“No. Not really. Not about this.” I motioned to my arm, then grabbed my beer, taking several gulps until it was gone.
I was still unsettled by Cletus’s declaration about he and Shelly being suited. I couldn’t figure out why his interest in the woman tormented, but it did. It rankled. And not grasping why Cletus’s designs on Shelly bothered me, I’d been even more irritated.
“I don’t think Cletus knows about the cutting. If he knew, he’d be meddling.” Duane sighed. “Also, Jethro said something about Cletus being sweet on Shelly, but I don’t think that’s true either.”
This last part had me sitting straighter. “What did Jethro say?”
“Like I said, I think Jethro is full of it. And I don’t think Shelly is crazy either, if that’s the point of this conversation.”
“It’s not.”
“Then what? What are you proposing? Are you afraid she’s going to hurt somebody?”
“Not somebody.” I shook my head, a knot of dissatisfaction in my stomach, because I wasn’t sure what I was proposing, or why I was bringing this up. I wasn’t a gossip, and usually I was good at minding my own business.
But I couldn’t, not this time.
“What are you worried about?”
“I guess I’m worried—” that she’s still hurting herself.
“That she’s a danger to herself?” Duane guessed correctly.
“I don’t know,” I hedged, looking over Duane’s head as I searched for Patty. We needed another round. In my searching, I saw both Hank and Jess hovering by the door. “They’re here.”
Duane glanced over his shoulder while I lifted my hand in the air until they saw us.
Rushing to finish the conversation before they made it to the table, I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “But I know what I saw, and how she won’t touch anyone, won’t even shake hands with people. Plus she’s all by herself here, isn’t she? Her brother is in Chicago. Shouldn’t someone be keeping an eye on her? Checking on her?”
Duane gave me a once over. “I thought you didn’t like her.”
“I don’t.”
“Why do you care?”
I glared at my brother.
He shook his head at me. “You can’t go around saving everybody, Beau.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Because I’m leaving soon—”
“Yes, Duane. I know you’re leaving. You never shut up about it.”
“—I won’t be here to talk sense into you. If I didn’t keep you grounded, you’d be giving folks the shirt off your back and the boxers off your ass. Remember what Grandma Oliver used to say: don’t set yourself on fire trying to keep other people warm.”
I snorted, rolling my eyes.
“You’re too damn nice.”
“Only because you’re too damn mean.”
He tilted his head side to side, like he was thinking on my words. “Yeah. Maybe. I guess that means, when I go, you’ll have to learn how to say no. ’Cause I won’t be around to do it for you.”
“Don’t you fret, I won’t count on you for anything.” I pasted on a convincing smile just as Jess and Hank made it to the table, feeling Duane’s scowl on the side of my face the whole time.
“How’d you score a booth?” Hank slid in next to me, craning his neck, presumably to find Patty so he could place an order.
Duane stood, a grin in place as he greeted Jess and motioned for her to slide into the booth first. She whispered something in his ear. He laughed, his sour mood and my nasty words forgotten. They kissed. Held hands. Sat real close.
Ugh.
They were nauseating.
I needed another beer. As my eyes did a sweep of the bar, I stopped short, doing a double take, and then stared.
Shelly Sullivan had just walked in.
10
“Enough about my beauty,” Buttercup said. “Everybody always talks about how beautiful I am. I’ve got a mind, Westley. Talk about that.”
― William Goldman, The Princess Bride
* * *
*Beau*
My heart lodged in my throat, obstructing my ability to breathe. Or think.
The sight of her was like being sucker-punched in the stomach, slapped across the face, and receiving a sexy stroke in the groin simultaneously. Too much to sort through.
“Holy shit.” Hank nudged my shoulder. “Who is that?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
She was wearing a black tank top with thin straps and no bra. Maybe it was ungentlemanly of me to notice, but I noticed. Holy shit, did I notice. I think even Reverend Seymour’s wife would have noticed.
The shirt was a little too short for her long torso, baring a sliver of toned midriff. Her hair was thick, messy, and long, cascading down her back, tumbling over her shoulders, looking like she’d just taken it out of a braid. Her blue jeans were tight and were tucked into worn, brown cowboy boots.
Shelly hovered by the entrance, her fingers haphazardly tucked in her jeans pockets while her cold glare surveyed the interior.
In the end, it didn’t matter that I couldn’t speak, because Duane answered Hank’s question. “That’s Shelly,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.
“Holy shit,” Hank repeated, still sounding dazed and amazed. “You weren’t exaggerating. She’s beautiful.”
Yeah, she was beautiful. She was also smart, clever, a brilliant mechanic. And . . . complicated. And mean.
I shouldn’t forget mean. Super, super mean.
I tore my eyes away and worked on putting them back in my head.
“Holy shit is right,” Jess said unexpectedly, drawing our attention. She was twisted in the booth, leaning forward to see past Duane. “She looks like somebody, somebody famous. Who does she look like?”
“She should be famous, looking like that.” Hank was near drooling.
“No, I’m telling you. She looks like someone.” Jess’s gaze grew foggy and she was clearly trying to place Shelly, as though she’d seen her someplace before. “Anyway, that’s the most gorgeous lady I’ve ever seen.”
“Then you need to look in the mirror.” Duane scowled at Jess, pushing her hair off her shoulder.
She slid her wide eyes to my brother and gave him an incredulous look. “Honey, I know you’re hot for me, and I love that about you. But I’m not blind. That woman is—”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Duane placed his face in front of Jessica’s, stealing a quick kiss and earning him a smile.
“Where the hell did she come from?” Hank sat up straighter, leaning to one side, presumably to keep Shelly in his line of sight. “I mean, other than my fantasies.”
I scoffed, sliding my teeth to the side and finding my voice. “Then go talk to her.” I couldn’t help it, the words were bitter.
Duane squinted at me. Jess did as well.
But Hank couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from Shelly. “I think I might.”
My brother reached forward, placing a staying hand on Hank’s wrist. “Don’t.”
“Why?”
Duane released Hank and looked to me for help. I shrugged, gritting my teeth, not sure if I wanted to laugh or yell. I couldn’t be bothered to do either, because my heart was racing for no reason.
“Beau.” Without tearing his stare from Shelly as she strolled to the bar, Hank tugged on my shirtsleeve. “Introduce me.”