I down the rest of my Coke and then let out a frustrated sigh. “She shows up out of nowhere, man, and just…”
His eyebrow inches up. “Chaps your hide?”
“Yes!” I blurt out and smack the bar top. “She yelled at me and threw out accusations. I’m not the one who abandoned my family. I’m not the villain here.”
Monroe holds up both hands in surrender. “No one is vilifying you.”
I rub my palm over my face and nod. “I know, I know. Sorry. I’m still shaken up over,you know.”
Losing my roommate. My friend. A woman who was every bit a grandmother to me as my own.
“I know,” Monroe says, voice raspy. “Grief sucks. It’ll make a man crazy.”
Silas shows up a bit later with a peace offering. I snatch up a beer-battered onion ring and devour half of it in three seconds’ flat. Monroe is right behind me. No one makes onion rings like The Icehouse. Not even The Budgie Café. They’re top notch and we were just gifted a beloved basket of them.
“She’s not going to be able to stay at that cottage,” Monroe murmurs around a mouthful of greasy goodness. “You and I both know that.”
“Not my problem.”
Monroe ignores my comment. “I sent her over to Mom’s, but I already know she’s booked out for the entire summer. Probably won’t have much luck at Harbor Heights Hotel either.”
Again, not my problem. I don’t voice it this time since he’s not in a listening mood anyway.
Our conversation is interrupted when one of the tourists whistles. I swivel around, half expecting to see Reverie, because she’s a beautiful young woman and turns heads wherever she goes. When I see Trudy, instead, I cringe on behalf of the tourist.
Big mistake.
The tourist in the tight white T-shirt that shows off his bulging belly catcalls the sheriff’s daughter. She scrunches her nose and then flips him off. Yep, definitely in a mood.
“Come on, baby,” the beer belly guy croons. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”
I expect Monroe to pounce on this guy, but he doesn’t get the chance. Branson storms away from his barstool at their table and takes a swing at the belligerent newcomer. As soon as his fist connects with the guy’s ruddy face, chaos erupts in the bar.
Branson yelling at the guy. The guy threatening to sue him. Trudy spouting off sassy words of her own. Silas yanking Branson away before he can land another punch. And, finally, Monroe stepping in and putting a stop to all of it by threatening to take everyone to jail. Branson, Trudy, all the visitors, me and Silas too, and I didn’t even do anything. Everyone.
“Zero stars on Kelp!” the guy barks out as he soils his white T-shirt by using it to sop up a trickle of blood under his nostril. “I’ll tell everyone this place sucks! You’ll be ruined for letting this happen!”
Silas shakes his head in irritation as he tosses the guy out of his bar. As annoying as it is for Silas to get punished, we all know a bad review on Kelp won’t do anything to keep people from swarming The Icehouse.
Monroe, breathing heavily and silently fuming, actually takes a swig of his old fashioned. Usually, he just holds the glass, jiggles it around as the ice melts, and eventually abandons it without having taken a swallow. This evening, between the tourists, talk of Wren, and having to defend his daughter’s honor, I think he’s reached his limit of what he can handle.
A moment later, Monroe pins his stern gaze on me. I’m reminded when I was a teenager at a party with Tate and he showed up with his cop buddies, scaring the living crap out of every single one of us who shouldn’t have been drinking underage. Why do I feel like I’m going to hate the next words that come out of his mouth?
“You know what you need to do, Cove. You know where she needs to stay.”
I was right.
I do hate the words that came out his mouth.
“And if I don’t?” I challenge, feeling like I’m in high school again, bowing up to a parent.
Monroe shoots me his practiced, disappointed dad look. “We both know Goldie would have something to say about that.”
He’s not wrong.
This flunking sucks.
Chapter 5
