“Goddammit, Meemaw,” I mutter, disentangling the fluff ball of a chicken from Ryder’s flailing limbs. It squawks off back to the porch, feathers in a twist, like we’re the ones to blame. I haulRyder to his feet and inspect him for scratches. Meemaw pokes her head out the screen door.
“What’s with all the racket?”
I point to the offending animal, ignoring the fact that Pops is laughing his head off now that Ryder appears safe. “These damn chickens are a nuisance, Meemaw!”
The screen door slaps shut behind her as she turns to me, hands on her bony hips. Her dark eyes are snapping like one of them death turtles. If I missed that detail, I certainly couldn’t miss the way two red spots have appeared on her weathered cheeks. Well, shit. I’ve gone and pissed Meemaw off. Nobody disrespects her Silkies. At least not to her face. Thing is, she’s as unpredictable as her prized chickens when she’s pissed off.
She inhales, ready to let me have it, but gets cut off by my little sister, Frankie, with her face pressed to the screen door.
“Give him some grace, Meemaw. He’s mad at Shelby again and isn’t in his right mind.”
Meemaw exhales without tearing into me but gives me the stink eye before turning to Frankie. “What happened with Shelby?”
Meemaw loves Shelby. So does my whole family. Which is why Frankie takes it upon herself to spread gossip about her. It ain’t gossip if you’re praying for them, is what Frankie always says.
“I heard from Sue Ann—who was seated one table away, so this ain’t gossip, it’s just eye-witness reporting—that Shane flipped out on their big date at the Buttery Clam last night. He lit into Shelby right in front of everyone.” Frankie snorts. “The dummy ordered the seafood special for them both, not remembering that Shelby is allergic. Of course she had to turn away her plate.”
Meemaw smacks her lips while my whole body goes rigid with rage. I heard there was a scene and a breakup, but thedetails are worse than I thought. Everyone knows Shelby’s allergic to shellfish. What was he thinking taking her on a date to a seafood restaurant? Never much liked him, but now I know he’s also an idiot.
“I guess he got embarrassed about her turning down his romantic gesture and stormed out, calling her ungrateful. They got outside, and he rounded on her, lifting his fist. This bit I got from David Jr. who was trying to load up a plant his wife bought from The Dirty Orchid across the street. Shane punched the brick wall by her head and then moaned about the potential broken hand being Shelby’s fault. Poor girl started shaking, and David Jr. had to give him a talkin’ to.”
Meemaw gasps. Pops stands up faster than I’ve seen him move in ages. And as for me? I’ve already pulled out my keys to go find that asshole despite the curtain of red that’s taken over my vision. He’s gonna die tonight.
Frankie pushes open the screen door and snags my arm as I stomp by. “Now hold up, big brother.”
I turn on her, tamping down the irritation that seeps out of me like sweat from fixing fences in the summer sun. “For your own safety, take your hand off me, Frankie. I have a score to settle.”
She smiles, snug as a bug in a rug. “I figured you’d say that, which is why I already invited Shelby over for supper so we can get the real story.” She looks past my shoulder. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s her now.”
“Shelby!” Ryder abandons his pretend swimming to race across the porch. If there’s one thing he loves more than swimming, it’s Shelby Sweet.
My heart pounds, watching her ancient Chevy bounce over the driveway at a speed even Meemaw could out walk. Her shock of curly brown hair becomes visible the closer she gets, the copper highlights more pronounced in the golden hour light. Allthat adrenaline that was aimed at her ex is now squarely aimed at her.
“Easy now,” Frankie purrs as if I’m one of the family horses.
My sister tries to reason with me, but I’m not in the mood for reason. I’m spoiling for a fight. It’s been a long time since I’ve raised my voice, and I’m due. A man’s gotta let out some steam every now and again.
Shelby’s questionable vehicle finally pulls up to the house. I’ve begged her for years to get rid of it and get something more reliable, to which she’s ignored me. She claims that barge of a Blazer could stand up to a speeding train.
I watch as she gets out of the car and faces me. Her lips are slicked with a rosy gloss, but they aren’t smiling like usual. In fact, her sky-blue eyes are bloodshot and wary, a look I hate to see on her pretty face. Half of the anger pulsing through me is replaced with something I can’t identify and don’t want to examine too closely.
“Dallas,” she says calmly.
“Shelby!” Ryder barrels into her in his typical single-minded focus. Shelby sweeps my boy off his feet and twirls him around, obviously just as happy to see him.
I don’t miss the way her jeans hug her full hips like white on rice. She’s insecure about her hips thanks to a careless comment from a boyfriend senior year of high school. Thankfully, she has an equally impressive rack which she is proud of. I don’t like to objectify my best friend, but I do have eyes. Sadly, so does every other man in this county.
Shelby sets Ryder down and he’s already asking her to swim across the porch with him. I step forward, putting my hand on his shoulder. I don’t take my eyes off Shelby, though.
“Maybe after supper, bud. Right now, I need to speak to Shelby. Adult talk.”
Shelby’s eyes narrow just a hair.
“Everybody inside, please,” I say louder through clenched teeth.
“Aww, man,” Meemaw whines like a child, but she goes, beckoning Ryder and Nelly inside with her.
Once I hear the screen door slap shut for the last time, I take one more step toward Shelby. We’re close enough she has to hinge her head back to hold my stare. And hold it she does. This girl has a spine of steel—at least around me. I wish she’d show off that spine around these weak-ass boyfriends of hers.
