“Last week,” she said, one corner of her mouth lifting into the weak impression of a smile.
He glanced away on a short, humorless laugh. “Thanks for stopping by. Guess I must have missed all your calls.”
“I really didn’t think you’d be waiting.”
When he brought his gaze back to hers, Rory wasn’t sure what she saw there, hidden in the deep, shadowed blue. Or maybe she just didn’t want to see it.
“Yeah, well, guess I’ll see you around.” Sipping on his straw, he pushed the coffee shop door open with one shoulder.
For a moment, she assumed he was just going to disappear through it. Instead he hesitated, propping it open to the soft morning breeze.
“Thank you,” she said politely, covering a quiet sigh as she stepped past him to go outside.
She had been anticipating this moment with a mix of so many emotions. Yet now, as they readied to part, she was left only with that sad, empty feeling that accompanies every missed chance. Every time you had the opportunity to do or say what you really wanted to do or say, but you only let it pass. It was a feeling with which she was becoming endlessly familiar.
Pausing on the brick sidewalk, she glanced back at him.
“I wanted to call, you know.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“I guess I didn’t know what to say,” she admitted.
“‘Hi, Matt’—that’s usually a good place to start,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up just slightly as he sipped on his straw.
Rory hesitated on the verge of a slow smile, feeling the warm rush of something move through her chest, spreading out to the tips of her fingers, something beyond just the glow of summer sunlight.
“Hi, Matt.”
His eyes resting on hers, he smiled as well.
“Hello.”
THIRTY-FIVE
The air was thick with sunlight, pressing down on him as Matt made his way through town from his apartment to the bar. Everything seemed to move in slow motion on hot, humid summer afternoons like this, under the weight of water.
It was going to be a busy night, the weather far too uncomfortable for people to stay home. And one of those people was going to be her.
His brother Kevin texted him to let him know that, at Jill’s insistence, a bunch of them were taking Trevor out for a few drinks to celebrate his new fatherhood status. Even with just the suggestion that Rory might be included, Matt instantly felt that clutch in his chest.
An hour later, actually watching her walk into the bar, he couldn’t quite keep his eyes off her. He was drawn away from what he was doing by the way her hair cascaded in perfect silky layers down her back, lapsing into these trance-like states in the middle of conversations with customers just to see her smile or the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed.
He didn’t know if her recent declarations made him see her in a different light, or if being in her close proximity this summer had simply worn him down to the point he could no longer pretend he wasn’t completely enraptured. This was the easy part, however—worshipping her from afar. He’d done it for years, perfected it even. It was the up-close-and-personal that was the tricky part.
As expected, they had a crowd, most searching for an air-conditioned place near the harbor breezes to have a cold beer and get some relief. Even working side-by-side with Luke, it was difficult to keep up with the demand. It didn’t help that he couldn’t keep his focus.
He nearly dropped an entire bottle of vodka when she simply got up to use the ladies’ room, glancing at him on her way.
This was ridiculous, of course. Matt knew that. He knew that all he would have to do was suggest they talk about it, give it a chance, and she would probably be sharing a bed, and so much more, with him tonight. That’s just how it worked. There was no taking it slowly or feeling their way along, probably because they both knew the way by heart.
It was, to say the least, a well-traveled and familiar road.
Yet it seemed it was always all or nothing with them. And every moment with her felt like both a beginning and an end. Of what, he wasn’t sure—everything, maybe. The problem, as always, was tomorrow. When it eventually came around, as it always did, would she be gone?
When she returned from the restrooms, he was in the middle of mixing a few margaritas. Instead of making a direct line back to the others, she traveled diagonally across the main bar through the crowd.
He noticed her pause in front of the jukebox, fingertips lightly tapping the glass as she bowed her head as if to study the selections within. Almost immediately, a guy standing nearby broke away from his group to chat her up. Even though it was pretty much to be expected, it still pissed Matt off.
He was briefly glad for the distraction of the busy bar, and tried to focus only on getting drinks poured and delivered as quickly as he could. The music and melody drifted through the cacophony of voices, but it sounded like the typical alt-rock stuff she’d liked when she was in college.
Then the selection switched to something older, more familiar. This one stopped him short.
Clenching his jaw, Matt felt a strange painful thud inside his chest, and it swiftly sank to his gut. He knew the song by heart—every single broken piece of it.
It was a low blow, Bono.
Turning his head slightly, his dark gaze followed her as she moved through the crowd as if in slow motion, completely separate from it. She lifted her hand once, brushing the hair back off her face, and in that instant their eyes met.
Suddenly, she disappeared, stopped short in the midst of a large crowd, her progress somehow impeded. Tilting his head, craning his neck slightly, Matt narrowed his eyes in concern when he realized there was actually someone blocking her way.
The guy, a different one this time, stepped directly into her path, offering what appeared to be his version of a charming introduction. Rory responded with one of her famously cool looks, barely giving him the time of day. She obviously wasn’t interested in buying whatever he was selling, yet when she tried to step aside and continue on, he suddenly reached out, grasping onto her arm to stop her.
