When he grinned, she noticed he had the faintest hint of a dimple in his left cheek.
Okay, sometimes it’s nice to stare into the sun, she decided.
She must’ve made a sound or a face of awe or something because Sam slammed his mug down on the table with enough force to make Peanut hiss unhappily and jump from her lap. Startled, she blinked over at him and found venom in his expression.
“What?” She barely refrained from shrinking in her chair. “What’s that look for?”
“He’s a walking, talking red flag.” He hitched his bearded chin toward Fisher.
“Hey!” Fisher protested.
If it were anyone other than Sam she’d suspect jealousy. But itwasSam. Which meant he was going all big brother on her and warning her away from a guy she’d already pegged as a heartbreaker.
Which, yeah, pissed her off. Mostly because big brother was the last role she wanted him to play. But also because shehatedsomeone thinking they could tell her what to do.
Orwhoto do.
“How do you think I made it to the ripe old age of thirty without recognizing a red flag when I see one?” was her counteroffer.
“Hey!” Fisher tried again.
Sam shook his head. “You’re not thirty.”
“Might as well be. My birthday’s just around the corner. Speaking of, I think everyone can agree a thirty-year-old woman qualifies as fully grown and fully capable of deciding if she wants to wave around a red flag for a little while.”
“Now we’re talkin’.” Fisher crossed his arms, grinning broadly. “I do enjoy a good…wavin’.”
“Breaking news just in, Fish.” Eliza’s expression broadcast her disgust. “There’s promiscuity and then there’s flat-out depravity. Since you can’t seem to keep from seducing every woman you meet between the ages of eighteen and eighty, I’m thinking you fall into the second category.”
“Aw, don’t be jealous, doll face.” Fisher chucked her on the chin. “There’s enough of me to go around and always enough left over for you.”
“What? And risk catching the clam?”
“I told ya antibiotics cleared that up.”
Hannah ignored the bickering pair and instead asked Sam, “Why do you care anyway?”
“Don’t wanna see you waking up in the morning with regrets is all.” His words were smashed together in that classicSamway.
“If it’ll set your mind at ease, I’m more concerned with clearing my name and stopping a catastrophic power failure in Texas than I am with taking Pretty Boy”—she flung a hand in Fisher’s direction—“up on his not-so-subtle offer of a good time.”
“Boo. Hiss. Spoilsport,” Fisher teased. “Also, why is everyone convinced all I’m ever after is a fling?”
“Once again,” Eliza chimed in, “the answer ishistory.”
“I don’t get no respect.” Fisher feigned a pout.
“Okay, Rodney Dangerfield, that’s enough out of you.” Ozzie pointed a finger at Fisher then used it to draw an invisible circle in the air. “Let’s get back on track.”
“Right.” Fisher winked flirtatiously at Hannah before frowning at Ozzie. “Wait. Who’s Rodney Dangerfield?”
“Who’s Rodney Danger—?” Ozzie looked positively apoplectic. “New York comedian big in the 80s? His catchphrase wasI don’t get no respect? Played inCaddyshack?” When Fisher only blinked, he added, “Easy Money?Back to School?”
Fisher shrugged and Ozzie’s jaw slung open. “Did you live under a rock in Louisiana? Those films are cult classics.”
Sam disregarded the tangent by keeping his eyes on Hannah’s face. She felt his gaze like a physical touch, but determinedly avoided the sensation so she could shake her head at him.
“No matter how hard this is for you to believe.” She kept her voice low so the conversation stayed between them. “I’m not a little girl anymore. I can take care of myself.”
