by Hope Ramsay
“What about them?” Brooklyn asked.
“I don’t know. Bud seemed a little unhappy that Kate was playing on our side,” Lia said. Although she couldn’t understand why, because Kate was no athlete either, and she was clearly suffering from bruises acquired somehow.
“Was he unhappy?” Jenna said with a frown. “I didn’t get that vibe. I thought he was cheering for both sides.”
“Yes, he did,” Brooklyn said. “I have no idea what you mean, Lia. Bud is like the nicest guy in town. He’s literally our town Santa Claus.”
Lia hid behind her beer glass. Obviously her radar needed calibration. Or maybe she was overcompensating for what had happened at her last duty station. Maybe she was seeing things that weren’t actually there. “I guess I misread the situation.”
“No,” Kerri said. “I kind of know what you mean. There was a moment there when Kate dropped the ball that scored the go-ahead run. He’d actually cheered her mistake.”
“Did he?” Jenna asked. “I thought he was just cheering for the team that was batting.”
“Yeah, well,” Kerri said, “that might be so, but it just didn’t seem right that he was cheering his wife’s error. You know?”
“But he is the fire chief,” Brooklyn said. “I mean he really has to root for—”
“No,” Kerri said. “I mean I can see why he would root for the first responders, but in my book, cheering when your wife makes a mistake is kind of cruel, you know? Not at all like him.”
“Well, it was probably the heat of the competition,” Jenna said, raising her beer. “Here’s to doing better when it really counts, ladies. I know I made it harder for us, but I’m so proud of…uh-oh.”
Everyone at the table turned to follow Jenna’s gaze. Standing right at the restaurant’s doorway stood a handful of the first responders, including Ethan and Noah Cuthbert along with several other guys Lia didn’t know. Among them was the older man she’d seen Abby with the other day at Annie’s Kitchen.
Before anyone could say another word, Abby put down her iced tea, jumped up from the table, and waved at them across the crowded dining room. The guy she’d been with that night gave her a big, crap-eating grin. He was obviously happy to see her.
“Hey, Jimmy,” Abby said to a passing busboy, “we’re going to join these tables up. Let Doris know we have more people.” She moved to the adjacent four-person table, which was unoccupied. “Can you give me a hand, Lia?” she asked.
Lia scooted her chair aside, and they pushed the tables together. When Lia sat down again, Noah Cuthbert took the seat beside her while Abby had finagled a seat next to the guy she’d been with at Annie’s Kitchen. He introduced himself as Grant. Ethan sat at the end, looking kind of dejected and isolated.
Poor guy. While Noah had been busy winning the scrimmage for the first responders, Ethan had suffered the constant criticism of his father. Having to live in Noah’s shadow must be an enormous burden for the guy. All three of the Cuthbert siblings had issues with their old man, proving that sometimes people like Lia, who didn’t know her father, were better off.
Although Abby seemed completely unfazed by her father’s treatment. And now she was definitely more interested in Grant. The moment the guy sat down she leaned into him. He moved away, just a fraction, as if he was trying to resist, while Abby was doing her best to get the guy to pay some attention to her.
Interesting.
More interesting than the obvious concern Noah and Ethan displayed about their little sister’s behavior. The brothers spent a lot of time glaring at Grant. Which could quite possibly explain why he seemed to be trying—unsuccessfully—to ignore Abby’s advances.
She turned toward Noah and poured a glass of beer from the pitcher the waitress had just delivered. “So how’s Napoleon?” she asked.
“He’s doing okay.” Noah’s voice was low, and he kept his gaze trained on Abby and Grant, sitting directly across the table.
“Thanks for defusing the situation this morning,” Lia said.
He finally tore his gaze away from his sister. “Yeah.” He picked up the beer and took a long, hearty swallow.
“You aren’t going to play in the real game, are you?” She leaned in to whisper this. Whoa, big mistake. Her side connected with his, and the contact generated a surprising amount of heat considering that Rafferty’s was air-conditioned down to a temperature just slightly above freezing.