Now, why did he have to go and do something like that when Matt could have been so reasonable about the whole thing?
“Be right back,” he said, hopping over his end of the bar in one swift movement.
The customers waiting for their drinks just watched him go, mouths agape.
“Are you kidding me here?” Luke laughed helplessly, left three orders deep in beer.
He quickly edged through the wall of people and slowed to a stop. Up close, Matt realized the guy looked to be a bodybuilder, and was surrounded by three or four other muscle-head friends.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
Rory, of course, had already shrugged him off. Matt had no doubt she could take care of herself, but as far as he was concerned the damage was already done.
“Yes, thank you.” She started back in the direction of the others, but paused to give him a brief, pointed look. “I’m fine, really, Matt.”
He only nodded. When she disappeared back into the crowd, brushing past him, he detected just a trace of that faint, clean perfume that was uniquely hers. Even that fleeting moment of proximity left him with a lingering, empty ache.
He had a feeling it might hurt less to be pummeled by this group.
The guy made an attempt to head to the bar. Matt shifted his position slightly, blocking access. As expected, he frowned in annoyance.
“You wanna excuse me, please?”
“Hold up just a minute.” Matt reached out to place a hand his chest, which was solid as granite, and tilted his head. “If I could offer a little friendly advice? I’d suggest you give it up, because that’s not gonna happen.”
The guy only snorted, looking to his friends to laugh, but obviously knew exactly what he was talking about. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because,” Matt drew out each word with careful precision, “I’m telling you that’s no
t gonna happen. And you’re not going to touch her again, do we understand each other?”
Something changed in the guy’s expression, maybe only a momentary lapse of intimidation. “If you’re getting in my face right now, you should know I have my boys with me. And they would welcome the opportunity to blow off a little steam, if you catch my drift. So, I’d think about that if I were you.”
“And if I were you?” Matt regarded him calmly, his response almost nonchalant. “I would think carefully about the fact that I’m well aware of that, and yet here I am.” His smile darkened. “Still in your face. Let’s think about what that means, shall we?”
The guy gave him a shifty-eyed glare as he set his jaw.
“Now, I can see you’re obviously considering your options here,” Matt chuckled, but there was no humor in his demeanor. “Yet I can assure you it’s all gonna end the same way.”
The front doors opened up, another group spilling into the bar. The guy seemed to use the brief break in tension as an escape, shooting back one last wary look as he skulked away. Frowning, Matt headed back to his post. He really needed to get a grip here. He felt about ready to explode.
He supposed he could say that he was trying to protect her honor, looking out for a friend receiving some unwanted attention, but he knew that would really only be kidding himself. Because all that had motivated Matt in that moment was pure, unadulterated jealousy. He didn’t feel like he was seeing a friend being harassed or bothered. He felt like he was watching someone hit on his girlfriend.
It was too busy for him to take even another minute out of his night, so he was somewhat surprised and disappointed when everyone started shuffling out. Trevor stopped to shake his hand and thank him, as they all enjoyed plenty of rounds on the house.
Rory followed, presumably to say her goodnight as well. Matt knew it was time—they had to talk about this before he drove himself crazy. Their gazes caught and held as she approached, though his was torn away too soon.
“Matt! There you are!”
He turned, and was greeted by an expansive display of cleavage. His smile, in the middle of making a tentative appearance, evaporated instantly. It was the birthday blonde from last week.
“Oh, hey…you.”
“Leah?” she reminded him cheerfully. “I was hoping to run into you tonight!”
He only nodded, feeling a rising sense of apprehension, sensing Rory’s eyes on them. If hoping to run into him, his bar would certainly be a good place to start.
“Anyway, I think I may have done the dumbest thing the other night when I was here,” Leah laughed. “Must have been all those shots we did! I think I actually gave you my home telephone number instead of my cell. I hope you didn’t call and leave a message and think I blew you off or something.”
If there could be an example of picture-perfect timing, this one should be matted and framed.
She continued on, since it was obviously a nightmare he had just unwittingly stepped into, and surely any minute would awake.
“Our week at the beach is up and we’re heading back in the morning, but I only live like an hour away. You should definitely think about calling me some time. I had a lot of fun with you that night and I’d love to do it again.”
Luke was by the doors, shouting for everyone to go, and she rested her hand on his arm, leaning into his body suggestively to place another piece of paper into his hand before she walked away.
“Bye—and call me!”
She disappeared out the door with the last of the crowd as Luke followed to lock up.
Matt slowly turned to meet Rory’s big, and suddenly very dark, eyes. Sighing heavily, shaking his head in frustration, he prepared to explain. In that split second, however, the front entrance of the restaurant suddenly flew open again.
“There’s a fight out here! Someone is beating up Luke!”
Matt frowned and dashed out the doors. Casey stood out on the front walk yelling for help, her red cheeks streaked with tears, while Luke was on the ground, currently on the losing end of somebody’s right hook. At first he feared his friend was taking the fall in retaliation for the little confrontation he got into earlier, but Matt quickly recognized it was actually Casey’s jealous ex, Tim.
