Maya put her hand over mine. “Hey, don’t let his issues with this get you down. He’ll come ’round.”
“She’s right,” Stafford said. “It’s not a bad thing that he cares enough about you to worry so much.” He hesitated for a moment. “And I don’t mean to kick you while you’re down, but I’m not going to be able to make it, either. I found out this morning I got scheduled to take another shift tonight.”
I fought hard not to let tears fill my eyes. “It’s fine. No big deal.”
His gaze holding mine, he said, “It’s a big deal to me. But with the mess homicide is still dealing with, the rest of us have to pick up the slack. I’m so sorry I can’t be there for your big night.”
I was sorry, too, but after noticing how upset he was about having to miss my party, I actually felt worse for him than for myself. Smiling, I leaned across the counter toward him. “Maybe you can make it up to me later.”
He leaned in as well. “I like the sound of that.”
Maya cleared her throat. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. See you tonight, Juliet,” she called as she grabbed her coffee and headed for the door.
“I should go, too,” he said. “I need some sleep.”
“You haven’t been home yet?” It was ten in the morning, and his shift should have ended a few hours ago.
He shrugged, and it finally registered to me how tired he looked. I’d been too wrapped up in my own problems to notice. “Like I said, the whole department is working overtime. Can I get my usual to go?”
“Of course.” I quickly got his breakfast and coffee and handed it to him.
“Can you walk me out to my truck? I have something for you.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he replied, smiling as he took my hand and led me outside with him.
When we got to his truck, he set his breakfast on the hood and pulled me close to him. Leaning down, he gave me a sweet yet incredibly thorough kiss.
We finally broke apart, and I said, “That was definitely worth coming out here for.”
“True, but it’s not the only thing I wanted to give you.” He reached inside his truck and pulled out a tiny gray box with a white ribbon around it. “Here. I was planning to give this to you tonight.”
Unable to contain my smile, I accepted the box and opened it. My heart swelled when I saw what was inside—a handmade silver pendant from my favorite shop in Hillsboro Village. Stamped on it was the quote, do what you love, love what you do.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you, John,” I breathed, taking the pendant out of the box and placing it around my neck.
Grinning, he traced his finger across the necklace. “You’re welcome. I thought it was a fitting gift to celebrate your new career. You know, you really come alive when you talk about your PI work. Almost as much as when you’re up onstage performing.”
“I do?”
He nodded and kissed me again.
—
Even though my two favorite men were going to be absent, I was still excited all afternoon about going out later that night. After I got myself glammed up in the small office in the back of Java Jive, I was ready to party. I came out to the front of the house, which wasn’t terribly busy. It was Saturday night, so most people chose bars over coffeehouses, and since it was summertime, business was always down due to the mass exodus of students from the neighborhood. Lucky for me, all but one of my college-aged workers decided to stay in town for summer school, so I didn’t have to hire any extra summer help.
Going back behind the counter, I called together my evening staff—baristas Cole and Sophie, who was a fairly new hire but had assimilated quickly, cook/barista Shane, and assistant cook Clay. “I’m going out,” I began.
Shane gave me a sarcastic smirk as his eyes flicked to my bright red dress, a huge wardrobe change from my usual T-shirt and jeans. “No kidding.”
Ignoring him, I continued, “Shane is in charge. I’m sure you guys will do fine. If you have an emergency, I think Pete’s at home, so you can call him.”
Pete had left the coffeehouse after dinner, I assumed to go home to sulk. We’d barely spoken all day after our tense discussion this morning.
“We’ll take care of the place, boss,” Cole said.
—
“I’ve got bad news,” Maya said, as my longtime friend Mallory Beaumont and I approached her on the corner of Broadway and Fourth. “All the good restaurants are at an hour wait. Between the bachelorette party hordes and the tourists, downtown Nashville is at capacity.” As a group of overly perfumed, scantily dressed, loudmouthed young women passed us, Maya muttered, “Bunch of bloody horny bridesmaids taking over the town.”
