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Parker doesn’t seem like the girl that sticks around long after the fun has been had. She’s not playing hard to get because the woman just doesn’t want to be caught. She wants her fun and her independence. The last thing she’s looking for is to get tied down.

I scrub my hands over my face, frustrated that I’m even upset. It was a fun time, an amazing time even. This isn’t her fault. I’m the one struggling to manage my own damn expectations.

Despite it being evening time, I climb out of bed, strip the sheets and put them in the wash. I could live in her scent for an eternity but torturing myself has never really been my thing. I grab a shower next, getting dressed without looking at the bed before heading to the office.

I need a distraction right now, and the guys at work never seem to disappoint. I can only hope that my sour mood doesn’t make anyone more suspicious about what I’ve been up to than my happy mood did, but it would be just my luck that Wren has already spilled the beans.

As I drive to work, I kind of hope he has because I could seriously use some advice on what to do as far as Parker is concerned.

Chapter 20

Parker

“Hi!” I say with sincere enthusiasm when Mr. Williams, the owner of the bar I work at, greets me by the time clock. “It’s good to see you.”

“You as well, lovely girl.” He claps my hand between his two weathered ones. “Can I have a minute of your time?”

“Of course,” I tell him after returning the keycard that works both for my time clock login as well as the system at the front of the house.

“Tyson told me what happened last week,” he begins with a groan as he drops into the desk chair in the office.

I take the seat across from him.

I’ve tried to forget about what happened last Thursday night, both here and at Jude’s place when he turned me away. Half of it, the part including the man I can’t seem to get out of my head, was washed away by Saturday night and damn near all day Sunday. I knew I was going to have to face this today since it’s the first time I’ve been back to work since the belligerent man was in the bar.

“I’m fine,” I assure him.

“And your car?”

I tilt my head to the side in confusion. I didn’t come back into the bar after finding my car vandalized. I called a tow truck from the same spot I called the Uber. Another employee must have seen what happened or had been around when the tow truck driver came to carry it to the shop. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were one of the catty waitresses that hates me for no good reason. I can picture one of them now coming back inside to gossip about my misfortune with laughter in her voice.

“My car is fine. I picked it up this morning. It’s as good as new.”

“I want to reimburse you for the damages.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Your car was damaged in my lot. I insist.”

A couple of months ago, a customer’s car was hit in that very same lot, and when they came in to complain because the other driver didn’t stick around or bother to find out whose car they hit, they were told to file a claim with their insurance. I shouldn’t get special benefits because I work here.

“My insurance covered it,” I lie, and the old man narrows his eyes at me, reading the fib quickly.

“Parker,” he chides, but I stand firm.

I do not want anyone taking care of me. Even if I didn’t have the money to have it fixed, I wouldn’t ask for help. I like Mr. Williams, and he’s always been nice and kind to me, but letting a man help me for any reason makes my skin crawl.

“You’re not going to budge on this, are you?” I shake my head. “Alright then, but I want you to let Tyson see you to your car when you leave.”

“That’s not nec—”

He holds his hand up. “I insist.”

“Yes, Mr. Williams.”

“Okay, lassie. Get to the front. That new girl was drowning when I came through.”

I return his kind smile before leaving the office. The flustered look on Tyson’s face when I make it to the front doesn’t bode well for the kind of night I’m predicting myself to have.

He sighs in relief when he spots me.

“Don’t,” I warn, a little frustration for having to speak with Mr. Williams about something I consider a personal matter still clinging to me.

“What did I do?” He pouts, his handsome face and bright eyes betraying his faux sadness.

“You sent that old man after me.”

“I mentioned the trouble you had.”

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