She could tell he knew something was wrong the minute she climbed up into his truck. He didn’t say it, but he studied her a little too closely, took a few too many glances over at her as he drove. She managed to get through the small talk without going to pieces. If he’d noticed Macy’s car, he said nothing about it, and it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.
They went for mutually decided upon Tex-Mex, and Starla found her incident hadn’t negatively affected her appetite. She rarely went to restaurants so the tortilla chips and salsa and queso were a rare treat. Jared raised his eyebrows when she ordered a Coronarita. “Aren’t you going back to work?”
“Fuck it.” The decision had been made as soon as she’d eyed the drink menu. Fuck Ghost. Fuck Brian Ross. Tay and Janelle hadn’t done anything to her, but they would probably be better off without her around tonight, even if they didn’t know it yet. “I’ll call in. If they get swamped, they can set appointments like always.”
“Starla. If you take no other advice I ever offer, take this. Don’t burn bridges.” He reached across the table and stilled her hand from grabbing the drink as soon as the waiter set it down, his blue eyes earnest and still brilliant even in the dimness. “You will regret it.”
As she stared at the drink, the urge to get rip-roaring drunk battling with the need to do the right thing, to be a better person, her eyes filled with tears. Horrified, she snatched up a napkin and dabbed at them. Jared abandoned his spot across the table from her and slid into her side of the booth, shielding her from the other patrons of the restaurant. She inched over to make room, so thankful for him right then that she could only cry harder.
“Tell me,” he said, but it wasn’t a gentle request. It was a firm order. Before she could stop herself, the whole sorry story poured out. Max. Brian. Even Macy showing up. Whenever she dared to look at him, his expression had grown a shade darker, brows drawing together, jaw going tight. Eyes so intense it scared her. She didn’t think anyone in her life had ever listened to her the way he did, as if every word that dropped from her lips was somehow precious.
“I’m glad you didn’t cancel on me,” he said at last. “And I’m glad Brian stood up for you. I don’t blame you for needing the rest of the night off, but he should have volunteered it, not jumped down your throat about that asshole almost running you over.”
She noticed he was ignoring her mention of Macy altogether.
“Well…Brian, he…kind of has a temper. He was wound up, and there wasn’t anyone else to lash out at, so he lashed out at me. Anyway, I guess I’d feel safer at work than at home right now.” Sighing with relief that her deluge seemed to be over with, she popped a tortilla chip in her mouth and glumly eyed her untouched drink. “You’re right. I should go back and I don’t need that.”
“I don’t know so much about that now. I didn’t realize you’ve had such a bad shock.”
He’d no sooner said it than Starla’s phone signaled an incoming text. Her heart lurched about two inches downward when she saw it was from Brian, but she sagged in relief when she read the words. Sorry. Take the rest of the night off.
Either the thought had come to him on its own once he’d cooled down, or Candace had introduced it after he got home and told her what happened, but either way, Starla only wanted to put this day out of her mind and focus on the night ahead. She wrote back: Thanks, I will, sighed, and met Jared’s expectant look. “I’m off the hook. Pass me that drink.”
Chuckling, he did so, but she noticed he didn’t move back to his seat across the table from her. She liked that. He radiated warmth and protection, and she soaked it up like an old, dry sponge. She’d been starved of it most of her life, hadn’t she? Maybe it had been her own doing. Maybe she’d deserved it for some of the choices she’d made. But the need for change, for something new, something incredible, pulsed under her skin. It threatened to consume her, to melt away the armor she wore to keep everyone else out, to shed it like an old skin. The memory of the way he’d kissed her burned through her like the alcohol she drank, and her toes curled in her shoes.
Whatever the night ahead held, she was ready.
Chapter Eleven
Just when Jared thought Starla couldn’t possibly drink any more and remain upright, she drank more. But it was fine with him. If he’d ever met someone who deserved to let her hair down, it was her—he’d seen what the kind of scare she was going through had done to Shelly. Starla wanted to put on a tough front, pretend it was no big deal, but he saw those flashes of worry in her eyes when their conversation lulled, when her laughter stilled for a moment. He saw how she glanced up with a little start every time someone walked by their table, as if she expected it to be Max. And why shouldn’t she?