Bucking the Rules (16 page)

“You could use the break.” He paused, then asked, “Are people hassling you?”

“Hassling me?” She looked around the slow-but-steady dining room, full of calm patrons and low music. “No, why?”

“I mean about Trace.”

Oh, shit. Here it comes. “Why would they do that?” She grabbed a bar rag and started wiping down the bar again.
I'll refinish the damn thing if I have to.

“It's just that Judy Plumber saw you two arguing at the Piggly Wiggly the other day, and she said—repeatedly, mind you—that it didn't look like you were having a tussle about frozen entrée selection, if you know what I mean.”

He blushed at that. “The last part was her phrase. The ‘if you know what I mean' bit. I wouldn't say that.”

“I'm sure you wouldn't,” she murmured, staring for a moment across the bar until her vision blurred and all she saw were vague blotches of color moving around the room.

A touch on her hand brought her back. Jeff covered her hand with his.

“If there's anything I can do, let me know. If you need me to talk to him, I can. If you two have broken up or anything, and he's still bothering you, I—”

“Thanks.” She said it briskly, not wanting to discuss the situation. Why confirm to him she had zero idea whether they were broken up or not. A week ago, there was nothing to “break up.” Suddenly they were in a relationship, and now there was a kid. Poof. Insta-family.

The thought had her going clammy. She squeezed the back of her neck at a pressure point the chiropractor—Regina's husband number four—had showed her until her vision stopped swimming. God, she had to stop thinking like that or she'd pass out.

“Jo?” Jeff stood up, started walking around the bar before she held up a hand.

“I'm fine. Just . . . got a little dizzy. That's all.” A weak excuse, at best, but he seemed to buy it and sat down again. Concern didn't leave his face though.

“So you two are . . . done. Right? I just assumed that was what the fight was over.”

God, not again. “It's no big deal. Your burger will be out in a minute or so.” She turned toward the kitchen, but he caught her wrist as she walked by.

“Jo, come on. If he's out of the picture, then why can't we—”

“Because I don't think about you like that.” Rip the bandage off, nice and clean. He wouldn't take the gentle route, so time to cut cleanly. “Look, it's not going to happen with us. Whether I'm with someone else or not has nothing to do with it. I'm begging you, stop thinking about it. It's not a possibility, not even close. So don't ask again, okay?”

She shook her head, so tired now of men and bullshit in general, and walked into the kitchen for a minute. “Stu, can you watch the bar for five? I need a break.”

“Yeah, sure. I'll deliver this burger while I'm there.” He headed out with Jeff's plate and left her to a nearly-empty kitchen, her only company the busboy washing dishes in the corner. He didn't even look up as she grabbed a bottle of water from the small fridge for the workers and headed out into the back alley for some air.

The male species were brain dead. It was the only explanation. They were all born idiots, and it was a female's lot in life to knock sense into them, one brick at a time. God, what a tiring thought.

She gave herself four and a half minutes, then headed back inside. She plastered a fake smile on her lips, but when she pushed back into the bar from the kitchen, Jeff was gone. Next to his untouched plate was a twenty and the empty glass that had held his Bud. She prayed he hadn't chugged it, but who knew. Then again, only one beer shouldn't hit him that hard. With a sigh, she walked the plate into the kitchen and scraped the food into the trash.

Waste. All of it.

She hated waste.

 

Trace sat in the truck, engine still on, arguing with himself.

Go in, face the wrath, face the accusations and the anger. He deserved them all. And if she was done with him, he'd have to walk back out into the night and accept it.

Or turn around and not know for one more day. Have one more night to pretend Jo was his, and he had something to build on.

Trace had never considered himself a coward before. Never bolted at the thought of breaking a horse, of possibly taking hard kicks or being stepped on, knocked around a stall. He'd never shied from a fight. But the thought of knowing, without a doubt, Jo was done with him had him seriously debating turning tail to deal with it another night.

Fuckwit. He growled at himself and jerked the key out of the ignition. Then he took five deep breaths. Just what he would need . . . to fuck up his car so he couldn't actually leave after she kicked him out.

Climbing out of the truck, he paused, hand wrapped around the top of the door as that kid from a few nights ago walked out of Jo's bar and down the street. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his head hung down low, and his feet stomped like a little boy's going to time out with a pissy attitude.

Trace smirked.
Kicked you out again, huh? Serves you right.