He made no effort to move away from her. Her boob was now smashed up against him in the tight confines of the table, and her nipple decided to wake up. Strange how it hadn’t responded to the cold until he sat down next to her.
Damn. She found herself doing the same thing Abby was doing across the table.
“How do you do that?” Noah asked, his voice warm.
“Do what?” she asked, momentarily nonplussed. Had he noticed her nipple?
“Read my mind. I mean, how did you know I was just humoring him? That I don’t have any intention of playing on Thursday.”
Lia almost laughed with relief. “I don’t read minds, Noah. I just pay attention. You set your father up, didn’t you? I mean, Abby is a very good pitcher. She could beat y’all if she didn’t have to face you every few innings.”
His smile got a little wider. “Yeah, I believe she could. She could also have walked me if she’d wanted to. I wonder why she decided to pitch to me.”
* * *
No question about it, Lia DiPalma was a first-class distraction. If she hadn’t been sitting beside him, reading his mind and pressing that soft breast against him, he’d probably have spent his lunch hour obsessing over the way Abby was flirting with Grant. And the way Grant was allowing it to continue.
Noah had only come to lunch because Grant was here and Noah wanted to keep an eye on that guy. He would have pulled him aside for a man-to-man talk except that Momma and Lia had both suggested that he not do that. And, of course, he appreciated the fact that Abby wasn’t a kid anymore. If she wanted to have a summer thing with an older guy…
Well, he didn’t have to like it but he wasn’t her keeper either. She was going to get hurt, and he didn’t want that for her, but what could he do? The more he tried to stop her, the more determined she would be. So he needed to keep his cool and just be there for her when she fell.
He also needed to keep an eye on Ethan, who didn’t seem to understand that taking Grant out into an alley and threatening him was probably not the right approach.
Within minutes of sitting down, the tension around the table was so dense that Noah found it difficult to breathe. Ethan was like a time bomb with a hair trigger. Every time Abby leaned into Grant, a little muscle in Ethan’s cheek would pulse even though Grant was trying to lean away from Abby.
It might have gotten ugly if Grant’s pager hadn’t gone off. He glanced at it and then stood up abruptly, leaving Abby kind of twisted in her chair. “Sorry, y’all, gotta run, there’s an emergency.” He tossed a twenty onto the table and headed for the front door without saying a word to Abby.
And yet there was no question that the guy had been watching Abby like a hungry hawk all the time she’d been out in the pitcher’s circle this morning. He was interested. But maybe he wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do. Maybe he was an okay guy in addition to being a competent third baseman.
A moment later, Ethan’s pager went off too. “Whoa,” he said. “We’ve got a major fire.”
“Where?”
“Crap. It’s down on Redbud near Momma’s place.”
Noah and Abby both started to stand but Ethan put up a hand. “No, you guys stay put. Daddy and I’ve got this thing. I’ll let you know if you’re needed at home.”
Noah sat back down, suddenly impressed by the way Ethan had sprung into action. Maybe there was more to his little brother than met the eye. “You do that,” he said right before Ethan turned and headed for the door in a dogtrot.
“I hope Grant is careful,” Abby said in a tight voice, her gaze following Ethan
.
“Abby, you know, maybe it would be a good idea if you—” Noah began before Abby interrupted him.
“What?” Abby fired back. “Back off? Stay in my lane? Just exactly what?”
Damn. Hadn’t he just been telling himself that there was nothing he could do to keep Abby from breaking her heart? He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“No, you were about to tell me that Grant is out of my league or some other stupid thing. You know, I’m old enough to think for myself.” She pushed up from the table, clearly in a snit. “Thanks for the sweet tea, Jenna, but I have to go home, take a shower, and get back here for my shift. And I can look in on Momma for you.” She gave Noah one of her squint-eyed little-sister looks before she headed toward the door.
“Well, it looks like the party is breaking up. So I guess I’ll get back to the clinic to check on my patients,” Noah said. Now that Abby and Grant were gone, there wasn’t much point in staying. And he did need to check on the dogs.
