But dammit, what if being true to herself really could torpedo her career? It was possible that Grant was using the threat to strong-arm her, just to placate Burbidge. She didn’t want to think he’d do that, but making senior partner was singularly important to him. She had no illusions where his career was concerned. Still, the firm had other female attorneys much better qualified to defend the creep. All Cricket would be was a figurehead, a very reluctant, pissed-off figurehead. How would that help anyone?
Grant wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite, in fact. And he knew her better than anyone at the firm. Surely she could convince him to talk Burbidge out of it, reason with the partners and smooth any ruffled feathers...perhaps even without letting them know just how vehemently she opposed being placed in such an untenable situation.
“You’re away from work, sitting in a bar on the beach, drinking good Scotch...”
She looked up. Wyatt was back, leaning against the counter behind him, those tanned muscled forearms crossed again and he must have known how much that stance complemented his strong, broad chest. His snug T-shirt hid nothing.
“So why look as if the world is about to cave in on you?” he asked.
“Um, maybe because it is?”
His mouth twitched into a wry half smile, as if he didn’t believe a word. “You sure? The mind is a dangerous place to be roaming around this late.”
“Amen to that.” Cricket let out a soft laugh, then drained her Scotch.
When he picked up her glass and raised his brows, she nodded.
“Hey, if you need an ear...” He shrugged. “I’m a bartender, it’s my job.”
“You’re so full of shit.” Bobby or Billy—she’d forgotten—was off the phone and snorted like a pig. “Anyone tries to unload on you and you tell ’em to go find a damn shrink.”
Wyatt pinned him with quite an impressive glare. “I’m selective,” he said, and grabbed the Scotch.
After he poured her drink and corked the bottle, something behind her caught his attention. “Excuse me,” he murmured, suddenly preoccupied. “Sabrina.” He stepped to the side and motioned. “You okay?”
“Fine,” a woman’s soft voice replied.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to work. I’m really, really sorry I’m late, Wyatt. Please don’t fire me. I—I couldn’t help it.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” he said, then muttered a curse. “What happened?”
Cricket sat up straighter, fighting the urge to turn around. Something about the way Wyatt looked stirred some instinct that lifted the fine hair on the back of her neck. If she hadn’t seen him with the children earlier, the hard edge in his eyes would’ve given her a completely different impression of him. She couldn’t resist a brief peek.
The bruise on the young woman’s face was impossible to miss, even though she’d tried her best to hide it with her long auburn hair. Cricket’s chest tightened at the sight. At what it so clearly meant. The woman, who couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, and Wyatt were speaking quietly, their conversation not meant to be overheard, but Cricket couldn’t do anything about it, short of getting up and leaving.
“It’s fine, Wyatt. I promise. Can we drop this?”
He took so long to respond, Cricket stole another quick glance. The hardness was back in his eyes. “Don’t worry. Take the rest of the night off.”
“Thanks, but I really need the money.”
His jaw clenched. “After we close, you can stay upstairs if you want.”
“That’s okay. I’ve got it covered.”
Wyatt didn’t move for a while, but Sabrina did, slipping quickly behind the bar.
Cricket couldn’t help but think about how Wyatt was still watching the woman. No, not just her. He did a scan around the bar, and she had the feeling he knew exactly who should be there and who shouldn’t be in the crowded room, before his protective gaze returned to Sabrina. Cricket’s esteem for him went up, way up, along with her curiosity. So far, he’d surprised her twice tonight, three times if she counted this afternoon.
Interesting. The guy next to her? He was like a bottle of wine. The label might be enticing, but when you got up close, he was bland and boring.
Wyatt, on the other hand, had something going on inside, in addition to the tantalizing label. She was trying to remember if she’d met anyone who had ever stirred that particular feeling in her before. Although she didn’t know this man. He could be a wild card. A complication she didn’t need.
“Hey,” Bobby said, loudly in her ear. “He forgot your drink. I can get it for you if you want.”
“That’s okay.” She gave him her patented not-interested look, then glanced behind him to focus on Wyatt as he filled drink orders on the other side of the bar.
Then her phone rang. Small mercies. She pulled it out of her bag. “Jade. Where are you?”
“I’m here. Five minutes from the resort.”
“How?”
“I used my incredible charm.”
“Right. You bulldozed somebody into giving you a seat.”
“What’s the difference?”
Cricket laughed. Some things never changed. She hadn’t seen Jade since the day they’d graduated but they’d kept in touch through Facebook and Cricket knew she was working for some giant perfume company in New Jersey. “Where do you want to meet?”
“Is the hotel bar okay with you? I want to check in and dump my stuff.”
“Sure,” Cricket said, glancing at Wyatt.
“Say, fifteen minutes?”
Bobby leaned in and waved at her. Cricket turned on her stool, ignoring him.
“Okay,” she said, but Jade had already disconnected. It was probably going to be a late night, and she doubted she’d be back to flirt with Wyatt, but that couldn’t be helped.
She left a twenty on the bar, figuring it should be enough with tip, and walked to the door. Before she left, she turned her head, just in time to catch him staring right at her. His eyes narrowed and she wondered what he saw, but then his eyes widened, his brows raised in an obvious question.
She gave him her most enigmatic smile. At least she hoped so. She might just look like an idiot.
When he grinned back, she still wasn’t sure.
CRICKET’S PLAN HAD been to walk to Ronny’s shack. But staying
