It was tempting just to see the look on Stephanie’s face. “Let me see what I can do.”
He reached over and put his hand on mine. “Try hard. I need you to protect me from man-eaters.”
Who could resist that lopsided smile? Not me, obviously. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.” I never asked for time off, so Angelo should give me the day, although he wouldn’t be happy about it. No one sold as much behind the bar as me.
“Good. Now give me your phone number so I can call you.”
The talkat the bar Wednesday night was nothing but Billy Jansen and his wife. Some claimed knowledge that he hit Gertie regularly. Others said that wasn’t true, that it was losing his job that set him off. One jerkface blamed Dylan.
“If that new big-city cop hadn’t a fired him, he wouldn’t a done what he did. No man likes not being able to support his family. That’s what drove him to beat on Gertie.”
I wanted to throw a mug of beer in his face. Normally I kept my mouth shut when customers talked, no matter what they said, but I couldn’t let that go.
“Freddie Barnes, you and the whole town knows Billy Jansen was a hothead. If the new chief fired him, then he had a good reason.” I slid his beer to him instead of dumping it on him like I wanted to. Freddie was one of the councilmen, and in his position he should keep his mouth shut.
A few people nodded in agreement, sharing stories of times Billy’s temper had gotten out of hand. Some I’d heard, but many I hadn’t, and none of them were good. Maybe Gertie did the world a favor. I felt sorry for her and hoped she didn’t end up going to prison. She was a nice woman.
I had my back to the bar, ringing up a meal ticket, when it got real quiet. A glance in the mirror behind the shelves holding liquor bottles had me holding my breath. Dylan had just walked in, and the only empty seat was next to Freddie. He slid onto the bar stool, gave me a wink when I glanced at him—which made my heart merrily beat—then glanced around at the people who were silently staring at him.
Dylan held out his hand to Freddie. “Dylan Conrad. I’m Blue Ridge Valley’s new police chief.”
“I know who you are.” Freddie glared at Dylan’s hand.
I think everyone at the bar held their breath along with me, waiting to see how Dylan would react to the snub. Any other man would have dropped his hand by now, but Dylan, holding his smile, kept his stretched out toward Freddie.
“Freddie Barnes.” A collective exhale of breaths—including mine—sounded when Freddie finally shook Dylan’s hand.
“I hear those boiled peanuts of yours are addicting,” Dylan said. “Never had ’em boiled.”
“You come by my peanut stand tomorrow, city boy, I’ll show ya what you been missing.”
I put a bottle of Green Man beer in front of Dylan while he listened for the next ten minutes to Freddie give a detailed account of how much salt went in the peanuts, how long they needed to boil, and how much wood it took to keep the boiling pot going at just the right temperature.
God bless Dylan. He didn’t yawn once. When Freddie’s meat-loaded pizza arrived, interrupting his discourse on how to make perfectly boiled peanuts, Dylan caught my attention. “Could I get an antipasto plate, Red?”
“You bet.” I wanted to crawl across the bar and kiss him silly, but settled for giving him a smile, which he returned.
Even though I was busy filling drink orders and delivering meals, I listened as Dylan charmed every person at the bar, including Freddie. He took his time eating his antipasto, waving good-bye as people left. Was he hanging around, waiting for me to get off?
Turned out he was. “Are you really going to eat boiled peanuts?” I asked as I wiped down the bar.
“Well, I was until you made a face asking that question. They’re not good?”
“My mother loves them. You boil them in salted water until they get soft and mushy. They’re one of those things you either hate or love.”
“I’m committed to giving them a try, it seems. I’ll let you know what I think. Were you able to get Saturday off?”
“I’m all yours.”
A wicked grin curved his lips. “Promise?”
I put my elbows on the bar and leaned toward him. “How about I’m yours for the whole weekend? We’ll go to the”—I glanced around to make sure no one was nearby—“mayor’s stupid barbeque, then Sunday morning you can make me breakfast, and then we’ll go on our waterfall adventure.”
“Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse.” He trailed a finger along my arm, raising goose bumps. “How long do these barbeques last? I’m asking because the whole time we’re there, all I’m going to be thinking about is how soon we can leave so I can be alone with you.”
“How fast can you eat a plate of ribs?”
“Pretty damn fast if you’re the reward.”
