Raging Fires by Candace Camp
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kelli turned back to the stove, tears welling in her eyes. Her legs were trembling. Picking up the skillet of burned pancakes, she ditched it in the sink, then poured out the rest of the batter. Behind her in the apartment, she could hear Jake moving around, not storming and banging doors, but deadly quiet, which was more frightening. Every small sound seemed to have a finality to it.
A few moments later, she heard the front door close. Then his voice talking to the dog. Tears clogged her throat and threatened to run down her cheeks, but she kept on stubbornly cleaning the pan, washing the bowl and plate. She wasn’t going to cry. She refused.
There was the sound of the car door, then the engine, and he was gone. Kelli began to cry. Jerking, choking little bursts of sobs as she fought it. And then she surrendered. Sinking slowly to the floor, she leaned back against the cabinet, her knees drawn to her chest, and she sobbed.
She cried for Jake and the pain in his voice. For herself. For the past and the love they’d had, the love she’d thought would never die. How had everything gone so horribly wrong? How had that boy with the killer grin who’d walked into the Blue become the angry, bitter man who’d just walked away?
Was it her fault? Clearly Jake blamed her. But how could she have stayed in that empty existence made all the worse by the fact that Jake was physically there? She wasn’t responsible because he’d reacted like a head case when she left. He was already headed in that direction; probably all she did was make it happen faster.
If she’d stayed, she could have continued to cover for him with the coaches or his agent and publicist, to push him out of bed in the mornings so he’d get to practice on time, to bug him until he did the various things he was supposed to.
But it would only have slowed his slide. The rift between them would have grown worse. Maybe he would have grown so far away from her or gotten so angry at her nagging that he would have been the one to file for divorce. She could have stayed there for another year or more, being miserable, trying to save Jake from himself. In the end she wouldn’t have accomplished anything except watching him crash and burn from close up.
Eventually Kelli stopped crying. She sighed and stood up, wiping the tears from her cheeks and going to blow her nose. She went into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like hell: her eyes puffy and red, her face mottled. It was clear she’d been crying.
It didn’t matter. Even if she felt like going to bed and pulling the covers over her head, she couldn’t. It was Saturday, and she had to get over to the Blue and help set up the bar for tonight’s show. It was always a packed house on a night they had a popular band.
Thirty minutes later, showered and dressed, her wet hair tied back in a braid, she left the house. Toby wasn’t on the porch waiting for her as he usually was, and she felt a clutch of fear at her heart. Had he wandered off? Could Jake have taken the dog with him? It seemed strange, but the thought made her feel a little better. He’d likely return if he had Toby along. Or maybe he planned to hit the road, just a man and his dog.
Whatever had happened, she couldn’t worry about it now. She wasn’t about to call Jake and ask him if he had the dog, and if Toby had wandered off, well, he was a stray, used to being on his own, not a delicate house dog. He’d find his way back, and he must have learned by now to avoid cars.
She took last night’s receipts to the bank, and by the time she returned, Naomi was there, as well as Tiny and a couple of extra workers she usually hired for the night of a big show.
Naomi came up to her, frowning. “The groceries came, and there are no limes.”
“No limes? Are you serious?”
Naomi nodded. “Apparently there’s a shortage or something. I don’t know. Anyway, he didn’t bring them.”
Kelli sighed. No lime wedges for tequila shots and beers? No limes for their signature on-the-rocks no-mix-ever margaritas or their house guacamole? “Call around. See if you can find any grocery stores that have them. What about Farmers’ Market?”
Naomi shook her head. “They shut down by noon.”
“I hope they at least brought the avocados.”
“That we have.”
It was a hectic day, as always. They rolled up the garage door where deliveries were made and turned it into a patio for the extra crowd, then moved the tables and chairs that were close to the stage out there. The band arrived to haul in their equipment and do a sound check, and there was a glitch in the sound system. The extra cook hired for the day didn’t show up, which meant a few frantic calls before she located another one. The two defensive linemen from ASU that were their bouncers showed up early to help with the equipment and hauling in the kegs, but they also announced that the third teammate who had been supposed to work had broken his ankle and wouldn’t be joining them.
She really needed three doormen on a night like this with a big crowd, the open patio, and a number of customers who didn’t usually frequent the bar and sometimes took exception to their policies. Well, Justin Kowalski would likely be there, and he was always willing to help out if she needed him, but she hated to rope him into working when he came to enjoy the show.
And, apparently, there were no limes to be had in Phoenix. How was that possible? Tiny had managed to scrounge up a grand total of nine from various groceries.
At least keeping busy all afternoon kept her from thinking about Jake and this morning—at least, not all the time—or looking out the window more than every half hour or so to see if either the dog or the man had returned.
It was almost six, and some early patrons had arrived, when there was a series of loud barks outside that sent Kelli to the back door to look out. Toby bounded out of the front seat of the SUV and ran to greet her, going up on his hind legs to plant his dirty paws on Kelli’s shirt. “Thanks, Toby.”
