Breathless (The ABCs of Love Book 2)

by Clover Hart

  Penny finally swipes away that tear. “I know about her because I met her in a business meetup group. You’ve probably fucked every girl in Marloe, so odds are that I was going to run into one of them sometime. And girls talk, Barry. They talk a lot.”

  “What did she—”

  “Say? Oh, just something about how you used her, and I thought, ‘Hey, familiar story!’”

  Wait. “You think I used you? Hell, just so you know, I wasn’t with anyone else while you were pussywhipping me around.”

  Why did I say that? I didn’t want to say it, but there it is, and now Penny’s lower lip is trembling. She bites down on it and lifts her finger at me.

  “Fuck you, Barry,” she whispers. “And fuck the horse you rode in on. As of right now, I’m looking for another job.” She makes a dash for her desk and opens a bottom drawer.

  I’m already halfway there before her killer glare stops me cold.

  I lift up my hands again. “Penny, listen to me. All I said is that I didn’t mess around with any other women while we had something going on.”

  “It obviously wasn’t very much of a something.”

  She thinks she meant nothing to me, and anger rolls through me, because if she would just listen — if she would just get over all those bad-news guys who’ve mistreated her in the past and really see that I’m not one of them — then everything would be okay. But with the way she’s yanking her workbag out of her drawer and then slamming the drawer shut, she’s done with me.

  I’m not giving up. “Would you sit down and hear me out?”

  “Don’t worry, Barry.” She hefts the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “I’m not going to file a sexual harassment report to myself. I was a perfectly willing dumbass in all this, and I’ll keep it quiet until I get another job. So will you.” Then she leaves.

  I stand there feeling like I was innocently crossing the street one second and got hit by a crazed driver the next, and pieces of me are all over the shattered windshield.

  What the fuck happened here?

  Just as I think things can’t get any worse, there’s a shadow in the doorway, and as I look up, I find Zach looking at me as if I was the driver of a whole different hit and run.

  “You’ve got some explaining to do,” he says through his teeth.

  Chapter 28

  Penny

  I burst out of the building onto the snow-melted sidewalk. Barry’s not going to follow me because, after I left him in my dust, I saw Zach just outside my office with a horrified look on his face. He must have heard Barry and me arguing, and he’s got to be tearing into his partner right now. I didn’t even say anything to Zach because I took off before I could really do something ridiculous. Like sob.

  As tears blur my eyes now, I dart across Main Street and flee onto Rainier, running past Hana Sushi. Seeing that damned place makes me really cry, and I finally slow down to a stumbling walk. What am I going to do? There’s no one to talk to, including Mandy, who’s always so good at hearing me out and then gently suggesting that my taste in men is for the birds. But that’s not even how it’ll go this time: now that Zach obviously heard about my latest and greatest mistake, I’m sure my little sister will be coming to me soon, and I can’t face her after she’s told me time and again that I just never learn. She’ll be more disappointed in me than I am in myself. And what would I tell her anyway? Big deal, because Barry never cared about me anyway and vice versa? Or, Oops, lil’ ol’ dumb me went and did it again, tee-hee-hee? I can’t bear to hear Mandy sigh and tell me I’m too impulsive and that I’ve really messed up this time, because this fling wasn’t just with some random asshole. It was with the king of them, and he was my boss.

  I keep walking and, God, I hate everything about Barry so, so much. It’s always been really easy to predict what my past bad-news dicks would do to me, whether it was sleeping with the Spanish mixologist or taking me for granted, and I guess that predictability made it impossible for any of them to let me down. This damned guy actually managed to do just that. I hate everything about him.

  As I pull my coat around me and wipe my wet face on my sleeve, I refuse to think about how Barry looked when he came into the office: a little nervous, very unlike the cocky son of a bitch I know. And maybe, just maybe, that hint of vulnerability scared the crap out of me, because it’s only now that I can admit I’ve been ragingly jealous of Kelly these past couple of days. My stomach turns and my chest feels as if it’s being drilled every time I think of her telling me about their date.

