“How about a joke?” He narrowed his eyes, then snapped his fingers. “What was Mitzi’s favorite subject in school?”
Kerry raised the other eyebrow.
“Hisstory.”
She groaned and started to move away.
He held up a finger. “One more. ’Cause everyone deserves a second chance. What’s Mitzi’s favorite TV show?”
“I don’t know.” Glass clinked as Kerry rearranged her speed well, the thigh-high rack for a bartender’s most commonly used bottles. “When Animals Attack?”
Gil chuckled, then made a sound like a buzzer. “Wrong. Monty Python.”
She laughed, and looked up, and intercepted an appreciative glance. Did a decent job of ignoring it. “Your jokes are almost as bad as my dad’s.”
The moment she said it, she regretted it.
“His must be terrible, then.” Gil tossed a piece of pretzel into his mouth. “Give me an example.”
Kerry caught the eye of Brass Monkey Woman and realized she was doing a rotten job of looking after her customers.
“Yeah, well, it’s all fun and games until a reptile gets out of her pen,” she said. “Excuse me. I need to check on someone.”
“You don’t need to worry,” Gil said to her back. “She got away from Snoozy once. No way he’ll let it happen again.”
Kerry whirled around. “She got out? When was this?” When Gil lowered his head and pushed his glasses higher up his nose, hiding a smile, she slapped the bar. “Now that was mean.”
Brass Monkey Woman came up beside Gil, carrying her empty glass. Kerry swallowed a sigh. Be dependable. That’s all Snoozy had asked and already she was sucking at it.
She apologized to the woman and asked if she’d like another of the same. When the woman nodded, Kerry retrieved a fresh glass and gestured at Gil. “Don’t you think that was mean?”
The woman nodded again, this time with a conspiratorial smile curving her lips. She never looked away from Gil’s face.
“It’s the truth,” he said. “This was quite a few years back, before Snoozy set Mitzi up here in the bar. He was going through a divorce and his wife deliberately let Mitzi out of the house. Half a dozen years later, Allison found her coiled up in a wall at the motel. Mitzi, not Snoozy’s ex.”
Kerry paused in the act of unscrewing the lid on the orange juice. “Wait, Allison found Mitzi? At the motel? I was just there.” Thank God for Eugenia and her dress shop apartment.
Gil helped himself to a handful of popcorn. “I’m sure if she’d had any roommates, they’d have found them by now.”
Brass Monkey Woman made a small noise of distress and shifted on the stool.
Kerry sent her an empathetic glance and turned a glower on Gil. “You’re a real hoot.”
“Relax. They had an exterminator out there and everything. Besides, it was a good thing. Mitzi brought Joe and Allison together.”
Kerry stirred the cocktail, added two cherries and slid it across the bar. “I’m not big on reptiles.”
“I can see that.”
Brass Monkey Woman handed Kerry a credit card and reached for the bowl of popcorn. Gil offered her the pretzels, as well, and she beamed.
“So, you’re staying at Joe’s,” Gil said casually. He didn’t notice Brass Monkey Woman’s sharp glance.
“I was.”
“You don’t have friends or family in Castle Creek?”
“There wasn’t room for me.”
“What happens when Snoozy gets back from his honeymoon? You plan to hang around?”
Brass Monkey Woman sniffed, picked up her drink and made her way back to her table.
Kerry winced. Gil seemed oblivious, his attention trained directly on Kerry. She had to admit, it made for a nice change.
“I haven’t decided yet,” she said. “Snoozy won’t need me here, so I’d have to find another job.” Which would not be easy. She started to swipe her palms down the front of her shirt, remembered Allison’s sweater and swiped them on her hips instead. “I’d also forgotten how sticky I get by the end of the day.” She lifted first her left, then her right shoe, wincing at the sound her soles made as they separated from the tacky rubber mat. “Me and the floor.”
She wouldn’t miss much about bartending, that was for sure. So far she was managing, but ever since her arrest, she’d longed to do something that would allow her to spend more time in the sun.
Allison appeared beside Gil, waving Kerry off when she apologized for not making it back to their table. “Two margaritas and a Shirley Temple, please.” She poked Gil in the shoulder. “We’re over there talking about you. Still running that online forum?”
Gil hesitated, and Kerry could practically hear him turning red. He mumbled something about collaborative math projects, whatever those were.
Allison watched Kerry mixing drinks. “Parker says Nat’s having a hard time with algebra. Maybe you could give her a call, see about signing the kid up for some tutoring?”
“Sure,” Gil said.
Aha.
He was a nerd.
Albeit a hot one.
She followed Allison to her table to deliver the girls’ drinks and turned to find Gil had returned to his laptop. Ignoring a twinge of disappointment, she checked in with the pool table crowd and the couple too into each other to eat, then moved back behind the bar and got busy washing glasses. A hoot of masculine laughter sounded outside the door right before two men walked in. Kerry registered a cop’s uniform and dropped one of the hurricane glasses.
Glass shattered, and the bar went silent.
* * *
THE CHILLY NIGHT air plucked at Eugenia’s skin, raising gooseflesh. Still, her temper burned hotter than the habaneros in Snoozy’s chili, which she’d done her darnedest to warn Kerry away from. As she glared at Harris’s front door, shrouded in shadow, a butter-colored moon peered through gauzy strips of clouds, casting enough light to reveal the small potted tree to her left. The two leaves that elevated it from stick status were brown. A sudden sadness gathered in her throat, and it hurt to swallow.
This time when she pressed the doorbell she didn’t let go.
“I know you’re in there, old man,” she called. “You might as well open up because I’m not going away.”
The door swung wide. “Sure you will,” he said, his voice all gravel. “You did before.”
Eugenia put her hands behind her back and gripped her own wrist. Otherwise she might find herself trying to smack the stubborn right out of the man. He must have recognized her urge to do violence because he eased back a step. She took the opportunity to trespass.
“That thing is dying.” She jabbed a finger toward the sickly tree. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Talk about the pot callin’ the kettle black.” He hesitated, then closed the door, shutting them both inside. He heaved a gusty sigh and with a hand to her back, guided her away from the foyer and into the living room. “I know why you’re here.”
She pulled away and walked to the far end of the sofa, long faded from sitting beneath a front window with curtains Harris never bothered to draw.
“Do