CHAPTER TWELVE

“It Ain’t My Fault”

Quinn

The minute I walked through the door and spotted the dirty tables and the glasses piled up in the bar sink, I knew it was going to be a rough night.

“Fuck a duck!” I exclaimed. I suppose this is what I get for asking Gretchen and Helen to close on Saturday night.

“What’s that?” Olivia asked from behind me.

I stepped aside so she could see. “Look at this mess! Damn Gretchen! She was at my house for hours yesterday. Did she say a word about leaving my bar a mess? No. She. Did. Not.”

Her eyes scanned over the mess before landing back on me. “Gretchen was the drunk one, right?”

“Drunk and stupid,” I grumbled as I rounded the bar and turned on the water. I sincerely liked Gretchen, but the woman was pushing it. Just because we were friends didn’t mean she could pull this shit. Helen was new and was most likely following Gretchen’s lead. Either way, it was shitty and just plain wrong.

“I’m sorry she left you hanging. What can I do to help?”

“Here.” I handed her a wet towel. “Could you wipe down those tables?”

A few minutes of silence passed before she asked, “Does Gretchen do this often?”

“Too often for my liking. It’s not like I don’t take care of my people, because I do. It just seemed so much easier when my dad was around.”

“Oh? Where did he go?” she questioned. Without even thinking, I told her about Dad’s cancer. It was after I’d finished that it hit me. I’d talked about my father without wanting to cry. I wasn’t sure if this was good or bad.

“I’m sorry you lost your dad, Quinn, and no offense, but running a business sounds rough.”

I snorted. “I bet running a gaggle of rock stars is worse. By the way, how did you happen to land that job?”

With a huge smile on her face, she told me about the crazy things that happened on Meltdown’s latest tour. When she ended it with how happy she was with the band’s recent unanimous decision to go back on tour, my stomach dropped. Evan hadn’t mentioned it. In fact, he hadn’t said a thing about his weekend away. Then again, why should he? It’s not like we were dating or anything. This made me feel even worse. Here I was, living with a man I wanted but couldn’t have. I’m pretty sure there was a word for this—Pathetic, loser, downright crazy. Maybe I wasn’t meant to find love.

“You okay?” Olivia asked, interrupting my internal pity party.

“What? Oh, yeah. That’s awesome about the new album and tour. When does it start?” Somehow, I managed to keep my voice calm when what I really wanted to do was cry.

“Who knows? Mallory still has to pop out that baby and we have to get through Nash and Rowan’s wedding before any big decisions are made.”

I was mulling this over when the door swung open and Alex-Ann walked in. Following on her heels was Gretchen, who took one look at my face and knew she was up shit’s creek with no paddle.

“I’m sorry Quinn. Please don’t fire me,” she begged.

“You do this again and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

“I meant to come back and clean, but then you invited me to hang out with the rock stars and the time got away from me.” The rock stars? Lord help me. I needed a cigarette.

“Well, what are you standin’ over there for?” I pointed to the remaining glasses and messy bar. “Get your ass over here and clean, woman.” She hustled over as fast as her short legs could carry her.

“I really am sorry,” she repeated. I had nothing good to say, so I left her there to stew in her juices.

An hour later, Chaz walked in. Not Evan. Just Chaz.

Before I could ask, he said, “Evan needs some time alone. He told me to tell you he would catch up with you later.”

A million questions popped into my head. I settled for, “Is he okay?”

“Not really, and before you ask, it’s not mine to tell, so don’t bother.”

“I should go home and check on him,” I muttered, more to myself than to anyone else.

“If he wanted to see you, he would’ve come with me, but he didn’t, so you need to just let him be,” Chaz snapped back at me.

“Chaz!” Olivia hissed.

“What? The man wants privacy, so she needs to honor that and give it to him.” Before I did something crazy, like plant my shoe in his groin, I exited the bar and headed for the back door.

“Where are you going?” Olivia called out.

“To smoke! You and Mr. Rude go ahead and grab a stool. Gretchen will be happy to pour you a drink!” I called over my shoulder.

Sam was waiting for me with a scowl on his face and the entire pack of cigarettes in his hand.

“Knock yourself out,” he grumbled.

“I plan on it,” I snarled back at him.

Right as I pulled open the door, Chris Stapleton’s “Broken Halos” started playing. Heaven help Alex-Ann and her love of sad songs. I was in no mood tonight.

“Change it!” I screamed. Three seconds later the song switched to “Flatliner.”

“That’ll work,” I thought as I stepped outside and into the muggy night. In my attempt to extract a cigarette from the pack, another slid past it and dropped to the ground at my feet.

“This just isn’t my damn night,” I grumbled, and bent over to retrieve the stray cigarette. Suddenly, the door swung open and smacked me square on the ass. “Shit!” I screeched. In my attempt not to plunge head first off the ledge, I flung my arms out, which sent the rest of the pack sailing off into the wide blue yonder.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Alex-Ann gasped.

“Does it look like I’m okay?” I shouted, somehow managing to regain my balance.

“What is up your ass tonight?” she shouted back at me.

“What do you think is up my ass? I come to work at my bar, a bar which I entrusted to my employees, and discover that it hasn’t been cleaned since Saturday night! Then, I want to smoke one cigarette and look!” I pointed to the parking lot, “They’re all contaminated with car juice!” Alex-Ann’s attempt to hold in her laughter made her eyes bug, which in turn made her face puff up like a frog. Unable to help myself, I burst into laughter.

