“What—What does that mean?”
“It means that I can’t think straight right now, and I tend to make really bad decisions when I’m in that kind of headspace, obviously—”
He bristled at the word obviously.
“—and I think it would be best if we just—”
“No. Whatever you’re about to say, you’re wrong. It would not be best.”
“I need some time to get centered and figure a few things out.”
He wanted to argue because, Christ, he could already feel her drifting away from him like a boat pulling away from the dock. He had to clear his throat to find his voice. “How—How much time?”
“Maybe we can talk this weekend at the bachelorette party.”
“This weekend.” His voice had gone flat and lifeless, just like he felt. They hadn’t gone more than a single night without talking in almost a year. He lost feeling in his knees and sank against the counter behind him. “Alexis, I need you to be clear with me about what’s happening here.”
The sight of a tear dripping down her cheek made his stomach pitch. “I just need time.”
She hugged herself and, with a last glance at him, walked away. He couldn’t move as she crossed the kitchen, pushed open the swinging door, and disappeared into the café. Beefcake peeked around the corner from the back room and hissed.
“Yeah, well, fuck you too,” Noah grumbled.
He peeled away from the counter, dragged his hands down his face, started toward the back door, and then stopped to turn around. He did it three more times before pounding his fist with an argh, throwing open the door, and stomping into the alley. It was another five minutes of indecision before he started his car and pulled out. He wanted to hit something.
Wait. Not something.
Someone.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Noah whipped his car into the lot behind Temple. He grabbed the book from the floor, where it had fallen off the seat during one of his more aggressive turns on the way there. He folded it into one furious hand, slid from the front seat, and slammed his door because he wanted to and it felt good and he needed to warm up for the big show.
The back door was locked, as he knew it would be, so he resorted to pounding with the side of his fist until it finally opened. A kitchen worker he didn’t recognize stuck her head out.
Noah shoved his hands in the door and pushed it open.
“Hey!” she yelled, racing after him.
Noah stalked up the dark hallway that led to the back offices. Sonia was just walking in from the other direction. She stopped short. “Whoa, what is wrong with you?”
“Where is he?” Noah growled.
“What?”
“Mack. Where is he?”
“In his office? Why?”
Noah stormed around her and continued until he reached the small cluster of administrative offices on the right. He rounded the corner toward Mack’s office just as Mack himself emerged.
He stopped at the sight of Noah and flashed one of his goddamned grins. “Hey, man. I thought you couldn’t come with us today.”
“I’m not here for the fucking food tasting.” Noah hurled the book at him. It struck Mack in the center of his chest and fell to the floor in a pathetic flutter of pages.
Mack looked down slowly and then back up, eyebrow raised. “You didn’t like that one?”
His sarcasm turned Noah’s rage into something frightening. “Fuck you. Fuck your books. And fuck your crazy, stupid Bromance Book Club bullshit.”
Mack bent and picked up the book. “You broke the spine, man.”
“Yeah? Well you broke me and Alexis!”
Mack’s eyebrows tugged together. “What are you talking about?”
“What the fuck do you think I’m talking about?”
Mack stalked forward. “What did you do?”
Noah spun around. He needed to get out of there.
“Wait, Noah. Hang on a second.”
“Fuck off.”
Mack ducked around and blocked his path, arms spread wide. Noah backed up, hands clenched, ready to fight. “Get out of my way.”
“Just wait, okay?” Mack said. “You came here, so you obviously want help, even if you’re not willing to admit it.”
And because Mack was right, or maybe because Noah was just a glutton for punishment, Noah actually obeyed.
Which is how, twenty minutes later, he found himself uncomfortably wedged between Colton and the Russian in the back seat of Mack’s SUV as it sped down the freeway. From the passenger seat, Malcolm stared back at him with a disappointed expression. Ten minutes later—and really, any longer than that, and Noah would have thrown up in the Russian’s lap, because Mack drove like shit—the SUV whipped into the parking lot