She stroked his head and looked over his head at the rear door of the car, where she could see Jake’s long legs, the rest of him inside the vehicle. He emerged, lifting out a box, and walked toward her. Kelli was flooded with emotions, too jumbled to be sorted out. She had no idea what to say to him. So she pointed at the box he carried, and said, “What’s that?”
“Limes.”
Kelli’s jaw dropped. “How did you know—”
“Called Tiny to see what was going on, and he said he was on the hunt for limes. So I got some.”
“Where in the world did you find them? They’re all sold out.”
“You obviously don’t know the power of Gran’s phone tree. Everybody owes her favors; it’s kinda like The Godfather. She called two ladies at St. Cat’s, and between them they know every bodega owner in the metropolitan area. Uncle Pete and his son-in-law went to pick those up. Two of my Kent cousins live in Flagstaff and they brought down all they could find. Greg O’Malley’s family hit up the Tucson stores, and I drove down and picked them up.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Toby was blissed out; he got to jump on a dozen people today. And he rode around a lot with his head out the window.”
Still at a loss for words, Kelli held the door open for him to walk through, fending off the eager Toby. “How’d he get his paws filthy again?”
“You know Tobes; he might have jumped in a few puddles too. Apparently he’s okay with water as long as it’s dirty.”
Jake set the box down on the counter and the staff cheered. He took a bow like a performer, then turned and started out the door again. Kelli followed him. “Jake… wait. Don’t go yet. We need to—how did you—are we going to go on like nothing happened?”
“Nah. We can talk about it later. I’m not going anywhere. I’m just getting the other box of limes out of the car, and then I thought I’d stay and help out. I don’t know much, but I can draw a mug of beer, and I’m pretty good at the heavy lifting.” He looked unaccustomedly hesitant. “I mean, if it’s okay with you.”
“Of course.”
He carried in another box of limes and set it on the bar, bumped fists with the bartender, Tiny, and the two defensive lineman, and joined them in moving the kegs and setting them up. Kelli watched him for a moment, then turned away. There was too much work to be done to stand around eyeing Jake, even if he was wearing a white T and his arms bulged with muscle as he worked.
The crowd trickled in. It was a night when people came early to get good spots, which meant not only more drinks but also more food orders. The kitchen was buzzing with activity. Kelli helped out wherever it was needed, taking orders and bringing them out, getting behind the bar to give the two bartenders some relief, all the while keeping an eye on the crowd. Now and then she got pulled aside to resolve some problem.
But even as busy as she was, she glanced around the room periodically, looking for Jake. He subbed for the guys on the doors when they needed a break. He was an extra barback when the rush was heaviest. At one point, she even saw him cutting limes. Another time, he slipped into the middle of what looked like a brewing fight, joking and talking with the guys until they settled down.
And everywhere he showed up, he brought that infectious grin. Over the years, she’d forgotten how much people liked Jake. Not just for his fame or his skill on the field but simply for his humor, his friendliness, his laid-back nature. Maybe that boy with the grin that had lit up the room hadn’t disappeared after all.
The night was long; the band was inspired to play thirty minutes past their set, and it took forever to get everybody out of the bar when closing time came. But finally they were gone, and Kelli was able to lock the front door. They brought in the tables and chairs from the patio and locked it up as well.
“Great night, everybody,” Kelli told the staff. “Go on home. I have a cleaning crew coming in the morning, and Jake and I can put up the last few things.”
She sent a teasing look toward Jake as she said it, thinking he would protest, but she saw that he was already stowing things away behind the bar. Everyone shuffled out the back door to their cars, and Kelli locked it behind them.
She checked the kitchen to make sure any perishables had been put up before she joined Jake at the bar. “You don’t need to pick up all the glasses. The cleaning crew gets here early, and they’ll do all that.”
“Okay.” He set down the tray of empty bottles and glasses that he’d been collecting. He laced his fingers together and stretched up as far as he could, his T sliding up to reveal a slice of his flat stomach. A tingle ran through Kelli, and she quickly turned away. “Thanks for all the help tonight.”
“Sure.” Jake dropped his arms and strolled over. “The Blue’s my responsibility, too. I can’t make you do all the work.”
It was the first time Kelli had heard Jake say anything about the bar except that it belonged to her. She smiled, somehow warmed by the idea of Jake displaying any interest in the Blue. “You’re right. I should go over the financials with you, teach you how to run it.”
“Numbers?” Jake looked pained. “That I will leave to you.”
“And that’s exactly how that business manager took advantage of you,” she reminded him.
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Kelli, you were right, and now I keep a close eye on the new guy. And I don’t invest capital in every cool business that comes along. But, see, I trust you. I know you’re not going to screw me over.”
“Well, you’re right about that. But if you’re going to help out, you might as well learn a few things. Enough to tend bar.”
“Kell…” He gave her a disdainful look. “I’m as good as your guy at pulling the handle.”
“There are cocktails too. Like our ‘world famous signature, on the rocks, no mix ever margaritas,’ which you provided the limes for.”
“When did Pops’ margaritas become world famous?”
“When I decided to call them that. And I put in some high-end tequila.” She nodded toward one of the cash registers. “Come here. I’ll show you what we do with the money every night.”