Then his good humor died. Odds were, he'd be walking in the same footsteps in a few minutes. Cautiously, he opened the door and waited for a moment for some bad omen to slap him in the chest. But when he walked in, the bar was oddly quiet. A few tables had patrons, a server worked here or there, cleaning or talking to customers, but otherwise, slow night.

Jo was behind the bar. She caught sight of him and smiled a little before the expression slid from her face. She grabbed a rag, started to wipe down the bar, then scowled and tossed it away.

“Mind if I sit?”

She motioned to a chair. “Free country.”

He eyed her as she started filling a water glass. “Is that to toss in my face?”

“If it is?” she asked, not looking up.

“Can you at least skip the ice?”

She snorted, then sighed. “No, it's not to toss at you. Here.” She slid it at him, then poured herself another glass. “I figured water would suit better than a beer for this conversation.”

Likely right. He glanced up at the clock over the bar, next to the flat screen. “What time are you closing up?”

“Whatever time I want.” When he shook his head, she shrugged. “No sense in paying servers tonight. It's a Tuesday, no sporting events going on tonight, and clearly nobody's killing time out and about. I'll have them lock up at nine.”

Have who?

She motioned to someone behind him, and Amanda slid up next to him. “Yeah, boss?”

“What's this
boss
crap?”

Amanda smiled prettily. “Just being dutiful in front of the customers.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “You're on bar duty for the rest of the night. Reposition the stations so the other three can cover the floor.”

The woman huffed and walked around the bar. “Yeah, so we can all manage the big rush?”

Jo sighed, grabbed her cell phone from under the bar and stuffed it in her back pocket. A back pocket hugging a very fine ass he was hoping he'd get to see again sometime soon.

“Just have Stu lock up at the end of the shift, and call me if there's trouble.”

“Like there's ever trouble.” Amanda shooed them away. “Off you go. Both of you.”

He watched her for a minute, then shrugged. If Jo had told her about them, or she'd figured it out, it was fine with him. He never really cared for playing the invisible man anyway.

T
race followed her up the stairs and into her apartment, keeping a close-but-respectful distance away. Hands off, unlike any other time they'd climbed those stairs. No gentle guidance at the small of her back, no playful pats on her ass or carrying her up on his back. Nothing that said
we're still lovers.

Not good.

Jo dumped her keys in the dish by the door and set her cell phone on the table, then pointed to a chair. “Sit.”

He did so, not wanting to anger the bear by getting out of line. She sat across from him, hands close enough to her body to discourage reaching out for her.

“I feel lied to.” And the well-deserved punches started coming.

He winced. “I'm sorry.”

“Not done.” She held up a hand, then let it fall to the table lightly. “I feel like you held back this whole time. You had something in your life that affected our relationship, and you never let me in on it. I won't say I'm hurt, because that's going too far.”

He could see the lie in that written all over her face. But if she needed the small half-truth to soothe the wound, he'd let it go, gladly.

“But honesty is big with me. And I can't tell you how shitty I feel being lied to. Not just that you did it, but that I didn't expect it, see it coming. Whatever. I pride myself on reading people, and I hate feeling like I got it wrong.”

She paused for a long moment, and he hoped that meant it was his turn. “I don't want you to be wrong. I want to be that guy you thought I was. And I'm sorry I didn't mention Seth.”

“Seth.” She said it slowly, like she was committing the name to memory. “That's his name?”

“Yeah. Seth Muldoon.”

She nodded, but said nothing.

“I didn't mention him at first because, well, we didn't really start out with anything that needed full disclosure. I wasn't in a relationship, and you weren't either. Two adults, unattached, attracted to each other . . .” Okay, he needed to skip that part before he got off track. “It just didn't factor in. You didn't seem like you wanted to know more. And I was out to get away from being a dad for a bit. I wasn't about to break out the baby pictures and play Proud Papa while we were recovering in the sack.”

She nodded again. “Okay. I see what you mean. Sharing intimate details during something like that isn't really a requirement.”

He started to breathe a little easier.

Then her eyes narrowed, and his throat constricted again. “But you wanted more. You were the one pursuing a relationship. A real one, not just fuck buddies.”

“Guilty.” He stared into her eyes, unblinking. “And I don't regret it for a second.”

“But now there's a tiny little elephant in the room. One you failed to mention.”

“I'll admit, I screwed this one up.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I just got in the habit of not talking about that side of my life, and by the time I realized I'd left it out . . .”

