Page 81 of Windlass

Angie shifted in her lap and linked one hand loosely through Stevie’s. What was Angie telling herself to allow this? Stevie wondered.

Another crack of thunder sounded, this time closer. Marvin raised his head from his sprawl on the floor.

“You got here yourself,” she told Angie.

“Not quite.” Angie squeezed her hand, pulling it tight against her chest where she cradled their linked fingers like something precious.

Stevie could only pray Angie took the same care with Stevie’s heart.

Chapter Thirteen

“Hey gorgeous.” Angie slid onto her preferred bar stool and blew Stormy a kiss. The cafe was transitioning from a few evening coffee drinkers into the bar crowd, but the louder tables were outside in the courtyard Stormy had managed to build in the alley behind the shop, stringing lights, lobster pots, and plants to add a pleasant atmosphere and to hide the chipping paint and graying shingles on the backs of the houses along what passed for Main Street. Inside, it was noisy enough that she couldn’t whisper.

“Lovebug!” Stormy brightened considerably. She looked tired. It was that time of year for them both. They exchanged a few snippets of local gossip while Stormy poured her a beer.

“Got any odd jobs by chance or know anyone who does?” The bills had piled up, and the roof was nowhere near fixed.

Stormy’s relaxed, if haggard, expression sharpened. “Maybe. You okay? Business okay?”

“Just some bills I want to get paid off.” It wasn’t a lie.

“I can ask around. You’re always welcome to pick up a shift here, but the pay is what it is.”

“Do you—” She stopped at the sudden shift in Stormy’s expression. It radiated displeasure. Angie turned to follow Stormy’s eyes and met Lana’s instead.

Well shit.

“I need to talk to you,” Lana said without preamble.

“What about asking?” said Stormy, furious electricity crackling from her hair in Angie’s imagination.

“Angie.” Lana ignored Stormy completely.

Her body glued itself to her stool. Lana’s eyes snapped, her cheeks stained with high color. She was angry and coldly beautiful, and Angie didn’t want her at all. Still, the tug of inevitability started in her chest and spread to her gut, thick and tarry.

“Have a seat then,” said Stormy.

“Mind your fucking business,” Lana snarled.

That broke Angie’s paralysis. “Watch it.” She slid off the stool and grabbed Lana’s arm.

“Ange—”

“I’m fine,” she said to Stormy. The last thing she needed was Lana causing a scene again. “Let’s go.”

She pulled Lana out of the cafe and toward the shore. Seagulls screeched in the fading evening light. She stopped walking when her feet hit the crunch of gravel near the boat launch and turned to face her ex-whatever-she-was. The wind stirred Lana’s straight hair. She wished it would blow off her stupid hat.

“What the fuck, Angie?”

“I told you. I’m not available right now.”

“You told me thatafterI had to track you down,” Lana said. “You were just going to ghost me?”

“Like you haven’t done that to me.”

“I’veneverghosted you.” Lana’s scathing reply was as close as she got to earnestness. It lit a match to Angie’s latent anger.

“You’ve left me on read. Taken a week to get back to me.”

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