Buried in Secrets (Carly Moore #4) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,119

think he was being controlling at all, but I was so scared of letting a man run roughshod over me, I found myself saying, “I don’t know.”

“Then I guess you don’t really know me after all,” he said, his voice strangled with pain.

I started to apologize, but his phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket and frowned as he answered. After he exchanged a couple of remarks that made no sense to me, he glanced over at me and mouthed, I need to get back to my car.

“Okay.” I started the engine and headed back to the jail as he continued a conversation about warrants and judges.

“I’m about to head over there right now,” he said as I pulled into the parking lot. He wrapped up the call and hung up as I parked next to his car.

He reached for the door handle, and I grabbed his arm. “I’m sorry, Marco. I didn’t mean it.”

He turned to me, his eyes full of anguish. “That’s just it, Carly. You did.” He leaned over and kissed me. “I have to go. We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

“Yeah.”

He got out and shut the door, and I watched him get in his sheriff vehicle and drive away.

I stayed in the parking spot and stared out at the road for several minutes.

I’d overreacted and Marco had every right to be hurt. What if I’d blown it? What if he thought I had too much baggage? I burst out laughing, which quickly turned to tears. Of course I had too much baggage. I’d been telling him as much for months. If he broke up with me, maybe that was my sign that it really was time to leave.

It was nearly three o’clock, so I decided to head back to Drum and go to work early. Ruth would pepper me with questions about Marco, but I’d soldier through, because I didn’t want to be alone right now. Not when I saw solitude in my near future.

Max hadn’t opened for lunch, and he and Ruth and the new waitress, Trixie, were cleaning up the parking lot and putting the dining room back together when I arrived. Trixie was outgoing and friendly, and I was immediately thrilled Max had hired her. Tiny and Pickle were taking the tables and chairs back to the Methodist church. The event had been such a success, Max had promised to have another block party in a few weeks for the Fourth of July. He was even talking about getting fireworks.

As I suspected, Ruth was full of questions, and to my surprise, so were Tiny and Pickle. I put my fight with Marco behind me and tried to sound happy as I answered. Last night’s party—and probably Trixie’s presence—had put everyone in a good mood, and it was contagious. I told myself that Marco understood my fears and hesitations, that he would forgive me.

We opened at five for dinner, and Max made sure we were prepared for the crowd for the Braves game, especially since Wyatt wouldn’t be in to help. The customers were still talking about the night before, and we told everyone Max had plans for the Fourth. The dinner crowd cleared out, but some stuck around for the game, and more people poured in. We were busy enough that it kept my mind off of my fight with Marco, although I kept watching to see if he’d walk in the door like he usually did.

Bingham came in at around ten and took the booth closest to the door. Lula and his usual entourage weren’t with him.

Ruth shot me a questioning look, as if she knew he was there to see me.

I walked over and slid into the seat opposite him.

“I don’t like to be summoned,” he said with a dark look.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” I said. “You could have used a phone.”

He rested his hands on the table, linking his fingers. “I don’t trust the phone.”

Marco’s phone or any phone? But I kept the question to myself. “I was approached by someone last night who has an interesting proposition for both of us, but this isn’t the time or place to discuss it.”

He glanced over at the bar. “Not interested.”

That wasn’t the reaction I’d expected. “You don’t even know who made the proposition or what it’s about.”

“Still not interested,” he said, not looking at me.

I stared at him. Months ago, he’d told me he was interested in anything that had to do with Bart Drummond, and he had