“Do I have something on my face?”

“No, of course not.” He looked down at the table.

She ripped off his bill and slid it under the edge of his plate. “Will I see you tomorrow, then? I’ll be making peach pies.”

Laughter roared out, and Joel glanced down the room. Considering they were businessmen, he’d expect different behavior, but it seemed some rednecks wore ties.

Vicki frowned—then she was gone. Back behind the protective barrier of the countertop, fidgeting with a dishcloth and topping up pitchers.

Her sudden departure was odd enough to catch Joel’s attention. They weren’t friends that he’d expect her to make tons of small talk, and yeah, there was something a touch awkward between them as he tried to hide his attraction, but up and leaving was borderline rude. Her chin was lowered, eyes fixed on her task, as if attempting to block out everything else.

The first bite of pie turned sour on his tongue as he struggled for what to do next. Not to mention, he was pissed at himself for being drawn to the one girl in town he should avoid.

Joel stared out the window and fought his frustrations.

“Bad case of blue balls, that’s for sure.”

Joel whipped his head around to see who needed their face rearranged, but the comment wasn’t directed at him. The guys in suits had increased in volume. Joel recognized one of them as Eric Tell from the bank. The man had been in the same grade as Travis, so a few years higher than himself.

“You should have stopped in to see Sarah Hansol,” Eric advised his seatmate. “She opens her legs so often there’s a landing strip between them to make the approach easier. Whole family’s the same. Easy sluts, the lot of them.”

Idiots. Joel ignored them. Even considered abandoning his pies. It was one thing to know about Sarah’s reputation, and another to shout rude comments in a public—

Fuck it. The rest of Eric’s words fully registered.

He glanced to the right as Vicki’s petite form flashed past. She skidded to a halt directly in front of the loudmouth’s table. Joel rose and stepped forward, but not in time to stop her from dumping the contents of an entire pitcher of cola over Eric’s head.

While the man was still blinking in surprise, she threw her first punch.


The roaring in her ears drowned out the shouts of anger, dimming everything to a low buzz as she got in a satisfying second hit to the asshole’s jaw before she was captured from behind and dragged off.

Vicki squirmed, fighting for release, but the arms around her could have been made of iron for how much give they allowed.

“What the hell was that for?” Eric was on his feet, towering over her, his companions at the table all rising as well as chairs screeched over the floor. He grabbed his napkin and dabbed at the rivulets of liquid running down his face, blood flowing from his nose where she’d got in a blow before being pulled away.

“Calm down, everyone.” Joel’s voice carried over her shoulder, and she debated digging her elbow into his ribs for stepping in when she hadn’t asked him to interfere.

“Should we call the police?” One of the jerks accompanying Eric had his cell phone out. Vicki glared daggers at Eric, daring him to make one wrong move.

“No police.” Eric waved his friends off. “Sit, it’s okay. It was an accident. The waitress tripped.”

Goddamn bastard. Vicki opened her mouth to lambast him, but all the air in her lungs emptied as Joel snuck a hand around her waist and squeezed in warning.

“Everything fine, then?” Joel asked.

“So sorry.” The café manager stepped in, passing over an extra towel before wiping up the mess on the table. Sherry spoke soothingly. “Accidents happen. The meal is on the house. Let me replace anything you gentlemen need.”

Eric settled back in his chair, still eyeing Vicki as if she might burst from Joel’s clasp and resume swinging. She wiggled in an attempt to get free, because that was exactly what she wanted to do, but Joel only tucked her against his body.

A distant part of her brain noted this was about the closest she’d ever been to a guy, with Joel’s thigh shoved between her legs to give him something to brace her against. His bulky biceps pressed the side of her breast. All of that registered in a flash before being ignored for the more important craving to knock Eric’s head off. Yet, even the dim awareness of Joel was another reason to hate Eric’s guts. She wasn’t able to appreciate the intimacy of her contained position, as twisted as that enjoyment might be.

Vicki focused on the asshole who’d started this mess.

He’d stopped the bleeding and had the audacity to smirk. A benevolent type of smile, forgiving and oh-so-condescending. “Don’t fuss, Sherry. Your waitress had a bit of a balance problem. Everything is forgotten. In fact…”

He took out a dollar coin and flipped it at Vicki. Almost as if he were giving her a tip. Only at the last second he pulled his toss and allowed the coin to fall at her feet.

