Page 74 of Go Back to December

“She’s not.”

Lacy gestures toward the bar, where Dooley’s holding court with a few of his admirers, then with more stealth, she tilts her head back to our table, where Alicia roosts next to Baz.

“Oh, Baz and Alicia—” I can’t finish the thought.

“Absolutely not,” Lacy argues. “Everyone would know.”

“But were they?”

Luiza’s staring daggers at both Alicia and her brother, which suggests the answer is yes. When she finally catches sight of Lacy and me conspiring behind the pool table, she juts her chin to them, brows sky-high.

This is a nightmare. If Luiza finds out we’ve been lying, it could make things worse between Baz and his family. But keeping up the pretense that Baz and I are together would raise Alicia’s suspicion that Baz and I have a relationship we haven’t disclosed to B&S. And that could get both of us fired.

Baz has one eye on Alicia, the other on Luiza, his body tensed to defend, like a lone soldier holding ground, and it makes an ache rise beneath my ribs.

I chose Baz’s side when I made our bargain; I can’t let him die on this hill on his own.

I swallow a growl and march over to step between Dooley and his current flirt target.

“Dooligan, you have ten seconds to tell me what’s going on.”

Glancing over my shoulder, he spots the crime scene at the table. “Oh, fuckballs.”

“Explain now or I walk, and you can tell Luiza why.”

“Don’t,” Dooley says quickly. “Hand to God, Mel. The only thing happening over there is Baz experiencing a level of discomfort that honestly brings me no joy.”

“You caused this mess. You’re going to fix it.”

I yank him by the elbow across the room. Baz’s eyes catch mine, but the look he gives me is unreadable as Dooley and I each sink down on an arm of Luiza’s chair.

“Dooley.” Alicia smiles. She’s got to work harder with those perfect teeth when she spots me. “And Mel? We met the other night at the holiday party.”

Of course she remembers. Hard to forget a frozen idiot.

“Nice to see you,” I say with my best service smile.

Beneath her breath, Luiza mumbles, “Wow, you suck at pretense.”

Dooley warns her to hush in a manner that is surprisingly biting.

“Leesh,” he says in a louder voice as he turns to Alicia. “What brings you to this gin joint? Thought you’d be up at the lake.”

“Hospital fundraising end of the year reporting. I was heading home and saw your post.”

She peers down at Baz’s brace. “I felt terrible I hadn’t been in touch after I heard about the incident at the station.”

Alicia turns to me. “You and Baz were together? When the attack happened?”

Her tone is part amusement, part disbelief, with a healthy sprinkling of insulting.

Luiza digs her nails into the leather chair, and I’m preparing for an epic Johnson eruption when Baz says loudly, “Melody saved me.”

Alicia laughs, mistaking the declaration for sarcasm. Baz’s expression doesn’t change, but when he raises his gaze to meet mine, I trip and fall between the distance of his green and hazel eyes, and the burning that lingers there.

“Let’s play,” Dooley says. “Lace, Spencer?”

Spencer looks at Lacy like a puppy begging for scraps, and she pats his shoulder. “Don’t worry, pal, we’re headed for tacos. No more delays.”