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“Certainly. At that volume, the whole building knows your opinion.”
“I’m fine with that,” she said hotly. “I have nothing to hide. Nothing.”
“That’s not the case for him, unfortunately.” Malcolm gestured at Drew. “You heard what that woman said. It’s the story of his life! Is that what you want for yourself?”
“He was set up! He goes miles out of his way to help people, time and time again. He took a bullet in Iraq, risking his life for his country. Does none of that count for you?”
“Oh, God.” Drew looked pained. “Jenna, I don’t need for you to—”
“You just hush up!” She rounded on him furiously. “You’ve been doing a crap job at defending yourself lately, so step aside and let me handle it this time!”
“I appreciate your zeal, young lady,” Malcolm said. “But you’re sticking your nose into matters that aren’t your business.”
“Guilty as charged,” she said. “I don’t give a damn. Just don’t expect me to smile and nod while someone I care about is being put down. I just...won’t...do it. Period.”
Malcolm Maddox frowned at her for a moment, then his gaze flicked to Drew. “Hmph,” he grunted. “Played the wounded soldier card, eh?”
“I play the cards I have,” Drew said.
“Don’t blame you, to be honest.” Malcolm looked her over, his eyes sharp and assessing. “She is something when she gets going, hmm?”
“That she is,” Drew agreed.
“Do not talk about me as if I’m not here,” Jenna snapped.
Malcolm laughed and gestured toward Jenna with his cane. “Hang on to this one if you can, boy,” he said gruffly. “But you know damn well you don’t deserve her. You’re just a dog on the furniture. Pull yourself together. Try not to make spectacles of yourselves for the rest of the evening, if you can possibly manage it, eh? Both of you.”
He turned his back and stumped out, hunched over his cane, still muttering.
Drew and Jenna looked at each other after the door fell to after him. Jenna shook her head, bewildered. “Um... What just happened?”
“Looks like you just charmed Uncle Malcolm,” Drew said. “Congratulations.”
She stared at him. “Charmed him? By scolding him? That’s what charms him?”
“We’re a contrary bunch.” Drew’s tone was almost apologetic. “And he favors strong women. With strong opinions.”
“Oh, God.” Jenna pressed both hands to her hot cheeks. “This is so crazy.” She started digging in her evening bag for a tissue, sniffling into it.
“What’s wrong?” Drew asked. “Why are you crying?”
“It happens when I lose my temper. Something shorts out in my brain. Don’t be alarmed, you don’t have to comfort me or anything like that. It’ll pass quickly.”
Drew still looked worried. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Fine,” she assured him. “Really.”
He just looked at her, hesitating. “Ah...thanks,” he said, awkwardly.
“For what?”
“For coming out swinging like that. For having my back. I know that it was part of the whole being-engaged act, and I think we can hang that masquerade up at this point. But act or no act, it felt really good to hear.”
She was horrified by a fresh wave of tears. “Oh, crap,” she muttered. “That was not an act, Drew Maddox.” There it was. The truth. She’d blurted it out at last.
His eyes sharpened. “Meaning what? You haven’t been pretending?”
“Not at all,” she admitted. “I’ve been a goner ever since I dumped that pitcher of sangria on you. I know I shouldn’t tell you this, but that’s the short circuit in my brain. I cry, and then I blurt out stuff people don’t necessarily want to hear. Anyhow. I’ve done enough damage tonight, so I think I’ll just get my coat and get the hell out of—”