“Now that is interesting.” He came around behind the bar to stand behind her. He was close enough that she could feel the heat from his body, and yes, damn it, there were still faint traces of that cologne. No wonder all the women kept flirting with him. His breath drifted over her hair, making the back of her neck prickle.
“Okay,” she said crisply, stiffening her knees so they wouldn’t start to bend and send her leaning back against him. “This is the money pouch.” She pulled out a large leather envelope, worn and marked from years of use, and set it on the counter. “The register is locked because the bartender always does that at the end of his shift, so you take this little key and unlock it.”
“I can handle that.” Jake rested his hands lightly on the side of her hips, a gesture so familiar that she was sure he wasn’t even aware he’d done it. She wouldn’t have noticed it herself except for the fact that his slightest touch sent sparks all through her.
“You open the cash drawer.” She backed up a bit as the drawer popped out toward her, which put her flush against his body. God, his body was always so warm. She could feel his muscles through his soft thin T-shirt, and her butt rested against him. She felt the immediate tell-tale pulse of his body against her. Long ago, he would have wrapped his arms around her waist and settled his chin on the top of her head, and she would have snuggled back into him, enjoying the low throb of anticipation despite the fact that it made her thoughts scatter.
Now she gave him a nudge with her elbow and said, “Good grief, would you give me some room here, Jake?”
And he did, though he moved back only an inch, so that she was still incredibly aware of his nearness. She forced herself to ignore him—and the heat forming between her legs—and went through a demonstration of the nightly routine of counting cash and sticking it in the leather money pouch, and relocking the machine.
“Now, why don’t you do the other one?” Kelli suggested. Doing was better than watching, but mostly she wanted to get him out from so close behind her. He followed all the steps, and she said, “Hey! First time around.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, well, I watched Pops do it all my life.”
Kelli made a face. “Why didn’t you tell me you already knew how?”
There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, and a corner of his mouth quirked up. “Maybe I just wanted to watch you demonstrate.” He trailed after her as she turned around and headed for the office. “Besides, I thought maybe the process had changed over the years.”
“Nothing changes around here. You know that.”
“Except that Pops is gone.”
“Yeah.” Kelli sighed, sorrow blossoming in her chest for a moment. “Except for that.”
After she put the night’s haul in the safe and stood up, Jake said, “Hungry?”
“Starving. I haven’t had anything except a power bar since lunch.”
“Go sit down and put your feet up,” Jake told her. “I’ll make us a couple of sandwiches.”
“That sounds great.” Normally, she thought, she would have insisted on making her own, but she was tired and, really, what was the point? “Turkey and—”
“Sharp cheddar on wheat,” he finished. “I know.”
She pulled out a chair at a table that was clean except for a few sticky circles. She put her feet up on the nearest chair and let out a little groan. It felt good to be off her feet, and yet it made her realize just how really sore her soles were. Closing her eyes, she sank into a daze of weariness, vaguely aware of Jake clattering around in the kitchen. At one point he let out an “Ouch! Damn it.” And for some reason it made her smile. It was all just so… cozy.
“Beer?” he asked as he walked toward her, a plate in each and.
“No. But a big bottle of water would be terrific.”
He set down the plates on the table in front of her and went back to the bar. She watched him walk away, an activity which had long been one of her favorite things. He had such a tight butt, and the way those long legs lazily ate up so much distance just lit her up like a torch. She dropped her gaze when he came back with the bottles. That view of him was equally sexy, but he would be able to see her expression.
Kelli sat up and looked at her sandwich for the first time. It was just as she liked it, slathered with mayo and the turkey topped by lettuce and a slice of tomato, a pickle spear by its side. Tears stung her eyes, which was dumb. How could making a sandwich be endearing? She cleared her throat and said, “Thank you. This is lovely.”
“Service with a smile.” Jake set down the bottles, tossed a couple of packages of chips on the table and pulled out the chair across from her. As he picked up his sandwich, she saw the little bandage wrapped around his left thumb.
Kelli nodded toward the bandage. “You get that slicing the tomato?”
“Yeah. Good thing I don’t make my living as a chef.”
Kelli swigged down about half the bottle of water, then she attacked the sandwich. They were silent for a few minutes, wolfing down the food. The work and adrenaline from the show always left her ravenous. Jake finished his meal first and just sat for a while, picking at the label on the bottle. Then he let out a sigh and sat back in his chair.
This was going to be his big reveal about this morning. Kelli could tell the signs when he was pushing himself to say something that left him vulnerable. To help him out, Kelli asked, “So where’d you go this morning? Before the Great Lime Hunt, I mean.”
“I took Tobes to the park and threw the Frisbee for a while.”
Kelli nodded encouragingly. Letting go of his anger by doing something physical was Jake’s style, and so was being helpful in a kind of silent apology. But surely throwing a Frisbee hadn’t been enough to bring that calm he’d shown up with this afternoon, nor was he usually willing to talk about the earlier argument. There had to be something more.
Jake drew a breath, and she knew that the important part was coming. “Then I went to Pops’ grave.”