Home to Whiskey Creek (Whiskey Creek #4)(56)
Author: Brenda Novak

“Comfort food. Good choice, considering your mood,” she added, and hurried away as if he might come after her.

He considered calling her back to the table so he could ask if Addy was around but decided to wait and see if he spotted her without actually having to summon her. He didn’t want to put up with Luanne’s reaction, for starters.

You’ve met your match with her. If she said that, she’d be right.

“Good night,” Joe called when he left with his kids.

Carl and his group finished and left soon after. Then he was the only patron still there.

Tilly and Luanne spent most of their time in the back. From the sounds of it, they were cleaning up and getting ready to close. When Luanne brought out his food, she was wearing her coat and had her purse hanging off one shoulder. “I’m heading home, but Addy’ll be here. She’ll act as cashier and see you out.”

Perfect. He seemed to be regaining some of his former luck. Feeling a surge of anticipation, he said good-night. He’d wanted to see Addy ever since she left his house so abruptly on Sunday morning.

But the moment she came out to check on him, he could tell that she hadn’t realized it was him. When Luanne went home she must’ve said she still had one table or something like that.

“Hi.” She smiled, but it looked pained, as if she wasn’t happy to see him. He actually felt that his presence was upsetting to her. And then he understood why she hadn’t called. For whatever reason, she was no longer interested.

The rejection stung. The night they’d been so intimate had made him expect more. What he’d read into her actions then was so different from what he saw on her face now.

But he wasn’t going to force his attention on any woman. He wanted to ask her to explain. He couldn’t understand why she’d come home with him. He was the one who’d had to talk her into climaxing, so it wasn’t as if she’d been using him. But he was afraid he’d sound as disappointed as he felt. So he threw a twenty on the table to cover the bill and slid out of the booth.

“I’m sorry I showed up,” he said, and walked out.

19

It was all Addy could do not to go after Noah. The bell over the door echoed in her head as she stood in the center of the dining room, telling herself to buck up and move on with her night. She doubted Noah would be coming to dinner on Saturday. This created the decisive end she’d been looking for, right?

But she couldn’t return to work. She couldn’t even make herself go over and lock the door for fear she’d run out and chase him down. She’d thought of him so many times this week, wanting to see him.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and stared at it. Couldn’t she call him, at least? Tell him that what was happening had nothing to do with him?

No, because what was happening did have something to do with him, something very personal. Revealing how torn she was or telling him she cared about him but couldn’t see him would only raise questions in his mind, and those were questions she couldn’t afford to answer.

Dropping her cell on the table, she sank into the booth he’d just vacated and looked glumly at his food, which he’d barely touched. She’d never dreamed that he’d remain interested. Not only had she acted hot and cold, what she’d been through had stunted her sexual development. Contributing to that was the fact that she still saw herself as the smart but geeky girl who hadn’t been able to turn his head fifteen years ago. Maybe that was why it was so tempting to respond to any advances he made; his attention was something she’d never had and always craved.

“Stop! I’m not losing anything!” She spoke out loud in an effort to stem the disappointment. Even if she felt free to date Noah, what was the most she could expect? That they’d have a great time for a few months? He’d forget her once he left for Europe in the spring. He’d never hung on to any other woman. So why did she feel as if she was denying herself some fabulous opportunity?

When the bell over the door jingled again, she turned, halfway hoping, despite everything, that it was Noah. But Kevin Colbert stood there, wearing an “at last” smirk as he jammed his hands in the pockets of his Eureka High football windbreaker.

Addy shoved the table as she scrambled out of the booth, making Noah’s silverware rattle against his plate. “What do you want?” She reached for her phone but he crossed the restaurant and snatched it out of her hands before she could call for help.

“It’s time you and I had a talk.” He slipped her cell into his pocket. “Now that we have a few minutes of privacy.”

They certainly had that. She’d let all the employees go home; there would be no one to intervene—or save her, if necessary.

“Didn’t we already have a talk when you dragged me up to the mine last week?” She eyed the fork Noah had used at dinner, trying to gauge whether or not she could grab it should she need to.

“You think that was me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t.”

Did he have a white truck? She’d been so busy with the restaurant, and so fearful of approaching his house, she hadn’t checked. But she’d been meaning to. “I’m supposed to take your word for it?”

“One mistake doesn’t define an individual, Addy. Just because I got involved in something I shouldn’t have fifteen years ago doesn’t mean I’d hurt you again.”

“Is that how you sleep at night? By using euphemisms like ‘involved’ instead of more honest terms? And believing that one mistake doesn’t prove you’re a bad person?”

He scowled. “Stop being so dramatic. You’re making such a big deal out of what happened.”

“You mean out of what you did? Don’t talk about it as if it was beyond your control.”

Rubbing his neck, he sighed. “Look, I’m just trying to tell you that you don’t have to be scared of me, of any of us. I’ve talked to the guys. We don’t intend you any harm. I’d prefer it if we could all be friends. At least you and I.”

“You’ve got to be insane!”

“Fine. If that’s the way you want it. But I’m not going to let you come back here and ruin my life. Maybe what I did was wrong. But it’s in the past. It’s over, and I can’t change it. You understand?”

She laughed without mirth. “Yeah, I understand. You’re shrugging it off like it was nothing. You want to go about your business as if you never raped me.”