“Not anymore,” he rumbled.
I didn’t know if he was referring to him wanting it, her also wanting it, or getting a break.
Maybe it was just two of the three because I seriously doubted he faced constant rejections.
“In that long list of enemies, does anyone stick out?” I asked.
He shook his head.
A simple action that he didn’t contradict by rambling or overexplaining.
But something in me said he was lying.
Before I could push, Daisy hurried into the room, followed closely by a crestfallen Matthews. Her focus was on me. “I really need to get home to my kid.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “You have my card, right?”
She nodded as she thrust her wadded-up apron and a white handheld device at Mr. Walker.
His eyes dropped to the bundle he didn’t accept before lifting to her. “Daisy…”
Keeping her own gaze locked over his head like the faded CPR poster was the most interesting thing she’d seen in her life, she rushed out, “The corner of the screen cracked when I, uh, dropped the apron. I forgot it was in the pocket. Sorry. You can take it out of my final paycheck.”
“Don’t do this.”
She set the items on the table. “Do me a favor, give me a good reference.”
“Take the night. Or the weekend.”
But she was already pushing out the employee door.
“I’ll meet you at the car,” I told Matthews as I jerked my head to prod him to walk her out. Again, it didn’t take any convincing.
Looking back at Mr. Walker, his focus was still aimed at the exit.
Crushed.
No.
He looked downright devastated as he glowered, seemingly lost in thought.
And I thought Matthews was crestfallen to see her go. Maybe there are some feelings, after all…
I cleared my throat to regain his attention as I pulled one of my cards from my pocket. “If you think of anything else, Mr. Walker.”
Taking the card, he stood before I had the chance to back up. It left us standing oh so close.
Nowthisis the definition of tower.
He had to be nearly a foot taller than me, and a lock of his overgrown hair fell across his forehead as he tipped his head to look at me. I had to crane my neck to meet his stare down, even as I took a subtle step away.
A move he didn’t miss if his small smirk was any indication. He gestured to the door Daisy and Matthews had disappeared through, but I ignored himandhis smirk as I headed out into the hall.
I was acutely aware he followed, but I kept my focus on my surroundings in case I missed anything earlier. Pausing at the end of the hall, I did a sweep of the bar area. It was even busier than when I’d arrived, the roar of conversation and laughter drowning out the music—the kind that was piped through the speakers, not coming from the small stage. That was unfortunately empty. But nothing was amiss. No one looked distressed. There wasn’t even the usual over-served drunk stumbling and making a scene.
That might’ve been the most shocking part of the evening. A bar wasn’t truly aBostonbar without that customer.
Or two or three of them.