“You didn't want to scare me off,” she said quietly. Her gaze was firmly on the table.

“No, I didn't. After I realized the clusterfuck I'd backed myself into, I had this whole plan to sort of . . . ease you into the idea.” As he said it, he realized it was a shit plan. But at the time, he hadn't known what else to do.

Jo said nothing.

“That's wrong. I get it. Full disclosure and confidence that you know what you're walking into is important.” He reached across the table, and this time she let him take her hand. He chose to view that as a good sign. “I screwed up. And, spoiler alert, if we stay together for longer than five minutes, I'll screw up again at some point. I'm sorry for it. And I'm hoping you'll give me another shot.”

Her eyes drifted down to their joined hands.

“Here's the thing . . .”

His heart, which had only just begun its slow crawl from his gut back into his chest, slid again. He pulled his hand from hers and crossed his arms over his chest, needing the extra layer of armor to absorb the coming blow.

“I'm not into the whole family thing. I don't really have a family, and God knows my example of a mother was . . . well.” She smiled a little. “Less than perfect, we'll say.”

“You know those spiders that sometimes eat their babies?”

Jo looked mildly grossed out. “Yeah.”

“My mom made them look like mother of the year.”

“Okay then.” The corners of Jo's lips twitched, and he knew she was fighting back a real smile. “So neither of us came from super awesome parenting stock. Still, I'm not really set up, emotionally or physically, to be in a family. A couple?” She lifted her hands, let them fall back again. “I was gearing up to try, but even with that, I had reservations.”

“I know,” he murmured. He'd driven right through the wall she'd set up against him. He'd do it again, if he had to.

He'd rather she opened the door, though. Much less messy.

“But this?” She laughed, but it wasn't a pleasant sound. “I'm nobody's mother.”

“I'm not asking you to be.” What the hell did she think he was doing, trolling for nannies? “My son is a major part of my life. He's the biggest part. But he doesn't dictate who I date.”

“Doesn't he?” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Would you get into a relationship with someone you didn't trust him with? Someone you really thought would be bad for him?”

“No, of course not.”

“So that right there proves the point. I'm no good for a kid. I run a bar, for God's sake. I live above it. I'm not someone you should trust with your child. I don't even think I've ever held a kid before.”

She was starting to edge on hysterical again. “Look, when it's us, it's just us. You and me. Nobody else. I had plans on easing you into the whole ‘hey, I'm a dad' thing. So let's go back to that plan. We do what we're doing. And eventually, maybe one day you come over and we just hang out, the three of us.” He looked a moment at her face, frozen in, well, he hoped not in horror. “I'm not asking you to change diapers or anything.”

“Better not.” She mimicked his pose, arms across her chest. “Fastest way to end this thing is to hand me a diaper.”

“Duly noted.” He couldn't help but gain a little hope again at her wording. “So is there still a thing?”

She breathed in deeply and scrunched her eyes shut, the heels of her hands digging into her temples. It almost looked like she was fighting off brain freeze.

“Yes.”

The word came out as a squeak and he wasn't entirely sure he'd heard her correctly. “Did you say yes?”

“Don't make me repeat it before I take it back.”

“Done,” he said quickly and before she could even open her eyes, he was around the table and kneeling next to her chair. “You're not going to regret this. Whatever happens with us, we'll take it one step at a time.”

“I'm not Mary freaking Poppins,” she warned.

“Well, thank God. She sings way too much for me to handle.”

She laughed and grabbed his ears, yanking him up for a blistering kiss. “Any more family members I need to know about? Any wives or foster monkeys lurking in closets?”

“Foster monkey? We don't even think about him like that. Bobo's one of us now.”

She squeezed his ears and he yelped. “Nice one, Muldoon.”

He kissed her again, and was reaching one hand under her bar uniform shirt when her cell phone rang.

“Leave it.” He worked his mouth over to her neck. “Leave it and make me a happy man.”

“I will, after I check the . . . shit.” She pushed at his shoulders a little. “It's the bar. They wouldn't call if it wasn't something they could handle. Hello?” She stood as she answered the phone, leaving him leaning over her vacant chair, all but heaving in deep breaths.

“Shit. Is he . . . okay, that's good. How about everyone else? Yeah. Thank God. But why . . . no. No, I absolutely did not. Yeah, two minutes.” She shut her phone and set it on the table with deliberate care. Then she turned to him and smoothed down her polo. “Do I look like I've been making out with a horny cowboy?”