Mallory and I had commented on the lack of parking when we got downtown and we’d had to fight our way through the crowded sidewalks to get to our destination. Saturday nights in June weren’t the best times for locals to try to relax and enjoy the downtown scene.
Mallory said, “Well, what now?”
Pete’s girlfriend, Brooke Nussbaum, appeared from the door of Merchants. “It’s over an hour wait in there, too. Sorry, Juliet. Your party is going south fast.”
Maya said, “Let’s get off Broadway at least. Want to try our luck on Second?”
“Sure,” I said, frowning at the text I just received on my phone from my second favorite man friend, Stan Hollingsworth. Forgive me for missing your party, Juliet, but a last-minute meeting has come up. Talk soon. I said to my girlfriends, “Worse news—Stan’s out, too.”
Mallory gave me a pat on the back. “Well, look on the bright side—now it’s a girls’ night out for us, which is more fun, anyway.”
“Absolutely!” Brooke exclaimed, giving my shoulders a supportive squeeze. Once we were on Second Street, she pointed to a small sign ahead. “Hey, why don’t we go to Big Shotz? I love going there with Pete, and at least there’s not a line out the door at the moment.”
My heart twinged. Big Shotz was my favorite bar to go to with Pete. I didn’t know if I wanted to go there without Pete, but with his girlfriend. It felt too weird.
“Oh, Juliet, that’s the place you like, too, right?” asked Mallory.
“Then Big Shotz it is,” Maya said, leading the way there.
Damn it.
Chapter 4
After two Dirty Pirate Hookers (shots, not people), I was slightly less perturbed by my male friends bailing at the last minute and was able to at least carry on some chatty small talk with my girlfriends. They all seemed truly happy for me, even Brooke, who I’d thought might side with Pete on the PI issue. But as my luck would have it, the evening only got worse from there.
“Hi, Juliet,” a deep voice behind me said.
An icy rush froze me to my core. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t hearing things. Yep, there was Ryder Hamilton, in the flesh and standing right behind me.
I cleared my throat and choked out, “Hi.”
Why did he have to show up on what was supposed to be my night? Granted, it hadn’t been much of a celebration without the guys, but still. I assumed this was Maya’s doing. Ryder just stared at me silently for a minute, which was kind of off-putting, so I turned my back to him and tossed back my third shot.
Brooke’s eyes got wide, Maya kicked me under the table, and Mallory more kindly nudged me and shot a meaningful glance at Ryder. I didn’t care if I was being rude. I wasn’t completely convinced I could handle talking to him again after all this time. Especially since I’d had a few drinks, which meant I was highly unlikely to be able to hold my tongue and play nice. Honestly, I was hoping he’d go away, but I didn’t figure I was that lucky. A moment later, he tapped me on the shoulder, so I gathered my courage and faced him.
He began, “Juliet, I—”
As expected, I didn’t have nearly enough self-control to keep the angry words from tumbling out. “I haven’t heard from you in over three months, Ryder. Three months. No phone calls, no dropping by the coffeehouse—nothing. Not even a �
��Hey, I’m alive,’ or a ‘Hey, are you alive?’ text. And the best you could come up with is ‘Hi, Juliet’?”
He raised one eyebrow. “I see you’ve spent three months rehearsing your speech.”
Glaring at him, I replied, “And now that I’ve said it, you might as well get lost because I have nothing else to say to you.” I got another kick and another nudge under the table, but I ignored my friends again.
Ryder crossed his muscular arms. “What if I want to say something?”
“Too little too late, pal.”
I jumped down from my barstool. Before I could walk away in a huff, he touched my arm, which inexplicably sent a jolt of electricity through me. I tried not to react, but something in his eyes told me he felt it, too.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’ve been in a dark place, and I didn’t think I could talk to you until now.”
