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“Stop looking amused,” she told him.
“Can’t help it,” he said, “as it’s funny. And I thoughtIdidn’t know how to be single. If you’re looking for easy sex,” he told Joel, “she’s not it. No point pretending to leave your hat behind. Got heaps of character, though. Personality, too.”
“Well, thank you,” she said. “Although ‘she’s got a great personality’ probably isn’t what I want to lead with, date-wise.”
“Dad,”Janey said. “You can’t talk about sex in front of Troy and me! I mean, I at least know what itis,so it’s not so bad for me, but you can’t say it around Troy!”
“This bothering you, mate?” Beckett asked him.
Troy looked like he didn’t know what to say. It also clearlywasbothering him. Quinn said, “I think we’ve said everything we need to say, Joel.”
He was getting flushed over the cheekbones. The problem with contractors was, they worked for themselves. They might have to please the client, but half the time, they didn’t even want to do that. “What,” he said, “you’re throwing me out now? After I paid almost a hundred bucks for that dinner? Plenty of women in this town would be lining up to be treated that good. The truth is, I probably went out with you because I felt sorry for you. You’re, what, forty, and still alone? I wonder why.”
“I’m fascinated to hear,” she said, “except not. Go find one of those lined-up women. I’m guessing they’re mythical, but go for it. Goodbye.”
Probably unwise, because his face was even redder now, and he’d taken a step toward her. “You can’t afford to be this picky,” he told her. “You don’t exactly have a body made for sin, and you don’t make a manthinkabout sin, either, because you’re sure as hell not feminine. In any way. Myexknew how to talk to a man better than you, and I never thought I’d say that. I wouldn’t work for you for any money, because you’d be trying to bust my balls all the way, and your tit—”
Beckett talked right over him. “Right, mate. You’re out.”
Joel stared at him, beard bristling. “Who’s going to make me? You?”
“Yeah,” Beckett said. “Me.”
Joel folded his arms again. “Try it.”
It happened so quickly, Quinn couldn’t even react. Beckett grabbed Joel by the shirt collar in one quick movement, shoved him hard backward, and walked him out the door so fast, they were practically running. Joel clearly hadn’t been keeping up on his running-backward lessons, because his feet were getting tangled up, and he was stumbling. He said, “Get the fuck off me!” and aimed an off-balance blow at Beckett’s face.
Quinn thought,I should help here. I should …She moved toward them even as Beckett absorbed the blow, stiff-armed the other man, and kept pushing. Joel was still stumbling, still whaling away at Beckett, unable to get close enough or get enough power behind his fists to land a hard blow. Some of those blows were landing all the same, though.
She should call 911, that was what. Where was her phone?
Janey shrieked,“Dad!”and Troy just stood there, frozen. Quinn said, “I’m calling the police!” which she should’ve said at the very beginning.
Nobody seemed to care. Beckett said, “Open the door, Janey,” and she ran and did it. Through the sun porch they went, then out the front door, which Janey was holding wide, like a butler, and Beckett was heaving Joel, still stumbling, right down the stairs. He was falling backward and landing on his butt, probably right on the can of Skoal in his back pocket. That would leave a bruise. A big, round bruise, and she was trying not to laugh.
Wait. That was probably battery. She should …
Beckett stepped back into the house, threw the lock on the door, and said, “I knew my schoolboy rugby would be useful someday,” as the rest of them stared through the glass at Joel, who was getting up off the ground.
Oh, my God. What now? She should definitely call 911. Or at least get the solid inner door and walls between them. She had that kind of trembling inside you got when you were trying hard not to show any tremblingoutside,and this was still dangerous. Wasn’t it?
She definitely should have been helping Beckett.It wasn’t assaultorbattery if you ordered somebody out of your house and they refused to go. Beckett hadn’t even hit Joel, so why hadn’t she helped? What kind of reaction time was that? In the movies, she’d have broken a flowerpot over Joel’s head or something. If she’d had a flowerpot, because she didn’t do houseplants. She always forgot to water them and then felt guilty. And, of course, if shehadwanted to get arrested for battery, because that wouldn’t have been a reasonable amount of force in the situation.
She asked Beckett, “Do you have cash?”
“What?” He was still standing inside the door as if he were barring it, his chest heaving some. “I’m probably too old for this,” he said. “Good thing it worked.”
“Cash,” she said. “I never have cash, and men almost always do.”
“Yeah.” He reached for his wallet and pulled out a few bills.
Three twenties and a ten. Close enough. She said, “Be my bodyguard for a second more,” and unlocked the door.
She should be staying inside the house. That would have been logical, reasonable, and mature. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to be any of those things at the moment.
Joel was in his truck now, the engine revving. She ran out there at top speed, stepped on a couple of spiny chestnut burrs with her bare feet, screamed a little inside, and knocked on his window. Well, possibly banged on it. With the bills clutched in her fist.
He stared at her, eyes blazing in a way that would have had her courtroom deputy putting a hand on his weapon, then lowered the window a cautious few inches.