“Car juice?” she asked through loud guffaws.

“What would you call it?”

“Not car juice.” This got us laughing all over again. Together we plopped down onto the ledge and dangled our legs over the side.

When the laughter finally subsided, she asked, “What’s really bothering you?” What isn’t bothering me should have been the question. “I know you’re mad at Gretchen and Helen, but it’s not like you to fly off the handle like that. Is it Evan?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. He promised he would be here tonight.”

“I know you care for him, honey, but I worry about you. The guy has some serious baggage.” When I didn’t respond, she continued, “I always pictured you settling down with a sexy cowboy. A man who knows how to use his hands, if you catch my drift.” She elbowed me, and I pushed her away. “But here you are, chasing after a famous guy who’s married and all...tattooey.”

“Tattooey?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with tattoos or anything,” she amended. “They’re just not my thing. I didn’t think they were yours either.”

Evan had great hands, and even though he was all tattooey, he was so much more. He was funny and kind and too damn handsome for his own good. He made my heart hitch and my pulse race. He made me want to do something crazy, like take a blind leap into forever. Of course, I didn’t tell Alex-Ann this. Instead, I gave her a momism. “Love happens when you least expect it, Double A.”

Ignoring my age-old nickname for her, she scoffed, “Love? Is that what this is? You’ve known the man for all of a month. For Christ’s sake, Quinn, you haven’t even slept with him yet. For all you know, his penis could be the size of a Vienna Sausage.”

“I’ve known him for eight months, and trust me, it’s no Vienna Sausage.”

“Quinn!” she gasped, and I knew what she was thinking.

“No, Alex, I haven’t seen his penis, but it’s kind of hard to miss a giant cucumber when it’s pressed against your stomach.” She didn’t respond for the longest time.

When she did, it was to ask, “How giant?” I showed her with my hands. “Damn,” she whispered.

“He makes me feel things,” I admitted on a sigh.

“So did Casey, and you saw where that got you.” She might as well have slapped me in the face.

Glaring at her, I said, “Evan Walker and Casey Wilson are nothing alike.”

Casey Wilson was my one and only love. I was nineteen and he was twenty-three. He was my first real kiss, my first sexual experience, the first to steal my heart, and the first to break it. He was also married. Only, I didn’t know it at the time. When my daddy found out, he hunted Casey down and gave him quite the beating. I’d had lovers since, but until Evan, I’d managed to keep my heart out of it.

“Casey was married,” she stated as if this made them equals.

“Casey was a liar who led me to believe that he was in love with me. Evan has never lied to me about anything. And for your information, he refuses to cross that line. You wanna know why? Because he’s married.”

She sighed. “I just don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“That’s not for you to decide, and while we’re on the subject of lying, I’ve been thinking a lot about it and have decided to tell him about Amanda.”

She shifted her gaze from the parking lot to my face and narrowed it on me. “Stop feeling guilty. You didn’t know who she was, Quinn.”

“Well, now I do and I’m going to tell him.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I am.” A minute or two passed before she tossed her arm around my shoulder and pulled me in for a side hug.

“Fine. You know where to come when it backfires on you.” I didn’t bother to respond. The muffled sound of Lady Antebellum’s “Bartender” drifted from beneath the door and we swung our legs in time with the beat.

Finally, not able to help herself, she asked, “Is it really that big?” I gave her a suggestive brow waggle and we both laughed.

A few hours later, Chaz and Olivia took off for home. Evan was still a no show and I was torn between Chaz’s words and my feelings. If Chaz was right and Evan didn’t want to be bothered, then I was simply going to have to deal. Suck it up, Quinn, I repeatedly told myself for the remainder of my shift.

The moment the clock struck one, I tossed my rag on the bar and told Alex-Ann and Gretchen to shut it down. Then I grabbed my purse from the back and walked out the door.

On the drive home, all I could think about was getting to Evan. What happened with the boxes? It had to be something big for Chaz to react so protectively...so negatively. Shit. I was scared. On top of that, I needed to come clean about the Amanda-Baxter thing.

I found everyone in the house asleep, except for Evan, who wasn’t even in the house. I thought about texting him, just to see if he was okay, but the stupid Chaz on my shoulder made me reconsider. Forget the devil. I had Chaz. Yep, I was losing my marbles. Too wired for bed, I settled on a beer.

I’d just popped the top when it dawned on me. Maybe he’s in the music room. Snagging a second beer from the fridge, I headed out the door and down the path. Halfway there, I heard the piano.

“Thank you, Jesus,” I whispered to the sky, and all but skipped the rest of the way to the pool house.

Not wanting to interrupt, I slowly opened the slider and stepped inside. As I moved to close it behind me the music stopped. I turned to offer him a beer, but the look on his face froze me in my tracks. Something was definitely wrong. I wanted to ask, but intuition told me to keep my silence. I held my breath as the Chaz on my shoulder reared its devilish head once more. If he wants me to know, he’ll tell me. Please tell me.

In a flat, toneless voice, he said, “My mom fell today and hit her head. If my sister hadn’t found her, she would have died.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered, but he wasn’t through.

“And it turns out that my marriage—all nine years of it—was nothing but a lie.”