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“So, he wasn’t wrong about you wanting him dead.” Toby grins. “I’ll cover until your friend is gone, but be ready. She’s gonna try to strong-arm you. That’s just what she does.”
“She can try all she wants. I’m not going unless he apologizes.”
Toby’s grin falls off suddenly. “Shit. Sorry, I’ve gotta go hide behind the bar.” He scurries away.
When I steal a glance over my shoulder, I understand why. Jessie Winslow has made an appearance tonight, in the same too-tight blue jeans and cropped boots as last time I saw her. She’s swapped her leopard-print crop top for a crimson one that clings to her ample curves.
Her large blue eyes scan the heads, quickly spotting Jonah. She indiscreetly fluffs her hair and puffs out her chest and then cuts through the crowd. Another cord of tension weaves its way along my spine. Just what I need. I don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with that woman pawing Jonah tonight, on top of all my other issues.
Muriel comes around the bar then and marches straight for our table. “Where’s your friend?”
“Bathroom.” Probably fixing her makeup. I frown at the soft, camouflage-print gun case in Muriel’s hand. “Going somewhere?”
She sets it down on the table, and that’s when I notice the pink bow affixed to one end. “Happy birthday, Calla.”
Oh my God. “You bought me a gun?”
“Not exactly. This was my first gun that my parents gave me. It’s a Winchester,” she says proudly. “Good for slight females like you. The ownership papers are in the case.”
I don’t know what to say. Muriel knows I don’t like guns and have no intention of ever shooting one. She also knows me well enough to know that I’d never be rude and refuse a birthday present.
But, buried in with all my apprehension is the fact that Muriel is passing along her first gun—a gift from her parents, and probably something she prizes—to me.
Swallowing this confusing swirl of both aversion and appreciation, I settle on, “Thank you.” It is the thought that counts, after all, and this is Muriel being thoughtful.
“It’s not meant to decorate your wall, Calla,” she warns.
I was thinking I’d hide it in the back of my closet, actually.
“You need to be able to protect yourself, especially when Jonah’s gone in September, workin’ with Jack Thomas.”
“Oh, I’m flying home for those weeks.”
“What?” That deep crevice forms between her eyes. “But that’s garden harvest time! We’ll be busy canning!”
“Don’t worry, Muriel. She’ll be shootin’ the stem off apples in no time.” Jonah’s gruff voice from behind me is an instant balm, saving me from that conversation. Warm, strong hands land on my shoulders.
I reach back to clasp them, and then stretch farther to admire the strength in his wrists and his forearms beneath my fingertips, imagining these hands on the rest of my body later tonight. As much as I love having Diana here, the anticipation of having Jonah to myself—to repair whatever’s going on between us—is overwhelming.
A resort guest hollers out to Muriel, distracting her. Jonah settles down in the chair beside me and I waste no time combing my fingernails through his bristly beard and leaning in to capture his mouth with mine in a lengthy, searing kiss that’s probably too hot for the Ale House.
When I pull away, he’s smirking. “How are you two doin’ over here?”
“Fine. How about you? Having fun over at the bar?” I ask as lightly as I can.
“I guess.” He nods toward Jesse Winslow whose impressive cleavage is eye level with a rugged-looking fisherman at a nearby table. “Your favorite local just came in.”
“Yeah, I noticed. Toby ran away, fast.”
Jonah laughs. “Don’t blame him. Heard her husband is a bear.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Marie watching us. Where I was once sympathetic to her status as the woman with unrequited feelings for Jonah, today I’m finding myself less inclined to care and more determined to make my feelings for Jonah—and his for me—clear.
Brash impulse takes over, and I shimmy from my chair to Jonah’s lap, wriggling in comfortably, my arm curling around his shoulders. “You’ve been over there the entire time since we sat down,” I say, trying to keep the accusation from my tone.
Jonah frowns. “Yeah, I figured you and Diana would want some time alone.”
Leave it to Jonah to be considerate. “What I want is to spend my birthday with my favorite people.” I smooth a hand over his broad chest and up over the thick column of his throat, admiring the jagged bump in it. “That means you.”