My girlfriends slid off their seats. Maya said, “We’ll let you two have some privacy.”
I shot them a murderous look as they hurried away. I didn’t want to be left alone with him!
Ryder took Maya’s vacated seat. There would be no getting rid of him until he said what he’d come to say. “Look, I know you’re angry with me…”
I grudgingly hoisted myself back onto my stool. “ ‘Angry’ doesn’t really describe it, but go ahead.”
He sighed. My not-so-subtle digs, which normally would have left him pissed off and ready to fight, didn’t have quite the usual effect tonight. “Juliet, I didn’t come here to rehash what happened.”
“Then why the hell are you here? Also, I feel I should point out that there is nothing to rehash because we never hashed anything out in the first place.”
Skirting around the rehashing (or lack thereof), he said, “There’s something I wanted to tell you. First of all, congratulations on getting your PI license. I think you’ll make a fantastic investigator.”
Huh? Did he really think that? As oddly flattering as it was, I still thought he should have instead been telling me how sorry he was about how he left me.
He continued, “And I also…I also wanted to tell you to be careful.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said impatiently. “I got the standard lecture from both Pete and Stafford. I’m surprised you care.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Of course I care about you.”
An unwelcome flutter rippled in my chest, but I squashed it. “You have a funny way of showing it.”
Ryder pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. If I had a nickel for every time he’d done that because of something I’d said or done, I’d have enough nickels to quit both of my jobs. “Speaking of Stafford, why isn’t he here for your big celebration?”
“He’s on duty.”
He shook his head. “No, he’s not.”
“Yes, he is.”
“I checked the board before I left. He’s off tonight.”
“No, he isn’t, and he’s bummed he had to miss my party.” I looked around, adding, “Such as it is.”
“I still think your new boyfriend should have made an effort to show up.”
“He’s on duty.”
Ryder shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
“Why are you doing this?” I demanded, unable to fathom why he was being such a dick.
“Doing what?”
“Trying to start shit.”
“I’m not. I’m only trying to tell you that Stafford doesn’t deserve the pedestal you’ve put him on.”
I stared at him pointedly. “Well, even if that’s true, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time a man disappointed me.”
That comment finally found the right button. His condescending smirk slipped into place. “Right. Because no one can live up to the standards set by Saint Pete and his new buddy, Captain America.”
“Why are you dragging Pete into this? And why do you even care anymore? It’s been three months, and let’s not forget you left me. More importantly, guess who was there to pick up the pieces? Saint Pete and Captain America. You should be thanking them, not dissing them.”
Ryder nodded his head slowly. “Oh, I get it now. That’s the reason you’re with Stafford—he’s your knight in shining armor. I knew he had a thing for you from day one, but all this time I couldn’t figure out why you’d be into him. He’s easily the least interesting human I’ve ever met.”
My jaw dropped as his words stung me. “He is not! He’s kind and caring and good-hearted and—”
“All the things you’d say about a dog. You were probably getting ready to tell me he’s loyal, too.”
Fuming, I had to literally sit on my slapping hand to keep it from flying across the table and laying one on Ryder’s smug jaw. “At least he’s not an asshole, like you.”
A grin spread over his face. “Can he get this much fire out of you? I doubt it. I bet you two never fight.”
“You’re right, we don’t. But it’s because we respect each other too much.”
“Bullshit. You don’t fight because there’s no spark between the two of you. Your relationship must be boring as hell. I bet you haven’t slept with him yet, either.”
I gasped. There was no way he could have known that, and worse, I couldn’t believe he actually said it to me. “That’s none of your business.”
He wouldn’t stop. “I guess that makes me the only guy you’ve had in your bed in nearly a year, right?”
Well, that was a truly pathetic observation, but unfortunately a correct one. And it hurt like someone twisting a hot knife inside my heart.
With tears in my eyes, I hopped down from my barstool and said, “I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I don’t want to see you or talk to you again. Ever. You’re the biggest mistake I ever made.”
