded like my father.”
Alex dropped the towel and opened his arms to her. She walked to him with no hesitation, huddling in his embrace. Her body was trembling, and Alex held her as tightly as he dared. “You don’t have to be with him. You make your own choices.”
“I sort of stabbed him.”
“Wait, what?” Alex wasn’t certain he’d heard her correctly. “Did you say you stabbed him?”
“Poked him, really. He wouldn’t leave. And he kept talking and talking like my daddy. I didn’t want to listen anymore. I grabbed the shears off the table, and he still wouldn’t go.” She gave a wild giggle. “So I sort of nudged him. Not hard. Just enough to get his attention.”
“You better have a damn good reason for dragging me out of bed at this ungodly hour of the morning.” Connor grouched his way into the bar from the back hall. “Jessa said it was urgent.”
Alex looked at Emory, still trying to digest her stabbing comment. “Did you call him?”
“No, she called me.” Morgan sauntered in with Jessa one step behind. “I called Jessa. Who then dragged her hot, sexy, and cranky husband out of bed, obviously without the use of fornication as an incentive. Because if she’d screwed him, he’d be in a good mood.”
“Damn right.” Connor grunted as he slumped at one of the tables.