Page 35 of 7 Days and 7 Nights

“Is that right?”

“You keep eyeing Emmylou’s backside that way and JoBeth’s gonna end up on death row for murder one. And I’m not sure which one of you she’ll blow away first.”

Dawg rubbed his jaw. “JoBeth does tend to get a bit jealous, doesn’t she?”

“I think that’s kind of like saying theTitanicran into an ice cube.” Paul set his ball down on the ball return and fished his shoes out of his bag. “That woman does not like to see anyone else’s hands on you.” His gaze narrowed. “You have an awfully strange look on your face, Dawg. I hope you’re not getting ready to do anything too stupid.”

“Me? Do something stupid?"

Paul glanced around the alley and his brow furrowed. “Where is JoBeth anyway?”

“She decided to drive herself tonight. She’ll be along any minute.” He avoided Paul’s gaze and busied himself with retying his bowling shoe.

“Have I mentioned how sorry I am that I screwed things up so bad with Dorie?"

Dawg sighed. “Not in the last two minutes.”

“Good. I mean, I’m glad JoBeth brought Emmylou in so we could field a team and all, but I sure would like to be bowling with Dorie again.” He dropped his voice. “I miss the shit out of her.”

“Yeah?” Dawg had no intention of telling his friend how badly he’d screwed up his own relationship. And he didn’t intend to give up on JoBeth Namey just yet, either.

Paul’s words ricocheted around his brain.

“Yeah.” Paul drummed nervous fingers on the table and then mercifully changed the topic. “You ordered the beer yet?”

“It’s on the way.”

“Well, thank God for that.” They both watched Emmylou’s backside rotate over to the other alley, where she stopped to talk to a member of the opposing team. “I had a hell of a day.”

Dawg dragged his thoughts from Emmylou’s rear end and its place in his plans. Paul was an electrician whose clientele included residents of the more affluent Atlanta suburbs. “What happened?”

“You remember that customer I told you about up in Alpharetta?”

“The one that keeps coming to the door in a see-through nightie?”

“That’s the one.” Paul slid onto the banquette across from Dawg and leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Today I go out there about 10 AM to install recessed lighting in the basement.”

"And?”

“And she’s not only wearing the see-through nightie, but she insists on going up the ladder to show me where to put the fixtures.” He paused dramatically. “She didn’t have a stitch on underneath.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I thought I was going to swallow my tongue.”

“Shame on you, Paul Willard.”

Both of their heads jerked up at the sound of JoBeth’s voice. Paul turned three shades of red, and Dawg suspected he looked just as guilty.

“Lord, JoBeth, you could give a guy a heart attack sneaking up on him that way.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t have one earlier, P.W., ogling your customer that way.” She wagged a finger at the two of them. “And the poor woman unable to afford underwear ...”

Paul hooted with laughter while Dawg watched JoBeth remove her ball from her bowling bag with the same clean, economical movements she applied to everything she did. He kept his tone purposefully light, like hers, as he responded. “Maybe you should offer her a discount so she can buy some before your next visit.”

“Or maybe Paul should stop swallowing his tongue and take some sort of action.” JoBeth’s tone was still light, but it was clear they were no longer talking about Paul’s customer.

Dawg looked down at JoBeth just as she looked up at him. They stood still, gazes locked, while Paul’s swung back and forth between them. “Yeah, JoBeth, sure. And what if I decide to be this woman’s boy toy? How would you feel about that?”

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