“I like you, Wyatt. I like you more than I’ve ever liked a man before, but I have to be smart. I have to protect my heart. And my life. Which means that unless you start sharing things, we’re not going to work, so we might as well call it now.”

His eyes turned glassy, and my chest hurt so much I struggled to draw a breath.

He gave me a soft nod before sliding off the stool. When he walked out the door, he took most of my heart with him.

“Where are the orders, Carly?” Ruth bellowed as she approached the bar. “I’ve got some thirsty customers, your section is completely uncovered after Max’s disappearin’ act, and you’re havin’ a heart-to-heart with your boyfriend?”

She was right. We’d chosen a completely inappropriate time and place for our conversation, even if Jerry was the only person within earshot.

Her eyes widened when she saw my face. “Oh shit. What happened?”

Shaking my head, I started pulling beers again. “Sorry. You’re right about all of it. I’ll catch up. Give me a moment.”

“What did he do?” she asked in a semi-growl.

“We just figured out that we’re not gonna work,” I said, placing a mug on the bar. “Better to find out now than later.”

Her scowl told me she wasn’t falling for my explanation, but we were too busy for a longer talk.

I ignored her and poured all my energy into filling the drink orders. Max returned about twenty minutes later, and it was hard to gauge how his walk with Greta had gone based on the solemn look on his face. She might have confided why she was upset, or she might have given him the brush-off.

He slipped behind the counter to take my place, not offering any information. I was too busy trying to contain my own heartache to stick around and ask.

Plastering on my brightest smile, I touched base with my tables, offering free baskets of wings and fries to soothe some irritated patrons. Within a half hour, all was well and my tables were happy and pleasantly inebriated.

I couldn’t help wondering how they were getting home since there were no taxis or Ubers in Drum.

Max sent Ruth home around eleven since she had been there all day and was working the lunch shift the next day. We were still busy after she left, but Max sent Tiny home too, and he and I managed the crowd until he kicked the stragglers out at two a.m. He still hadn’t said more than a word to me, so as soon as he locked the front door, I called out, “You’ve been keepin’ me in suspense all night, Max. Tell me what happened.”

“What happened is I made a shit-ton of money tonight. That’s what happened.”

I propped a hand on my hip. “You know I’m talking about Greta.”

“I walked her to her car and then I came back,” he said as he stopped at a table and began collecting empty mugs.

“You were gone much longer than it would have taken to walk behind Watson’s and come back.”

He shot me an exasperated look. “Don’t you think you’ve inserted yourself into this situation enough?”

I lifted a brow. “So you didn’t want to walk her to her car?”

A lazy grin spread across his face. “Now, I never said that.”

“Are you gonna see her again?”

“Only time will tell,” he said, then turned serious. “She told me you’ve been askin’ a lot of questions about Lula.”

“And I already told you that I don’t think she left voluntarily this time. I’m trying to figure out what happened to her.”

“You’re wastin’ your time, Carly.” He didn’t look happy to be admitting it.

“Maybe,” I said, “but it’s my time to waste.”

“Well, don’t be lettin’ Ruth know you’re lookin’, and definitely don’t be late again because of your sleuthin’. The last thing you want is to face her legendary wrath.” He pointed a finger at me. “And yeah, I know you were late because you were talkin’ to Greta over at the café.”

I decided to throw caution to the wind. “Actually, I was late because I dropped by the Alpine Inn.”

“Were you lookin’ for Jerry?”

Crap. That reminded me that I hadn’t given Jerry his new coat. “No,” I said, slowly. “I saw your father’s associate leave one of the rooms.”

“My father’s associate?” He looked genuinely confused.

“The one he met here the other day. Neil Carpenter.”

He set the glass in his hand on the table and turned to face me, his face devoid of expression. “Why are you snoopin’ on my father’s business associate?”

Ah, crap. Good question. “It just looked odd, is all. He’s an upstanding businessman in a fancy suit. The last place I expected to see him was emerging from a room in the Alpine Inn.”

His eyes flashed with fury. “How does that concern you, Carly?”

His reaction caught me off guard. Although I’d seen Max angry, it had always been a righteous sort of anger—against men who disrespected Ruth and me and other women at the bar. He’d certainly never been this pissed at me.

“It just seemed odd,” I said defensively.

“It’s none of your damned business! Just like me and Greta are none of your business! And where Lula went is none of your business! You live here for a few weeks and suddenly you think you need to be stickin’ your nose in things that have nothin’ to do with you?” He shook his head and pointed a finger at me again. “Leave it all the fuck alone!”

I took a step back in total shock. Max couldn’t have hurt me worse if he’d slapped me.

His face hardened. “Go home.”

I gestured to the dirty tables around us. “But we’re not done cleaning up.”

“Go. Home.”

He didn’t have to tell me a third time. I spun around and practically sprinted to the back and got the hell out of there.

I wondered if I’d have a job tomorrow.

Chapter Fourteen

I tried to sleep, but I was too upset about Max, so I lay awake for over an hour, wondering if he was right. Was I overstepping? I admitted that I was by investigating what Neil Carpenter had been doing at the motel. And perhaps I’d overreached when I’d asked Max if he wanted to walk Greta to her car, but he could have said no.

But Lula…that was the one that puzzled me. Why would he care if I looked for her? Wouldn’t he want me to find her?

I finally fell into a fitful sleep, but I woke with a headache when the alarm went off at seven.

Hank was already up, which was no surprise since he was an early riser. His stitches had all been removed, so I no longer had to change his bandages and clean his wound, but his compression bandage still needed to be changed. Hank had trouble doing it himself. He’d tried to insist that I no longer needed to massage around the incision area, something I did to break down the scar tissue, but I’d refused to let it go. If he ever changed his mind about getting a prosthesis, a thick layer of scar tissue would make it painful to wear. I hated to think his pride and stubbornness might cause him trouble later.

He was bundled up in his jacket and sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee, watching several small gray and green birds eating sunflower seeds out of a bird feeder Wyatt had installed for him a couple of weeks ago. A single crutch was leaning against the wall.