  Screw Barry Aaronson.

  I wipe off the rest of my face, then realize that there’s a blue-and-white pickup truck that’s slowed down across the street, tracking me. Someone inside is trying to get my attention. At first, I think it’s Barry chasing me down so he can mansplain everything about how guys have wankers and wankers are required by nature’s law to be inside every female within pheromone distance; thus, he was right to put his wanker into Kelly and also me and no doubt half of the United States of America. But he’s too much of a snob to ever drive a rolling piece of Cherry Valley trash like this one, so I look closer.

  Gwen Milton is wearing a leather cowboy hat and waving me down through the open window, and Grace, whose hat is straw, is leaning over to yell at me. “We’re gonna try that sushi place, Pen! Wanna come with?”

  I can’t get away from that damned lair. I shake my head.

  There’s a moment of silence, then Grace comes back again. “All right, let’s skip the sushi. Gwen says it’s wimp food anyway. How about a drink and some chili fries at the Footloose instead?”

  Yeah, that’s great, the place where I first got together with Barry. That sounds like a night of pure joy. I shake my head more forcefully this time and hike my workbag up by its strap.

  “I want my wingman, Penny!” Grace shouts. “What’s with you?”

  I slow my steps. What’s with me? I’m angry, embarrassed, and goddammit, my chest hurts because something inside of it is so heavy and ragged that it’s cutting right through me. All I want is for that pain to go away, and trying to walk it off isn’t doing it.

  Then I realize something: I don’t want to go to Hana Sushi because it belongs to Barry, since he had a hand in bringing it to Cherry Valley. But the Footloose Saloon? That place has been mine for years, and he’s not going to take that away from me right along with my pride and …

  I hold my hand over my heart. Then, on a huff of righteous indignation, I angle off the sidewalk into the street. I barely even look at the oncoming headlights as I march to the opposite lane where Gwen has stopped the pickup. Grace yippees as I circle around the hood, then she opens the passenger door and slides to the middle of the seat to make room for me. I climb in and slam the door. It shakes with a satisfying echo.

  Gwen only gives me a concerned glance before I shrug. Then she guns the accelerator. No one behind us has laid on their horns to make us move, and I realize that a dozen horns would’ve been yapping at us in the city. In spite of all the wonderful things that are waiting for me once I get out of Cherry Valley, I don’t think I would like that kind of noise. It would be so New York, and New York reminds me of the last person I can stand to think about for the rest of the night and my life.

  The twins are dressed up — at least for them. That means Gwen is wearing her fancy blue boots and Grace is wearing her red ones, along with denim skirts and jackets, plus those hats. This is their one night off from Milton’s Diner, and they always make the most of it.

  “Why were you going to sushi?” I ask them with some bitterness.

  “I wanted to try it,” Grace says. “Why not? I’ve had worse in my mouth than slimy seaweed.”

  “I’m sure that’ll be breaking news in the Cherry Valley Gazette tomorrow,” Gwen says.

  Grace ignores her and gently nudges my arm with her elbow. “Hey, it looks like you’ve been crying, Pen. Have you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Huh.” She cranes her neck to get a bet
ter look at me as the streetlights flash by. “Your mascara is smeared.”

  “I haven’t been crying.” But I just might start up again, because when I look at those streetlights, I remember how FCT was instrumental in finally getting the town to fix the old, busted ones. If only the leadership of Cherry Valley knew that Barry Aaronson actually does the opposite, busting apart everything in his path.

  Gwen turns on the road that’ll lead us to the saloon. “With smeared mascara, Penny should fit right in with Quinn while she serves us at the bar. All Pen needs is more eyeliner, a muscle tank top, and a bad attitude.”

  I laugh. “I’ve got that last one nailed tonight.”

  The twins send me a questioning look before Grace turns on the radio and starts whooping it up to some Alan Jackson. I should be whooping, too, because that’s why I’m going out with them — I’m a free, single girl with nothing holding her back, and I’m about to mingle with ranch-muscled guys in tight Wranglers and sexy Justins. This future city girl is going to slum hard.

