“Bobby? I?—”
“Get out! I don’t ever want to talk to you again, M-MacKenzie,” he stutters. “I was trying to protect you.”
“Bobby, please?” I’m begging. “Please calm down. I’m sorry I forgot?—”
“Getout!” he screeches. He hasn’t moved out of the chair; I don’t feel threatened. Still, the sight of him is unnerving. He’s red-faced and sweating. I can see his anger, but I can also see how hurt he is.
A teardrop slips down my cheek. “Bobby. I’m really sorry.”
He takes deep, panting breaths. “Go. Just go,” he says, sounding somewhat calmer.
I nod and move out of the stockroom and into the store. Sam is waiting for me at the entry. I wipe away a tear. “He hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you.”
“Yes. Yes, he does, Sam. He hates m-me,” I stutter, and more tears fall. I did consider Bobby a friend, even if we weren’t really close.
Sam wraps his arm around my shoulder and squeezes. “Let’s go to lunch. Food will make you feel better.”
I knowI should tell him about the knife. However, knowing Sam, he’d overreact and get all macho on Bobby’s ass. I don’t need that right now, and neither does Bobby.
I sniffle. I look up at him and roll my eyes. “Will you ever stop talking about me and food? I’m getting a complex.”
“Sorry, sweetheart. I love that you eat. I’ll always love that you eat—we may have to meet in the middle on that point.”
I take a deep breath and wipe the last tear from my eye. “Whatever,” I grumble, still not completely happy with his comments.
As Sam leads me out of the store, I ask, “Listen, I’m trying to get a handle on all these feelings I have about you. I’m in uncharted waters. I really need you to cut me some slack.”
“Feelings? Are you catching feelings for me, Sam Stone?” I tease, still doing my best to shake the scene with Bobby out of my head.
He chuckles. “Yeah, I’m catching feelings for you, MacKenzie Parker.”
We walk to a nearby deli. I order a turkey Reuben on whole wheat while Sam orders some sort of healthy wrap. It’s mostly vegetables. Maybe I should have gotten something like that. Maybe then my butt wouldn’t be so…badonk-a-donkish. I shrug to myself and bite into my delicious sandwich. “Mm, good.” I grab a chip and take a bite, making a loud crunching sound. I look up and see Sam smiling at me. “If you say one word about the way I eat, I swear I’ll punch you, Sam.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “I promise I won’t. I just missed you—that’s all.”
“I’ll bet,” I grumble as I take another bite. I watch him eat his wrap. He reaches to take one of my chips, and I’m tempted to slap his hand away. Instead, I turn the bag toward him to share. See, I can be nice. We chew in companionable silence.
Luckily, he finishes first and sips his bottle of water as I eat. “So, I’ve got this famous client this week.”
“You do?”
“Yep, it’s Shyanne.”
“Seriously?” I squeak. “I love her music. It’s so peppy.”
He chuckles. “Peppy, huh?”
I nod.
“Well, she’s got a show tonight and another one tomorrow. I’m working both shows. If you’d like, I can leave you a backstage pass and you can come hang out with me.”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah. Or tomorrow. Whatever works for you, MacKenzie.”
I’ll think it over. I’m always so wiped out after work on Friday. Plus, I’d rather not wear work clothes to a Shyanne concert. But it’s a quick walk from my place to the United Center. I could go home, change, and get there in plenty of time. “I’ll see what I can do. If I don’t make it tonight, I’ll definitely come tomorrow.”
