Trouble

Standing at the bar, I study the group as the bartender mixes two pretty decent martinis. Scout says something, Joselyn seconds it, and Daisy shakes her head, laughing. Then he puts his muscled arm around his wife and kisses her head.

It’s unsettling in a way I don’t expect, like a glimpse of something I’ve never had and never particularly worried about not having.

This is why I don’t spend time in the country. All this quiet starts messing with my priorities.

I’m walking to the table with two martinis at the same time the servers deliver three large platters of raw fish.

“Sly, remember when we were shearing that topiary back in high school, and you sliced the top layer off your finger?” Scout points to a strip of Ahi tuna. “There it is.”

“Stop it!” Joselyn cries, throwing a balled-up napkin at him. “You’re ruining my tuna nigiri!”

“Who knew there was so much blood in the old girl?” He misquotes Macbeth in a pretty decent Shakespearean accent, and I realize he’s not as dumb as a box of rocks like I’d originally assumed.

Asshole.

“No blood talk at the table.” Daisy pushes his shoulder, and he gives her a wink.

I turn away from their easy familiarity placing one of the martinis in front of Joselyn.

Her eyes light. “Yes!” She lifts it, taking a delicate sip before putting it down again. “It’s delicious. I’m going to savor it.”

She gives me a deferential smile, and fuck, if my dick doesn’t twitch.

Clearing my throat, I pick up the thread. “What’s this about your finger?” I figure gore is a good boner-killer.

She tilts her hand to the side, studying her digit before extending it to me. “This one. Almost sliced it right off with my pruning shears. It must’ve bled for an hour. I thought I was going to pass out. Ten stitches later…”

I hold her hand, turning it so I can see the silver scar running along the inside of her slim finger. “So these sculptures have always been hazardous to your health?”

She shakes her head, lifting a piece of fish to her mouth. “I knew I stopped doing this for a reason.”

After watching her work, I’m not sure I agree with that decision. “Brushes with death and dismemberment aside, you’re an artist.”

Her cheeks pink attractively, and she covers her mouth blinking away from my eyes. “Thank you, Spencer.”

“Where’s your little charge this evening? No sushi for him?”

“He’s actually hanging out with JR’s son this evening. They played on a little football team together one summer, and they’ve been friends ever since.”

“And his mother?”

“Courtney should be here tomorrow afternoon. She said it’s been a pretty quiet week, so that’s good news. It’s really nice of you to ask… and a little surprising. Most people don’t want to talk about that kind of thing.”

I don’t say I’m aware. I push those dark memories away and give her a tight smile. “I try to know my employees’ situations. Especially if it might impact your performance.”

“I told you it wouldn’t.”

Glancing at the table, I see we’ve eaten most of the fish. I’m about to say I’ll call it a night when an electronic drum beat echoes over the crowd, and the singer launches into “Red, Red Wine.”

Joselyn’s hands fly to her face in surprise, and Daisy cuts her husband a disgusted look.

“I didn’t do it,” Scout insists, holding up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“You did not just say that,” Joselyn cackles, and my stomach tightens. Why is she so damn intriguing to me?

Daisy is not impressed, but I notice Miles approaching from behind her.

“Hello, friends!” he calls. “Hello, Spencer! Daisy, I played this song just for you. I heard it’s your favorite.”