“Of course,” he replied with a short nod, already turning the wheel and heading toward the house.
When we pulled up, Dad and Lisa were once again out of the house, so I didn’t linger either. I headed straight to the shower, stripping off the last pieces of West’s world and replacing them with something more familiar.
After scrubbing off the day and rinsing out my thoughts, I towel-dried my hair and changed into jeans, a tank, and my favorite boots. It felt good. Grounding. Like I was slipping back into myself after floating around in someone else’s life for a minute.
Fiddlers was only ten minutes away, but the drive felt longer. Not in a bad way, just different. I hadn’t been there for three days and it felt like it had somehow changed while I’d been gone.
But when I walked inside, the bar looked better than ever. The lights were low and warm, the music playing softly, the scent of lemon cleaner clinging to the air. Everyone working looked calm, focused, and even happy.
“Well, well. Mrs. Blue Brooks,” Tuffy said with a teasing grin as I dropped my bag off in the office.
I rolled my eyes, already blushing. I knew that tone. It was the one people used when they saw something in your face before you were ready to talk about it.
“I swear you’ve got a radar,” I muttered, brushing past her and heading to the main bar to take inventory before the evening rush hit.
Tuffy followed me like a shadow, laughing quietly and keeping pace as I counted bottles and checked stock levels.
“Rumor has it you two were kissing outside the diner this afternoon,” she said casually.
I froze, my hand hovering over the register drawer. It wasn’t that she was wrong but that West had been right. That kiss wasn’t real. Not to him. Not the way I wanted it to be. It was for show.
It gave me a pit in my stomach that I didn’t have time for.
“Can’t a woman kiss her husband after an afternoon lunch?” I said lightly, flashing her a grin that didn’t quite reach my eyes. I didn’t want her to see it. The flicker of confusion. The half-second where I forgot what was real and what was pretend.
Tuffy just smiled, soft and knowing. “I think it’s great,” she said sincerely. “You look happy. You look satisfied.” She wiggled her eyebrows, making me laugh despite myself. “But most importantly? You look like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders.”
“What do you mean?”
Tuffy leaned against the counter, arms folded. “I just mean that everything’s going right for you. The Murphy brothers are out of the bar. Jeff no longer owns it. You’re running things now. Your dad’s been out and about, looking happier than I’ve seen him in a long time. I’m just happy for you.”
She wasn’t being sarcastic. Tuffy wasn’t the snarky type. But still, her words hit a nerve I wasn’t expecting. Because that was it, wasn’t it? This was the moment I’d been dreading. When someone would point out exactly how it all looked from the outside.
Like I’d just snagged a billionaire and sucked his dick until my life was all better.
But I couldn’t explain myself or defend what was really happening. That it was his idea. His plan. A two-way street, whether anyone else believed it or not.
“Get that look off your face,” Tuffy said, swatting my arm like she could read my mind. “You know the whole town’s busy chatting about West Brooks these days, and the fact that you married him a week after meeting him? Yeah, you’re part of the chat. But that doesn’t mean shit.”
I nodded slowly, letting the air out of my lungs in one long, steady breath.
People were starting to trickle into the bar, the early evening crowd looking for beer and conversation. The servers were already moving quickly, asking for drink orders and calling out food checks.
There wasn’t time to overthink.
There was only work.
And that was the best way I knew to shut out the noise. By proving I hadn’t changed. Not really. That despite being swept off my feet by a man with a private elevator and a bank account with no ceiling, I was still the same girl behind this bar.
The same girl who was going to keep Fiddlers alive and thriving long after this deal with West was done.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
WEST
“Married? I thought you were engaged.”Mr. McConnell’s laugh boomed through the phone like it was the funniest thing he’d heard all week.
I’d called just to touch base, make sure he and his wife were still planning to come back into town. But really, I’d wanted to casually slip in the news that I was, in fact, married.
