Page 26 of Secret Stalker

“The hell I don’t. Stop making excuses for me, you dolt. You never did have the sense your brother had.”

Deacon winced and shot Bex another pleading look, as if begging her to overlook his father’s poor manners.

Bex was shaking too hard to say anything, so she simply tipped her head at Deacon, trying to let him know that she didn’t hold his father’s enmity against him.

Max leaned down and said something beneath his breath to the older man. Then he motioned to Deacon. “Get him out of here before I make good on my threat to arrest him.”

Deacon flipped the brake and quickly wheeled his father out the door. The old man didn’t say anything else to Bex, but his hatred and fury were clear as his glare followed her until the door closed behind the two of them.

Silence reigned inside the little office. Max looked like he wanted to shoot someone. Martha looked horrified, papers dangling from her fingertips. And Mr. Leonard appeared equally nonplussed, his mouth opening and closing as if he wasn’t sure what to say.

Bex cleared her throat and ran a shaky hand through her hair, flipping the long strands back over her shoulder. “I’d better go. Thank you for your help this week, Mr. Leonard.” She stepped toward Martha and held out her hand. “Is one of those for me?”

Martha blinked, then looked down at the papers. “Oh, yes, my apologies. Here you go.” She held one of the papers out to Bex, her smile decidedly less bright this time.

“Thank you.” Bex turned and hurried toward the door. It opened just as she reached it. Max was holding the door. “Thanks,” she whispered, barely able to force even one more word past her tight throat.

When they were outside, she hurried to the Taurus and opened the driver’s door.

“Bex.” Max’s deep voice sounded behind her.

She cleared her throat but didn’t turn to face him. She didn’t want him to see how hard she was struggling not to cry. Because she wasn’t this weak woman who cried every time something didn’t go her way. Until she’d seen Max again after all these years.

“Sorry about dinner,” she said. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Bex, wait. Please. I need to explain—”

She slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door to block whatever he was saying. The tears were flowing freely now. All she could hope was that the angle of the car and the tint on the windshield kept him from seeing that she was crying.

She dashed her tears away and a few moments later she was driving down the road, just like ten years ago, with Destiny, and Max, in her rearview mirror.

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