“You have no idea. I’ll have the goat cheese burger and sweet potato fries.”
“He likes to hear his arteries shriek.” Melia rested her arms on the counter. “So, what’s the scuttlebutt, Mabel?”
The woman shouted Johnny’s order back to the kitchen, then leaned her own arms on the countertop. “Well, y’all know what Cas did yesterday, right? Shooting up a town bar. God sakes, that grandson of mine needs a serious talking-to. It isn’t like I didn’t have troubles of my own when I was young. Hell, I spent a couple years in and out of therapy.” She winked. “Had a bit of a temper problem. But you gotta think of something, doc. Poor Ethan’s at his wit’s end. Seems like you’re the only one who can get through to that boy.”
“Cas needs to see a specialist, Mabel, on a regular basis. I’ve told Ethan that. He’s not listening.”
“Ethan likes how you handle him. You have a velvet touch. Cas respects you.” Mabel regarded Johnny. “Hotel man, huh? You’re sure a handsome one. Are you close cousins?”
“Not for several years. Does Steve Saxon come in here regularly?”
“Hell yes. I’m right smack between his place and town. He does his best to avoid my son Ethan, mind. Seems firemen and lawmen always have a bone to pick with each other.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
“Where is Ethan?” Melia asked.
“Out back, taking a call. Word has it there was a bit of a ruckus at the supermarket site. Ethan’ll sort it out quick enough. He looks as homespun as a Raggedy Andy doll, but he’s got a lot of smarts hiding under the surface.” Her sagging features brightened. “There he is.”
“Shut up,” Melia warned Johnny when he turned to look.
“‘Take Me Home, Country Roads.’” Johnny turned back. “Didn’t see that one coming.”
Melia pushed his newly arrived plate sideways. “Eat your lunch while it’s hot. Sweet potato fries are crap when they cool off.”
“Mel, hi.” Sheriff Travers strode toward her, and yes, she couldn’t deny he had John Denver written all over him, from the salad bowl haircut to his round glasses and mile-wide grin. “You have to come for dinner tonight. Cas needs you.”
Melia tapped Johnny’s arm. “Ethan, this is my cousin Johnny from California.”
“Cousin.” Ethan’s big smile dimmed a little around the edges. “You don’t look much alike.”
“They’re steps,” Mabel put in. “Kissing cousins, you might say. But we won’t on account of that’s not what we want.” She winked again at Melia, who watched Ethan’s smile go from dim to strained.
“I’m joking,” Mabel said. “For heaven’s sake, Ethan, the man’s kin. You don’t diddle your own.”
“Not in Florida, anyway.” Johnny nudged his plate of fries toward Melia. “Help yourself.” He faced Ethan straight on. “I hear there was trouble at a nearby construction site. One of the locals?”
“No, an outsider. Guy got pissy when the foreman wanted him to move some heavy roof shingles. Said it was too big a load for one man. The foreman and two others disagreed, and eventually someone’s face got in the way of someone else’s fist.”
“Shingles are heavy,” Melia said. “Maybe it was too much for the guy.”
“Too much for an ox wouldn’t be too much for this guy. Paul Bunyan he’s not, but he’s close. He was being a pansy.” The sheriff’s gaze traveled up and down Johnny’s lean body. “I guess you’re not into construction work.”
“I did a few summers in college,” Johnny said mildly enough. “And leverage is as effective as muscle in many cases.”
This is growing awkward, Melia reflected. Before it descended into downright unpleasant, she slid from her stool and picked up her bag. “We’ll take the burger to go, Mabel. And a bottle of lemon water.”
“What about dinner, Mel?” Ethan’s lips formed a thin line.
“Not tonight, I’m afraid. I still have two patients to see in the swamp.” She explained briefly about what had happened to Pappy Laundy and watched his expression transform from a look of open dislike to one of professional concern.
“Can’t really say why, but you look like a man who’d know his way around high-powered weapons.”
“I probably know a whole lot less than you do. Being a hotel man, I prefer to stay out of the criminal loop.”
“Right.” Ethan drew the word out while he gave Johnny another once-over. “That’s your story and you’re sticking to it?”
“For now.”
Gloves off, Melia realized. She took the boxed burger, lemon water, and several napkins. “Thanks, Mabel. Come on, Johnny.”
All in all, it had been a very bizarre interlude.
She waited until they reached her Explorer to stare Johnny down. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, Ethan likes me. He’s also a good man. Bear that in mind, and the next time you see him, be a little more compassionate. Cas and his job are a lot for him to deal with.”
Johnny held up a hand. “I’m not trying to piss you off any more than you already are, Mel. You have every right to do what you want with anyone you want. If it means anything to you, I like your sheriff better than the farmer. Unless Travers’s wife took a header from her condo balcony, as well.”
“No, her way was less dramatic. She left him for a man from Jacksonville. They’re living there together as we speak. It still rankles.”
“It would.” Johnny broke the burger apart, handed her the smaller portion. “A little grease won’t kill you, Mel.”
“No. I’ll leave that to Satyr’s man—men—whatever. It’s after three. I want to see Cady Brewer next. You already know where her father and I stand.”
“He’s got feminist and denial issues.”
“We all have something.”
Ethan called to them from the door, then jogged over to join them.
“I’d like you to stop by and talk to Cas as soon as possible, Melia. He seems to be getting more and more confused these days.” To Johnny he said, “You take care in the swamp. All kinds of danger in there. And I don’t just mean from gators.”
Johnny didn’t say a word until Ethan was gone. Then he shook his head. “Thinly veiled threats say to me that he likes you a whole lot more than you realize. He’s also not buying our cousin from California story.” He started to take her hand, but she pulled away before he could.
“You ruined me for a lot of men, Johnny.”
“Travers isn’t your type. I know it, you know it, and he would, too, if he thought about it.”
“Meaning solid and dependable aren’t for me?” She climbed into the cab and folded her arms until he dropped into the seat next to her. “Has it occurred to you that my taste in men might have changed?”
“Not that much, it hasn’t. The chicken farmer would drive you to drink with his over-the-top Gaston impression, and the John Denver lookalike would bore you to tears in a week. I’m not trying to tell you who you should want, but I know you well enough to understand who you never will.”
Irritation rose, even if he wasn’t entirely wrong. “Books, Johnny. You’re judging them by their covers. I’m not the woman I was three years ago, and the men in this town aren’t as insipid as you—”
He had her head cupped and his mouth on hers before she could finish the sentence. The burn was immediate, with hunger for him scrambling hard on its heels. She let him draw her forward.
She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t stop herself. It was three years ago all over again. Need clawed. When he shifted, she opened her eyes just wide enough to see his face. She started to slide her arms around his neck. And stopped dead when she spied a wrapped box on the seat behind them.
…
James Mockerie loved the desert. Swamps, not so much. That’s why he’d sent people in to be his eyes—and, where necessary, his ears, arms, and legs.