  But for right now, all I can do is look out the window at Cherry Valley passing by, thinking of how I’m truly going to get the hell out of here right after I drink enough ciders to ease the ache around my heart.

  Chapter 29

  Barry

  I’m still slumped on the office sofa, and everything Zach says is like white noise: wah-wah-Penny-wah-wah-wah-you dipshit-wah-wah-Mandy is gonna freak … I think he’s been reading me the riot act for the past few minutes, going on about how Penny and I were in such a heated argument that we must not have heard him come in and now he’s going to have to tell Mandy about this, but all I’ve done is sit here. I never knew anything could get to me this badly, digging into me like a clawed hand and yanking out all of my insides until all that’s left is a droning numbness.

  Penny hates me. Hell, for most of my life, I’ve lived with derision from other people, and I’ve even taken great amusement in poking holes in their hatred until they deflate and leave me the hell alone. But this is Penny. Suddenly someone else’s opinion besides Zach’s matters.

  Someone finally matters, and it had to be her.

  Gradually, I tune back into what Zach is saying. Or actually, what he isn’t saying, because now he’s just staring at me, still shocked to hear what he heard in the hallway, still appalled, still so damned disappointed in me. Penny was disappointed, too, so I seem to be rocking that action tonight.

  I merely stare back at him, my mind feeling like it’s under the humming, spacy influence of Novocain.

  Zach seems baffled that I’m not fighting back. “Barry?”

  “Yes.” That’s me. The schmuck who’s really schmucked everything up this time.

  Now he looks worried. He might as well be an ER doctor using a penlight to peer into my eyes so he can see if anyone’s in there. When I don’t respond further, his anger boils up again.

  “Seriously, Bar?” At least he’s not yelling now. “Mandy’s sister? Our employee?”

  I can’t do this right now. I should be defending myself like the wizard of insults I am, but I’m too … what’s the word?

  Rattled.

  Okay. I’ve finally discovered what it’s like to be that way. And this is what it’s like to care about someone so damned much that I can barely find balance as I rise to my feet and start walking away from Zach.

  He follows me out of the office. “I’m going to need to enlighten Mandy as to what the fuck you were thinking. Can you give me a reason you went there with Penny?”

  “Just tell Mandy what a jerkoff I am and always will be.” And that’s all I can say as I go to my office, vaguely grab my stuff, and walk past Zach again on my way to the lobby.

  He doesn’t come after me, and in the back of my mind, I realize that I’ve never walked out on Zach in my life. Outside, the night air smacks me. I’ve forgotten my winter coat. I merely continue walking to my car, start it up, and then just drive.

  I don’t know where I’m going, but the mountains loom ahead of me. My phone rings a couple times, and my dashboard tells me it’s Zach. But even if I had something to say to him, I’m not sure it would come out correctly. I don’t even know what I would say except that this thing with Penny threw me off like nothing else ever has, and I’m just as confounded about all of it as he is.

  See, this is what I get for lowering my defenses with anyone for even five minutes — and Penny had a whole lot more than that from me. Yes, sleeping with Kelly and then blowing her off was a clown move, but it’s not like Penny wanted me, so why does she even care? Why was she yelling at me about it? Why was she crying?

  I chuff. I might be stupid, but I’m not that stupid: Penny cares because some asswipe probably treated her the way I treated Kelly, and even though Penny once told me I was a decent guy, I’ve proven her wrong. I’m sure I let her down just as she was beginning to think I wouldn’t ever do that to her, so let’s hear it for Barry! Congratulations to me for being One of Them.

  Even after I drive some more, I can’t get rid of that unfamiliar, unbalanced, alienated feeling that’s wracking me. I’m probably a danger on the road, so I end up pulling into the parking lot of a brewery at the foot of the mountains. Snow is bunched around its log-cabin frame, and a quiet neon sign in its window says OPEN.

