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I nodded. “I can’t wait to see it—I’m happy for you, Nora, and I’m here for anything you guys might need, okay?” I wondered if she would have to quit working here once her new gig was officially open for business, and the thought made me sad. But it also made me feel really, really proud of her. From the moment she’d started working here, her passion and eagerness to learn had been off the charts. I made a mental note to check in with her about the future so I could be prepared either way.
She tucked a fallen strand of hair behind her ear, her smile still bright. “Okay.”
Logan spoke up again, an obvious curiosity in his tone. “What’s with the suit? Part of your security team?” He nodded toward Rocco, who was glowering from Frank’s usual post.
“Oh, um . . .” I hesitated. Was I allowed to talk about Leo’s personal military, or was stealth the whole point? It wasn’t like I didn’t trust Logan, so I pressed my elbows against the bar, and whispered, “Kind of.”
Sensing he was in on a secret, Logan leaned in conspiratorially. “What do you mean?”
“Welllll,” I drew out, “we had a little incident here a couple of nights ago . . . a customer went berserk and tried to assault a woman in the bathroom, and I ended up getting hit in the process of trying to stop him, and Leo . . .” I trailed off. No one in this friend group—aside from Nora and maybe Andre—would know about Larkspur’s little owner debacle. I sighed. “We have a new owner, and apparently he takes security seriously—which is great, don’t get me wrong. He hired some new guys that will be planted all around here. They’ll be mostly undercover . . . to help keep an eye on things. That”—I nodded toward Rocco—“is their boss.”
Logan’s golden eyes went sharp as I explained. “You got hit? What do you mean you got hit?” I could feel Amelia’s attention turn toward him from where she’d been chatting with Marisela and Nora, as if she had an inner alarm in her very bones of his worry—I wouldn’t doubt it, knowing how close they’d gotten since getting together.
I straightened to my full height and put my hands up in front of me. “You should see the other guy,” I said with a forced laugh. “I’m fine, I promise.”
Logan clucked his tongue and lifted his Rockies hat off his head before settling it back down. He looked at me for a long moment before he spoke again. “You’ve been through enough, Mara.”
His words hit me like a freight train. Logan was the only one I’d ever told about my past . . . about Seth. And even still, he hardly knew much. I hadn’t exactly intended on telling my old high school flame anything about it, but when I’d accidentally stumbled into his auto shop back then—still carrying the proof of the bruises Seth had left—I had to come clean about some of it. “I know,” I murmured softly.
His lips pressed together in a firm line. He’d always been a quiet one with the ability to say more with just a look than most people could articulate with a dozen words, and he knew the inner pain and terror of abuse just as much as I did—his at the hands of his father. The look he gave me now spoke volumes, but I didn’t want to hash any of it out here. Not now, I told myself, even though I knew the truth was that I’d never want to.
I was becoming a professional at sweeping the shit in my life under the rug, doing my best to pretend that things were okay.
I forced my gaze away from Logan, looking down the line of the bar again to see if anyone needed anything—any excuse to navigate away from the heaviness pressing down on me—but instead, I found Leo sitting alone at a high-top, scrutinizing the back of Logan’s head with an intense stare. I frowned, looking back to Logan. “I’m getting out of here for the night . . . but it was great to see you all.”
He gave me a long look that told me he wasn’t pleased. But then he dipped his chin. I gave him a small smile before I pushed away from the bar and started toward where Rocco stood on guard, ducking through the bar’s access point before beelining it to Leo.
“Stop looking at my friends like you want to rake them over coals,” I muttered as soon as I reached him.
Leo snorted. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You heard me.” I put my hands on my hips. “First you were shooting daggers at Adam, and now you’re shooting them at Logan. Those are my friends—I’ve known them for a long time. And Andre, the tall one with tattoos—that’s Nora’s boyfriend. He’s a good man. They all are. So you need to leave them all alone, okay?”
Leo shot me a narrowed glance. “You looked pretty chummy with that last one.”
“Logan?” I scoffed. “Maybe a long time ago.” Leo’s gaze heated at the implication. “You see that gorgeous brunette sitting next to him? That’s his fiancée, Amelia. They’re my friends, Leo. And you have no business sulking about them, anyway. You’re my boss, remember?”
He sucked his teeth. “We have a contract?—”
“And I’m not jeopardizing any part of it,” I interrupted, feeling the familiar surges of irritation that he conjured so easily.
Finally, he nodded. “Fine. Are you ready to go?”
“I meant what I said—I don’t need a ride home. I can walk.”
He smirked, his eyes smoldering now. “Calling it home already, sweetheart?”
“You’re impossible,” I grumbled, annoyed.
But then his face softened, the heat in his eyes shifting to determination. “Come on,” he nodded toward the stockroom. “Frank will close up the bar with Nora. The car’s parked in the back, and I can’t show up at home without my beautiful girlfriend in tow, can I? Plus,” he added, looking down at my bike shorts and then at my bare legs below, “it’s cold.”
I let out a deep breath as I tried not to let my heart flutter too much at his use of the word beautiful. “Fine,” was all I said, before I followed him out.
Chapter Nineteen
Bright rays of light permeated around the room, warming my skin like a sweet caress. Swift—who’d bailed on Leo at some point in the middle of the night to join me in the king-sized bed like a precious little opportunist—lifted her head in lazy curiosity as I rolled over, so I gave her a gentle scratch behind the ears, feeling the rattle of a purr beneath my fingertips. My eyes jumped to where Leo’s prone body was practically crumpled in half, one tree trunk of a leg hanging off the edge of the cushion, his hips splayed open as his ankle bent at an odd angle against the floor. He was fast asleep, lightly snoring.
I had no doubt he was going to be sore today after his third night in a row of sleeping like that. And while he may have had the uncanny ability to riot every single nerve in my body, I was getting closer and closer with each passing night to relenting and telling him he could just sleep in the bed next to me. Maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal.