“I’ll come too,” Lia said. “I want to spend some time with Prince.”
“I, uh, didn’t drive down here. I—”
“Me either. I hitched a ride to the park with Ashley. I left the Trailblazer at the inn.”
Great. He didn’t want Lia tagging along with him mostly because he had the strong desire to lead the woman into a secluded corner somewhere and kiss the crap out of her. She was kind, compassionate, and could play catcher. She’d done an excellent job of quarterbacking the merchants’ team and managing Abby’s golden arm. And she looked good enough to eat in those yoga pants. In his view, she should wear yoga pants to work every day.
Hmmm…maybe that would be a bad idea because acting on his impulses would be wrong and stupid. She’d single-handedly organized the clinic, found candidates for the vet tech job, and evidently had mind-reading skills that made her valuable.
Not to mention the way Micah St. Pierre had been bantering with her all morning.
So she was off-limits.
And yet, he opened his mouth and said, “Why don’t we walk down the boardwalk to Mimosa Street? It’s the scenic route.”
* * *
The Magnolia Harbor boardwalk ran from the fish market on the south side of town past Rafferty’s and parallel to the shopping district along Harbor Drive. It finally ended about a mile later at the private marina on Palmetto Street, where the boat charter businesses were located.
Lia strolled down the weathered gray boards, enjoying the sun and the sea breeze and the sights along the harbor. She pointed to the stately two-masted sailing ship that had just left its dock on the north side of town, its many sails and jibs billowing in the wind. “Oh, isn’t that magnificent. Is that a charter?” she asked.
“That’s Jude St. Pierre’s boat, Synchronicity. This time of year, he runs two or three charters a day. A sunrise sail every morning and an afternoon pirate sail, which takes tourists to the spot where the infamous pirate ship Bonny Rose went down with all hands except for Henri St. Pierre.
“Jude dresses up like a pirate for that one, and it’s really popular with the kids. They also do sunset sails three nights a week.”
Lia turned toward Noah; his eyes hid behind a pair of sport-style sunglasses. “Sounds romantic,” she said, and then immediately regretted her words. “Not that I know one thing about romance,” she continued, as her face heated with more than just the midday sun.
His mouth twitched at one corner. It wasn’t a smile, exactly. “Well, I’m with you on that,” he said. “In my experience, romance can be deadly.”
“Deadly?” Damn those mirrored sunglasses. It was hard to read him without seeing his eyes.
“Yeah. All those hormones leading people into bad decisions. Or like my little sister getting involved with an older man.”
“So you’re worried about her, then?”
“Of course I am. Wouldn’t you be?”
Yes, she would. But her intuition was sending her mixed signals on that one. Better to wait and see what happened on that score and hope that the whole Abby-Grant thing didn’t explode on anyone, most of all Abby. In any case, talking about Abby and Grant was a toxic subject when it came to Noah and Ethan so she decided to change the subject.
“What do you know about Kate and Bud Joyner?” she asked.
He stopped in his tracks and gave her a strange look. “Bud Joyner is an old friend of the family’s. He’s been the town Santa Claus for years and years. And he’s kind of jolly just like old St. Nick.”
“So I’ve heard. But did you notice how he cheered when Kate dropped that fly ball?”
Noah frowned. “Did he? He seemed to be cheering for both teams. Which is just like him. I remember him at little league games. His son Brandon is my age. And he was like a one-man pep rally.”
“Okay. But he cheered when Kate made that bad error in the fifth inning,” she said.
“And why not? The first responders scored two runs on that error,” he countered.
“Yeah. But Kerri was just saying that she thought it was kind of snotty for him to cheer his wife’s mistakes.”
“Lia, what are you trying to say?”
Should she speak openly? Or was her radar really that far out of whack? And what if she did nothing and another tragedy happened?
“It’s just that I’m wondering whether Napoleon’s injuries didn’t come from a car accident.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Nappy could have been kicked, you know. Or beaten.”