  How about that — something is actually open to me, welcoming me when everything else seems to be shutting me out. So I choke off my car’s ignition and go inside where the knotty pinewood tables and walls are simple and uncomplicated. The room is dimly lit and has a yeasty-sweet aroma, and only a few flannel-shirted people are lingering over pints at one table. There’s a fire in the fireplace and a big window on the other side of the room that reveals a huge, round stainless steel brew kettle, a smaller mash turn, and winding pipes.

  I sit at the bar, away from the other customers who’ve already gone back to their beers. I look up at the drink list on the wall, and my stomach turns with the thought of having beer sloshing around in it. Then I see that they’ve got cherry cider.

  Cherry cider — the color of Penny’s hair. The stuff she let me try at her going away party. I didn’t want to drink from her glass, and she gave me such crap about being a douchebag because I refused. And I was being a douchebag, but now I’d do anything to share cooties with her, and it’s too fucking late.

  As my chest painfully folds in on itself, the bartender stands in front of me to take my order. Another bartender. At least he’s not a mixologist. I even wonder how many people serve drinks in the Cherry Valley area and how many I’ll go through before I stop telling them sob stories about Penny.

  This one is a stocky, bald guy with gray eyebrows that clash with his ruddy skin. He’s a collection of muscles in flannel, and after I order cherry cider, he’s pretty deft as he flips a glass into his hand and reaches over to the dispenser to pour some for me.

  “Brewed right here on the premises,” he says.

  “I think I tried some at the Footloose Saloon.”

  Maybe I don’t say the name of the place with enough country relish, because he looks hard at me. “Hey, are you one of those Full Circle Technologies folks from California?”

  I cringe, feeling too beaten down already for a discussion with this mountain man. But what am I — a fucking hothouse flower? Not all of my pride is gone, and I lean my arms on the bar. “Yeah, I’m one of those FCT folks. Don’t tell me — it’s the fancy jeans that gave me away.”

  “That and the fancy hair, expensive sneakers, and department-store jacket over a t-shirt. They’re dead giveaways.”

  Hey. Normally I’d give him shit about confusing my designer sport coat with a jacket you could buy in some store in Marloe. But I don’t have the juice. I don’t even have on a smartass tee tonight.

  He slips me the drink on the bar, and I stare into the reddish color, thinking of Penny’s hair again. I snap out of it when Muscles braces his hands on the bar and prepares himself for what I fear will be a conversation.

  “I hear o
ne of you FCT boys is nice, and one’s an ass. Which one are you?”

  I raise my hand. “Ass. I see that my reputation precedes me even out to the mountains.”

  “Well, I don’t know how high up the road your reputation goes. I doubt the lumberjacks and moonshine boys who live nearer to the summit care about what you are or aren’t.”

  He gestures to my cider, urging me to drink. I don’t want to disappoint anyone else tonight, so I drink. The fruity, carbonated taste fills my mouth, not too sweet, not too tart, a really good balance. Kind of like the perfect girl for me. Kind of like Penny.

  Ouch.

  I put the glass down and give the bartender the best thumbs-up I’m capable of at the moment. He seems pleased, and that makes me feel only slightly better. Like, by a nanometer.

  Then Muscles looks absolutely baffled by me. “You don’t seem like such an ass.”

  “Clearly, you need to visit town more often.”

  “So why are you an ass?”

  I give him a sidelong look. I didn’t expect such an innocent question from a guy who seems like he could break a broomstick in two and happily stab me in the ears with both ends of it, but it’s refreshing. His straightforwardness actually drags me another nanometer out of the dumps. “I’m an ass because, if I’m not, then people fuck with me. Big time.”

  He pushes away from the bar and claps his hands once while letting out a hearty laugh. “That’s some good stuff right there.” He stops laughing. “But it’s wrong. Maybe that philosophy holds true in New York City or whatever big city you come from, but it ain’t true here.”

  Excuse me, but am I not the guy who just let down his guard in Cherry Valley and very much got his emotional ass kicked by Penny?