Don't Go Away Mad (Burgers and Brew Crüe Book 2)

by Lacey Black

  And I did that.

  Me.

  And because I’m the ultimate asshole, I tell her words I’ve never spoken to another woman, outside my family. Words I should keep to myself, knowing they’ll probably do more damage than good, especially now. “I never meant to hurt you. I love you.”

  I walk the rest of the way through that door and don’t look back. It would kill me if I did, and I’m too weak.

  Love makes you weak.

  Vulnerable.

  Two things I hate.

  So I push past the guilt, through the pain, and walk away from the woman I fell in love with. Why? Because I wounded her so intently, broke her trust so irreparably, and nothing can change or fix that.

  There is no future for that kind of hurt.

  Especially not for an asshole like me.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lyndee

  “That’s the last one,” I say to absolutely no one. With a sigh, I set my cell phone a little too roughly on the counter. But what’s a girl to do? That’s the final cake order I had on the books, and now it’s gone like the rest of them.

  Two days. That’s how long it takes for a business to completely tank. For fourteen special order cakes to cancel, not even caring about the cancelation fee. I, of course, couldn’t even go through with the charges, refusing to take that fifty dollars from people who would much rather listen to the opinions of an angry man.

  But I understand where they’re coming from. I’m the new girl in town. Burgers and Brew has been in business for more than five years, a thriving local establishment with a reputation most competitors would kill for.

  Like me.

  I’d kill for that kind of PR and status.

  Instead, I’m left with an empty bakery, a display case full of pastries, and a loan payment coming up that doesn’t care about some stupid letter to the editor.

  Around noon, I hear the bell ring over the door, and I jump in surprise. When I glance up, I see Mallory and Lizzie coming in, a wide smile on the mother’s face and an impending sugar coma gaze on the little girl’s.

  “Hi,” I say, setting my cleaning rag in the bucket. “What are you doing here?”

  “Well, we came for treats, but also I need to discuss a cake,” Mallory replies as her daughter runs up to the display case.

  “I want dat one!” Lizzie bellows, pointing to the sprinkle-covered cupcake with chocolate and vanilla swirl frosting.

  “Of course you do. Pick one out for me and Walker too. We’ll have them before he goes to work later,” Mallory tells her daughter before turning and giving me a gentle smile.

  Her kindness brings instant tears to my eyes. I cover them up by filling the cupcake box with treats, some picked by Lizzie and some by me. “Here you go, sweetie. On the house,” I tell the little girl, handing over the bag with her cupcakes.

  “Oh, no, I’ll pay. I insist,” Mallory says, pulling cash from her purse.

  “No, it’s okay,” I reply, glancing around at the empty room.

  Mallory does the same, as if understanding completely what I’m saying. “But every little bit helps,” she whispers, shoving two twenties across the counter.

  I give her a sad smile. “I’m not sure anything can fix this, but I do appreciate it.” I slide the money back toward her.

  When she takes it, she doesn’t put it in her wallet, but shoves it in the empty tip jar sitting on top of the counter. “I also need a cake.”

  “Oh,” I reply, somewhat awkwardly. Since I don’t know how long I’ll remain in business, I’m not sure what I should do here. “I’m not sure I’m the right person for the job,” I confess, following her around the counter and joining her at a bistro table.

  “What? Of course you are! You’re the only person for the job. I need a wedding cake, and you’re the only one I want to make it.”

  I smile softly, so very happy for my new friend. “Well, I appreciate it. I’d love to make it for you,” I reply honestly.

  “Good,” she states with a nod. “We don’t need a very big one, but what I’m thinking is two small tiers. I don’t have a topper or anything, so just throw some flowers or something on there. I trust you.”

  I can’t help but grin. “Okay,” I reply, making a note in my notebook. “When do you need it by?”

  “Valentine’s Day?” she asks, offering me a smile that’s both apologetic and enthusiastic.

