Page 8 of Family Jewels

Neely Kate cocked her eyebrow. “I think the real question is what doyouknow about him? I went to high school with Raddy, and he’s never been one to stir up trouble.”

Joe gave her the side-eye. “I’m pretty sure he’s a good five years older than you.”

“So he’s a bit slow.”

“How recently have you had contact with him?”

Neely Kate shrugged. “I see him from time to time.”

“Well, steer clear of him. We’ve been called out to his property and his estranged wife’s house multiple times over the last month for domestic disturbances. His wife kicked him out, but he keeps trying to get into the house. He seems to be becoming more desperate and more violent in his attempts, so I don’t want you anywhere near that nonsense.”

I turned to Neely Kate, my mouth gaping. The look on her face told me she already knew about Raddy’s trouble with the law. Great.

“Innocent until proven guilty, Joe,” she said.

His gaze held hers and the muscle on his jaw twitched. “Stay away from Radcliffe Dyer.”

Huh. This was a change. Joe was usually barking the orders atme. I couldn’t say I minded one bit that he was barking them at my best friend instead.

She lifted her hands in surrender, and a soft smile covered her face. “I hear you.”

“Oh, I know you hear me,” he said in exasperation. “I’m asking you to please do as I request.”

She rolled her eyes. “Joe . . .”

“What can I get for you?” the girl at the counter asked. We’d been talking so long we’d made it to the front of the line. The clerk, who didn’t look more than twenty, had on a bright, cheerful green apron embroidered with the name Bernadette.

Neely Kate took a deep breath, then said, “I want a medium white mocha, but I want it warm—not too hot and definitely not cold. And instead of three shots of white chocolate syrup, I’d like two. Add a shot of raspberry syrup for the third shot.” Neely Kate paused. “You got that so far?”

“Got it.” Bernadette’s shoulder-length brown hair brushed against her shoulders as she wrote the instructions on the cup.

When she started to set the cup down next to the espresso machine, Neely Kate stopped her. “There’s more.”

Bernadette’s face lifted in surprise. “Okay.”

“What kind of soy milk do you have?”

When did she start drinking soy milk?

The owner, Vance Rankin, a man in his forties, leaned around from behind the espresso machine. “You know good and well what brand of soy milk we use,” he growled. “It’s the same damn stuff we used yesterday.”

Neely Kate gave him a look of annoyance. “Then I want almond milk.”

Bernadette still seemed unfazed. “Anything else?”

“No. That’s it.”

“I’ll take a medium nonfat latte,” I said, suddenly feeling boring compared to Neely Kate.

Joe reached over my shoulder to hand Bernadette some cash. “And I’ll have a large Americano. It’s all on my tab.”

Neely Kate started to protest, but a harsh look from Joe stopped her.

It didn’t take a genius to tell this was about more than coffee. The last thing Neely Kate wanted was to be taken for a mooch. Joe and his sister Kate came from the infamous Simmons family, which had—up until recently—meant money, power, and prestige. So when Joe abruptly left town in February, Neely Kate had worried it was because of her, that he’d thought his new little sister would want a paycheck. He’d since explained himself—he’d gone home to settle his father’s estate and had only kept away from Neely Kate for so long out of his own shame. But it was going to take her a long time to get over it.

“Thanks, Joe,” I said as we sidled out of line.

He shot me a worried look and whispered in my ear, low enough that Neely Kate couldn’t hear, “It comes with strings.”

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