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His eyes, so blue she could make them out from where she stood, flickered over her briefly, before settling on Jason and his buddies. He studied them for a few moments and Betty took the opportunity to get back behind the bar.
Her calf muscle twitched and she grimaced, kicking it out as she grabbed the rag and threaded it through her fingers.
“Mr. Davies, can I get you another draft?” she asked politely.
He turned to her and shook his head. “No. I don’t suppose I should.”
His watery grey eyes softened as he studied her. “No woman deserves that kind of verbal abuse.”
Unnerved, she cleared her throat.
“Why do you care?” she asked without thinking. God, she’d been an absolute nightmare in school. Always late to class and when she did show up, she usually caused problems. Mr. Davies had flunked her ass out of American History…twice.
Betty Jo had always had a problem with authority figures. It used to drive her father crazy and these days, it was one of the things he liked to throw in her face. That is, when he remembered which triplet she was.
Mr. Davies pushed his empty mug back, his bony fingers riding the round edge once, then twice, before muttering softly.
“Someone has to, Betty Jo.”
For whatever reason, his words brought tears to her eyes and Betty scrubbed the bar with her rag, as Mr. Davies slid from his stool and ambled toward the exit. But not before admonishing Jason and his buddies over their severe lack of respect for women, and telling Jason he just might have to have a chat with Jason’s mother.
Jason looked more than a little embarrassed, apologizing, while the others tolerated Davies’ words and chortled like animals when he left.
Betty, very aware of Beau’s eyes on her, grabbed the tip Davies left and had just pocketed it when Duke strode behind the bar, coming in from the office out back. He came to a stop and nudged her.
“That Beau Simon?”
She didn’t follow his eyes but nodded, “yep.”
Duke’s eyes widened, his long, sweeping mustache quivering. “Son-of-a-bitch. I heard he was still in town. He been served yet?”
“I was just about to head over.”
“No worries. I’ll get him.”
Duke sidled past her and Betty exhaled. Thank God. The last thing she wanted to do was dance around with Beau.
What the heck was he still doing here anyway? He couldn’t still want to discuss whatever the hell it was he wanted to discuss with her…could he?
Betty disappeared into the kitchen, deciding that now was a great time to re-stock the lime and lemon bowls. The bar would be fine with Duke there and she didn’t want to face Beau right now.
He’d heard the comments. She’d seen it on his face.
Most days she let them slide off her back, like water drops across a slick window. But not today.
Today they hurt.
Today she wished like hell she still drank.
“Betty can you come out here?” Duke poked his head into the kitchen and she paused, knife in hand, lime about to be dissected.
“Can I finish this up first?”
Duke glanced back and into the bar and she heard him yell at his wife, Jackie. “I’ll be right back. Don’t pester the boy. Give him some room.”
Great. Guess Mr. Blond Ambition was still out there.
Duke grabbed the lemons she’d cut up and shuffled his feet.