  “Wow, that’s only a few weeks away! Congratulations.”

  “Thanks,” she says. “I wanted to get married before I started to get too big with the baby. I’m not wearing a big fancy dress, just something subtle and timeless.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”

  “Well, you’ll be there, right?” she insists, watching as her daughter sticks her finger inside the box of cupcakes and pulls it out covered in frosting.

  “Oh, uh, I don’t know,” I stammer, unsure what to say. Surely she’s heard all about what happened here and between Jasper and me, right?

  “Listen, I know everything is a…mess right now, but I truly believe in my heart it’ll turn around for you. You’re too amazing at what you do to go out like this,” she says, standing up. “I say you give ‘em hell, Lyndee. Show this town you’re here to stay. And maybe kick Mr. Kohlmann in the jingle bells on your way to the top.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Jingle bells?”

  She leans in and whispers. “Balls. I just can’t say that because then someone wants to know what balls are and why Daddy Walk likes it when I lick them.” She glances over at her daughter and arches an eyebrow.

  I burst into a fit of giggles and cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh my God, she did?”

  “Apparently heard us one night when we thought she was sleeping. Now, she’s obsessed with balls. Asked Jameson if he had them the other day,” she states, collecting her daughter and reaching for a napkin to wipe icing residue off her hands. “Your daddy is going to be so happy to eat those finger-poked cupcakes later.”

  “I gotted him duh choccate!”

  “Mmmm, you know how much he likes chocolate with Lizzie marks,” Mallory says, leading her child to the door. “Don’t give up, Lyndee. Men are stupid creatures, and while we love them most of the time, they do really idiotic things every now and again. Don’t let his immaturity ruin you. Fight like hell.”

  I give her a teary nod and swallow over the lump in my throat. “Okay.”

  “And watch for that invite in the mail soon. I expect you to be there.”

  Then she’s out the door, a cute little blonde girl skipping down the sidewalk beside her.

  I sigh, taking note of the full display case and grab one of those chocolate cupcakes Lizzie picked out. I take my treat over to one of the small tables by the window and watch as happy patrons walk out of the restaurant across the street, smiling with bellies full of delicious food.

  I remove the paper from the cake and take a healthy bite, catching a taste of the creamy fudgy filling. “These are damn good,” I say to no one. “You all are missing out,” I add, glancing at the groups walking down the street.

  Finishing off my treat, I start to form a plan. Mallory’s right. I’m not going to let what Jasper did ruin my business. I’m going to fight. If I go down, it’s going to be swinging.

  ***

  I spend the rest of my Saturday and Sunday coming up with a plan, and Monday executing. I deliver what was left from the case on Saturday to the local nursing home. They gladly accepted the treats for their residents. If they had read the article in the paper last week, they made no indication.

  When I return from my delivery, I’m happy to see a few customers taking advantage of my new offer. A free cup of coffee or tea with the purchase of a pastry. Dustin and Daisy are friendly, without being overly so, and refill cups once they are halfway gone. It wasn’t part of the plan, to give refills too, but they went with it and I didn’t complain. The longer the customers stay, the more likely they are to maybe leave with something el
se, like a slice of pie for later or fresh bread to go with their dinner.

  By Wednesday, business remains at a small trickle, but at least it’s better than nothing. Some are repeat customers, while others are new. I can tell by the way their eyes dart around suspiciously, as if they’ll looking for piles of trash or other uncleanliness lurking in the corners, but am relieved when they realize it’s not at all what the article claimed.

  Speaking of article, I have yet to see Jasper. Not since he walked out of my bakery last Thursday evening. The rest of the crew, Jameson, Isaac, and Walker, have been in, buying up way more goodies than any of them could eat, but I appreciate their efforts, nonetheless. They all offered me their apologies, vowing to help give my business the boost it deserves after the train wreck their friend caused.