Ryder’s entire face fell. He was speechless—simply staring at me with pain in his eyes. I knew I’d gone a step too far, but after what he’d said to me, I couldn’t find it in myself to apologize, so I left and didn’t look back.
—
After a whole day of wallowing in self-pity, I dragged myself to work on Monday morning. Most days, I got to the coffeehouse first and made all the pastries from scratch. It wasn’t a bad thing to have an uninterrupted hour to myself with only some mindless baking to worry about. I expected Pete would come in soon, and I could imagine our conversation going several ways, none of them very positive.
Rhonda, my curmudgeonly morning-shift barista, arrived before any of the other staff. The first words out of her mouth were, “Did you get beat up over the weekend? You look like hell.”
I frowned at her. “Is it really that bad?”
Walking over to the hand sink in the corner of the kitchen, I assessed my face in the tiny mirror hanging above it. She wasn’t wrong. In my haze I’d forgotten to put on any makeup this morning. Thanks to my bright red hair and hopelessly pale skin, anytime I had dark circles under my eyes, it looked like I’d taken a beating unless I spent a big chunk of time and effort working to conceal it.
“Ooh,” I breathed. “It really is that bad.”
She smiled, which was a rare occurrence. “Go fix your face. I’ll take over.”
I headed for the office and began the task of making myself look presentable. I practically had to apply my concealer and foundation with a trowel, but I finally got it blended enough that my dark circles appeared only minimal. I was swiping some powder across my nose when Pete walked through the door.
Wordlessly, he came over to me, pulled me up off the chair, and swept me into a crushing hug. It felt so good, I held on tight, my anger toward him melting away. After a couple of minutes, he took a step back and released me.
“Jules, I’m sorry. I was an ass to you, and I feel like I ruined your night. It’s my job as your best friend to be supportive, and I haven’t been holding up my end of the deal lately.” He took my hand, his expression anguished. “I don’t want you to be in danger, but at the same time, I shouldn’t stand in your way of doing something you enjoy and are really goo
d at.”
After yesterday, I didn’t think I had any more tears left, but some escaped my eyes and ran down my cheeks.
“Aww, Jules, don’t cry,” Pete said gently, reaching up and wiping my tears away. He hesitated for a moment, his hand still cradling my face and his eyes boring into mine.
Uh-oh. We hadn’t had one of our uncomfortably romantic moments since we kissed each other a few months ago. Pete and I had known for a long time that we both wanted to be more than just friends, but our timing was always horrendous. He was still working through the death of his former girlfriend, Cecilia, who was Stan’s sister. And I didn’t want to go into a relationship with Pete as a rebound from Ryder, of all people. So we decided to take some time and get our heads straight before we forced something that could ruin our friendship. Enter Stafford and Brooke, who we both surprisingly hit it off with rather quickly and were becoming quite attached to.
I broke our gaze, and Pete’s hand fell to his side.
He smiled. “Want to hear another ugly truth?”
Chuckling, I said, “Sure.”
“I hate it that your new job takes your time in the evenings when you usually hang out here with me.”
Tears were threatening again at his sweet confession, but I managed to hold them back to joke, “I knew there had to be something else going on in that big, dumb head of yours.”
Holding up his hands, he replied, “Guilty. Forgive me?”
“Always.” We hugged again, but only for a moment this time.
Pete sat down in the chair across from the desk. “You ruined your makeup job with all of your blubbering. While you’re redoing it, tell me all about your party.”
I smiled at him and sat back down. I told him the whole sad story with Ryder, and his face got angrier and angrier as I went on.
When I was done, he griped, “That asshole. He had no business saying any of that to you—or about Stafford, for that matter. I’m happy to be rid of him. If he tries to bother you again, I’d get a restraining order.”
“He didn’t threaten me or anything. I don’t think they hand out restraining orders just for rude behavior.”
Brew or Die Page 3