He rushed over, grabbing the back of his shirt to throw him off Luke. The guy seemed briefly surprised by the strength behind the move but, as expected, came right back swinging. What the hell was it tonight? Why were people just begging to get hit?
Matt easily ducked one wildly thrown punch, coming back to connect his fist to his gut, doubling over before he got a direct shot to his nose. Tim fell to the ground, but by this time Matt’s adrenaline was on overload, and he dropped on top, fists pummeling. He barely even heard the swell of police sirens coming down the street over the blood pounding through his own veins.
Finally, someone was pulling him off, and Danny’s steady voice was in his ear, calming him, bringing him back. Matt shrugged off his hold, walking a few feet away to bend over and rest his hands on his knees, chest heaving as he tried to recover.
“He—he was just waiting out here. He totally am—ambushed us and attacked Luke!” Casey was explaining, stuttering through her tears. “It happened so fast, and I—then Matt came out to help. He’s threatened violence before. I just never believed he would really—”
Matt glanced up to see another officer handcuffing Tim, who was slumped over where he sat on the sidewalk.
“Do you need medical attention?” Danny was talking to Luke now, who managed to stand and was resting against Casey, his arm slung around her shoulder.
“No, no. I’m okay,” Luke assured him, holding a cloth against his bloodied nose. “I just want to go home.”
“My place is right around the corner, above the shops on the wharf,” Casey added, still sounding shaky. “I’ll take him there and get him cleaned up. If I think he needs to go to the doctor for anything, I’ll drive him straight to the emergency room.” She hesitated to let out another little sob. “He somehow found out we’re moving in together; that’s why he showed up here tonight. He just lost it—I was so scared.”
Danny rested his hand on her arm. “Assault is a serious crime, and that’s what he’s looking at now. He’s not going to bother you again, not if I have anything to say about it.”
“Okay, Danny.” She managed a small, weepy smile. “Thanks.” She turned her attention, calling out in a worried tone. “Are you okay, Matt?”
He straightened up with a nod of his head, still short of breath.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just get him home and take care of him.”
His brother came over to him as Casey led Luke away. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
Matt’s gaze was drawn to Rory standing on the boardwalk a few feet away, arms folded across her chest, her dark eyes unreadable.
“All right.” Danny noticed their silent exchange. “Though we’re going to need a full statement down the station. I can give you a minute, but we need to take care of this, okay? We have to go by procedure here. By right, I should be hauling you in now, too.”
“Yeah, I get it, okay,” Matt replied absently, his eyes still on Rory. He walked over to her.
“Your hand is bleeding,” was all she said.
He lifted his arm to see that he had torn open the skin on his knuckles.
“Do you have a first-aid kit? You should probably wrap it up in some ice, too—to keep the swelling down.”
She headed back into the bar and Matt buried a sigh, dropping his head in defeat to follow after her. He pushed through the swinging doors of the small prep kitchen once they were inside, watching as she dug around in the supply closet to come out with a white plastic box. She placed it on the metal countertop.
“Why don’t you rinse it off first?”
Matt complied, walking over to the sink to run some cold water over the cuts, flinching a little when the sharp spray first hit the wound. Patting it off with a pap
er towel, he then moved to lean back against the counter.
“That thing before?” he said, watching her. “She was sitting at the bar one night. Her friends blew her off on her birthday, so I threw her a couple of free drinks. That’s the extent of it, I swear.”
Rory only nodded her head, her face a careful mask of concentration.
“And I know what you’re probably thinking, so just say it.”
“I’m not thinking anything.” Her attention was fixed on the contents of the box as she searched through it. “I get it. I believe you, Matt. And I realize you were protecting your friend out there.” She finally pulled out the tube of antibacterial ointment. “I just wish…”
Matt frowned slightly when she didn’t finish her thought. “Wish what?”
“You’re always there when anyone needs you, to comfort them, cheer them up,” she explained, still not meeting his eyes. “Even fight for them, if you have to.” Reaching for his hand, she lightly held it in hers to apply some of the ointment to his cuts. That hurt almost worse than the injury. “I just wish you would fight for this, instead of declaring it a losing battle.”
She turned away to find some crushed ice from the machine. His eyes followed her movements around the room.
“You think that’s what I’m doing? Are you saying I should fight for you?”
“No, you don’t need to fight for me.” She shook her head as she came back to him, her mouth set in a thin line. “You never have. And you also don’t need to throw guys out of your bar just because they might talk to me.”
“There was a time…” He had to pause to clear his throat. “Well, when it felt like just about any guy had a better chance of being with you than I did.”
“And I probably dated them for that very reason.”
He continued to watch her, narrowing his eyes in mild surprise. It was an interesting admission, to say the least.
“Because they weren’t you,” she explained simply. “That way, I didn’t have to worry about them getting too close, or about me getting hurt. And I never had to risk losing you. Not when you were the only thing I had left that really felt like home. I tried to keep that one special thing safe. ”
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