I glance up, hoping it will at least be somebody I know and who is friendly and easy, and that’s when I freeze.
Roxy.
I see her standing in the doorway, scanning the room with her eyes like a hawk, as if she’s searching for something.Someone. As she steps inside, I notice her usual confident stride is a bit off. A bit different. She’s calmer. More deliberate as she walks through the bar.
I swallow hard and lower my gaze, looking back at what I’m doing. But I can tell by the sound of her heels that she’s headedright for me. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s here to start trouble.
Christ, Saxon, why can’t you be here with me now?
“Tammy,” she says, her voice soaked in that overly-sweet, fake tone, laced with something nasty underneath that I can’t quite put my finger on. “You and I
