“I highly doubt that.” She takes a deep breath, the passion starting to wane as she thinks her point has been delivered. “You better stay away from her. Do you hear me?”
I have no idea what we’re doing here, but I feel bad for Dylan. And her friend. And for the guy who ghosted her friend if Dylan ever catches up with him.
A part of me wants to maintain my innocence, but I’m not sure it matters.
“I get it,” I tell her. “Your friend is hurting, and you’re ready to go to battle. I respect that. Lord knows the battles my family has gotten me in. But I …”
This placates her a little. She opens her mouth, but no words come out. Another deep breath is taken, causing the tiny chip of diamond in her nose to shine.
She’s pretty. This girl with her golden-brown skin and long eyelashes and personality for days would have me chasing after her if I didn’t want to run out of fear for my life.
The venom in her eyes subsides. She reaches up and brushes back a strand of hair that came out as she railed me, and I see a tattoo on her wrist. It’s the word family written in a delicate script. I think about my brother, Vincent, and how many times I’ve gone to war for him or my cousins.
I consider telling her I’m not who she thinks I am. But if I do that, she’s going to start shouting again, which means I’ll just be here longer fixing this damn truck. Besides, I did nothing wrong, so maybe I’ll let it go. Let Dylan get it off her chest and move on. I have broad shoulders. Besides, the guy, whomever he is, probably wouldn’t give a shit anyway from how it sounds. It’ll probably make her feel better to think the guy feels bad—at least a little.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Is there anything I can do to make this better?”
“Stay away from her.”
“I will. Promise. Cross my heart,” I say, acting out the gesture in front of her. “Anything else?”
She nods, looking around Dave’s front yard. “Well, you could bring her pots and pans back. They were the first nice thing she ever bought for herself, and it makes it easier to save money if you can cook at home. I’m sure she’d like to have them returned.”
“Okay,” I say, wondering why some dude would take a woman’s kitchen equipment. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I bite my bottom lip, trying to figure out how to get a set of pans back from a guy I don’t even know. Dylan scrutinizes every move I make. Finally, she shakes her head.
“You pawned them, didn’t you?”
“No,” I insist, slightly offended. “I wouldn’t pawn someone’s pots and pans. Who do you think I am?”
“A jackass.”
I roll my eyes. “Right. I forgot.”
“And you could bring me a bottle of Jack. After all, I’m helping her pick up all the pieces of her heart that you so thoughtlessly threw against the wall. So thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome.”
She scowls. “Really?”
“Look, I’m doing my best here,” I say with a chuckle. “Give me some credit.”
Her arms cross over her chest as she considers this. “Fine. I’ll give you some credit for at least sort of taking responsibility. That’s it. That’s all you get.”
“Good enough, I guess.”
With a satisfied nod of her head, she starts to turn away, but then she stops before she gets too far. “One more thing,” she says, looking at me over her shoulder. “Don’t tell Navie I was here.”
I blink once. Twice. Three times.
Navie? Bartender Navie? Navie-Who-Works-At-My-Cousin’s-Bar Navie?
My friend Navie?
Navie knows Dylan? And Dylan doesn’t know me?
Am I being set up here?
I grab at my temple with my right hand.
“You won’t, right?” Dylan asks when I fail to answer .
“Yeah. Sure. I, um, I won’t say a word,” I say, trying to piece all this together.
Her shoulders relax, the V-neck dropping low enough to see the cleavage that I would enjoy any other time except right now when I’m mentally marinating Navie knowing Dylan and Dylan thinking I’m some other guy.
I run a hand down my face and, once again, regret not going back to bed.
“It’s a shame you’re such a jackass,” she says.
I drop my hands. “Well, thanks. But I’m not one really.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Suit yourself,” I say. “But tell Navie that if she needs to talk—”
“Nope. If you want to talk to her, you do it. Be a man. Prove me wrong.” She walks toward her car again. “And bring back her pots and pans. Do you hear me?”
“If I can find them.”
She stops at her car and flings open the door. Her eyes narrow again. She’s so damn cute, and this entire thing is so bizarre that I can’t take it. I laugh.
“If you don’t find them, I’ll come find you,” she says.
“Could you warn me first? And let me schedule that into my day because I’m running about a half hour behind right now.”
She fights a smile as she climbs into her car. She pulls away just as quickly as she arrived, and I’m left standing next to Old Man Dave’s truck, wondering what the hell just happened.
Two
Peck
I tug my hat down to block out the early evening sun. Stepping over a broken piece of sidewalk that the town of Linton hasn’t bothered to fix in at least fifteen years, I make my way toward Crave.
My cousin’s bar is my usual haunt after work, and today is no exception. What is different about today, though, is that I have a reason to be here besides not just wanting to be alone.
My face breaks into a grin as I remember the little spitfire. Her finger pressed against my chest as she leveled warnings makes me laugh. But as entertained as I am with Dylan’s moxie, an uneasiness settles over me when I think of Navie.
I would like to think Navie and I were close enough that I’d know if she was seeing someone seriously enough for them to steal her cookware. And I’d really hope she knows she could ask me for help if she needed it because if this guy is the jerk that Dylan seems to think he is, then what else has he done?
The door chimes as I tug it open. Eighties rock music is playing on the speakers, letting me know my cousin Machlan, the owner of the bar, is still here. Pieces of streamers and popped balloons are stuck on random nails and pictures from Machlan’s birthday party that got a little out of control last weekend.
“Hey,” Machlan says from the other side of the bar. “You’re in here early.”
“Long day.”
I plop down on a barstool. Machlan slides a beer down the bar, and I catch it with one hand.
“Tell me about it,” he says. “Hadley woke up mad at me for something I did to her in her dream last night. And then Navie was an hour late and about as happy with me as my girlfriend for some unknown reason. I can’t win.”
I take a long sip of beer. The glass has the perfect level of dew on the outside. Setting it back on the bar, I look at my cousin. He doesn’t seem to know things he’s not telling me, but Machlan is good at hiding shit.