Lynn chuckled and started to resettle, but went completely still halfway through the motion, her eyes going wide. “Wait a minute,” she mumbled. “Isn’t that…?”
Lance frowned. “Lynn? There a problem?” He’d barely asked the question before he could have sworn he saw one of the grumbling old men turn their head down the aisle and point.
The man raised his arm with a look of exclamation. “Hey! Garver!”
The fuck?Lance narrowed his eyes at the loud, discourteous call.
Lynn twisted the rest of the way back around with a hard breath. “Shit. Listen, don’t go postal, but that beer-bellied, balding guy standing next to the one who just pointed at me?”
Lance arched a brow as the aforementioned guy strode toward their table. He kept his visible attention on Lynn, simultaneously counting the man’s every step. The shorter, rounder one she had mentioned was hot on his heels.
Lynn leaned forward and lowered her voice. “That’s George Johnson. Meaning unless Jen dated two Jon Johnson’s in the same small town before she graduated high school, that makes him your Jon’s father.”
The words rang in Lance’s ears as the men reached their table.
Jon’s father. He’d heard stories. Jon’s father was fifty-percent of the reason Jon had left home at the age of seventeen to enlist in the Marine Corps, with no plans to return. Rather, Jon’s father was theentirereason Jon had not intended on returning. And that was before they’d learned that the old bastard hadapparently gone around town telling everyone who might lend an ear that Jon had died in combat.
Lance still hadn’t heard all the glamorous details of that story, but the punchline was plenty. Lying about his best friend’s death, when they’d both come damn close enough in reality, just to gain some sympathy or maybe some money from local bleeding hearts really pissed him off.
Then the man who’d called out to Lynn—and who’d yet to even glance Lance’s way—opened his mouth. “What the hell’s goin’ on at that shiny new hospital of yours, Garver?”
Lance ground his teeth in an effort not to make a scene the very first time he went out in public in the town he was apparently going to be moving to. Let alone the first time he went out with his girl.
Lynn narrowed her eyes as she shifted to turn sideways in her seat, scooting her body back a bit and angling her head up to meet the glowering jerk’s stare. “That hospital’s been up and running for eleven years now, Jack. It’s not new.”
The man—Jack, of Asses—slammed a meaty, wrinkled fist onto the bench back just shy of Lynn’s shoulder. “Don’t get smart with me—”
“’scuse me,Jack,” Lance cut in, sharpening his voice. He kept himself seated by the thinnest of fraying threads.
The old man cranked his neck to the side like it was an effort and narrowed his eyes Lance’s way for the first time. “Who the hell are you?”
Lance met his glare unflinchingly. “I’m the guy who takes an issue with other guys trying to intimidate his girlfriend.” He tilted his head toward Lynn. “That’d be her.” He motioned to Jack. “I’m gonna need you to remove your hand fromherbench seat and take one large step backwards. And modulate your tone when you speak to her.”
Jack of Asses scoffed.
George had the glaring audacity to step around his pal and point a finger toward Lance. “Keep outta business that don’t concern you, boy.”
Lance exhaled hard and cracked his neck.
Lynn jumped in. “I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re trying to ask about, Jack. As you can plainly see, I’m not on-duty today. If you have an issue with something the hospital’s done, take it up with the hospital. That’s not my department.”
Jack leaned closer. “Don’t get smart with me, girl,” he snarled. “Someone at your—”
“Jacky,” Lance called. “If I can reach across this table and touch you, we will have problems.” He hardened his voice. “You don’t want us to have problems.”
“Boy,” George said like he was issuing a warning.
Lance raised a hand between them, palm outward in a stopping motion. “You shut up. We already have problems, and I’ll get to that.”
Predictably, George sputtered.
“Lance,” Lynn said, glancing his way, “it’s okay. Let’s not escalate anything.”
“Tell that to the surly mouth-breather who won’t back the fuck out of your personal space,” Lance replied, never taking his glare off the man in question. Heads were starting to turn, people paying more attention to the scene neither of them wanted to make than the meals they were paying for. So, Lance did the only thing he could think of to try and acquiesce to his girlfriend’s preference while the option wasn’t entirely off the table, and loudly adjusted the direction of his words. “Would you mind politely asking your question, Jack? We’re trying to enjoy our afternoon.”
George made another disgruntled sound.
Murmurs drifted down the aisle in an audible wave.
