Page 76 of Dark Horse

“I’m sorry again.” Hayley looks remorsefully around the room. “Any help you need getting it fixed back up, you just call me, okay?”

“Same for us. We’re here for you, girl.” Addy pats me on the arm, her brown eyes two pools of sympathy. I was lucky I had staff like this.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you all on your shift. You’re both okay too, right?” I look Addy and Gemma over. “No one got cut on glass or anything?”

“We’re good.” Gemma nods.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Addy assures me.

“Thank you. And again, I’m so sorry. I’ll keep you posted on when we’re reopening and what’s going on. Don’t worry about your paychecks. I’ll make sure you get a check for any missed work, okay?” I make the promise knowing full well I don’t have the money, but I’ll find it. At worst, I’m more in debt to Grant.

I sitat the bar on one of the stools after they’ve left, and Jack reassures Grant that everything is locked up tight. I’m staring at the mess they’ve made of the back wall. An array of liquors and glasses that I’ve always been proud of is now a mess of missing pieces and bottles. I glance at the sign they’ve stuck on the door. The one that says I’m closed for violations I know don’t exist.

But people won’t believe that. They’ll believe whatever thepaper says. Whatever the cops say is true. Rumors will run around town about the kind of establishment I run, and while the good ones will be there to say all the nice things about me and my girls, the assholes will say they’ve always liked Cowboy’s better. That it’s cleaner, and this place has always been a dive bar. The absolute cunts will say they prefer the Avarice’s bar over mine. A nameless high-end monument to marble and gold, luxury and lush menus, and plush seating. Everything this bar isn’t. Everything I’m not.

Polar opposites. Just like the man who owns it and me. My depression and anxiety are talking loudly when I shouldn’t be listening to them. Telling me I’m a loser no one really wants. Not Grant. Not Hayden. Not any man. Because I’m the cheap bottom-shelf whiskey that gets broken when someone decides it’s not good enough.

Dread sets in when I think about all my interactions with Grant through that lens. I start wondering if it’s the real reason he didn’t want to take me up to a room tonight. That he doesn’t want to lead me on to thinking this is anything more than what we are. That this deal we have isn’t the sexy fun I’ve made it out to be, but some cheap agreement that kept him entertained. I’m spiraling, and I know it, but I can’t stop my brain from telling me all the things I don’t want to hear. By the time Grant comes back to where I’m sitting, I’m ready to break all over the floor myself.

“You doing okay?” He gives me a sympathetic look. One that feels like pity in the neon light.

“You said we needed to talk.”

He winces and looks around the bar. “You want to do that now? I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s late and—”

“We’re alone. I’ve got nothing better to do. I’m not going to go back and crash Hazel’s bachelorette with this mood. I won’tbe able to sleep. You’ve made it clear you won’t touch me, which is the only other thing besides more alcohol that might improve this night. So I want to know why you won’t. Why you won’t let me touch you either.” I sound bitter to my own ears.

My eyes drift over him. He looks like sin tonight. Gorgeous in a black zipped hoodie that fits him perfectly under a suit jacket that probably costs more than the bar makes in a month. The black cowboy hat was left in the car with the driver, but the black snakeskin cowboy boots with the steel tips set off the whole outfit. He looks every bit as expensive as he is.

“Dakota…” He so rarely says my name, my real first name, that I know this isn’t going to end well.

“Don’t sugarcoat it. Just tell me the truth. I need to hear it. I need you to crush my heart so that I can stop thinking about you. I need you to tell me it was all just a game, some amusement for you while you were bored so I can get on with my real life once I’ve finished paying you off. We should probably talk about that too. How many more naked photos and videos you need to feel satisfied that you’ve well and truly rubbed my nose in what a desperate whore I am for selling myself.”

“Don’t you dare fucking call yourself that.” His temper snaps, and his nostrils flare.

“Wasn’t that what this was? You teaching me a lesson. Showing me what would happen to me if I kept doing what I was doing. Selling pictures of myself. Spitting whiskey into men’s mouths. And look. I’ve lost my bar. My reputation’s in the trash. And I’m some man’s plaything. Just like you predicted.”

“I wanted to teach you a lesson because I wanted to protect you from people who could hurt you. I didn’t want to see it happen to you. That was the last fucking thing on earth I wanted.”

“And yet… here I am.”

“If you want out of our deal, I’ll call the debt settled. Most of it was for the wedding anyway, and it’s my baby brother. I should be helping cover the costs as the head of the family.”

“What happened to holding me to it?”

“I don’t want it if this is how it makes you feel. If this is how you see yourself. That was never what I wanted.”

“Then why did you want it?”

“Because I…” He scrubs a hand over his mouth and sinks onto the barstool next to mine. “You’ve always been important to me. I’ve always cared about you. Fuck. I enjoyed our little hateful banter routine. That you weren’t scared of me, and you’d tell me the truth to my face without sugarcoating it.”

“But you never saw me the way I saw you. I was always a little girl to you. One who didn’t learn her lesson the first time. Naïve and silly.”

“I didn’t give you the respect you deserved. You’re right. I think part of me didn’t want to see you as anything other than the kid who I looked after when your brother died. That kept things simple between us. Made all the lines clear as day for me, and I could stay far away from them. Have zero interest in crossing them, or at least tell myself that was the case. But then…”

“But then you saw pictures of me naked, and I seemed like an easy toy to play with.”

“No. You’re not easy, and you’re not a toy. But I… I saw you differently, yes. It started before that. Last year when we danced that one night. Valentine’s Day when we had our little truce. When we got into that argument in your apartment when I tried to fix the sink. I realized you’re not her anymore. You’re not the girl who needs my protection. You’re all grown up, and you have your own life and your own dreams. You can take care of yourself, and you don’t need me. And then I thought about a life without you in it anymore. I realized how much I cared about you. How empty it would be without you. Not you—the kid sister, and me—the poor substitute for Jesse. But you as a friend… not that you could label us that, exactly but…” He sighs and takes a breath. “I was just getting used to figuring out how we might be able to be friends, and then I saw those pictures, and fuck…”

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