“No . . . but I just got started. Gimme a minute or two and you'll be nice and mussed up.” He reached for her, but she stepped back.

“That was the police.”

Nothing doused lust quite like the mention of local authority. “What's wrong?”

“Apparently a patron who came in earlier this evening was drunk driving and plowed into the side of someone's house.”

“Jesus.” He stood and ran a hand down his face to help him refocus. “Whose house?”

“I don't know. Didn't get that far. They're downstairs and want to talk to me.” She shrugged and grabbed her keys with one hand, stuffing her cell phone in her back pocket with the other. “Sorry to cut our little make-up session short, cutie.”

“Good luck with that whole mess.”

“I'm not worried. He only had one beer at my place. They're likely just tracing back to double-check. Everyone's okay, though. Nobody was home, and he was already at the hospital getting the okay from doctors when he was questioned.”

“Lucky break.” He opened her door and followed her down the stairs. “Want me to wait for you?”

“Nah.” She patted his chest. “Go home to—”

“Don't.” He flattened her hand against him. “Don't let this start changing things. I offered because I have the time available.”

She paused a moment, then nodded. “Okay. You can go home, but we'll continue this another time.”

“Okay then. Call me later.” He bent to kiss her once more in the dark shadows of the corner before heading for his car.

Damn drunk driver cutting things off short. But he couldn't stop the curving of his lips as he started the engine. It might have delayed things, but their relationship had survived its first scuffle . . . a doozy of one. In his mind, this only meant more promising things in the future.

Despite the abrupt end, it had been a very good night.

 

Jo forced herself to walk calmly into the bar rather than running full speed the way her pounding heart dictated. Between hearing the words “police” and “in the bar” together in the same sentence, and recovering from that kiss upstairs, she was on the ragged edge of control in so many ways.

She opened the side door and walked in through the kitchen. Stu gave her a long look and a shake of his head.

“Never good for business when the cops show up and don't order something.”

“You're right there.” She patted his shoulder as she eased by him and walked into the dining area. The place was deserted, though that wasn't totally surprising as it was near closing time. But two officers in khaki uniforms sat at the bar, listening to Amanda as she told some amusing story that had them both laughing.

Good girl. Keep them amused and entertained. Always good to have the law smiling when in your home. And the bar was her home, come hell or high water. “Officers, welcome to Jo's Place.”

“You're a Ms. Josephine Tallen, correct?” One of them glanced at the pad of paper in front of him.

“That's me. You can call me Jo.” She held out a hand and shook with both as they introduced themselves as officers White and Nelson. “Can I get you something to drink? Water? Soda?” Both politely declined. “Well then, what can I do for you this evening?” She knew why they were there, but she wanted to hear it directly from them.

The one on the left, Officer White, scratched his chin. “We had a bit of an accident earlier tonight. Car drove into the Peckinpaugh place a few miles down the road. Quiet subdivision, not much traffic through there. Guy was heading home.”

“I hope nobody was hurt.” She also hoped she sounded sincere, since she knew the answer already.

“Minor injuries to the driver, nothing a night spent in observation won't fix. Nobody was home, so only property damage on their side of things.”

She nodded, then waited. People who asked a lot of questions tended to look guilty. She had nothing to hide, but she wasn't going to start volunteering information either.

“The driver, a Mr. Jeffrey Effingham, Junior, informed us he'd spent the time before going home here, at the bar.”

“He was here earlier, yes.” She patted the bar.

They played the same game as she had, waiting to see if there would be any more information. She stuck to her guns.

The man on the right, Officer Nelson, glanced at his partner's pad. “He informs us he ordered dinner and drinks.”

“Dinner and a drink. I served him one beer, which he drank. He didn't touch the dinner.”

He nodded, then asked, “Was he intoxicated when he arrived?”

“Not at all. He seemed in a pleasant mood, but there was no indication he was under the influence.” She gave them both intent stares. “I've been doing this long enough to pinpoint someone under the influence pretty quickly. I don't over-serve my guests, and I don't give someone who's already buzzed fuel for a fire already started.”

“Good policy. We've just got one problem here.”

Oh, goodie. A problem. “Yes?”

“Mr. Effingham blew a point-one-five at the hospital.”

Good Lord. Talk about overkill. “I see.”

“He says he didn't stop anywhere else to drink.”

“Okay.” She leaned against the cooler.

“He tells us you were his only stop before going home.”