“What’s going on? I thought you had the day off,” Allie said softly. She set two plastic grocery bags on a table, looking from him to the redhead and back again. “Who’s that?”
“I am off duty.” Jack turned so both the redhead and the exits were within his sight. “I came over to see if you wanted to have lunch.”
“You mean you came over to see if I’d cook you lunch.”
He almost grinned. “Only if you insist.”
Allie cuffed him on the shoulder. “That still doesn’t answer my second question. Who is she?”
“Says her name is Kelsey Reagan. Ring any bells?”
Allie glanced at Kelsey again. “No. Should it?”
“I just figured since you and Ward are such good buddies, you’d know the name of his sister.”
Allie’s eyes widened. “You’re telling me this Kelsey…”
“Reagan,” he supplied.
“Kelsey Reagan is Dillon’s sister?” At Jack’s nod, she continued, “He’s never mentioned her. Not to me, anyway.”
Jack didn’t miss the surprise on Allie’s face. Ever since Ward, the ex-con-turned-carpenter, started renovating The Summit, rumors had spread around town that he and Allie were lovers. But if that was true, surely she’d recognize the name of Kelsey Reagan.
Not that Jack believed the gossip. And not just because he didn’t want Allie involved with someone with Ward’s less-than-desirable background. No, he based his conclusions on the only thing he could count on. Cold hard facts.
While Allie had never bothered to deny or confirm it, the few times Jack had been around the two of them, he’d seen nothing to indicate their relationship was anything other than friendship. There were no long looks. No subtle brushing of hands. No sparks.
Nothing even remotely close to the flash that had, briefly, arced between Jack and Kelsey a few minutes ago.
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Upon entering the premises, I discovered Miss Reagan inside. She claims the door was unlocked—”
“It was unlocked,” Kelsey called. “And if you’re going to keep talking about me, you might want to either lower your voices or go into another room.”
Jack took hold of Allie’s arm and moved her farther away from the bar. “Is that true?” he asked quietly.
Allie shrugged out of her red leather jacket. “I didn’t lock the door when I left, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“How do you expect to run a business when you can’t even remember to lock the door?”
“I didn’t forget to lock it,” Allie whispered, “I left it open because I didn’t know when Dillon would be back.”
He glanced back at Kelsey. “I think it would be a good idea for you to check around, make sure nothing’s missing.”
Allie frowned. “Why? I only ran out for a few minutes.”
“In those few minutes, you could’ve returned to find half your stock gone and your cash register empty.”
“The stock’s still here,” she said, motioning to the bottlefilled shelves behind the bar. “Was she emptying the cash register when you found her?”
A headache began to form behind his eyes. “No. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t help herself to your petty cash.”
“It doesn’t mean she did, either.” She laid her coat on the table. “Remember that pesky little constitutional amendment? The one about a person being innocent until proven guilty?”
Spoken like the defense lawyer Allie was. Or had been until she’d chucked eight years of higher education, quit her job and returned home to buy this run-down bar.
Talk about your less-than-stellar career moves.
“Let’s save the debate on criminal rights for another time. Just do me a favor and check the cash register. Please,” he added, knowing Allie would balk at anything she construed as an order.
With a resigned—and to Jack’s mind, overly dramatic—sigh, Allie crossed the room and went behind the bar. Sending Kelsey an apologetic look, she opened the cash register drawer, glanced down and shut it again. She shook her head at Jack.
“I told you I didn’t steal anything,” Kelsey said with a smirk. And if he thought the smirk was sexy, no one had to know but him.
“Ignore my brother,” Allie told her. “He’s a bit overprotective.” She smiled. “I’m Allie Martin. Jack says you’re looking for Dillon?”
“That’s right. I thought he’d be working here today.”
“He ran out for some lunch,” Allie said. “But he should be back any minute. Can I get you something? A soda, maybe?”
“Uh…” Kelsey’s eyes darted from Allie to Jack, but then she slid onto a stool. “A soda would be great. Thanks.”
Allie filled a glass and placed it in front of Kelsey. “Is Dillon expecting you?”
Kelsey twirled her straw between two fingers. “I doubt it. I was in the area and thought I’d drop in to see him.” She sipped her drink. “So…uh…you own this place?”
“I do.” His sister’s pride was unmistakable. And, if you asked Jack, unwarranted.
Not that he wasn’t thrilled to have Allie back in Serenity Springs where she belonged, but why couldn’t she have opened a law practice instead of mixing drinks for a living? Or at least bought a place that hadn’t sat empty for the past year?
Allie leaned her elbows on the bar, her chin in her hand. “Actually I’ve only had it a few months. Dillon just started the renovations and he figures it’ll be at least two months before we’re done.”
“Have you thought of moving the pool table there?” Kelsey pointed to the far corner by the kitchen. “It would open the flow of traffic and leave you room for more seating.”
“You think?”
Kelsey nodded. “Yeah. That way you could put in a small dance floor as well. You could even add a dartboard.”
Jack sat two stools down from Kelsey and zoned out of their conversation before they started swapping decorating tips and cake recipes. His instincts went into overdrive when he looked at Kelsey. It was more than just her looks, her clothes and her bad-girl vibe.
He’d been brought up to never judge a book by its cover. Helen and Larry Martin had raised their four children to be fair and nonjudgmental. His liberal mother insisted on tolerance and compassion, and his father—Serenity Springs’ previous chief of police—truly believed justice was for all.
Nice sentiments, but Jack knew better.
Nine years working the streets of New York City, working his way up to detective, had wiped away any idealistic beliefs his parents had instilled in him. Tolerance and compassion were no match against the endless stream of violence and ugliness so many people faced day in and day out.
He’d learned to look beyond the obvious. To count on his instincts. At the moment, those instincts were telling him there was more to Kelsey Reagan than met the eye.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Jack turned to see Dillon Ward standing in the doorway. Ward’s usual cold, flat expression had been replaced with a dark scowl. And that dark scowl was aimed at none other than Kelsey Reagan.
Jack glanced at Kelsey. Gone was the cocky, go-to-hell attitude. Instead she seemed apprehensive. Nervous. Almost…vulnerable.
What was that about?