“He was in a car accident. The injuries are consistent with an unrestrained dog flying around a cabin. Happens all the time because people don’t use doggy restraints. It’s amazing the way people put kids in car seats, but their dogs? No. And then bad things happen, and they wonder why.”
“Okay. But what about Kate’s injuries?”
“What injuries?”
“Does she always walk like that? As if she’s got something wrong with her back? I think a lot of her problem fielding balls is that she’s in pain. I saw her grimace a few times.”
“She’s in her sixties.”
“Yeah, so? She looks pretty fit. She’s a part-time waitress at Rafferty’s. But when she came into the clinic, she was walking with one shoulder higher than the other.”
He stopped, frowning. “What the hell, Lia? Are you trying to suggest that Bud Joyner hurt his dog and his wife?”
“I have this bad feeling about Kate,” she said. This was an understatement. Every time she was in Kate Joyner’s presence, her radar went off like an alarm bell.
“Bad feeling? Is that all? She might have hurt her back or her neck in a car accident.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I guess. Although, when we met up at the park today, I saw Kate’s car. It didn’t look like it had been in any kind of major accident.”
“It might have been a rental car.”
“I doubt it. She was driving a ten-year-old Chevy Malibu with a rusty ding on the side of the quarter panel. The scrape didn’t seem consistent with what she told us when she brought the dog in.”
Noah turned and leaned on the boardwalk’s railing and stared out to sea. He said not a word, as a muscle twitched in his cheek.
“Noah?” Lia asked.
“If you’re suggesting that Kate’s husband is abusing her, you need to think again. Bud Joyner is a good guy.”
“But the dog’s injuries could have come from—”
“Yes, they could have. But they didn’t.”
“Why are you so sure? And furthermore, I’m curious as to how Bud injured his knee.”
Noah glared at her. “He fell off a ladder.”
“Okay. But what if Kate fought back?”
“You need to stop. Now. Before you ruin the reputation of one of Magnolia Harbor’s leading citizens.”
Was she overcompensating for the mistake she’d made months ago with Roy and Samantha Tate? Was she seeing things that weren’t there? Maybe.
So she shrugged. “I’m sorry. I guess
I’m just used to reacting a certain way when I see a woman with injuries that don’t show and which she will not talk about.”
“Training?” he asked.
She nodded. She’d been given some training on how to spot potential abuse. But this went deeper.
“Well, put it out of your mind, okay? Worry about Abby if you want to worry about something. Bud and Kate have a good marriage.”
“Okay,” she said. But she knew she’d still worry about Kate. Just as long as her radar told her to worry.
He took a step toward her, invading her personal space, the heat coming off his body impossible to ignore. “Good,” he whispered. “Because you don’t want to pick a fight with the fire department. You saw today how those guys stick together.”
“So you’re saying that, even if I was right, I should ignore it?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m just saying that you want to be sure if you go pointing fingers at people in this town. My father is not the most empathetic of individuals. I don’t think he’d do one thing to stop anyone in this town from abusing a dog.”
“I was talking about his wife.” Lia’s voice shook.
“Yeah, well…” Noah’s voice trailed off for a moment as he drew in a sharp breath. “There’s a reason I left this place, Lia.” His pain bled into his tone of voice, and the twinkle left his eyes.
“Was it your father who hit Duke?” she asked. Although she could see the answer to that question in his face.
“How do you figure these things out?” he asked.
She shrugged.
“Daddy was angry that day. And he just ran the dog down.”
“No, that can’t be right.”
“It is,” he said in voice so tight it might shatter.
Lia couldn’t let his pain slide. Pain like that needed comforting. So she reached around his neck and pulled him toward her. Her first intention was to give him a hug. The kind of hug a little boy might need when he discovers that his pet dog has died.
But the hug morphed into something else. Not on her part, but on his. Instead of resting his head on her shoulder, he dove down into a corner of her neck and planted a wet, juicy, hot kiss right on the tendon behind her ear.