Page 25 of Unruly

I look tired.

I look like someone who should know better.

The kiss happened about a week ago. I figured Cash would be the type to just let a single kiss happen and understand that it was only ever going to be that, but he’s been in here every shift since, watching me with those green eyes like he’s waiting for me to talk about it. There’s absolutely nothing to talk about, though.

This isn’t high school. It meant nothing.

So I do what I do best. I’ve ignored him, pretending like nothing happened and he’s just a patron here—short answers, busy work, pretending I need to check stock in the walk-in every time he lingers too long.

I’m fucking pathetic. He keeps showing up and I keep pretending I don’t notice, and I don’t have a single thing to say that would make any of this make sense.

Customers slowly start to trickle out and Uncle Matt comes up to me. “Halle, Aunt Aria needs me. Can you handle closing up by yourself tonight? Most of the side work is done and it looks like everyone might clear out early.”

He looks at me as if I’m supposed to give him permission, but he’s the fucking boss of me. I get it, though. It means leaving me alone in The Bar, and he doesn’t know if I’m comfortable with that. I open my mouth to talk but loud mouth beats me to it.

“I can stay here with her and make sure she’s safe and heading home,” Cash says from across the bar.

Uncle Matt smiles at Cash. “Thanks, dude.” Then he hauls ass out the door, placing a quick peck goodbye on my forehead.

My eye twitches as I watch Cash wave at Matt as he leaves, annoyance creeping into my tone. “Do I look like I need a babysitter, Cash?”

“No, but you’ve been actively avoiding me, and I don’t like that.”

“Well, Benjamin Cash, I don’t really care what you like or prefer, unless you’re ordering drinks from the bar. You’re overestimating your position in my life. Avoiding talking about the other night would mean that something happened worthy enough of a conversation, but there isn’t.”

He says nothing more, just takes a seat at the end of the bar, his eyes never leaving me. I keep busy, finding any nook and cranny to deep clean because I’m very much avoiding him.

The last customer finally shuffles out around eleven-thirty and Cash has disappeared from his seat at the end of the bar. I assume he’s also gone home. I flip the sign to CLOSED and lock the front door, exhaling like I’ve been holding my breath for hours. The quiet settles heavy—just the clink of glasses as I load the dishwasher, the drip of the beer taps, and my own thoughts getting louder.

I’m finishing putting away the last of the glasses when I hear the back door creak open. My stomach drops.

Who the fu⁠—

I grab the shotgun Aria hides behind the bar and swing around the bar to see the back door, the gun raised at torso level just like my dad taught me. Cash steps inside, his motorcycle keys dangling in one hand and his helmet in the other.

“Do you want to get shot?” I ask, still pointing the shotgun at him.

The corner of his mouth pulls up slowly, like he’s actually considering the question.

“Go ahead. At least I’d die looking at something beautiful.”

My brain stops computing his words, and my cheeks burn with rage as my core gets the stupid fucking butterflies.

Don’t you fucking dare, Halle. You’re too old and in the middle of a goddamn divorce. This is not the time.

He walks toward me, like I’m not pointing a loaded shotgun at his chest. His eyes stay on mine the whole time, only stopping when the barrel is maybe six inches from his sternum. He looks down at it then back up at me, then he reaches with one hand and pushes the barrel toward the floor.

“Easy, Darlin’. I told Matt I would stay to make sure you left safely, and I meant it. Do you need any help?” He shrugs like it’s casual, but his eyes scan the empty bar, then land on me. There’s something protective in the way he stands there, filling the doorway. His hair is messy and his T-shirt fits him in a way I clock before I can stop myself, and I hate that I clock it.

It was a mistake. He’s too young. I’m not even in a place to begin thinking about being with a man. I need to stop.

“I’ve got it. You can head out.”

He moves past me, setting his belongings on the stool, and starts collecting chairs, flipping them onto tables with easy efficiency. “Not leaving you here alone—I just said that.”

I laugh sharply. “I close by myself all the time, Cash. I don’t need your protection.”

“Well, the way you hesitated with the gun tells me that I need to stay.”