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"Leone was right about you, after all," she mutters when she's a couple feet away. "It didn't take you two minutes to make a spectacle."
I whip my head in her direction. "What did you just say?"
The old lady keeps walking.
"Edna," I growl. "What did you just say?"
"Don't take that tone with me, Garrett Marsh." She hobbles around to face me, grim-faced and dour. "You're a representative of this school. You don't need to be making out with a guardian in the parking lot like you're in high school yourself."
Ciara goes rigid in my arms.
"I'm hugging my fiancée," I snap. "That's not illegal. And that's not what I was talking about. What did you say about Leone?"
"I said he was right about you causing scenes over that girl." She sniffs again. "She's a bartender, for God's sake. You should be ashamed of your behavior, Garrett Marsh."
My temper shoots sky-high. This old biddy is seriously testing my fucking patience.
"Ishould be ashamed? Thiswomanhas more empathy and compassion in her pinky than you do in your entire body," I snarl. "She works her ass off to provide for her brother, and she does it without a word of complaint while people like you judge her for it and people like Leone steal from her. She shows up for her brother every single day, and you judge her for that, too. Meanwhile, the only thing you do is stick your nose where it doesn't belong and try to make life difficult for people you don't know just because you think you can."
"Garrett." Ciara places her hand on my chest, shaking her head. "It's okay."
"No, it's not okay. She can be pissed that she didn't get her way today if she wants. I don't care, but she doesn't get to take it out on you when she doesn't know the first thing about you," I growl. "She'd be lucky to have someone like you in her life if she stepped down from her high horse long enough to get to know you. But she's too goddamn busy acting holier than thou to get the stick out of her a—"
"Garrett!" Ciara cries, cutting me off before I can finish that sentence.
I snap my mouth closed, scowling daggers at Edna Hubbard.
"Well!" Edna jerks upright, her face growing bright red as she sputters at me, "The school board president is going to hear about this, you mark my words!"
"I already heard it," Jacob Laird says, stepping from behind my truck. He hits Edna with a hard glare. "And it sounds to me like he didn't say anything you didn't need to hear. Judging Ms. Sharp for working in one of the bars your husband used to frequent, Edna? Really? You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
Edna sputters again.
"Ms. Sharp is a valued member of this community and this school," Jacob continues. "You'll treat her with the respect she deserves, or the school board will hear about it behind closed doors. And I won't hear another word about their impending wedding, either." He hits Edna with a hard stare. "Not unless you want to personally handle the uproar from every parent and student in athletics guaranteed to follow if this comes up again."
Edna nods curtly and then shuffles off without a word.
Jacob watches her go and then glances at Ciara. "My apologies, Ms. Sharp," he murmurs. "I can promise you she won't be an issue again."
"Let it go," Ciara says quietly. "She has a sharp tongue, but she's harmless."
Jacob's eyes widen in genuine surprise. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
Jacob meets my gaze. I lift my chin in a nod, unwilling to counter Ciara. If she wants to let it go, I'll give her what she wants. Whatever makes her happy, so long as Edna doesn't ever speak that way about or to her again.
"Well, you two enjoy what's left of your evening." Jacob waves and slips off, leaving us alone again.
"I've heard stories about her husband and Leone's aunt," Ciara murmurs when he's out of earshot. "Mr. Hubbard and Lucinda Bellotti weren't discreet about their affair. I understand why she feels the way she does about bartenders."
"Jesus. I didn't know about that."
"It was a long time ago. I only know because Leone's brother loves to talk when he drinks." She rolls her eyes. "Of course, the only things he ever talked about were the sordid memories people would probably prefer to forget."
"Sounds like a Bellotti." I sigh, brushing my lips across her forehead.
* * *
