Page 27 of The Barista's Beloved

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“What the hell is this?” Ben’s angry voice startled Maeve out of her laughter, although she was really only being polite. The joke hadn’t been that good to begin with.

“Ben?” She stared at him uncertainly. Why did he look so mad? Movement caught her eye, and she saw Angelica standing behind Ben, her eyes wide as she held onto Noah’s arm, murmuring something to him. She felt Steve stiffen next to her, but then he suddenly relaxed and threw his arm around her, tugging her in close to his side. She looked up just in time to see him smiling at Ben. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant smile. It looked … predatory.

Great. She hadn’t come here to be fought over. She’d come here for a drink. “Come on, Steve,” she said. She tugged him toward the bar, ignoring Ben stalking after them like some kind of giant predator. His hair was kind of lion-esque. But she didn’t need to be thinking about how he’d look right before he sprang at her.

She slid onto a stool at the bar, meeting Max’s eyes.“A beer, please.” For some reason she wasn’t in the mood for cocktails, even with her own whiskey.

Max pulled her a pint of her favorite without saying anything. He slid it across the counter with his eyes mostly on Ben, communicating something she didn’t understand. Exasperated, she turned to the looming presence behind her while Steve ordered his own drink.

“What?”

“You can’t possibly be here with him,” Ben announced flatly.

“She is, buddy, so let it go. Take the loss.” Steve emphasized the word oddly, and Maeve glanced at him, feeling her eyebrows draw down.

“Do you know who this guy is?” Ben stayed focused on Maeve, ignoring her date. Being the center of his undivided attention was making her tingle in places friends usually didn’t, damn it. That searing focus she’d seen when he was explaining his plan to save Youth Mentors was suddenly applied directly to her, and it felt like she was stepping directly into the sun.

“What does it matter?” He was the one who wanted to be friends. He’d thanked her for not having sex with him. She drew that memory around her like a cloak as she glared at him. “We met at the deli. I told you about it.”

“Do you know what he does for a living?”

Her patience snapped. “Not yet. If you’d let me have my date, maybe I could find out.”

His lips thinned in what appeared to be fury. “He’s a lawyer, Maeve.”

“So are you.” Had Steve just snorted? What was going on here?

Ben raised his arm as though he might hit the other man. Suddenly Noah was there, his big form dwarfing all of them, as he gently put a hand on Ben’s shoulder. The pressure kept Ben’s arm from going any further. He settled for pointing at Steve, his finger jabbing as far forward as Noah would let it. “He’s the lawyer who served Youth Mentors with paperwork. He’s the one trying to shut you down.”

Maeve’s entire field of vision went blank. “He’s what?” She turned and stared at Steve, who was looking back at her with a bored expression.

“I work for a developer, yeah. You do something with that kids group? Too bad, I guess.” He shrugged. “Maybe you can find some other way to spend your time.” His grin gave every indication that he had some ideas he wouldn’t mind exploring with her.

Her beer glass was in her hand before she had a conscious thought, and she’d upturned it over his head before she’d even processed that she was holding it.

He came to his feet sputtering and swearing. “You bitch!”

Ben did hit him, then.

“Oops,” Noah said mildly. “Lost my grip.”

Steve clung to the bar top, the red mark on his cheek glowing as he shook his head. “You’re going to regret this,” he told Ben viciously. “None of that crap you filed is going to come through. And your shitty town doesn’t even deserve the revenue from the condos Hartwell wants to build.”

“Joan Mayfield has done more for this ‘shitty town’ than you could ever dream.” Angelica’s voice was hard. “And we don’t need the kind of revenue people like you would bring.” The actress was an active member of River Hill’s tourism board. For all that she’d only lived here a few years, she seemed to know everyone and everything.

“I think you’ll find that no matter what happens with the property, you’re done here,” Ben said. His voice was flatter than Maeve had ever heard it, but it softened when he turned to her. “Maeve?” He was asking all sorts of things, she suspected, but she was too confused and horrified to focus on anything but the immediate.

“Please, get him out of here,” she whispered. She’d poured a beer on somebody’s head. And she hadn’t been the least bit nauseous or nervous about it. Maybe she could handle conflict after all. Just a little.

Max came out from behind the counter and took Steve by the arm. The other man was still yelling at Ben, something about the EPA and birds. Now she was starting to understand why he’d seemed so annoyed when he met up with her earlier. She suspected his day really hadn’t gone well. Thanks to Ben.

“Come on,” Max said. “You’re not welcome here.”

“You better call your manager about the behavior of your guests,” Steve snarled at him.

Max quirked an eyebrow and visibly tightened his grip on the other man’s elbow, making him wince. “I’m the owner, actually. And I didn’t see anything but you insulting my friends and making an ass out of yourself.”

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