Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,61

bad, it was freezing him. He was always quick with a quip, either to shut somebody down or to make somebody laugh, but now, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

Jennifer said, sounding surprisingly calm, as if all that had rolled right off her back, “We did meet him recently. We met in Yellowstone a few days ago, in fact, of all the crazy places. This isn’t even the coldest I’ve been lately. It’s close, though.”

“Really?” That was Annabelle jumping in. “I’ve never been to Yellowstone. I guess I could just drive down to the Black Hills if I wanted to see bison, though, and I’m not sure I want to see a grizzly up close. What was it like? Did you see any animals?”

“Come on, Annabelle,” Axel said, still sounding jovial, but with that hard edge to it. “Nobody wants to hear you yammering about animals. Harlan came to talk to the town, not his little sister. And to show off his new lady friends.”

Harlan thought Jennifer might be a little flushed, but that was probably just the cold, because her voice was cheerful when she told his sister, “If you were me, you wouldn’t want to see a bison up close, either. You know how I actually met Harlan? When he threw himself between me and a charging bison. Well, between me and a charging snowmobile, but the snowmobile was running from the bison, so … same thing. It was the bravest and the craziest thing I’ve ever seen. It was my first day skiing, and I sure wasn’t going to be able to get out of the way by myself. I’m not sure I’d even be alive if it weren’t for your brother. I know I’d be in bad shape, anyway. So when he asked if we wanted to come along for this trip, because he wanted some company for the ride, well … I wasn’t going to say no.” She gave Annabelle a sunny smile. “I’m glad to have somebody to talk to about it who might actually be scared if it happened to them. As it was, I was the only one. Everybody else seemed to think it was just some great adventure.”

“Wait,” Dyma said. “Hold on, Mom. Are we just supposed to ignore that this guy just implied that we’re both sleeping with Kris … with Harlan, and he doesn’t even know our names? That we’re some kind of slutty, disposable … what do you call football groupies?” she asked Owen.

“Groupies,” he said. “Jersey chasers. Whatever.” Harlan wanted to say, Don’t say that in front of my little sister, but Dyma was right. His dad had already said it.

“What you should call them,” Dyma said, “is women who are happy to sleep with you. Luckily for you. And if they’re slutty, what are you?”

“Good point,” Owen said, still sounding calm. But then, it wasn’t his family.

“Dyma,” Jennifer said. “It’s all right.”

“It’s all right?” Dyma said. “How? You flew halfway across the country so Harlan would have company, and his dad insulted you. After we just talked about this, about how you don’t have to feel this way anymore! After you’ve spent the last nineteen years doing it, and you’re going to let him do it again?”

“Baby,” Jennifer said, “no. I can take care of myself.”

“Fine,” Dyma said. She had her arms crossed. “Then you should start doing it. But I’m going to take care of myself, too, and tell this guy that, no, my mom and I didn’t both sleep with your son. That’s disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourself, insulting my mom like that. And I’m in high school, so you’re probably insulting your son, too. Not to mention being really gross. Never mind. No point. I’m starving. I need to try to find some food I can eat.”

Harlan said, “I’m on it. Hang on one second. Owen, could you …”

“Don’t worry, man,” Owen said. “I’ve got this.”

Harlan took off, but turned back after a couple steps, grabbed the beer from Jennifer, thrust it into Owen’s hand instead, then took Jennifer’s hand and said, “On second thought, come with me.”

Owen would take care of Dyma, and he’d take care of Annabelle, too, if it came to that, but damned if Harlan was leaving Jennifer here with his dad. Damned if he was.

Jennifer said, “Kris—Harlan. Wait.” He was pulling her through the crowd so fast, her bratwurst slipped off her paper plate. She’d love to think she was too upset to care, but