Page 45 of Chasing the Other Woman

“Not what I asked.”

A flush climbs her throat. “He’s been carrying a lot. More than you know.”

More than you know. The plastic under my fingers bends dangerously.

“In the field, after the accident, I was the one there,” she presses, lowering her voice. “We went through things together that people don’t understand unless they were in the cab beside him.”

Breathe, Sam. It’s the only way both of you walk out of this bar alive.

I set the pen flat on the table. “Luci.”

She leans in, treating this like an intimate confession rather than a confrontation in the middle of a disaster zone over a beer-sticky table. “When you left, somebody had to be there for him.”

“Can we skip to the honest part, Luci?”

“Of course, Sam.”

“I don’t like you,” I say evenly. “Everything about you makes my skin crawl. The only real parts of you are the sharp edges someone could cut themselves on, and quite frankly, I’m done bleeding.”

Her mouth opens, then snaps shut. It looks like the very first time in her life anyone has handed her an unvarnished truth. It might even be entertaining if I weren’t so exhausted from picking my way through the wreckage she helped create.

I stand up, gathering my supply tallies. “If Brooks wants you, you don’t need my permission. And if he doesn’t, then you’ve spent the last six months humiliating yourself chasing a married man who’s never going to look twice.”

Her face hardens with a vicious speed I almost respect.

“You don’t know what he wants.”

“No,” I say. “But I know what you want. And it’s embarrassingly obvious.”

A pint glass tips over her shoulder.

Luci gasps as a wave of cold amber beer splashes across the front of her shirt.

Petra materializes at my elbow holding an empty serving tray and an expression of wide-eyed innocence that could get a woman convicted in three counties. “Oh, damn. My hand slipped.”

“Your hand slipped three feet horizontally?” Luci snaps, jumping up.

Petra inspects the puddle on the floorboards. “There’s an uneven board right there. Might want to pick a safer seat next time. Like out in the parking lot.”

I press my lips together to keep the laugh inside.

Luci shoves past the table and storms toward the restrooms, dripping beer and fury.

Petra watches her retreat. “You think it chafes when she stomps that fast in painted-on denim? I sure hope so.”

“Petra,” I say, though I can't keep the smirk off my face. It’s the first real smile I’ve had in days.

Then the front door swings open, and Brooks walks in.

My smile dies instantly.

His gaze finds me through the crowded room, his expression tightening. He looks completely wrecked. Luci claimed nobody could understand what Brooks carries. But I know every line on that man's face, and one glance tells me he hasn't slept in days. I almost hate that I can still read him that clearly, but years of tracking him across the Plains aren't something I can just switch off.

He takes two strides toward my table.

Before he can close the distance, Tony drops into the chair Luci just vacated.

“Hey,” Tony says, keeping his voice dropped low.