The man’s bootlegging brought in a pretty penny, but he certainly didn’t spend it on himself. Unsure why it made her feel bad, Charlie shut her eyes, humming at the comfortable feeling of a full belly and the sweetness of syrup on her tongue.
When she woke again, the tray was gone and the small suitcase she’d left in her car sat in its place. After pulling on a fresh dress, she stumbled to the lavatory. One look at herself and Charlie rolled her eyes. She did her best to smooth her fluffy hair, brushed her teeth, pinched her cheeks, and covered up her scar with rouge. The effort was wasted; the woman in the mirror still looked like something the cat had dragged home.
Hobbling to the top of the stairs, luggage in hand, Charlie climbed down one step at a time. The downstairs chattering lunch crowd covered her cursing each time her ankle twinged, but it didn’t camouflage the angry, stomping footsteps of one irate Matthew barreling down on her.
He snatched her suitcase out of her hand. “You crazy, woman? You’ll break your neck going down the stairs with a bum foot and heavy bag.”
Charlie waved him off. “Matthew, I can manage just fine.”
There was a snap to his words, an edge of irritated s
arcasm. “Miss Charlotte, if you could manage just fine, you wouldn’t have been bangin’ on my door last night.”
The room went quiet. One mortified glance up and Charlie found every last customer staring right at her.
As if pleased he’d managed to get her to shut her mouth, Matthew slid an arm around her waist, hitching her up before she might yap. He carried her right back to the same seat by the fire, and put her down like she was made of glass. Expression daring her to so much as speak a word, another chair was yanked forward and set down with a thud before Matthew gestured that either she could prop up her ankle, or he’d do it for her—in front of the whole room.
Eli stood slack-jawed, Nathaniel smart enough to not make a peep—not that anyone was speaking. Everyone was just plain gawking.
Matthew’s disapproving eyes left Charlotte’s pinkened cheeks and ran over the men gathered, a glare warning that each of them had their own business to mind. When that weighty gaze got to Eli, Matthew barked, “Watch the grill,” then left, letting the screen bang shut behind him.
Nathaniel followed him right out.
Eli broke the awful silence, stepping closer with an unsteady smile. “We found your car. Uh, the front axle got busted when you ran into the ditch.” That car wasn’t going anywhere until repaired. “Sorry.”
Muttering under her breath, embarrassment turned to far more comfortable frustration. “Who names a road Devil’s Hollow anyway? That damn stretch keeps trying to kill me.”
Seeing she was upset, Eli offered a small bit of reassurance. “I can fix it for you, Miss Charlie, but it’ll take me a few days. Till then, I’m afraid you’ll have to walk.” Stupidly, he looked down at her ankle. “I mean, well…”
Charlie slumped back and smirked. “I catch your meaning, Eli.”
“If you like—” Eli reached towards a nearby table and snatched the day’s newspaper. “—read while you rest up. When Matthew gets back, I’ll drive you home.”
Charlie took the offered paper, not at all happy with the idea of being trapped at the roadhouse.
Lunch ended and the grill grew empty, not that Charlie noticed. She kept her head in the paper, reading every damn article, and was about to toss the dumb thing aside when a meaty finger tapped her shoulder.
A group of ragged men, faces worse for wear, stood abashed, the Emerson brothers fierce behind them.
“Excuse me, Miss Elliot, but me and my boys here would like to apologize,” the eldest of the group lisped, his bloodied lip and backwoods accent butchering the words. “You see, Miss, we didn’t mean to run you off the road. It was an accident. But, uhhh,” the older man swallowed and clearly didn’t want to finish the statement, “we’ll pay to fix your car.”
Charlie was not amused. “That’s very gentlemanly of you, Mr.?”
“Grimes, ma’am.”
“Mr. Grimes.” She stood from her chair and offered a hand. When the man took it in his dirty paw, she wrapped her fingers around his and began to squeeze. “I have the distinct impression that if Nathaniel and Matthew here hadn’t kindly informed you of my situation, you would never have taken the time to find out just who you nearly killed last night.” Her grip tightened, grinding bone, the man trying to jerk his hand away.
Charlie’s voice grew deadly. “Damn straight you’ll pay to fix my car.” Pumping their fists in the mockery of a handshake, she dropped his greasy palm. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”
“All right. Now git,” Matthew ordered, waving towards the door with his hat.
The old man complained. “But we ain’t got our truck.”
Arms flexing, Matthew crossed them over his chest. “You can walk just like the lady did.”
Not looking for another beating, the four men got the hell out. But when that screen shut, Charlie flat out guffawed, slapping her thigh and looking to the heavens. “Was that your idea of Monroe justice?”
“Yeah,” Matthew confirmed deadpan, only to see her laugh even harder.