Page 78 of Brewbies
Despite looking like he could chew granite, Ethan cleared his throat and spoke with a polite, if slightly frosty, tone. “I need a word with you, Miss Dunwell.”
“Well, good evening to you, too, Sheriff Townsend,” she said, fishing water out of the cooler and passing one to Gabe. “So nice of you toswingby.”
The knot of Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed on a swallow.
“I don’t think you’ve met Gabe. Gabe Kelly, this is Sheriff Ethan Townsend. Sheriff Townsend, this Gabe. He was kind enough to come all the way from Boston to support our little fundraiser.”
“Pleasure.” Gabe stuck his hand out.
Now, this was an interesting test.
Manners versus masculine pride.
Ethan looked like he’d prefer to tear off Gabe’s inked-up arm and jam the wet end down the man’s throat, but with half of Townsend Harbor looking on, such a display of temper would surely prove poor optics in light of the upcoming election.
Ethan’s hand closed over Gabe’s, and both their knuckles went white as they gripped each other’s palms.
Gabe released first, twisting open his water bottle and chugging a few sips before sloshing it over his head and neck. He emitted a moan just on the edge of decency as the droplets sluiced down the ridges of his rippling abdominals, soaking into the waistband of his jeans. “I’m wicked hot after all that back and forth.”
A walnut-sized lump appeared at the hinge of Ethan’s jaw. “Hose is over there if you didn’t want to waste drinking water.”
“Thanks,” Gabe said, “but Darby said I could grab a shower in her camper when we were all done for the night. Isn’t that right, Darbs?”
At this, Gabe shook his head like a dog, sending droplets flying from his hair to speckle Ethan’s pristine dress shirt. “Oh, geez. Sorry about that, brother,” he said, his accent rounding theerinto anuh. “You want a towel or something? I could nip into the camper and—”
“No.” Cady, Myrtle and Vee all jumped at the force of the single syllable. Ethan cleared his throat. “No,” he said again more mildly. “But I do need to speak with you.” His eyes moved from Gabe to Darby. “In private.”
“Private?” Darby batted her feathery false lashes at him. “What could you possibly have to say to me that you can’t say right here in front of my friends?”
Cady, Myrtle, and Vee all lifted their chins an inch, taking up her challenge with a readiness that warmed Darby’s leathery heart.
Ethan’s eyes moved from the ladies to Darby and back again. A silent challenge passed between them, each daring the other to make the first move. A duel of wills with no clear victor.
Eventually, he inclined his head and took a step back, but not before Darby caught the glint of admiration in his eye.
“You wouldn’t happen to have your permits for this gathering handy, would you?”
“This outfit doesn’t exactly leave room for pockets.” Darby swept her hands down her body, inviting his eyes to do the same.
Ethan kept them stubbornly trained on her face. “I’m going to need you to get them for me,” he said. “Assuming they’re on the premises.”
“Oh, they’re on the premises,” she said, taking a step toward him. “Right there in my camper.”
“May I see them?”
“So you can find some loophole that will force me to shut the carnival down too?”
“So I can show them to Pam and Janet in hopes that they’ll take their boycott back to town.”
Darby arched an eyebrow at him. “Youwantto get rid of the protestors?”
“Their median age is sixty, which is also the speed limit. Not that anyone actually obeys it.” With this, he aimed a meaningful glance at Myrtle, who Darby had personally seen motoring her old convertible along at speeds approaching the triple digits on several occasions. “I have no desire to rake any titanium knees or porcelain teeth from the asphalt.”
Their staring contest entered its second heat.
“As I believe I already mentioned, they’re in the camper.”
“Fine.” The gravel crunched as Ethan turned on his boot heel and gestured for her to lead the way.
