Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,28

rules,” she said, the words somehow slipping out before she could call them back, “that when a man says, ‘Trust me,’ he usually means, ‘Look into my hypnotizing eyes and lose your better judgment.’”

Kris laughed, and even after he stopped, he kept on grinning. The barman put the drinks in front of them, and he touched his glass to hers and said, “You’re pretty special, aren’t you? Look into my hypnotizing eyes and drink up.”

This time, she was the one laughing. He grinned some more, and she laughed harder, until she was holding her stomach, pressing the napkin to her mouth, and eventually, getting the hiccups.

“Oh—hic—shoot,” she said on a gasp. “This isn’t how I—hic—planned this to go.”

“Glass of water?” Kris asked the barman, and when it came, he told Jennifer, “Sip it slow. Take your time. I’ll go deliver these, and then I’m right back with you. We’ve got nowhere to go but here, so just relax and take it easy, and when those hiccups are gone? You can tell me that wolf story.”

When Harlan got to the table with the drinks, Dyma jumped up and said, “I should go talk to my mom. Owen says I was a jerk.”

“I didn’t say that,” Owen said. “I said it came out wrong.” His tone was mild, the way he talked when he was running his football camp for kids, not the way he’d talk to a rookie. Which was good, if it meant he was treating her like a kid. Eighteen might be legal, but it sure as hell wasn’t twenty-one. A guy could get confused, because she sure was cute, but Harlan had three little sisters. Eighteen wasn’t twenty-one.

Harlan said, “I’ll tell her. Hey, Owen, want to see if they’ve got a table for us in there? Ten minutes?”

“You bet,” Owen said.

Jennifer was half off her stool when he headed back to the bar, looking over at the table, at her daughter, but when he slid in beside her and said, “Hiccups gone?” She sat down again.

“Yes,” she said. “I can’t believe the classiness of me. I told you about the bruise on my butt. I got the hiccups.”

“Yeah,” he said, “but you also talked to that kid. I realize, looking back, what you did there. De-escalation. Did you think I was going to deck his dad? I wanted to, I’m not lying. What a gold-plated tool. But you were right. No point.”

“And I was fifteen when I got pregnant with Dyma.” She looked him straight in the eye. “And sixteen when I had her.”

“You say that like I should have an opinion about it,” he said. “Looks to me like you’ve done a pretty good job raising her.”

“Really?” She set an elbow on the bar and shoved a hand into her curls. The corkscrews looked shiny and soft. He’d bet they felt that way, too. “I hope so. She can be a challenge. I had help, though. My grandpa. My mom, though she’s gone now. They were great.”

“But not her dad.” He didn’t know why he was pursuing it. Because he wanted to know, he guessed.

She went stiff. He said, “You don’t have to answer that. What am I doing? I’m supposed to be a whole lot smoother than this.”

“Oh?” she asked, rallying with what he could tell was an effort. “I was right, then, about the ‘Trust me’ thing?”

“Aw, hell,” he said. “Probably.” And she laughed, which was better.

“Tell me about the wolf encounter instead,” he suggested. “I guess I’m interested in that partly because of this thing I read. Coffee-table book in the room, about all the Indian tribes who lived here, or who passed through, because it was a destination for about six of them. Made me think, when I was out there today. How it feels here … it’s full of shadows, isn’t it? All those people, all gone now. Now it’s like Sea World, everybody coming to look at the attractions and leaving again with their pictures. But it wasn’t like that before.”

“Tell me.” She had a faraway look in her eyes now. He wanted to keep that look there.

“You first,” he said.

“Oh. Well, it was just what Dyma said. We were about halfway up this trail, and we came around a corner and saw two wolves, right across the river, feeding on an elk carcass. Which wasn’t nearly as far away as you’d think. More like across the room, and disturbing an animal with a kill … that isn’t good. I don’t