Page 20 of The Harborer
A beet-red hue stained Shane’s cheeks. “It’s ‘Deputy,’ not ‘Sheriff,’ and I only did it because he was way out of line.” He paused, gulping as he looked between Amy and his biggest fan. “With guys like that, sometimes you have to use more of a hammer approach.”
“I’d like to hear more about your hammer.” Estelle locked down his arm and tried to tug him away. “C’mon, Sheriff. Let me buy you a beer,” she purred.
Amy squelched a giggle as Shane let himself be dragged off. The scene reminded her of a cavewoman hauling her chosen mate back to their lair for some reproduction time. Beyond them, Micky chugged his brew inside a blissful beer bubble.
Dixie sidled up beside Amy and called for three beers. While she waited for Noah to fill the order, she clucked. “Them two were obviously a few firecrackers short of a full string. He thought you was Mexican. Ha! And my land, I do believe that’s the first time I’ve seen our mild-mannered Deputy Dawg bare his pointy canines thataway.” She tapped a long, curved fuchsia nail against Amy’s elbow. “It goes to show that he definitely has favorites.”
What the heck was Dixie talking about now? Adrenaline still coursing through her veins, Amy sputtered, “Favorites? I don’t get it.”
Dixie picked up the pints Noah placed on the bar top. “No, you don’t, but someday, child, I expect you will. First, though, you need to clear out some of them stale leftovers. Then his nibs might actually come sniffing around. But you’re on the right train track.” With a wink, she turned and sashayed away, leaving Amy utterly dumbfounded for the second time that evening.
Who was “his nibs” in this scenario? It was a term Dixie usually reserved for Noah, but Amy suspected Noah had nothing to do with whatever bees were buzzing in Dixie’s bonnet. Normally, Amy could follow Dixie-speak—it was a language all its own—but right now, she needed a translator.
Joy Hunnicutt plopped onto the coveted barstool beside Amy. She laid a perfectly manicured hand on Amy’s arm and stared at her with her warm, whiskey-brown eyes. “Amy, I’m so sorry for what that ignoramus said to you. And what a dumbass! He can’t even get his nationalities straight. You don’t have a drop of Spanish blood in you! Just proves how stupid he really is. Some people,” she huffed. Amy loved her for it.
Hailey leaned across the bar. “Actually, Amymighthave a gallon or two of Spanish blood.” When Joy gaped, Hailey tilted her head Amy’s way. “Tell her about your dad.” Hailey gave her a knowing smile that said, “It’ll get your mind off what just happened.”
Grateful for the change in topic, Amy erasedMarkfrom her mind and latched on to the opening Hailey had presented to her. “My dad is Black Irish.”
Joy’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I thought your dad was white and your mom’s family was from Mumbai.”
Amy nodded. “That’s right. Black Irish is used to describe Irish people with dark hair, dark complexions, and light eyes. That describes my father.” Joy gave Amy an encouraging nod, and she ran on about shipwrecked sailors in the Spanish Armada who ended up on the shores of Ireland in the sixteenth century. “They settled there and raised families, and the theory is certain people of Irish descent have DNA that carries the darker features.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s true, but I like to think I might have Spanish blood. One of these days, I’ll take one of those tests and find out.” She stole a quick glance at Micky, who had just polished off another beer. Her gaze then snagged on Shane, who’d somehow separated himself from Estelle and was bearing down on Micky.
“How did your parents meet?”
“Dad tutored Mom in college. Dad says it was instalove for them both, but Mom claims she was too focused on surviving calc to notice himthat way. It wasn’t until afterhe helped her pass the class that she noticed how good-looking he was, but I’m not sure I buy it.”
Hailey chimed in. “Isn’t it romantic? Amy’s going to write a book about it someday, and I’ll carry it in my bookstore. We’ll sell a ton—right next to your books, Joy.” When she wasn’t wheeling and dealing, Joy was a steamy romance writer, though only a handful of her closest friends knew about her alter ego and that alter ego’s pen name.
“That would be amazing.” Grinning, Joy elbowed Amy. “Let me know if I can help. I’d even collaborate on it with you if you don’t want to write it yourself.”
Hailey said something about steamy sex scenes, and she and Joy laughed. Then Joy asked Amy another question, but Amy didn’t register it because her focus was on whatever was going on between Micky and Shane. Micky was frowning as he looked up at Shane—nearly everyone had to look up when they spoke to the deputy. Shane was doing the talking, hands on his slim hips, expression placid, mouth moving calmly. Amy couldn’t read lips, but the men’s body language fascinated her. Now Micky shifted weight from foot to foot and folded his arms across his puffed-out chest. Then he closed his eyes and shook his head. Vehemently. Shane’s eyes slitted as if he was evaluating what Micky had said. More head shaking from Micky, but this time, his jaw flexed.
Huh.
Amy’s stolen glimpses of the two men captured the exact moment that the discussion ended. Micky stormed away, and Shane turned and looked right at Amy. That look shot straight to her toes. Then Estelle was back at his side, and the connection was severed.
“Amy?” Joy prodded.
Busted.“Um, what was the question?”
She had asked for pictures, so Amy pulled up a photo on her phone of her and her folks taken the year before when they came to visit her in Fall River.
Hailey crowded in for a closer look, and Joy let out a low whistle. “Yeah, how could your momnotnotice a guy who looks like him?
Amy stole another glance in Shane’s direction. He and Estelle were in a group of six but separated now. “My dad’s really handsome, even now,” she said distractedly.
“I can’t imagine how much more good-looking he was thirty years ago,” Joy went on. “But your mom’s a knockout too.” Shebatted Amy’s arm with the back of her hand. “Amazing genes. No wonder you’re so gorgeous.”
“No, I’m not!” It was a knee-jerk reaction and out of Amy’s mouth before she could corral it.
Joy raised a dark eyebrow. “We’re going to need to work on your self-image, girl, because it’s outta whack with reality.” She tapped the edge of a coaster on the bar. “I think I get it, though. If you have to put up with the bullshit that comes out of people’s mouths like that Mark asshole, some of it’s probably going to sink in, and you’ll believe it on some level. And that’s what pisses me off about guys like him. He has no flippin’ idea who you are or what your story is, and he jumps to a conclusion that’s completely wrong.”
Amy squeezed Joy’s arm in gratitude. “It is what it is, and I don’t have the bandwidth to get my panties in a twist over people like him. Honestly, I’ve heard crap like that my whole life, and usually I let it roll off my back.” Amy realized vaguely that she let alotof stuff roll off her back. Shifting her focus back to the moment, she basked in the fuzzy feels from Shane’s showdown and the way the rest of her Fall River family had circled the wagons—forher.
“It shouldn’thaveto roll off your back,” Joy huffed in indignation. Then her tone turned playful, and a grin spread across her classically beautiful face. “Although, it was practically worth it to watch Shane hulk out and go all ‘Who did this to you?’ I love how he told that guy to stick it. That wasscorching hot!” Joy dropped her voice into a conspiratorial timbre. “And if you tell Charlie I said so, I’ll deny everything.” With a little cackle, she lifted her chin toward the cluster that included Estelle and the deputy. “Obviously, Estelle thinks Shane getting his lawman on was hot too. If she plays it cool, she might get her wish and get him horizontal tonight. And God, do I hope she does so she quits bugging me about it.”
And just like that—for reasons beyond her comprehension—Amy’s fuzzy feels evaporated. She tried to shake it off by pickingup a different thread. “I’m not sure I understand. ‘Who did this to you?’ What does that even mean?”
