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A light squeal squeezed past Ally’s lips, and he twisted the long neck of his beer bottle between his fingers, already anticipating the talk Sarah would have with him. He tread a fine line here, no doubt about that. Somewhere between awakening her true feelings for him, prodding her issues with Ally, and now working for her ex… all this while trying to make a living in a town that wasn’t exactly awash with opportunity.
I’ll find a way to pay the man back someday. Shit. This whole mess just keeps getting bigger.
He couldn’t keep living off odd jobs, that much was clear. At some point, he’d need to come up with a permanent plan. One where he got to stick around and build a life with Sarah. If she would have him.
“This is for you.” Sarah dropped a folded piece of paper in front of him and slid a beer over to Ally.
“What is it?” He turned the paper over and stared across at Sarah, her posture decidedly more relaxed than before.
“The sheriff called and asked me to take a note for you.”
The lifted corners of her mouth said she was lying, but he stared at her anyway, for no other reason than he loved looking at her. The sheriff had no reason to call him, and still, the amber glimmer in her eyes invited him to play along.
He unfolded the note and read it.
“Say you have to make a phone call and come meet me out back.”
He peered up again, slow this time, using his frown to cover his amusement. “I need to use your phone. I left mine at home. This sounds important.”
An instant grin tore across her face, and she flicked a thumb over her shoulder. “Sure, just through the double doors and in the kitchen. Don’t mind Gordon, no matter what he has to say.”
Dean did as instructed and strolled through the kitchen doors. A wave of steamy air hit him, an active stove in one corner of the room, a guy with a tall and solid build standing before that stove, his shaved head twisting toward Dean with an open expression. “Hey, you can’t be back here.”
“Hi, Gordon.” Dean didn’t break stride and headed for the metal door at the back with the EXIT sign above it. “Save your complaints for Sarah. This is her doing.”
The man shook his head and went back to work. Dean stepped outside, the fresh night breeze cooling his skin while he waited for Sarah. The metal door behind him crashed open, and he spun around to Sarah slipping through toward him. “I thought you said you’d do something about Ally?”
Hard tension drew at his chest, and that tension spread to his jaw. What with Sarah’s cheeky smile at the bar and the ruse to meet outside, he’d hoped for an intimate moment together, not for her to chew him out. “I did, and I have.”
She jerked back a little, as though his short reply hurt her, but she simply jutted her chin at the metal door and continued her indifference. “What was that in there, then?”
He glared at her. “Why do you care?”
She frowned, further depicting pain over anger. “You know why I care.”
“Because Ally’s your friend and you made a promise to your brother?” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Right. Got it.”
A long silence brought out the sounds of cicadas and rustling grass. She stared at him, her gaze darting about like she tried to fit a multitude of pieces together. “Want to tell me why you’re the one who’s pissed?”
He kept his jaw pressed shut for a moment longer. “I’m not pissed. You’re jealous.”
Again, she didn’t say anything, just blinked at him with her wounded expression turning stony, her foot tapping against the dry gravel.
He scrubbed a hand through his hair, trying not to growl his frustration. “Look. I don’t understand you.”
Her brows dipped and her tapping picked up pace, her stoniness changing to agitation coupled with a terse laugh. “I’m not sure I understand me either.”
Not the clear answer he’d hoped for, but closer to an admission of her true feelings. He stepped in and placed his hands either side of her upper arms. “Fine then, let’s concede that as the newbie in town, I can’t afford to go around making enemies, so you’ll have to trust me when it comes to Ally. If that’s too much of a stretch, then trust your instincts. You know there’s nothing there.”
She gave a heavy sigh, and her shoulders dropped, her gaze dipping to his chin and her sharper edges smoothing out. “Trusting my instincts hasn’t gotten me far.”
“Why?” He offered a weak smile, hoping to ease her doubt somewhat. “Because you didn’t bank on your ex’s long-lost love stumbling into town?”
“Well, when you put it like that—”
“When I put it like that, you’re not to blame for any of this. No one is. Sometimes shit just happens.”
She dropped her attention to the ground and nodded, though not all that convincingly since her lower lip did a tiny wobble. Yet another sign that he got to her, even though she’d never admit as much; her reservations and personal wounds were something he could identify with, and in part, why he’d been drawn to her in the first place.
