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“All right.”
He was being suspiciously agreeable. “Now we got that straight, we can move on. Figure out what happens to the bar from here.”
“Agreed.”
“Good. I don’t want to fight about this.”
“No fight.”
“Good,” she repeated on a relieved breath. She went to step away and his hand became a blur as he snagged her wrist.
He spun around and yanked her to face him. “You done?”
“What?” Being this close she had to look up to read his face. To see if he was angry or annoyed.
“You done with the shit you came to say?”
“Yes. But that’s not the only reason why I’m here.”
A grin slowly crossed his face. “Figured that.”
She didn’t like that grin; she knew what it meant. “Guess you ignored everything I said about that night being a mistake.”
“Pretty much.”
Too fucking arrogant. “Just so you know, I meant it.”
“Guess you ignored it when I said you’ll be takin’ care of me most mornings.”
“I did ignore that, yes.”
“Well, don’t.”
“I didn’t come here for that; I came for my checkbook and bills.”
“Took ‘em.”
“No shit, but I need to pay them, Trip. If I don’t, I’ll lose the bar.”
“We’ll lose the bar. I paid the worst ones.” He released her wrist to scrape a hand through his hair. The lines around his eyes crinkling but not from a grin this time. “I couldn’t pay ‘em all.”
Since she was now free from his grip, she took a step back, trying to create the space she so desperately needed. “I’ll pay you back.”
“Yeah, you will.”
“I just don’t know how soon—”
He kept talking over her. “But not in cash.”
She lifted her chin and pulled her shoulders back. “I’m not a patch whore, Trip. Never will be. If that’s what you want, then fuck you.”
His jaw worked. “Said nothin’ about you bein’ a patch whore. Do I want you in my bed? Fuck yes. Do I want you ridin’ a bunch of dick like a sweet butt? Fuck no.”
“But you want me to pay off my debt to you by sleeping with you.”
“Has nothin’ to do with sleepin’, but no, didn’t say that, either.”
She threw her hands up and then dropped them, slapping her palms against her outer thighs in frustration. “Then what the fuck do you want from me?”
“What else you got?”
Once again, he was being a dick since he already knew the answer to that.
Nothing, she had nothing. And now only half a bar. Officially, his name might not be on the deed yet, but he had a paper stating the club owned half. Stella couldn’t afford to fight that if he decided to take it to court. Even if she won, she’d end up losing. Having to hire an attorney would just put her in the hole even more.
“Nothing. You want the bar, take the fucking bar.” Her fingers curled so hard into the sides of her thighs, her nails dug into her skin even through her jeans. “I don’t have the strength to fight anymore.”
She hated to admit that, but it needed to be said. He needed to get where she was coming from.
He pursed his lips and dragged a hand down his bearded jaw. “An eleven-year-old Stella was a determined fuckin’ bitch. Where’d she go?”
“Life happened, Trip.” It had kicked her in the gut so hard she couldn’t breathe. It got so bad, at one point she hadn’t even wanted it to continue.
Her tenacity barely remained strong enough to keep her sucking in one breath at a time. And that was what she’d done. Took one breath, then another, each measured until she got through that day. Slowly she got through one day, one week, one month until she could tolerate the pain.
“Yeah, life happened. And when someone kicks you in the nuts, you hold on to ‘em ‘til you can breathe again, then you stand the fuck up and kick that motherfucker’s ass. That’s what the fuck I’m doin’ here with all this, with the farm, the club, the motel, and now the bar. Don’t need to do it by yourself, Stel. You don’t. I got your back.”
“Why? Just because you want to pilfer the profits for the club’s coffers?”
“Not pilferin’ when I own half.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’ll give you the checkbook back, but not the bills. Gonna pay them all off as soon as I can.”
“And again, how am I going to pay you back? Even if you own half, I owe you half of those bills.”
“You owe more than that, Stella. Like I said the other night, for twenty years Pete put all the profits into his own pocket. You’re lucky I’m only takin’ half.”
Right. She was lucky.
She was lucky this man was walking in and taking over like he alone owned not only the bar, but also her.
He was sadly mistaken.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose, held it, then let it go, hoping it would relieve some of her tension. It didn’t. She rubbed at the invisible band that squeezed her chest. Her gut churned as she forced herself to say, “I’ll just walk away. It’s for the best. Like you had said, I had a year to turn the bar around and I failed.”