  I’ve had to cut Daisy’s hours a bit, to make up for the lack of income. I hate it, but she insisted it was fine. Her schooling keeps her plenty busy, and she’s able to give a little more time to that. It still killed me to do, but I promised to return her hours as soon as I can.

  If I can.

  On Thursday afternoon, the bell rings over the door. I’m in the kitchen, baking a raspberry cream pie, when my brother hollers from the front counter. “Lyndee, can you come up here a minute? There’s a gentleman who’d like a word with you.”

  I wash my hands at the sink and dry them off on my apron before heading up front to see who my visitor is. A bubble of hope explodes in my chest at the thought that it might be Jasper standing there, and then I chastise myself for even entertaining the thought. I don’t want to see Jasper.

  Not today.

  Not ever again.

  Right?

  I round the corner, ignoring the disappointment I feel when I find a tall, older man smiling at the counter. “Miss Gibson?” he asks, reaching out a hand to shake.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Dwayne Jordan. My mom is a resident at the Stewart Grove Care Facility, and I believe you’ve been delivering pastries and things there the last few days.” He offers me a friendly grin. “I was there visiting yesterday when they brought a tray to our table. They were delicious.”

  I return the smile, feeding off his relaxed demeanor. “I’m glad you enjoyed them.”

  “Enjoyed them? They were simply amazing. I took one home for my wife, who raved about your chocolate croissant. Miss Gibson, I have a proposition for you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jasper

  I slam the empty container of sliced onions down on the table. “If you can’t do it right, I’ll find someone who can! That goes for all of you!” I bellow, feeling the eyes of my stunned staff on my back as I storm away.

  Shutting the door with force, I plop onto my desk chair and drop my head into my hands. A loud sigh slides from my lips as I close my eyes in exhaustion. I’m so fucking tired. I haven’t slept for more than a couple of hours each night since it happened. For weeks, I’ve been an aggravated zombie, going through the motions and so short fused, even my closest friends don’t want to be around me.

  Who’d blame them? Not me.

  I’m an absolute bear who deserves to be alone.

  I get up and leave my office, needing to escape the four small walls that continually close around me. I don’t make eye contact as I walk through the kitchen and down the hallway, pushing open the employee entrance and stepping out into the sunlight. I feel like that damn Kid Rock song about not seeing it for three days, but not because I’m drowning myself in booze and drugs. My excuse is I’m working myself to death, day and night.

  Hating myself a little more with each passing minute.

  The sun is warm against my skin, even if there’s a cool February chill in the air. I embrace the sting of the dampness though. It’s a welcome reprieve from the darkness that’s surrounded me.

  I drop down on the picnic table and take a deep breath. It burns my lungs, but I don’t care. I revel in the pain.

  My mind continually replays the same scene, over and over again like a broken record. It invades my thoughts all day, but worse, at night. When I close my eyes, all I see is her tears. They stream down her lovely cheeks, each one a burning poker to the chest. Tears of betrayal, that’s what they were, and I can’t get them out of my head, as much as I’ve tried.

  And I have.

  I’ve drank way more than I should to try to forget her, but it hasn’t helped. I’ve worked out until I was so bone-achingly tired I was sure I’d pass out from exhaustion. Only to still see those tears after I closed my eyes.

  Worse, I hear her words. How each one dripped with the pain of deception.

  My deception.

  “Thought I’d find you back here,” Jameson says as he walks through the back door and drops down on the bench across from me. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it, only to offer me the pack before he puts it away. I take one, even though I’m not a smoker, not since my younger, dumber college days.

  “What are you doing out here?” I ask, lighting the cigarette with the offered flame.

  “I drew the short straw,” he announces, taking a deep inhale and looking much cooler than I do.

  I snort out a laugh. “Pity for you.”

  He leans back, extending his long legs out in front of him. “It is. No one wanted to be the one to come out here and deal with your bullshit.”

  “Tell me how you really feel,” I grumble.

  “You don’t want to know how I really feel, Jasp.”