It was a good thing Joel still had her in a tight grip because at that moment she really might have killed Eric without thinking. Her heart raced, adrenaline and fury whipping through her icy cold like a winter’s storm.

He’d as good as called her a hooker.

The others at the table found new places to look. At the floor, out the window, anywhere but at Eric and Vicki.

Air brushed her cheek as Joel whispered, “He’s a fuckwad. Prove you’re better than him and let it go.”

The iron grip on her arms eased, as if he expected her to listen and not leap across the space between her and Eric to throttle him with her bare fingers. Vicki took a deep breath and released it slowly. For a moment she allowed herself to lean against the firm bulk of Joel’s torso as a reward for behaving.

Then the rush of anger turned, now directed inward, and she fled to the back of the café. She worked to calm her breathing as she stood in the middle of the staff room and stared into space.

She wasn’t supposed to let him get to her. Every time it happened and she lost her temper, she thought she’d learned her lesson. He’d say and do anything to get her goat. This time she’d even spotted him ahead of time and hauled herself aside, vowing to not take whatever bait he offered. Yet once again, she’d simply walked into his trap and allowed him to be the one in charge of her behavior, instead of herself.

It was going to cost her. It always cost her, and not him, and that’s why a change had to happen. She knew it, but damn if controlling her temper was getting any easier.

The door opened. Sherry entered and sat, waiting in silence.

Vicki turned toward her supervisor. “I’m sorry. I should have pretended I didn’t hear him.”

Sherry shook her head. “Honey, you had a good reason. Only, you always have a good reason for losing your temper. I can’t afford to have you taking it out on the customers.”

Oh shit. “I’ll keep it under control. It’s just…”

Sad regret filled her supervisor’s expression. “I can’t keep someone on staff I can’t trust. And I can’t keep covering your butt, no matter how justified you feel you are in hating Eric’s guts. He lives in Rocky. He comes into the café a couple times a week. You seeing him around town is inevitable, so you’ve got to give up this vendetta.”

Far easier said than done. “I’m trying.”

Sherry paused. “I know you are. But you’ll have to try while working somewhere other than at the café.”

Vicki waited for yet another flash of anger to hit, but this time there was nothing but resignation. “I understand. It’s not a great idea to be anywhere near knives until I get this under control, right?”

Sherry chuckled. “Probably not. But when you’re not taking potshots at the customers, you’re a good worker. I’ll give you a letter of reference, if you want one.”

“Thanks.” She was going to need every bit of help she could get. “You want me to finish my shift?”

Sherry rose to her feet. “It’s slow enough Carrie and I can deal with the customers until Tina comes in.”

Sherry patted her on the shoulder and headed into the main lobby. Vicki grabbed her backpack and cleaned the few things out of her locker. Not much there. In a few minutes only empty space mocked her.

Behind her the door clicked shut with a hollow echo. Another door shutting on her future. Another possibility turned from positive to negative.

Vicki paused as she examined the alley. Graffiti marred the brickwork in a few places, but mostly there were orderly dumpsters and a few cars parked outside shop rear-exits. The alley wasn’t a dirty mess, but it wasn’t a place of beauty either, and Vicki’s breath caught in her throat.

This was her. Trapped between two things. She wasn’t a foul mess, but she wasn’t doing what she needed to get the hell out of the hole she’d fallen in.

Fallen, or been shoved?

No, she wouldn’t play the blame game. No matter how she’d been treated while growing up, no matter what her family’s reputation, she was an adult and responsible for her own actions.

Right now? There was no one to blame for being unemployed but herself. She’d love to say it was Eric’s fault, but he wasn’t the one who’d moved his fat head into her fists.

She shouldered her backpack and headed down the alley, thankful he hadn’t pressed assault charges. He could have, and it would have been nothing more than another round of he said, she said… The town bad girl acting out against the star valedictorian.

Another round with another loss for her.

The end of the alley was mere steps away, the sunshine on the sidewalk her goal, when someone stepped around the corner and she jerked to a stop.