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Yeah, as his new, unsuspecting, beard. Anger heated her blood, but she bit back the words.
“You’re mad.” The hurt in Ellie’s voice only made her feel worse.
“Not with you, no. But I’m mad as hell at him b
ecause…because…” She closed her eyes and counted to ten. “I can’t even tell you why I’m upset, because I can’t think of a way to explain without breaking a promise. But it’s not because I’m some crazy, jealous ex.” She rubbed her palm over the invisible band tightening across her forehead and stared at the wall, hoping the perfect answer would magically materialize. “I don’t want to see somebody else’s time wasted.” Dammit.
Now Ellie found some fascination with the wall. “I…ah…I know what I’m getting into.”
Yeah, right. You’ve cast Roger as Christian Grey, not Christian Gay. The slam of the waiting room door pulled her attention to the reception window. Ms. Van Hendler hobbled over. Melody handed Ellie the older lady’s chart and said in a low voice, “I know you think you do, but you don’t. I know I’m not making any sense. Just remember, I’m here for you.”
“What’s that, dear?” Ms. Van Hendler smiled at them from the other side of the window.
Melody pasted an answering smile on her face. “I said, ‘Ms. Van Hendler, we’re clear for you.’ Come on back.”
Chapter Five
Josh pulled his phone from his pocket and nodded at Earl Rawley, the steel-haired, leather-skinned bartender and proprietor of Rawley’s Pub. He claimed a stool, put his phone on the bar¸ and scanned the score on the large flat-screen TV while Earl finished adding drinks to a tray for one of the waitresses looking after the tables.
A minute later, Earl came over. “You’ve caught the tail end of happy hour, Chief. Domestic drafts are two bucks and house wines are five. What can I get you?
He ordered a beer. Earl headed off to get his drink, and Josh annoyed himself by glancing down at his phone again. No word from Melody. He’d spent his entire day off checking his phone every ten minutes like a teenage girl waiting on her prom date. Worse, he’d actually held silent debates with himself about whether he should text her, call, or just leave it alone and wait for her to get in touch. He’d left it alone. Now the clock ticked toward six. The evidence—no word from her, and the fact that she wasn’t sitting in a booth at Rawley’s, drowning her sorrows—suggested she hadn’t gotten fired. Probably she’d had her hands full with a busy day of work.
Or she changed her mind about tangling with a guy who almost got her fired.
Easy come, easy go. At least it always had been, yet for some jacked-up reason, the thought of Melody changing her mind left him feeling exactly like he’d felt one Christmas as a kid, when he’d asked for a Game Boy and unwrapped a calculator—except in this case, the degree of disappointment didn’t make any sense. Sure, last night he’d been inside her, a few slippery seconds from getting the job done, and yes, he was a guy who liked to finish what he started, but still…his eyes strayed to his phone again.
Maybe she and Roger kissed and made up?
Cut that shit out. He shoved his phone into his back pocket and squinted at the screen where the Reds were punishing the Dodgers for daring to show up. In his peripheral vision, he registered a couple guys come in and stop a few spaces down the bar. He looked over to find Junior Tillman and Tyler Longfoot. Tyler “Footlong” Longfoot, he mentally corrected, and decided a town was too damn small if a guy had to be drinking buddies with the man who shot him in the very same bar not two weeks ago. If that’s what it took to fit in around here, he’d just as soon not.
“Hey, Earl,” Junior called out, hoisting his fireplug of a frame onto a barstool. The bar owner gave him an I-see-you look and finished taking orders at the other end of the bar. Junior glanced over at Josh and nodded. “How’s it going, Chief?”
“Reds are up, five-oh.”
“Well, all right then.” Junior scooted his barstool closer to get a better angle on the screen. “Ty, you met the chief yet?”
Tyler frowned at his phone.
Junior looked back at Josh, grinned as if to say, “watch this,” and bellowed, “Ty!”
The taller man dropped his phone on the bar and jerked his head up. “Jesus, Ma, what?”
“Jesus yourself. My cousin with the wife in Lexington and the girlfriend in Covington doesn’t check his phone as much as you’ve checked yours today. What is up with you?”
“Nothing,” Tyler shot back, and put his phone away. Josh might have shared Junior’s amusement at the look of utter frustration on Tyler’s face, except he feared he’d stared at his phone with just the same look not two minutes ago.
“Nothing, my ass. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were pining for a call.”
“I’m pining for one goddamn moment of peace. And a beer. Earl?” he called out to the older man still at the other end of the bar. Earl waved him off without looking up from pouring Basil Hayden’s over ice.
“Can I get this round, Chief?” Junior asked.
“Sure. Thanks.” He had nothing better to do tonight than hang out at Rawley’s, watching a shutout and observing the locals. Wait…did his phone just vibrate? He retrieved it from his back pocket and checked the dark screen.
“Oh, shit. Not you, too.” Junior chuckled and, for Earl’s benefit, pointed at Josh’s beer and held up three fingers.
“No. It’s true. I’m also pining for a beer,” Josh deadpanned.
