walking out into an afternoon bruised with storm clouds.
Now, for the others.
9
“What an ass!”
From her vantage point, Moira had a hard time knowing exactly how Tierra meant it.
Nick Kingswood’s hindquarters in a pair of tailored trousers did as much to recommend him as his mouth did to damn him. Well, not his mouth really. That was pretty okay to look at too. He had more mastery over every movement of his face than most men had over their fishing boats.
It was his words that were the trouble.
She watched him until he slid behind the wheel of a Corvette Stingray, a car Moira had seen in a magazine down at Red’s shop. March’s centerfold. She’d damn near torn it out to hang on her ceiling until she thought of the Badger and felt a pang of guilt.
“What are you going to do?” Sunny asked, sliding a steaming latte across the counter to one of the few remaining men who hadn’t fled the shop when Nick stood.
“He is not getting Ambrosia’s,” Tierra said, running an affectionate hand over the scarred wooden counter. “I don’t care if I have to chain myself to the radiator.”
“Somehow I don’t think that’d stop him from bulldozin’ it with you inside.”
Tierra and Sunny turned in unison to look at her.
“He said you had met.” Tierra raised an eyebrow at Moira. “How?” It had been phrased like a question, but felt more like an accusation.
Moira picked up her damp dishcloth and resumed mopping down the counter. “On the plane over here.”
“Ugh,” Tierra grunted. “You had to share space with that man for five hours?”
“Naw. I got up and left after a while. One of them stuck-up cart monkeys wouldn’t let me sit in first class on account of Cheeto.”
“Whoa,” Sunny marveled. “You flew first class from New Orleans. That had to have been uber pricey.”
“Yeah,” Tierra agreed. “How did you swing that last minute?”
Moira frantically scanned her bleary memories of last night’s lengthy conversation. She had avoided questions of money like a drunk dodges church, but Tierra had been unwilling to let it go.
“Oh, it was one of those last-minute discount things. I was just in the right place at the right time.”
“That’s lucky,” Sunny laughed.
“How much?” The unfiltered weight of Tierra’s full attention came to bear on Moira. She could feel it pricking the back of her neck like push pins.
“Well, I—”
“Psst.”
Moira looked up from the counter to find Tierra face-to-face with Ray Dean. Judging from the way he leaned toward the counter, he’d found a few bottles on his way to the store.
Moira tried to get his attention behind Tierra’s back, but found herself under Sunny’s careful eye.
“Can I help you?” Tierra asked.
“You sure can, darlin’.” His grin fell into a lopsided leer that had Tierra backing away from the counter. “How ‘bout a lil’ of what you did for me last night?”
Tierra crossed her arms over her chest. “Excuse me?”
“Now don’t pretend you don’t remember. I gave you a ride right up to that purty house on—”
“Oh boy!” Moira interrupted, tugging Tierra away. “I think someone’s had a snootful. Sunny, would you mind getting our friend some coffee?”
“You!” Ray Dean bellowed, one leathery finger pointing toward Moira. “It wasn’t her. It was you!”
“What was you?” Tierra asked.
“Nothin’.” Moira ducked away from Dean’s stare and busied herself refilling the container of half and half.
“Pffft.” Ray Dean gave a loose-lipped snort. “What you done for me wasn’t nothin’. Ain’t no one ever sucked the—”
Hot coffee erupted from the cup Sunny carried to the counter and soaked the front of Ray Dean’s shirt. He yelped and scrambled backward, pulling the sodden garment away from his body.
“Oh no,” Sunny apologized. “I am so sorry. I don’t know how that happened.”
“I do.” Tierra’s green gaze went a shade of gray closer to her aunt’s as she grabbed Moira by the upper arm and dragged her through the swinging door to the kitchen.
“Turn me loose!” Moira jerked her arm free, still feeling her sister’s steely grip in her flesh after she released her hold.
“You’re loose enough already!”
The words hit Moira’s chest like a brick. She could feel herself shrinking. That familiar sensation of folding in on herself, knowing that one day, she might just disappear entirely.
“Tell me you didn’t sleep with that truck driver for a ride.”
“I didn’t sleep with that truck driver for a ride.” Technically true. They hadn’t done any sleeping. The sexual part of what she’d given him was the least of it, and yet, as always, it