  I sigh and close my eyes. “You know what, maybe I do. Let me have it. It can’t be anything I haven’t already thought myself these last few weeks.”

  When he doesn’t reply right away, I open my eyes and meet his gaze. “You’re scared.”

  Okay. That’s not what I thought he’d say.

  “What?”

  “You’re scared, because she made you feel things you’ve never felt before and it was easier to run from them than to face them head-on.”

  “I’m not scared,” I argue, even though it’s fruitless. I am.

  “Bullshit. You may have done that newspaper thing accidentally, but in the last couple of weeks, you’ve had every opportunity in the world to fix it. But you haven’t. You know why?”

  I stare at him with a blank expression. “Because I’m scared?” I ask, deadpan.

  “Exactly.”

  “So, tell me, oh wise one, why am I scared exactly?”

  He just smiles. “Because you love her, and you think you’re no good for her.”

  I blink, trying to wrap my head around his surprisingly astute assessment. “I don’t love her,” I whisper, but the words sound hollow, even to my own ears.

  “You do, and that scares you. But the truth is, you two are better together than apart. She brought out this whole new side of you, and you didn’t know what to do with it. It’s like you were sitting back, waiting for the other shoe to drop so you could turn tail and run at the first opportunity.

  “Well, you did that, and look what happened. You’re miserable and so fucking grumpy no one wants to be around you. Your staff is on the verge of quitting, but you’re too stubborn and stuck in your own head to see it.

  “But do you know what’s worse? She loves you too, and you’re too wrapped up in your own head to even see it.” He takes a long drag from his cigarette and stares at me.

  I close my eyes and picture her standing in the kitchen of her bakery. “I told her I loved her. It was selfish, because I was walking out of her life, but I had to say it. For myself. Not to hurt her, even though I’m sure it did. Because I’m a prick. A fucking dick who had to say the one thing I should have said before everything blew up in his face. A coward.”

  He nods slowly in understanding, but also in agreement. “You’re right.” I can’t help but laugh, smiling for the first time in forever. “You’re a dick. Always have been. But you’re also the first guy to jump in and help if one of us needs something. When all that shit happened last fall with Walker and Mal? You were right
there, despite having a job to do. You’re a good friend, Jasper. You don’t give yourself enough credit.

  “You made a mistake. Out of frustration or anger or whatever that was. We know you didn’t mean to send that bullshit to the newspaper, and deep down she knows it too. You’d never willingly hurt someone you love. That includes us. And her.”

  He takes another long drag. “So, now the question is, what are you going to do about it? Let her go, to live her life? You gonna be content to see her come and go across the street without saying hello? What happens when she starts to date, and they come into the restaurant for dinner? That okay with you?”

  I pull at the collar of my polo, even though it’s not tight. Suddenly, I can’t seem to get enough oxygen into my lungs.

  “That’s what I thought. Listen, Jasp, if you don’t love her or don’t want to see her again, fine. I won’t say another fucking word. But you still owe her an apology. You did her wrong, and that’s not okay. Fix that because it’s the right thing to do. She’s not our competition and doesn’t deserve what’s happening to her.”

  My chest aches. “What’s happening to her?” I ask, even though I don’t think I want to know the answer.

  He sighs and puts out his cigarette, only to retrieve a second one. “Business sucks. Dustin said she lost all her cake orders and had to donate a bunch of product to the hospital and nursing home.”

  Again, I close my eyes and try to hide from the humiliation and shame. “What if I do love her?” I whisper, putting my cigarette out.

  He smiles and stands up. “Then, don’t stop until she forgives you.”

  I watch as one of my best friends walks away, leaving me outside in the cold. But this time, I’m left with something else too. Hope. The truth is I’m probably all wrong for her, but Jameson’s right. I’d rather be with her, spending my life proving to her I’m worthy, than spending it without her.

  Now, I just have to figure out how to apologize.

  The right way this time.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Lyndee