Duane shook his head. “You’re making a mistake. Leave her alone.”
“Come on now.” Hank finally turned to my brother. “No woman comes into a bar looking like that and doesn’t want some male attention.”
“Or female attention,” Jess muttered, fiddling with her coaster.
Duane made a strangled sound and Jess grinned. “What? I’m just saying, I agree with Hank. You dress for the job you want. And she’s dressed like she wants to have a good time. If she wanted to be inconspicuous, she’d dress inconspicuously. Right?”
“Yeah, but she didn’t choose her body, did she? Or her hair, or eyes, or height, or face.” My comments drew all eyes to me. I wasn’t sure what my point was. “I don’t think it matters what she wears, she’s never going to be inconspicuous. Hell, she’d get hit on daily at the shop if Duane and I didn’t hide her from customers, and she just wears coveralls there.”
Jessica studied me, quickly glancing at Shelly and then back to the table, like she was a little embarrassed. “I guess those clothes do look comfortable.”
A cold knot formed in my stomach, predicated on the realization that I hardly knew the woman. But I’d been making assumptions about Shelly Sullivan for the last several weeks based on her appearance.
Suddenly, I was desperate for another beer. Cletus had been right all along. I needed to apologize to Shelly for how I’d treated her—how and what I’d assumed—when we’d first met, and everything that came after.
Taking a deep breath, I shoved at Hank’s shoulder. “I’ll introduce you.”
Jess squinted at me. “But you just said—”
“She’s here by herself, isn’t she?” My eyes moved to Duane as I continued. “She’s all alone in this town. We’re the only people she knows.”
A whisper of a smile tugged at Duane’s mouth and he nodded once. “I guess someone should look after her.”
“I guess so.” I agreed as Hank stood and I skootched to the end of the booth. “Can I get y’all anything to drink?”
“I’ll take a margarita.” Jess covered Duane’s hand with her own on the table. “You really are the nicest person, Beau.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumped, giving her a small smile and motioning for Hank to follow me. “Come on, dummy.”
“Right behind you.” The eagerness in my friend’s voice grated.
I kept my steps slow, instructing Hank as we walked. “Unless you want her to cut your balls off, don’t flirt. She hates it when people flirt.”
“No wonder she hates you.” Hank chuckled.
I gave him a flat look out of the corner of my eye, then turned my attention back to Shelly. She was already surrounded and I shook my head, feeling sorry for the poor bastards. But also feeling sorry for her. She couldn’t help what she looked like any more than I could, any more than anybody could. Here the world was piling their expectations on her. That must’ve been exhausting.
“Also,” I continued, “don’t try to touch her or shake her hand. She doesn’t shake hands.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Huh.” Hank was quiet for a beat while he considered this information. “Good to know.”
The band on stage finished a song and the dancers on the floor clapped, hooted, and hollered their appreciation. We passed a few people we knew. Kimmy Jones asked me to dance, as did Natalie Mason and Kelly, Naomi Winters’s niece. I teased and made promises to circle back later, citing Duane’s impending departure and wanting to spend time with my brother as my reason to beg off.
By the time we made it to the bar, the band was off the stage for their break and recorded music was playing through the speakers. The noise level was greatly reduced, which meant we heard the tail end of Shelly’s interaction with Duke Boone, one of Billy’s subordinates at Payton Mills.
Duke looked upset, but it was obviously for effect, to elicit sympathy. “You despise me, don't you?” he said, clutching his chest dramatically.
“If I gave you any thought, I probably would,” she responded coldly and I heard Hank make a short sound of surprise.
I wasn’t surprised by her insult. Nor was I surprised when Duke’s affected expression grew confused, then annoyed. But when Duke’s eyes dropped to Shelly’s chest and lingered, the spark of antagonism at the base of my neck took me by surprise.
“Wow. And here I was just trying to be sociable, sweetheart,” Duke drawled, leaning closer to her.
I pushed through Shelly’s admirers—most of whom I recognized as reasonable fellas—and stepped up next to her at the bar. They seemed to give way easily, I suspected more interested in watching Duke crash and burn than ready to throw their own hat in the ring. She was facing forward, not looking at or noticing me, not looking at Duke.
“You are as bright as a black hole and twice as dense.” She said this under her breath, but I heard it. As did everybody else.
Duke stiffened, looking truly offended. “Hey. Don’t let my modesty fool you.”
“You have a lot to be modest about.”
Hank made a strangled laughing sound, as did a number of other folks, and that’s when Duke’s face flushed red with anger.
And that was my cue to diffuse the situation
“Hey Shelly.” I braced for her gaze, affixing a politely disinterested expression on my face, and I was glad I did.
Her eyes sliced to mine.
My stomach dropped.
My heart skipped two beats.
As though startled by my presence, Shelly blinked once.
She then turned completely toward me, giving Duke her back while she rested an elbow on the bar to her right. “Hi. How are you?”
If her words hadn’t surprised me, the way her gaze moved over my face would have. Almost like she was nervous. Like I made her nervous.
Maybe because she knows I’ve seen her scars.
“Uh, can’t complain.” I nodded good-naturedly, smiling, hoping to dispel some of her anxiety. Her attention dropped to my mouth and her eyes became hazy. Or hungry. Maybe both.
Her hungry look didn’t give me the earlier sucker punch, or the slap in the face. Just the sexy stroke to my groin.
Well . . . shit.
Unsure what to do with that development, I cleared my throat and indicated with my head toward Hank. “This is Hank.”
“Hi. Nice to meet you.” Unsmiling, Hank inclined his head, his tone tight.
With visible reluctance, her gaze cut to his and narrowed infinitesimally. I got the sense she was waiting for him to do or say something.
When he didn’t, her expression relaxed and she looked to me; if I was reading her right she looked appreciative. “You prepared him?”
I lifted my shoulders, feeling proud of myself for some reason. “Maybe.”
The side of her mouth curved and I held my breath, wondering if she would actually smile.
But then Duke gripped her by the upper arm and tugged. “Hello? I’m not done talking to you.”
“Don’t touch me,” Shelly hissed, twisting out of his grip.
“I’ll do whatever the hell—”
I slipped around Shelly, careful not to touch her, and stepped between them. “Hey Duke. Nice weather we’re having.”