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Damn her. What they had was so much more than that. So. Much. More.
He ignored the burn spreading in his chest, the bile rising in his throat, the desperate need to beg her to tell him what the fuck he’d done wrong.
But did he really need to ask? He already knew the answer.
She didn’t want him. Clarification: she’d been fine with the orgasms he’d given her—the sex had been “a high note.” It washimshe didn’t want. He’d thought she’d begun to trust him again, thought she was giving them a real chance, a real shot.
After everything... she didn’t want him.
At least now he knew where he stood with her.
Fuck it.
He exhaled and pasted a bored smile on his face. He’d take the kick to the balls like a man. If that’s how she saw it, if that’s what she wanted—then fine. Yeah, he’d believed they could make it work. Because it had always been Roxie. Always.
But apparently, he was only a good fuck in her eyes. He was the dumbass with his head in the fucking clouds. Not anymore, though. Now his feet were firmly planted on the ground, and he would not be chasing after her. Because chasing a woman only worked if she wanted to be caught. And Roxie clearly didn’t.
“If that’s how you feel, then fine. We’ll go back to being friends,” he said, surprised he’d found his voice. He was even more surprised by how steady, how blasé it sounded. “I’m not going to lie, Rox. It’s been a lot of fun, and I was hoping it would last longer. After all, it’d been a while for me.”
The fire in her eyes dimmed the tiniest bit. His parting shot was a dick move, and it made him an even bigger asshole, but he didn’t care. He was more than happy to fall into old habits and lash back. If she was going to stomp on him like a flaming bag of shit, then he’d get a dig in, too.
He was on the verge of taking another cheap shot at her when a loud bang made them both jump.
Joe turned and swung open the door. Quinn stood on the other side, expression grim.
His friend looked past him. “Roxie, you need to come with me. There’s been an incident at your café.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Roxie stared at the hole in her café’s front window. Disbelief and horror warred within her. She couldn’t believe it. It was only the tiny shards of glass on the sidewalk that sparkled as they caught the sunlight that told her it was true.
She wrapped her arms around her waist, but her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The trembling had started the second she’d buckled herself into Quinn’s SUV for the short ride to Comfort Food. She wanted to blame her anxiety solely on the vandalism. However, that would be a lie.
Cut and run.
She closed her eyes. The messy confrontation with Joe had sucked. Torn her apart. She hadn’t expected him to put up a big fight, but she’d thought he’d protest. At least a little.
He hadn’t. At all.
His silence cut in ways she couldn’t have anticipated. His thanks-for-the-lay comment made her feel dirty.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat.
As if her morning hadn’t been bad enough... Now this.
Taking in the webbed glass with its gaping hole, she sucked in a few deep breaths. The police buzzed about the scene in a blur of activity. An arm wrapped around her waist and squeezed. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the one person she truly wanted to comfort her. Regardless, she leaned against her friend and blinked back tears. “Thanks, Alex.”
“I’m so sorry, honey. Are June and Nina okay?”
Roxie nodded, a wave a relief sweeping through her.
“Do they know what happened?”
“No,” Roxie said. “Quinn told me they were both in the back when they heard the glass shatter. They ran to the front, and when they saw the damage, they immediately called it in. Thankfully, the front was empty, so no one was hurt. It was horribly perfect timing because no one outside saw who did it, either.”
But thank god June and Nina were unharmed. That’s what mattered.
“What a mess,” she mumbled, pulling away from Alex and stepping toward Comfort Food’s entrance. “I guess I’d better grab a broom.”
