“What should I do?”
“You find a way to apologize and hope he finds a new place to go drinking,” she replied. “Not much else you can do.”
“Find a way to apologize.” Easy for her to say—she wasn’t the one being ignored. I stalled for a few minutes at the bar, but then the drinks were ready and waiting for me.
Showtime.
I carried them back over to the bikers’ table, trying to catch Puck’s eye. Carlie sat between him and Deep, and I wondered which man she’d come with. She’d clearly been with Puck the other morning at breakfast . . . I forced myself to smile at her brightly despite the fact that I wanted to poison her. Puck was mine.
Wait. Where did that come from? Puck wasn’t mine. Not even a little bit. I didn’t want him, either.
Liar.
Over the next half hour I caught myself checking them out, trying to determine whether or not they were a couple. Puck wasn’t paying much attention to Carlie, though. If anything she seemed attached to Deep. Good. I hoped they got married and had fifty babies until she got fat. Still, she was sitting next to Puck and she’d been with him the other morning, too. As if to rub salt in my wounds, Carlie was annoyingly friendly and nice to me when I came back to collect the empties.
“You’re Becca, right?” she asked. “We didn’t get a chance to talk the other day—”
“She’s nobody,” Puck said, cutting her off. Carlie gaped, glancing between us. The others watched silently as my heart clenched. I wanted to run away. Hide. Pretend none of it had ever happened.
No.
Time to end it.
I set my tray down on the table and stood straight, looking directly into Puck’s face.
“I have something to say to you,” I told him, pitching my voice loud enough to be heard over the music. “What I said last night was wrong. I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t true. You aren’t a rapist.”
Carlie gasped and Darcy blinked. The men just watched silently. I closed my eyes briefly, wishing I could open them and find myself somewhere else. Anywhere else. No such luck—when I opened them again, Puck was staring at me, his eyes boring through me like two hot coals.
Well. Guess I’d caught his attention.
“I think I need to make something very clear,” I continued. “Five years ago, when I met you in California, I did everything I could to make you think I wanted to be with you. Teeny set it all up and I played along, and you were as much a victim as I was. You didn’t rape me, and once you figured it all out you could have just left. Instead you saved me and I’ll appreciate that for the rest of my life. I called you a rapist last night because you were telling me things I didn’t want to hear and I got angry. In fact, I get angry a lot. It’s sort of a problem for me, so I apologize. Thank you again for bringing me to Idaho and saving my life.”
With that I grabbed the tray and walked away, feeling my hands shake. Danielle waited for me by the bar, searching my face.
“You did it?”
“Yup.”
“Seriously? Right there in front of all of them?”
“Yup.”
“You okay?”
I considered the question. “No, I think I’m about to freak out.”
“Go back into the kitchen and sit in the walk-in,” she said quickly. “I’ll cover for you. Stay in there until you calm down.”
“Can you see him?”
“Puck?”
“Of course,” I hissed. “Is he looking at me? He didn’t say anything. None of them did.”
“Yes, he’s watching us,” she replied, eyes darting. “But he’s not getting up or coming over. He’s just drinking his beer and watching. The look on his face is kind of scary. Go sit in the walk-in. The cold air will make you feel better. No matter what happens, remember that I’m here. Blake, too. We’ve got your back.”
I nodded and ducked around the bar, slipping past Blake as I darted into the kitchen. Gordon—the short-order cook—had shut everything down hours ago, although the faint smell of fried food hung in the air. I opened the big cooler door, flipping on the light as I stepped inside. The door closed behind me, cutting out the sound of the bar, and I grabbed the little stool next to the wall shelf to sit on.
There’s something wonderful about a walk-in cooler.
It’s cold, of course. In a commercial kitchen that’s a very good thing, because it’s always hot when you’re working over a massive grill. In the summer it’s even hotter, which made the walk-in an oasis. Tonight it was my sanctuary, although I already felt the light sweat I’d built up in the bar chilling on my skin. The faint goose bumps grounded me. I inhaled deeply, savoring the silence.