“And a call, I’m hazarding to guess by the way you’re gripping your phone.” Junior accepted the beer Earl handed over, took a swallow, and went on, “As long as I’m in a guessing mood, I’ll bet I can guess who’s going to light up your phone any minute now.”
“Knock yourself out.” Josh tried to keep his voice neutral, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at Tyler. Had Ellie run and told him what she’d seen at the office last night? And Tyler, in turn, told Junior, and so on, and so on? So much for Melody’s reputation. Cold needles of guilt pricked his conscience, but then burned away under a flash of anger. Couldn’t anybody keep a damn thing to themselves in Bluelick? If life in a small town meant having his personal business passed around like a bag of chips, he needed to get the hell out sooner rather than later.
“Let me consult my spirit adviser.” Junior lifted his beer to his forehead, closed his eyes, and made a show of tuning in to some message from his drink. “I’m getting a name. Melissa? No, that’s not right. Melinda…no…” He opened his eyes and grinned. “Melody Merritt.”
He narrowed his eyes at Longfoot. The dark-haired man stared back with a what-the-fuck-is-your-problem expression. Josh shifted his gaze to the shorter man. “What makes you say that?”
Junior laughed. “I saw Rusty at the Jiffy Java this morning, and he mentioned you brought our Mel ’round for a tour of the firehouse last night.”
“Sorry you and Rusty don’t have better things to talk about than my comings and goings.”
“Ah, well, Rusty used to date Mel’s older sister, and I guess he still feels a mite protective. He’s accustomed to thinking of Melody as Roger’s girl, and he’s not so sure about your intentions.”
“Are you worried about my intentions, too?”
“Me? Nah. I like Melody, but she’s a grown-ass woman. I like Roger, too, but he had her off the market for a long time, and failed to seal the deal. She wants something new? Heck, you’re the newest thing around. You qualify. I’ve got no problem with that. What do you say, Ty?”
Longfoot took a slow sip of his beer and then set it down carefully and stared at Josh. “I agree. Now, if I felt like someone was taking advantage, or not treating her right—”
“Yeah.” Junior nodded and tapped his beer to his friend’s. “Then we’d have a problem.”
Apparently Rusty wasn’t the only one feeling protective toward Miss Bluelick.
“You know what I’ve learned over the years?”
Longfoot shook his head. “Enlighten us, Chief.”
“People who mind their own business tend to have fewer problems.” The chime of his phone somewhat undermined the not-so-subtle “fuck off” in his reply, especially when he fumbled it in his haste to answer because the screen read “Bluelick.”
He hit the green button, raised the device to his ear, and said, “Working hard?”
Melody’s tinkling laugh washed over him like a summer shower. “I’m happy to report I am still gainfully employed, and yes, we did work hard today. I’m sorry I didn’t contact you earlier, but things were kind of nonstop.”
“No worries. I figured no news was good news.” Liar. The blare of a horn from the other end of the line pulled his attention away from his conscience. Melody said, “God, he’s such a little jerk,” under her breath.
“Are you in the car?”
“Yes. I’m headed to Roger’s. Justin Buchanan just honked at Ed Pinkerton for stepping into the crosswalk. I wish the sheriff would yank his license before he runs over someone.”
“Justin?”
“Yeah. But since his daddy’s the mayor, I doubt I’ll get my wish.”
Not if Bluelick’s politics worked the way most politics worked, but he made a mental note to keep an eye on the Buchanan kid. The mayor was, technically, his boss, but nowhere in Josh’s book did that entitle the younger Buchanan to a free pass. “Don’t hold your breath,” he agreed, “but do drive safe.” Then, because he couldn’t stop himself, he added, “Say hi to Roger for me.”
“Hmm. You reckon on being a topic of discussion tonight, do you?”
“I can’t imagine what else you’d talk about.” The exasperated sound he got back as a reply made him grin. “See you Friday. Seven.”
“Wait. Do you want my home number, in case something comes up?”
Something was already coming up, just from talking with her. Nothing short of a towering inferno would keep him away from her Friday. “No need, Bluelick. I’ve got your number.”
…
“So then he says, ‘No need, Bluelick. I’ve got your number.’” After pitching her voice down a couple octaves to emulate Josh, Melody took a sip of her chardonnay, sat back on Roger’s couch, and smiled at Doug, her ex-fiancé’s boyfriend.
The dark-haired man with striking gray eyes sitting in the leather chair opposite her laughed. It was a deep, rich sound that bounced off the brick walls of Roger’s riverfront condo and blended with the sound of Roger’s softer, more restrai